My Truth My Time My Turn Page 3

  “Just call me when you get home. I don’t care how late it is. Okay?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “You promise?”

  “I said I would.”

  “Okay, talk to you later.” Pepper ended the call.

  She wasn’t about to let things end the way they did this morning. She wanted Xavier for herself. At first when they met and she was told he was gay, she looked at him as one of her projects. Her mission was to get him into her bed and she had accomplished that. It had been easier than she thought it would be. But the more she hung out with Xavier, the more she fell for him. Now she believed she was in love with him. She had never told him and had only recently admitted it to herself. The way he made love to her was an indication to her that he was nowhere near being gay. She had to make him understand that. The only way she could bring him all the way over to her side was to be patient, more understanding, and whip it on him every chance she got. She laughed to herself as she sat in her small office cubicle in front of her computer, and muttered, “Game on, Ian.”

  Xavier hit the steering wheel with brute force when he took a quick glance on the front and back passenger floor and seats for his laptop case. “Dang! Now I have to go all the way back home.” He drove a half block looking for a good place to turn around. He turned into the Target parking lot and drove until he could find space to make his turn to go back into the street in the direction of his apartment. He came to a crawl when he caught the side profile of a laughing couple as they casually sauntered in front of his vehicle. He thought about himself and wondered if he would ever experience a relationship filled with happiness and unconditional love. He looked closer as something about the couple looked familiar. He watched as they passed. He squinted his eyes, like he was unsure of what he saw. It was his mother’s friend, Winston, engaged in deep conversation with none other than Detria Graham.

  Xavier continued watching as Winston opened the passenger door for Detria and she climbed inside. A woman Xavier didn’t recognize was sitting behind the steering wheel. Xavier picked up his phone and quickly took a couple of pictures.

  Winston waved a goodbye as he closed Detria’s door and began walking toward another car, which Xavier guessed must belong to him because he saw Winston open the door and get inside

  Xavier drove forward. “Man, ain’t that some…,” he mouthed as he pulled out into the street and made the left turn. He quickly called his brother. “You’ll never believe what I just saw.”

  “What’s going on, bruh?”

  “I’m sending you a picture now.”

  4

  “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.” Buddha

  Hezekiah, with the aid of a walker, stood on his feet for several seconds. He inhaled then exhaled, feeling quite pleased with his accomplishment.

  Both his physical and occupational therapists had been working with him almost every day since he’d been out on bond. His speech was almost back to normal other than a few words he had problems pronouncing. He was well on his way to being the Hezekiah he was before his stroke.

  His prominent criminal defense attorney, one of the best in the city, reassured him the federal prosecutor would find it difficult, if not altogether impossible, to prove to the jury that he had embezzled money from Holy Rock. And if they did, he told him he would argue to get him probation at the most. Hezekiah would take probation any day over sitting in a prison cell. He had no desire to relive that kind of life. The six years he and Fancy spent behind iron bars had been enough to last a lifetime. Hezekiah had made a promise to himself that he would never return.

  As he thought about the two days he spent in jail until his arraignment and bond hearing, he became angry. If it hadn’t been for his family he wouldn’t be dealing with a criminal case. He didn’t need anyone to convince him otherwise. He would stake his life on it being Fancy and their sons.

  Fancy knew the church books like the back of her hand and though she wasn’t aware he had been embezzling funds from Holy Rock, no one was going to tell him that she didn’t have some idea. Their lavish lifestyle certainly wasn’t all the way due to what he was being paid by Holy Rock.

  His limp wristed baby boy had smarts like his mother and he was a whiz in math and finances along with being computer savvy. He had probably been the brains behind doctoring the financial records at the direction of his scheming oldest son, Khalil, and slick-tailed, Fancy. Khalil was always a street smarts kinda kid and he used those same street smarts and know-how to turn his back on his own father.

  Hezekiah stumbled and fell back in the chair planted behind him as he thought about his family’s betrayal. What happened to blood being thicker than water?

  “Be careful. Take your time,” the physical therapist told him. “You’ve been doing remarkably well. If you keep this up, you’ll be taking steps before you know it,” the male PT added, “and then walking on your own.”

  “Now do you see why we keep that chair behind you? You have to build up the strength in your legs. You’re blessed though because you’ve come a long way. There are many stroke victims who never regain their mobility,” the second therapist said.

  “Yeah, God knows I can’t be bound to a wheelchair the rest of my life. I have too much to do. Too many scores too settle. Too many fires to put out. Know what I mean?” Hezekiah huffed.

  Both therapists nodded.

  Isabella walked into the room, halting the conversation. “Excuse me, I made spaghetti and meatballs for lunch. Do you want anything else to go with it?”

  “Did you make garlic toast?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anything green?”

  “Yes, green beans.”

  “Okay, that’s good.”

  “So, if you’re done with your therapy I’ll make you a plate now. That is if you’re hungry.”

  “I’m sure he’s worked up an appetite,” the female therapist joked.

  “Yep, I have.”

  “Well, don’t let us stop you from lunch. We’re done for the day,” the male therapist stated. “We’ll see you at ten o’clock Wednesday.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Keep doing the exercises we showed you.”

  “I will.” Hezekiah escorted them to the door in his wheelchair. When he turned around, his eyes locked with Isabella’s son. “He’s growing fast isn’t he?”

  “Yep, he is.”

  “Isabella, we need to talk.”

  Isabella grew nervous. Was he going to stop taking care of her and her son? Would she have to go back out on the streets? It was hard to predict what Hezekiah had on his mind.

  “What did I do?”

  “You haven’t done anything. Sit down for a minute.”

  Isabella, trembling, slowly sat in the living room chair.

  “I think it’s time you go into rehab. You know, get your life together. If you plan on being a good mother to him, you need to be sober. I’ll pay for someone to take good care of him while you’re there.”

  “I…I don’t know. I don’t want to leave my son with strangers to take care of him. Plus, I don’t do as much drugs as I used to.”

  Hezekiah didn’t know why he was having a tender moment for Isabella. Maybe it was his religious background. God had performed some miraculous things in his life in spite of his bad behavior. He felt convicted for treating Isabella the way he had. He’d rescued her from the prison of the streets only to make her his prisoner. The girl had a serious drug addiction. He could no longer avoid the fact that she needed help.

  Isabella was a bright, loyal young lady. If given the right chance and the right opportunity, she could make something of her life. She was a great artist too. Hezekiah had discovered many of her drawings tucked away in a folder she left on the living room table one day.

  “Think about it.” He picked up the little boy and rode him into the kitchen.

  Isabella fixed Hezekiah and her son a
plate of spaghetti.

  She removed the boy from Hezekiah’s lap and placed him in his own chair.

  It was rare that Hezekiah interacted with the kid, but the times he did, it made Isabella happy. All she wanted in life was to be loved and cared for. But for some reason love had always escaped her. Being at Hezekiah’s beck and call was something she’d gotten used to but that wasn’t to say she was happy with her living arrangements. Sure, he provided for her and her son, kept a roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and made sure she got the drugs her body craved. But she longed to live a normal life as a nineteen-year old. She wanted friends, not drug friends, but real friends. Girlfriends she could hang out with, go to the mall with, and do fun girl things. She wanted a real boyfriend, something she’d never had. She had been sexually molested when she was four years old. In the streets as a girl of twelve she’d been raped and assaulted and then turned to selling her body to survive. When Hezekiah took her off the streets she thought her life would be different, but he was really no better than the people who had used and abused her before he found her. He preached God but he lived the life of the devil. He could be sweet and kind but then mean and evil. He was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He could change at the drop of a dime.

  Today was a good day. Hezekiah was in a good, talkative mood.

  “All I’m saying, Isabella, is it’s your choice what you want to do with your life. If you want to make a change for the good, you need to get clean and sober. You can make a better life for you and your boy. I’m willing to help you, and God is a God of second chances, you know.”

  Isabella sat in the chair next to her son, watching him as he picked up the spaghetti noodles with his fingers and placed them inside his mouth.

  “I’m not supplying you with drugs anymore, Isabella. That’s what this amounts to. Now you can do this the easy way and go into rehab where they can help you with getting your system detoxed or you can do it the hard way and be sick, real sick while your body withdraws. But that will be tough on you and either way you won’t be able to take care of your son.”

  “I don’t want to use anymore. I’ve been doing drugs since I was twelve years old and on the streets. I do want to be here for my son.” She began to cry softly. Looking at her, Hezekiah’s heart softened. She looked like a little child. He’d made so many mistakes in his life, but this was one that he definitely regretted. How could he do the things he’d done to her and with her and then turn around and call himself a man of God? She wasn’t the same as Detria. Detria was not someone he felt sorry for. Quite the opposite. Detria was a full grown woman who didn’t give a rat’s behind about her kid and who only cared about what she could get out of somebody. That’s why he had no problem sleeping with her. He used her for what he needed. Maybe he was wrong about that, too, and if he was he would have to be a man, own up to it, and suffer the consequences of his actions. But that was another story. Right now he was fixated on doing what he could to help Isabella. It was time he set her free but he wouldn’t be able to do that unless she was willing to get help.

  “I’ll go. Promise me though you’ll get someone to take good care of my son.”

  “If it’ll make you feel better, and help with your decision, I’ve been looking into a facility that provides single parents with children a place on the grounds for their kids to stay while the parent is going through rehab. Once you go through detox they allow you to spend time with your kid. But you’ll have to be committed to this, Isabella. It’s the one and only chance I’m offering.”

  “That would be good. Knowing my son is near me, I know I can do it. Thank you.” She wiped her tears, jumped up from her chair and dashed over to Hezekiah. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Hezekiah. Thank you so much.”

  “I’ll make the necessary phone call and see when they can accept you. But you can’t tell a soul that I’m behind this. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I promise. I won’t say a word.”

  5

  “They say, “Love doesn’t cost a thing,” but I disagree because falling in love with the wrong person could cost you everything.” Amari Soul

  “I met with Winston. He says everything is good between him and Fancy, but he wants you and George to know he’s done.”

  “What do you mean he’s done? He’s not done until I say he’s done.”

  “He’s never met you and he says he doesn’t want to meet you. He likes Fancy. That’s the problem, Hezekiah. I think whatever you and George thought would happen has backfired in both of your faces. Fancy must have put some of that good-good on him.” Detria laughed into the phone.

  Hezekiah would never admit how much it bothered him at the thought of Fancy sleeping with another man. It had been George’s idea, and Hezekiah admitted he never should have agreed to it. How could he blame Fancy for moving on with someone else when he’d mistreated her the way he had? But she didn’t deserve brownie points either. Not after she and their sons accused him of embezzlement and now he was facing prison time. But to know that another man was falling for her and to know that man was an old friend of George’s made him feel some type of way.

  His life was spiraling out of control. He had to hurry up and get out of that wheelchair so he could get his life back, his church back, and pay back his ex and sons for all they’d done to destroy him. He had plans to come back stronger than ever.

  As for Stiles returning to Holy Rock, that was another thing he had to contend with. He still couldn’t accept the fact that Stiles was his brother and that the old man, Chauncey Graham, was his father. He would rather burn in hell than see Stiles win back Holy Rock. As for his father, he could rot in hell right beside him.

  Pastor had reached out several times after it was revealed he was Hezekiah’s father, but Hezekiah couldn’t and wouldn’t have anything to do with him. He hadn’t been in his life all this time. No need to start now that Hezekiah was a grown man. That’s one of the reasons he hoped Isabella would take advantage of his offer to send her to rehab. He didn’t want her kid growing up without his mama or standing the chance of being taken away from her. The road Isabella was going down now would lead to destruction and he didn’t want any parts of it.

  “I need to meet him.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t want to meet him. You said you were going to let George be the go to person.”

  “I don’t need to be reminded of what I said, Detria. And how do you think George is going to see him? From behind bars?”

  Detria shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just saying. Anyway, George will be released in a month or so.”

  “We’re talking about now, not a month or so. Look, just set it up. I’ll meet him at your crib. Tomorrow night. Seven thirty.”

  Detria huffed in the phone. “Whatever, Hezekiah. I’ll call him and see what I can do, but I’m telling you now, I can’t promise you anything.”

  “I don’t care how you do it, just make it happen.” He pushed the end button on his phone, followed by making another phone call.

  “How’s my kid?” he asked the woman who answered.

  “What happened in jail that made you want to call me and ask about your child?” Bitterness rang throughout her voice, piercing his ear over the phone.

  “I didn’t call to argue. I asked you a simple question. How’s my kid?”

  Silence filtered through the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “He’s good. Now, is that all? I have other things to do than to hold the phone with you, Hezekiah.”

  “I want to see him.”

  The woman laughed loudly. “Are you crazy? You haven’t seen him since he was seven months old. He’s three years old now and now you want to see him? I don’t think so. All you need to do is keep that money coming in every month and we’re straight. I don’t bother you and you don’t bother us.”

  “I want to see my son,” Hezekiah repeated as if he didn’t hear anything the woman said.

&
nbsp; “And I said no.” The phone went silent.

  “Hello?” Pause. “Hello?” “Mariah?” He looked at his cell phone. The call had ended. He thought about calling her back but decided against it. He’d bide his time, perhaps wait until things were better for him physically. He was going to see his kid and he wasn’t going to let Mariah stop him.

  Mariah was another one of the women he’d messed off with during his tenure as senior pastor of Holy Rock. She used to belong to Holy Rock. That’s where he met her. She was part of the Pastor’s Aid Ministry. When they first started messing around, Mariah was married but her husband rarely, if ever came to church. She had two kids at the time. When she told him she was pregnant, Hezekiah didn’t believe it was his kid, but she kept insisting it was his. She said she and her husband hadn’t slept together for months. There must have been some truth to her story because soon after she got pregnant her husband left Mariah and took their two kids with him. Hearing that, Hezekiah insisted they take a DNA test. Bingo! Just like that, 99.9% chance the kid was his. Even Maury couldn’t have beaten those odds.

  Hezekiah saw his son twice. Once when he was three weeks old and again when he was seven months. His marriage to Fancy was still intact and he didn’t want anything or anyone to come between it. He thought Mariah understood that so he didn’t know why she would get herself knocked up. Sure, he was to blame too for sleeping with her without the added protection of a condom, but with her being married, he assumed she was still sleeping with her husband so he felt more relaxed doing it without a condom. If she got pregnant, or when she got pregnant, he automatically thought the husband would think it was his because it would be highly likely. But Mariah had left out the major detail that she and her husband weren’t vibing like that and hadn’t been since before she and Hezekiah started their affair.

  The woman had become so possessive and stupid that she sent that fake Will to his house for Fancy to see and flip out. He had to be more careful in his selection of women.