Suave staggered like a drunk over to the towel rack, pulling off a fluffy, white towel. He coughed and hiccupped. “Where were you when that monster was . . .” Unable to continue, Suave fell to his knees, hid his face in the towel, and bawled. Deep, heart wrenching sobs shook his muscular body. “Why didn’t you come before my father killed my mother, then himself? Why didn’t you come and stop Pastor Ralph from messing with me?” Suave lifted his head and looked toward the heavens, snot and tears running down his face. “Why didn’t you come before it was too late?”
Suave curled up like a baby on the bathroom floor for hours—crying, coughing, and sneezing—until he fell into a restless sleep.
* * *
It was the ringing of the doorbell that jerked Suave awake. He rolled his aching body into a sitting position on the tile floor, looking all around him, trying to figure out why he was asleep, naked, on the bathroom floor.
It didn’t take long for an image of Pat on his knees to flash in his mind. The humiliation of what had transpired earlier that morning returned in full force. He ignored the doorbell that was still ringing at intervals and sneezed as he wearily rose to his feet.
Nude, walking on tiptoes, Suave entered the living room and cautiously peeked through the window. He saw the figures of Cobra and Daddy Lizard in the now darkened night.
He turned away without a sound, strolled in his bedroom, and threw himself on the king-sized bed. He wasn’t in the mood for company.
It was two days later before Suave had any contact with the outside world. He stayed locked up in his house with a terrible cold, barely eating or sleeping, trying hard to fight the demons that tormented him. The voicemail for both his cell phones was full of messages from Monica, his other baby mommas, his kids, his men, and business colleagues.
“Suave! Suave! It’s me,” Cobra shouted from the front door. “I know you’re in there and you better open this door right now!”
Suave lay curled up on the couch where he slept the night before and listened to his best friend.
“I gave you two days, but that’s it. If you don’t let me in, I swear I’m going to shoot out a window and come in,” Cobra threatened.
Suave coughed and shook his head. He knew Cobra was crazy enough to do as he said. “I better let him in before he starts acting up,” he muttered. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt as he sluggishly ambled to the front door and opened it, squinting when the bright sun caught his eyes.
“So, you are alive.” Cobra was livid.
Suave didn’t answer. He struggled to open the door, then dragged his aching body back into the living room, leaving Cobra to follow.
“What’s up, Boss? You disappear for days, not returning any calls. You do remember that you have a business to run, right?” Cobra was slouched on the couch across from Suave. “Monica keeps calling and crying, saying that you were kidnapped or dead. Joel threatened to go to the police if he doesn’t hear from you by this evening. I mean, what’s up, man?”
Suave was resting his head back against the couch, his eyes closed.
“You’re sick.” Cobra leaned forward and stared at his friend with concern. “It looks like you have the flu. I bet you didn’t take anything for it.” He took Suave’s silence as a “no.” “Okay, I’m going to get something at the pharmacy.” Cobra stood, looking down at his friend. “I’ll call Monica and Joel and let them know I’ve seen you. I’ll also call Daddy Lizard and—”
“They just won’t leave me alone, man,” Suave mumbled.
“Who won’t leave you alone?” Cobra leaned over so he could hear him better.
Suave raised himself and turned red eyes up to Cobra. “The darn ghosts. They are everywhere, trying to mess with my head.” He tapped the side of his head with his fingers. “But I’m going to kill them again and again and again.” Suave began a whooping cough.
Cobra’s mouth popped open. He stared at his friend for a few seconds before rushing into the kitchen to get him some water. He returned moments later with a glass of tap water. “Here, drink this.”
Suave’s hand shook as he took the glass and sneezed before taking a long gulp, passing the glass back to Cobra. “They think they can defeat Smooth Suave? Huh?” Suave sneezed again, breathing deeply through his mouth. “I’m going to show them how I do.”
Cobra peered at Suave as he continued his ghostbuster rant, noticing the madness in Suave’s eyes. A superstitious man by nature, Cobra knew exactly what was going on here. “Good God, they obeah him,” Cobra whispered under his breath. “Obeah” was a West Indies term for sorcery or witchcraft. “They’re trying to make him crazy so they can take over his business.” The anger boiled in Cobra’s veins. He wasn’t sure who was trying to hurt Suave, but he wouldn’t let them succeed.
“You can’t beat me.” Suave weakly pounded on his chest, glancing around the room as if he were looking for someone. “Don’t hide. Come out and face me, you little, nasty cowards.”
Cobra took his cell phone out of his pants pocket, dialed a number, and put the phone to his ear, eyes glued on Suave. “Suave needs you now,” he said when the phone was answered. He listened, nodding his head. “We’ll be there in a few. Thanks, Prophet.”
“Okay, let’s go.” Cobra stood up. “You have shoes by the garage door.”
“Go where?” Suave coughed.
“To see Prophet.” Cobra held up a hand when Suave opened his mouth again. “I know you don’t believe in what he does, but please trust me on
