'Call us the Egbo Society. We control the gangs, the drugs, the money. We've had our eye on you for a while and I vouched for you. We've invited you to join us.'
'I don't remember asking.'
'We don't ask.' Baylon sounded strong and certain. Not to be questioned or denied.
Night wore a lowcut fade. He was one of them black brothers. Blue black. And as dark as he was, he had a darker knot above his left eyebrow in the shape of a crescent moon. Keloids ran along his big chest and huge arms, constantly itching. He rubbed lotion on them.
Dred began to speak, the purple and black robe draped around him like a poorly fitting hoodie. His face fell into its shadows. 'Ours is the house without walls. We call upon Obassi to guide and protect us.'
Baylon and Night joined with him. 'Okum ngbe om mobik ejennum ngimm, akiko ye ajakk nga ka ejenn nyamm.'
Dred lowered his robe to his waist. Two yellow rings circled each breast. Below them, a white ring stamped his middle. Underneath it, two more yellow rings; the yellow rings formed a square on his chest. His back had the same pattern emblazoned on him, with the color scheme reversed. Alternating yellow and white stripes ornamented each arm. Dred gestured for Griff to come before him.
'You want to run with us, you need to be marked. Take off your shirt,' Dred said.
'What is it?' Griff asked.
'A sigil. It's like a name.'
Dred lifted a small bowl and dipped his finger into it. He daubed each of Griff's arms with white chalk. From another bowl, he marked his forehead with camwood dye. Then lastly, from another bowl, he marked Griff with a yellow dye on his abdomen and back of his shoulders.
'And thus, the Ndibu are complete.' Dred raised a goblet from the table. 'Medraut.'
'Owe,' Night and Baylon said in unison. Griff stared at them.
Dred sipped from the goblet, handed it to Night.
'Barrant.'
'Owe.' Griff joined Dred and Baylon.
Night drank then handed the cup to Baylon.
'Balin.'
'Owe.'
Baylon handed the cup to Griff. He held it with a look of uncertainty.
'Balan.'
'Owe.'
All eyes fell on Griff. He stared into the fallow liquid swirling in the cup. Then Griff drank.
'Now you are one of the Ndibu, the high order of the Egbo Society. We are bound to one another and only by our hand are we released.'
Waves of heat shimmered off the pavement. Percy wandered the alleyway ticking off his mental checklist Miss Jane had so painstakingly instructed him. He had to be more aware of his surroundings, know the score in order to stay out of trouble; or worse, let trouble find him off guard. He surveyed the alley. Lone roughneck in a long wife-beater tee, baggy black pants. The beginnings of a beard along each side of his face. Toothpick protruding from his mouth, the man hard-eyed him.
'What you need?'
'How many lookouts do you have?' Percy began amiably enough, then pointed down the way to a group of kids sitting on their bikes with no particular need to go anywhere. 'Those kids down there?'
'What the fuck?' Anger flashed, a lifetime of lessons and reinforced habits snapping into place without a thought. 'You better quit playing and get on. Simple motherfucker.'
'Where's your stash?' Percy examined how the man stood in front of the garage, careful not to wander towards the side with overgrown weeds and an abandoned tire. 'I bet it's in those bushes around the corner of the house.'
'Boy, what you doing?' Miss Jane yelled at him.
'Do you have a gun? Can I see it?' Percy asked, nearly reaching to pull up the man's shirt.
'What the fuck's wrong with you?'
'Don't mind him. He simple. I was just trying to school him on what's what out here and he wanders off for some… extracurriculars.'
'Well, you need to teach him how to watch his mouth. Could get him killed up in this piece.'
'I doubt that.'
'Why? He bulletproof or something?'
'You know whose boy he is?'
'Who?'
'You better check out that scar on his left eye.'
'Oh snap. My bad.' The soldier took a step back.
'Yeah, your bad, motherfucker. Now let me get two.' Miss Jane shorted him the cash and dared him to rise up on her to collect the rest. He decided she wasn't worth the effort.
He hated watching her inject herself.
'Momma, who's my daddy?'
'Shit, boy, you trying to blow my high?'
'I want to know. Can I meet him?'
'Let me see if I can arrange something. He might as well see the man you turned out to be.'
Not that Miss Jane or Night were up for parents of the year, they had both agreed to keep Percy far from the game. Well, as far as possible. The streets weren't meant for people like him. Soft. Innocent. Miss Jane told him as much about Night as she could, but for what he wanted to know, the questions he was ready to ask, he needed a face-to-face.
The naked light of the bar bleached most of the details away. Already stoked in sweet Scotch fumes and liquor-loose, Night slowly drank. Percy studied the man's face, searching for something familiar. Dark as he was, he had a scar about his left eye in the shape of a crescent moon. He fought the compulsion to scratch his own scar.
'You still with that girl?' Percy asked. Apparently there was always some girl, so it was a generic enough question. It wasn't as if Night kept track of any of their names. To hear Miss Jane tell it, Percy might as well have asked about one of his other babies. There was always some baby. Automatic. Impersonal. The wall.
'That what you want to talk about?' Night's sleepheavy eyes turned to him. He had a power to him, a force of will, much like hypnosis. Part of his way was his ability to suck you into his web of half-truths, deceit by omission, and out-and-out lies. He had a smile. A broken smile, Percy thought. The smile that usually intimidated others into silence.
'No. I…' Percy didn't know how to form the questions he wanted to ask. He half-closed his eyes, a child pretending to be asleep, trying to get through the conversation, unaware that his body language mirrored Night's. He kept his voice light. He wanted Night to like him. Percy hunched over, making himself appear smaller, more the picture of a little boy. He only wished they were a family. The tidal wave of questions slammed against his cautious spirit and he blurted out, 'Didn't you want me?'
'Accidents happen.' Night read the sting of the words in Percy's heart-sick looking face. 'Shit. This ain't going right. Don't know why Miss Jane insisted on this. Just said it was time. Time for what? Me hurting you?'
'So you didn't want me.' Percy's face scrunched up, flat and sullen; his voice tentative and mournful.
'Not just you. I always go in bagged. I had the feeling Miss Jane set me up. Wouldn't put it above her to run a pin or some shit through the whole box of rubbers. Look here, kids bind you. Keep you from doing what you want to do. I'm out here hustling, getting it done. and don't have time for all that daddy mess. Can't be the man out here if I'm doing the Cosby thing. I have to be the man because without leadership, folks run in circles and reach into your pockets.'
His job was important, Percy thought.
Night tightened his mouth. His gaze roamed about then suddenly fixed on him in a cat's pounce. He scowled, half-disgusted, feeling cornered and uncomfortable. Then his grimace relaxed. Percy had a way about him, one Night secretly wished would rub off on him. An innocence, maybe?
