Page 38 of Deacon

5. Force Squeak to have my babies so she’s tied to me forever.

With a sinister grin, I place my pen on the notebook paper, nodding at what I plan to do before the week is out. This time next week, I’m determined to return to the comforts of my California King with Squeak in my arms. I upgraded my bedroom furniture about a week ago when the memory of Squeak’s question about my bed size played like a movie reel. Like I told Gunz and Diesel, I’m going to get my woman… Baxtown Iron, be damned. Pushing back from the desk in my home office, I walk to the couch on the opposite side of the room. Laying down, I grab the blanket I refuse to wash for fear of removing Squeak’s bodily fluids and drape it over my body. Closing my eyes, I shift my thoughts and speak the words I’ve been uttering as of late.

“Dear God, protect my wife. Keep her safe until I’m able to do so myself. In Jesus' name. Amen.”

Unlike Deaconess Redmond, I ain’t got time to beat God’s ears with a bunch of words. He knows me and my heart, so my request is simple and straight to the point. I’ll leave the deep, windy, and foreign tongues to Ma. I simply need God to hear a nigga when I come to Him on behalf of the woman He sent to show me His presence in my life.

You’re a disrespectful mothafucka. How are you asking God for anything, knowing you’re planning to kill one of his children?

“Shid, He forgave David’s murderous ass, so I’m worthy of the same from Him. Now shut up so I can catch these Zs. A nigga got some groveling to be rested for,” I say to my conscience before getting comfortable on the couch.

Thanks for letting us know,Janelle. Your safety is more important than this position, so I understand entirely. Take care of yourself. Let me know when things change.

After running into the Boogeyman at Chance’s house, I sent my boss a letter stating that I would be taking a leave of absence.

“Is this everything, baby girl?” Dad asks, bringing me out of my wayward thoughts and the memory of my boss’s response to my letter.

Dad and a few of my uncles are helping me move out of my apartment because I have decided to stay with my parents for the foreseeable future. After Dad walked into my childhood bedroom and saw me crying, I had to come clean about what I’d been enduring without his knowledge. Sensing the severityof the situation, Dad called Mom to my room so they would be present. It took me several hours to stop hearing Mom’s hysterical cries after learning of the information.

“Talk to us, Janelle. There isn’t anything you can’t share with your mother and me,” Dad coaches soothingly.

Wiping my eyes, I sit up in the bed while looking at my parents before sighing and releasing the burden I’ve been shouldering without their knowledge.

“The man who killed Chelsea is after me and has been since I left after graduating from high school,” I say.

A gasp leaves Mom’s mouth, and her eyes balloon while she blinks continuously.

“Say what?” Dad asks.

“I’ve been getting threatening letters from him,” I say.

“I thought-I thought you didn’t know who he was,” Mom says.

“Up until last night, I didn’t. I still don’t know his name because he has always signed the letters as my Boogeyman.”

“What the fuck do you mean up until last night? You went to a kickback or some shit last night.” The vein in Dad’s temple pulses wildly, matching the deep frown and tightness around his eyes.

“I did. H-he was there and wearing a motorcycle vest,” I say, and a shiver runs down my spine at the memory of the man.

“A motorcycle vest… Oh my God. He’s in one of those gangs. I should have known,” Mom says, throwing up her hands.

“Motorcycle members aren’t a gang, Mom. They also aren’t the bad people you want to believe them to be,” I say.

“Hm. Seems contradictory with you telling me that the man who killed my niece was wearing one of those vests,” Mom says with her tone elevating.

“Focus, Patricia,” Dad interjects.

“Right, because first I had to watch my sister bury her child. Now, here we are years later, on the brink of experiencing that level of pain. I’m not-I—Jesus,” Mom says before wailing, causing Dad to pull her into her arms.

“Baby girl, is this everything?” Dad asks again, pulling me from the disastrous conversation of enlightenment.

Nodding wordlessly, I take a final look at the place I thought would be my residence until I figured out my next move. Thanks to Dad, the apartment manager let me out of my lease without incident. After learning about my secret, Dad insisted that I give up my apartment and stay with them so he could ensure my safety.

Hours later…

“Can I ask you a question, Dad?”

I have been consumed with thoughts of Deacon, and longing to see, hear, or be in his arms has me forging a conversation with Dad we’ve never had before.

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