JW: The Journey Home

By N.E. Cardenuto

JW: The Journey Home
The problem with running away is that JW took himself along on the journey.  Yet no matter where he found himself, every problem remained. The deaths he caused and witnessed took him from Chicago in 1946 to Egypt, New York City, and even Thailand.
Where does the journey end? It ends when we find home.

• Language: English
• Publisher: N.E. Cardenuto
• Release date: Mar 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781735454856

Book preview

Part I

Chapter One

Cabrini-Green

Chicago, 1946

H e y kid, get over here! JW yelled.

He stood behind a beat up building that cast a dark shadow over the area. A button was missing at the chest of his threadbare army shirt. Life had been harsh.

At only twenty-seven he looked like an old black man with eyes that pierced into the very soul of whoever caught his attention. His once attractive face was scarred and disfigured, but he had a manipulative charm that drew both men and women.

Mama told me to come right home. Can’t stop, Devon shouted back. He quickened his pace to get beyond the building where JW stood. Devon’s dark eyes glowed with moisture. He’d been warned to stay away from JW. Now here they were face-to-face. Devon knew that if he’d gone home from school the back way, he’d already be safely there.

I said, get over here, JW bellowed, demanding Devon’s full attention. Stretching and standing full height JW stepped out of the shadows and moved toward Devon grabbing him by the collar. JW stared into Devon’s eyes and threw him up against the wall causing his school bag to fall, spreading its contents all over the ground. JW moved his face squarely into Devon’s. Look at me, damn it.

Devon’s eyes peeked up but his head was pulled away for protection.

You listen when I talk. Don’t chu’ ever walk away from me. You hear? JW spit the words into Devon’s face.

You ain’t my father, Devon said in a low growl, his eyes suddenly making contact with JW’s.

The two stood frozen momentarily. In the distance they could hear the sounds of kids joking with each other on their way back to their apartments through the maze of buildings that composed the Cabrini-Green housing development.

How the fuck would you know? JW whispered. You know nothin’ about how you came into this world, so shut the fuck up. JW said as he tossed Devon up against the building once again. Looking out the corners of his eyes to the left and then to the right JW pulled a soft brown package from under his shirt. Devon knew immediately what it was.

Take this to the Man. He’s waitin’ for it.

Don’t make me. Mama’ll be...

You a mama’s boy? Time you grew up. Do what I say, or you won’t be around to do nothin’. There was no question in JW’s response. Devon would do what he was told to. There was no option.

Devon reluctantly took the package and scrambled to gather his school things from the ground. JW kicked him in the butt pushing him toward the street. With slow steps Devon moved forward. Some of Devon’s school things remained on the ground behind him.

Go on, I tell ya! JW hollered.

Devon tucked the package under his coat.

The fall temperatures set a chill in the Chicago air as the afternoon sun was beginning to hide behind the buildings. JW threw down the cigarette he’d been smoking and crushed it with the ball of his foot. His shoes were old, worn, and tattered. Like his soul, there wasn’t much good left in them.

Turning up his collar and pulling down his cap to cover his eyes, JW slid inside the building ascending six flights of stairs to an open space in the hallway. Random items were tossed about as if someone had emptied the trash in the space: old magazines, a filthy blanket, leftover food containers. JW leaned up against the wall and then sank down to the ground. He took out a cigarette, tapped it on his knee, and then shoved it into the edge of his lips. Scouring around through the trash, he found a book of old matches from the Moonlight Club, ripped one out, and held it toward his mouth inhaling deeply.

A door down the hallway opened cautiously and

closed quickly when the resident saw JW. JW’s eyes shot down the hall, then relaxed. He exhaled loudly as he settled into the space his body found. His mind was a jumble of thoughts that wouldn’t settle. There was no calm. No true rest, but in a few minutes his body was still. His eyes closed.

Sleep was never peaceful. In sleep JW’s mind was free to wander, explore, and remember. When he was conscious, he stopped his thoughts and refused to consider the past, but sleep had its own agenda.

The door down the hallway opened once again. Slowly and quietly, without making a sound, Mrs. Clark slipped out. She was dressed in her Sunday best with her hat perched upon her head in a proper way. She held a large pocketbook close to her ample breasts as she tiptoed down the hallway to the stairs. She’d lived just about her whole life in this building, so she knew how to protect herself and work around the dangers. One of the dangers, JW, was asleep. Huddled against the wall, he appeared to be sleeping like a baby, but Mrs. Clark knew better. She pulled her coat tighter around herself as she rounded the corner in safety.

The night had fully embraced the city by the time JW awoke. Shaking himself and rubbing his hands up and down his face, he brushed away the disturbing dreams that haunted him. With hunger in his belly, he headed down the stairs.

The door to 105 was partially open. Inside, three men sat in a cloud of smoke at a table in the middle of the room. Two of the men, Mole and Dog, laughed and teased each other as they took turns throwing their cards on the table. Their faces revealed their youth. They hadn’t crossed the 20 mark yet. They were half brothers from the same woman. Their mother, Mrs. Clark, was a serious church-goer who didn’t stand for the types of things her sons were involved in. They were often the subject of prayer requests on Wednesday nights at the Wayman AME church. Because of her, their toughness didn’t extend too deeply into their hearts. They were soft, pliable, and could be controlled.

The third man, Potsy, sat a bit apart. He was older, in his 30s and more serious. Through the years, he’d pulled in strays from here and there to work for him. He was tough and didn’t cut slack for anyone.

The hard, tired look on his face was soften only by a young woman wearing a silky black slip standing behind him sensually rubbing his back. The lace at the bottom of the hem was torn in various places and moved in interesting patterns as she twisted her legs around the chair to get a better grip on his back. With long red fingernails she stroked the side of his face and then bent down for a slow kiss. 

JW stood at the open door. Got grub? he asked into the room.

The woman, who seemed to act in a role far beyond her years, nodded toward the kitchen. Greens and shit on the stove.

JW walked past the men with just a raise of the eyes as a greeting. He took a used plate from the sink wiped it out with a rag and filled it with food. Carrying his plate to the table he sat down in an empty chair.

Mole and Dog continued their card game until Mole saw that Dog had slyly rearranged the cards in the deck to his advantage.

You’s cheatin’ Mole exploded at Dog.

No, I ain’t, Dog said defensively.

I saw ya, Mole shot back.

You’s had too much drink. I done no such thing, Dog complained.

Mole stood up and pulled out a knife from his pocket, clicking it open close to Dog’s face.

What chu’ gonna do ‘bout it? Dog said looking Mole straight in the eye as he stood. His chair tipped over onto the floor.

Put that thing away, Potsy stated firmly looking over at the two silently shaking his head.

Mole sheepishly closed the knife and put it back in his pocket. Dog picked up the chair and sat back down. The game continued.

Looking over at JW, Potsy clicked his fingers and pointed. You deliver that package?

Done, JW mumbled through a mouth full of food. He wiped his arm across his mouth to remove the bits splattered on his lips.

There’ll be another tonight. You goin’ down to Turks? Potsy asked.

JW didn’t say anything for a bit then replied, Can. What chu’ need?

Take Babe, she needs to collect something for me, Potsy said without expression. He nodded his head toward the bedroom while making eye contact with the woman. She turned and went into the room to dress.

When she came out she had on a smart tweed suit with a pillbox hat. She held a matching purse on her arm. Smoothing down her skirt with her hand she nodded to JW that she was ready. Both Dog and Mole peeked up from their game to get a look at her with their salivating eyes.

JW pushed his plate away and stood to leave. Let’s go, Babe.

Babe gave Potsy a peck on the cheek and moved her hips from side to side as she headed toward the door.

Calling her back, Potsy said, Let me see inside that bag.

Babe opened her purse and showed Potsy the contents that included a gun.

Okay, he nodded.

Putting her nose into the air and giving a wave of her hand, Babe left the apartment.

Potsy looked at JW and said, Watch her, but she’s mine. Stay away.

The other two men at the table chuckled. "Don’t know if anyone can own her," Mole laughed as he threw down his winning hand.

Don’t matter, ain’t gonna be you, Potsy said as he looked at JW with suspicion.

Without replying JW turned and walked out the door.

Once in the hallway, JW took the lead. Ignoring Babe, he walked swiftly out of the building and into the night. The sky was clear and the moon bright. Babe spun around as she looked up into the night sky.

Isn’t it beautiful? Look, JW. Tell me I’m as beautiful as the stars, she blurted out in a childlike voice.

Babe had just turned twenty so still had the heart and dreams of a girl. As a child, her mom had disappeared leaving her with her grandmother who was too old to really care for a baby. In time, it was Babe who took care of the grandmother until she passed. Babe was only sixteen at the time, but that was old enough. She left school and began to hang around various men who would toss her crumbs of acknowledgement. Thinking they were sincere, Babe retained a level of innocence.

Even her name was devoid of anything significant. She was called Babe, only because she was the baby in the house. Her real name took her time to remember: Jewel Naomi Perkins. She was told that when her mama saw her she immediately called her a jewel. Naomi was a name taken from the Bible. And she was told that Perkins, was her daddy’s last name. Whether that was true, she couldn’t say. She’d never knowingly met him.

Ya’know, JW, I want to travel and see the world. I want to dance in beautiful flowing dresses and fly on the clouds, Babe said with eyes that saw something beyond the dingy surrounds they passed.

Life ain’t like that, JW whispered half to himself.

But maybe it is, JW. Do you think my life will ever be filled with wonderful things? she asked into the void of the night.

JW said nothing in reply. He just walked briskly forward. Babe walked faster to catch up with him, slipping her hand under his arm. Walking side by side, she delicately swung her hips into him.

Stop that, JW said. You’ll get nothing from me.

Who said I wanted anything? Babe replied.

Who you foolin’? Certainly not me. JW said coldly.

Oh, JW, don’t you ever just want some romance? Babe asked in a little girl voice.

No, came his reply. He took Babe’s hand and pushed it away.

They continued on in silence until they got to Michigan Ave. The evening was filled with sounds: cars honked as they tried to maneuver through the streets, music escaped clubs along the way, people called after one another. The lights of the city illuminated the night. People and cars wandered chaotically everywhere. Couples arm in arm out for evening, groups of people celebrating, as well as the service crowd lined the streets. White skinned passers-by stepped far out of the way as JW and Babe passed trying to avoid interaction with those people. Being used to such interactions, JW and Babe turned a blind eye.

When they arrived at the green door next to the Moonlight Club, JW said, This’s the place.

Together they went up the long thin stairway to another door. JW knocked. It opened immediately. 

A heavy-set middle-aged white man stood before them. His black suspenders held up baggy pants that just touched the top of his polished, wing-tip shoes. His black hair was slicked back and shiny. The white sleeveless undershirt he wore was stained with food. A half smoked cigar hung from his mouth.

Tony, JW said as he nodded a greeting. Where’s Turk?

Not here, Tony replied.

When’ll he be back? JW added.

Don’t exactly know. Not his secretary.

He stepped aside for JW and Babe to enter, then closed the door.

How’s you doin’, Babe? Long time since I’s seen you, Tony said with a sparkle in his eye. He absently-mindedly licked his lips as he eyed Babe up and down.

I think you have something for me, Honey, Babe said as she traced her forefinger across Tony’s cheek.

Come on back. I think I have just what you came for, Tony replied with a look of hunger.

Babe followed Tony into a back room. JW could hear gentle banter between them as Tony tried to sweet-talk Babe into giving him more than she planned. Ignoring the interactions, JW sat down at a small table and picked up various objects neatly arranged on it. JW had never before had a chance to sit alone at that table without someone watching.

A long black logbook with a rubber band around it sat next to a stack of horse race charts housed under a glass paperweight. A box of paperclips and an old can stuffed with pens and pencils stood near by. Examining the objects, JW could see that someone was clearly detail oriented. He picked up the logbook and considered opening it. He decided not to take that chance quite yet.

No, that’s not what I came for! Take your fuckin’ hands off me! JW could hear Babe shout from the other room.

JW stood to see what was happening, but then everything became quiet. He decided that Babe was fully capable of taking care of herself and sat back at the table. He could hear the sounds of a scuffle and then a strange sound like a powerful force of air, a suppressed shot. He knew what it was, but he stayed still. He didn’t want to get involved in the struggle. This was just a pick up, nothing more to him. He had no emotional involvement in what was going on, so he consciously detached himself from the thoughts surfacing in his imagination. 

When Babe came out of the room, she was shaking and holding a small package. Her eyes were as wide as the moon, but her face was stone cold. Fumbling with the package, she tucked it up under her skirt into her underwear. After rearranging her clothes to look more presentable she turned toward the door.

Let’s go! Come on, she said in haste. Come on! she repeated in irritation. Her behavior was odd. He’d never seen her like this before.

Where’s Tony? JW asked. What happened?

With an absent look, Babe stared at JW. He knew she wasn’t really seeing him. She was disoriented. Then, she suddenly turned and rushed out the door.

JW moved slowly and carefully. He walked around the corner and into the back room. Tony was on the bed. Covered in blood.

Without emotion, JW closed the bedroom door. As he walked passed the table he hesitated, reached out for the logbook, then stopped. With a confident movement he grabbed the book and tucked it beneath his belt under the back of his shirt.  He carefully closed the door and walked out of the apartment.

When he got down to the street, he could see Babe in the distance already headed back toward Wells Street. JW hastened his step to catch up with her.

What the fuck happened? JW asked in a hushed tone. He grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him.

Nothin’, Babe said as she quickened her pace. Potsy’s not goin’ be happy... what’ll he do to me?

JW didn’t reply. He released his hold and her and she stormed off ahead.

Suddenly turning toward JW, she said, JW, I’m scared. Never been scared like this before. What’ll I do?

She slowed down the pace she was walking. If I go back, he’ll kill me. If I don’t go back he’ll find me and kill me. Turk’s his main contact.

JW pulled Babe to a stop once again and said, Well, you’ve got to make a decision before we get any closer.

Think he’ll understand? Babe asked.

Understand what? I don’t even understand. Why d’you do that?

Don’t know. Don’t know. I lost control. I’ve never shot a gun before. Didn’t know it’d go off so easy. Got scared...I don’t know...

Think about it, Babe. D’you know Potsy to be someone to understand?

Never. He only cares about himself, Babe replied with her head hung low.

Well, then, you really don’t have a choice, do you? JW said.

Where’ll I go? What can I do? Babe asked in a frantic panic.

Give me the package and just go. Don’t tell me where you’re going. He’ll have the goods. Go. Get lost. Get lost so no one’ll ever find you, JW said.

Babe reached up into her dress, took the package and handed it to JW.

Where do I go? Babe asked with an empty expression. Her hands open before him.

How the hell should I know? Here take this, he said as he handed her a fist full of bills he pulled out of his pocket. Just lose yourself. Don’t come back.

He turned east as Babe headed south.

JW slowed his pace while he considered the story he’d tell Potsy. He didn’t care about protecting Babe, but he knew he would need to protect himself. Showing up with the goods without Babe was only half the job.

Chapter Two

Tymme

JW avoided crossing North LaSalle toward Cabrini and headed deeper into the commercial district of the city. Returning without Babe was suicide.

JW’s broad shoulders and long legs made it easy for him to walk swiftly though the city. His confident manner exuded authority, and people moved out of his way as he approached. But many who usually walked the streets during the daytime were now home where they belonged. Only those who fully understood the city dared to live within its boundaries. The true heart of the city beat stronger at night in the darkness of the shadows.

JW headed to a favorite spot under the L near the river. The L, an elevated train that ran through the city, made enough noise to cover sounds and even calmed the shouting of his thoughts when confused, a state familiar to him. 

JW sat down on an empty bench. It was dark and the shadows around the bench provided the perfect protection from cops on their beat and other eyes searching for prey to devour.

As he sat thinking about the events from the evening, he considered his options. He had two things of value: the package Babe was sent to retrieve and the logbook. He knew the package contained black tar, pure stuff from Mexico, so he pulled the logbook out from under his shirt and slipped the rubber band from around it.

The minute he opened its neatly scribed pages, he realized that it was more valuable than the package. It was just as he’d hoped. Every transaction Turk and Tony made was clearly documented. The book would be missed. There’d be a bounty on his and Babe’s heads for the retrieval of it.

JW flipped through the pages to get a better sense of the organization in the book. There were no names listed only numbers, addresses, and transaction amounts.  Most of the addresses were in Chicago, but some were in New York, Philadelphia, Atlanta, and New Orleans. In the back of the book was an address somewhere in Mexico.

JW closed the book and set it on the bench next to him as he pulled out a cigarette. He welcomed the stillness and relaxed into the moment as he watched the threads of smoke float around and escape into the night.

Out the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of movement. Then suddenly a hand reached up and grabbed the book, stealing it away. A dark shape flew across the road and around a building. In an instant, JW was in pursuit. He chased the figure releasing all resistance in his body that held him back. He could see the shape as it rounded corners and leapt over obstacles in its path. JW drew closer and closer as it headed back toward the river. Just as JW reached forward to grab the figure, it flung the book high into the air toward the river. Both people fell together onto each other as the book dropped slowly into the waters.

You fuckin’ asshole, JW spit the words out as he turned his eyes to the creature he held in his hands.

It took a moment for his eyes to focus on the face of the thief. It was only a kid, a young kid about 13. The kid’s hair was scruffy with bits of straw and dirt attached to the tightly wound curls. His face was smudged. Dirt and bits of food were stuck to his face like tattoos. A dark half circle outlined part of his left eye above his chipped teeth.

What the fuck are you doin’? JW screamed as he reached back to slug the kid in the face.

With a racing heart, he exhaled and dropped his fist realizing that it would