That did it. Suave leaned over and vomited. The blood was stinging his eyes, the nasty odor from the bath was burning his nostrils, and Prophet’s loud mumbo jumbo was giving him a headache. “Enough!” Suave shouted, causing Prophet to jump back a few steps. “Get away from me.”
Suave used his hand to wipe across his eyes, making things worse instead of better. He stumbled over to his clothes in the semidark room, grabbed his T-shirt, and used it to wipe his face. With his back turned to Prophet, his body almost vibrating in fury, Suave pulled on his shorts.
His hand was on the door handle when Prophet’s voice stopped him. “You can’t run from your enemies, Mr. Suave. You have to beat the life out of them, or they will beat it out of you.”
And that was probably the only positive thing that Suave took away from Prophet as Cobra drove him back home in silence, streaking chicken blood all over Cobra’s nice leather seat. Suave took Prophet’s words literally and embarked on a journey to beat the life out of his enemies, starting with the little sissy, Pat.
Chapter Thirty
Suave looked down at the ringing cell phone in his hand. “I wonder who this is?” he mumbled, not recognizing the number. Few people have his business number, and usually, he knew who was calling. “Hello?” his voice was stern when he answered.
“Hey, Suave.”
Suave felt the hair stand up on his body at the sound of Pat’s voice. “What do you want, fool, and how did you get this number?” No response.
Suave saw red. For the last two weeks since that horrible experience with Prophet, he had been gradually picking up the pieces of his life... or at least attempting to. He dove back into his business, spending as much time as possible with all his children, Monica, and his other honeys on the side, trying to forget that moment of temporary insanity with Pat.
“You there, baby?” Pat purred through the phone.
Suave leaned against his car, glanced around the mall where he was parked, his eyebrows almost touching in the middle. “You listen to me, sissy boy. I don’t want you to call my phone again, you got it?” He lowered his voice as three girls walked by and said, “If you think I’m joking with you, keep messing with me and see what’s going to happen.”
Pat heard the threat, but instead of feeling scared, he felt excited. There was just something about an angry Suave that turned him on. “The only thing that’s going to happen if you don’t come to my house tonight is me telling my sister about our little ‘special time’ together.”
The cell phone fell from Suave’s hand. His eyes bugged out of his head, and his knees threatened to buckle under him. He braced his body against the car for support and felt faint with Pat’s threat ricocheting in his head.
It would be better for Pat to kill Suave than to mention a word of what had transpired that day. Everyone knew Suave as a lady’s man. He had six baby mommas, and he had been with more women than King David and King Solomon combined. To be labeled a homosexual was worse than death itself, especially in Jamaica where many people still upheld the Buggery Act 1533 and often ignorantly imposed violence against homosexuals.
I must kill him before he destroys me, Suave pondered, his breathing irregular and his heart pounding in his chest. He reached down with a trembling hand and picked up the phone. To his surprise, it was still intact. Suave lifted the phone to his ear, and Pat was there waiting patiently. “What’s the address?” His voice was low and deadly. Suave listened as Pat excitedly told him where he lived. “Midnight.” Suave flipped his phone closed.
It was final. Suave would have to kill again to survive. First, it was Pastor Ralph. Now it would be Pat. Tears stung his eyes as he got into his car and drove away. He wasn’t gay, and he had only killed once to save his life. “I don’t want to kill again, but I don’t know what else to do,” Suave said aloud as he drove.
“Yes, you do,” said a loud voice in his ears. “Come to me, and I’ll help you.”
The car swerved a little into the other lane before Suave expertly steered it back on track, surprised but deeply annoyed at the intrusion. “Is that you again, Mr. So-called God? Why don’t you leave me alone?”
“Come to me, my son, and I’ll give you peace.”
“I’m not your son! My daddy died many years ago, and I don’t need another!” Suave’s feet were getting heavier on the gas as he zoomed away to meet his workers for a meeting. He had more important things to do than waste time with God. Hopefully, if he ignored the Lord, He’d eventually go away.
Suave spent the day conducting business, trying to take his mind off what he had to do that night. In the evening, he picked up Joel, who would be spending the weekend with him, Monica, and their kids. Suave barely touched his food at dinner as everyone laughed and talked, enjoying the delicious meal of oxtail with butter beans and rice and peas that Monica had prepared.
“Daddy, are you okay?” Joel’s face was filled with concern. At fifteen years old, Joel was almost as tall as his father. Once he learned what Suave did for a living, he asked him to stop.
“Please, Daddy. I know you have enough money to stop now,” Joel had begged his father. “I don’t want you to go to jail or get killed.” Tears filled Joel’s eyes as he pleaded.
Suave felt like an eel. For the first time, he felt ashamed of what he did for a living. “I’m going to stop soon, Joel,” he had promised. “I’m going to buy a few more businesses and go legit. Okay? I’m going to do that for you and
