“What happened?” My voice was heavy with tears that wanted to come to the surface.
“Acid… he threw acid on me. Mac hosed me down as I screamed till my throat was hoarse. My father wouldn't let me go to the hospital. He said only a punk couldn't take a little acid burn. To this day I don't know how Mac did it, but he came back to my crib with burn cream from the emergency room and bandages.”
He chuckled. “He even had painkillers. The good sh*t!”
My vision became blurry with those tears. I leaned down and kissed his shoulder. Kissing as much of his scar as I could.
“Is that why you got the tattoo, to cover it up?”
He nodded, pulling down his shirt. “Yeah.”
“Why didn't Mac tell someone what your father had done that night, one of the doctors or a police officer?”
Gabe looked at me for a moment, as if I had gone senseless. “Nah shorty, wasn't no snitching. That ain't the way things work. My dad had damn near every cop in New York in his pocket, as well as the Mayor and the damn Governor. Men like my pop’s didn't worry about sh*t like cops.”
I nodded, once again forgetting who his dad was, a rich mob boss. It was so unfair. My pa-pa said this country is run by wicked men. The rich got away with murder, while the poor man could find no justice.
“A few days after I had healed from that injury, I saw a homeless man sitting in the park where I use to hoop and he didn't have on any shoes. I went up to him and gave him what I had in my pocket. I think it was like thirty or forty bucks, told him to go buy some shoes. He took the money but he was looking up at me, kind of strange. He told me that I had been born with an ability that's been lying dormant.”
He ran his hand down his braided head to the back of his neck. Showing signs of just how tired he was. I slid my hands under his and began to massage his shoulders.
“At first, I thought the dude was crazy, so I turned to walk away, but then he called my name, and...” He shook his head. “It was something about his voice that made me turn back toward him. He now had my full attention because I'm like yo, how this homeless dude know my name? He tells me that I'm capable of having great strength, but that I have to stop cutting my hair, eating certain things and drinking alcohol of any kind. I asked him for how long. He said forever.”
“And I don't know, I was standing there and it was something about him. I believed him. So I made a change. I mean, I wasn't big on drinking anyway, just did it with Kenny and Mac from time to time. And the next thing you know, I was really strong.”
I was now resting my head against my palm. My elbow was propped up on the chair behind Gabriel's head. I was completely enthralled with what he was saying.
“So how strong are you?”
With a grin on his face, he turned and looked at his desk. And without standing or even shifting me on his lap, he used one hand and lifted the heavy wooden desk a couple feet off the ground. My mouth dropped. I mean, I knew he was strong, but dang! What exactly was he capable of? He put the desk back on the floor.
“Oh my goodness! Can you like lift a car?”
He chuckled. “I have.”
“That is so freaking cool! You’re like superman!”
Smiling he shook his head. “I can't fly or shoot fire out my eyes or nothing like that.”
“Yeah, but you can probably pick up a house.” I sat up on his lap with excitement. “Can you pick up a house?”
He thought about it. “I don't know, I never tried… but I threw a tool shed at Kenny once.”
I collapsed against his chest laughing. I could only imagine what Kenny did to deserve that.
“The whole time Mac was like, ‘Oh! Gabriel you’re going to kill Kenny!’” He talked in a whiney voice, causing me to laugh harder.
“What did he do to make you throw a tool shed at him?” I asked trying to catch my breath. I had tears in my eyes. Gabriel frowned.
“Man, that nigga sold my autographed Karl Malone limited addition hat. It was only like ten of them bad boys made. Baby, I had that hat in a glass box. I didn't let anyone touch it. Hell, I rarely let anybody look at it. The only people who knew it existed was Kenny and Mac. When it came up missing, I went nuts. And this nigga Kenny gone come talking about, bro, a miracle happened. At this point I really ain't trying to hear nothing that con-artist had to say. I was just like Kenny, man, if you don't produce my hat! I'm gon’ hurt you.”
As he talked, he used the hand that was not wrapped around my waist in an animated way. I smiled. He loved his friends. He may have had a hard life with his parents, but God had given him two solid friends, even if one was a con-artist. Surprisingly though, when I first saw Kenny and Mac together, Kenny appeared to be the good one, the one of light. And Mac with his fierce scowl and aloofness, appeared to be the bad one.
However, if I haven't learned anything else during my time with Gabriel, is that looks could be deceiving. Kenny was a grade ‘A’ con-artist. If it was coming out his mouth, it was a good chance it was a lie. It was Mac that had the pure heart. He was Gabriel's self appointed guardian angel.
“By that time I'm literally chasing that fool around
