Twisted

By James E. Causey

After the brutal death of his surrogate father at the hands of a bitter rival, Travon Brown is caught in a twisted web and he doesnt know where to turn.
Tugging at Travons coattails is his newly discovered found fatherhood, thanks to a one-night stand at a bachelor party a year ago.
In addition to fathering a love child that he has yet to meet, Travon has to decide if hes going to end a taboo affair or rekindle a relationship with the mother of his child.
Twisted picks up where The Twist left off with the gritty story of a man who must decide if he will resist the temptation of the streets, or give in to the bitter taste of sweet revenge.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477148198

James E. Causey

James E. Causey is an award winning columnist, editorial writer and blogger for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. He received his B.A. degree in communications from Marquette University in Milwaukee and his M.B.A. from Cardinal Stritch University in Fox Point, Wisconsin. In 2008, Causey was a Nieman Fellow at Harvard University where he studied Hip Hop and its harmful affects on urban communities. In 2011, he received a Headliner Award for editorial writing. He resides in Milwaukee and has one daughter.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

"First of all, let me give an honor to God. As I look around this church this evening, I see a lot of sad faces, and for some, I still see anger on your faces. But, church, let’s remember that we’ve all got to make this same journey one day. We don’t know when, we don’t know where, and we don’t know how, but whenever we make that journey, it always seems like it was too soon." Reverend Isaac Shaw motioned his hands toward the bone-white casket, trimmed in gold, closed before him.

Hundreds of people packed like sardines into the now-small sweltering north-side church to pay their final respects to the slain strip club owner Big Willie. As many people nodded in agreement with the minister, some flipped through the ten-page obituary and admired the color pictures of Willie with longtime friends and him posing with luxurious automobiles, professional boxers, and his bevy of beautiful women.

"Brother Theodore William Davis III—Big Willie for those that knew him well—was bigger than life! He, he was a patient man, he, he was a God-fearing man, and at the same time he, he was a friend to this church. Can I get somebody out there to say amen?" Shaw continued, repeating words for more emphasis like a child overcoming a stutter.

Shaw stepped from behind the pulpit to place his hands on the shoulders of mourners that needed comforting.

"I understand the sad faces. I can understand the pain, but don’t cry too long for Brother Willie, because the Willie I know would not have wanted that.

"A lot of you may remember Brother Willie as this grandiose character who was always the center of attention. He, he was a man that commanded the room! Amen. He had that big, big laugh and that, that commanding walk, sorta like Denzel Washington. When Willie was around, you knew it, but it wasn’t because of his size—no, sir, it was because of his being. Can I get anybody out there to say amen?

"God brought me here today to tell you that there was another side to this man, a side that he revealed to only a few! A lot of you know that Brother Willie had a huge heart, but a lot of you don’t know that he also showed a generous heart to this church. With his baritone voice rising and falling and sweat beading up on his forehead, Shaw said, Willie kept our church afloat when times got hard."

"He bought new robes for the gospel choir when we needed them, he paid for our new roof when the old one was leaking, he got the church a van when the old one didn’t run and when we needed new pews and Bibles, the Southern Baptist minister said, stomping his foot with a thud, with his deacons yelling, Preach, preach," from behind the pulpit.

He was there! he continued, stomping his feet at the end of every word with the organist playing in tandem.

As the women began jumping out of their seats to applaud and the men, who usually kept their emotions bottled up, joined in, Shaw stood behind the pulpit and looked pleased at his ability to toy with the congregation with his rollercoaster-like pace.

Y’all don’t want me to preach today. If I preached about the good in this man, we would be here all night.

Looking over at Willie’s mother, Shaw brought the church around full circle.

As I tell you these things about this man, I see some of you are out there rollin’ your eyes at me, wondering why’d I take money from a pimp? he asked, scanning the crowd with squinting eyes.

"Don’t look at me crazy now, ‘cause those of you that know me know I call a spade, a spade, and everybody in here knows about Brother Willie’s background, so I don’t have to rehash that.

"But for those who want to question me and my decisions, I’ll say this, Willie was a man of God, who was sent to this church to help us during our time of need, and not once did Willie ask for anything in return. Not once did he seek accolades for his generosity."

Shaw took time to stress his point by eyeballing the crowd like a probing detective.

There’s something to be said for a man who doesn’t want people to know that he’s doing good things. Amen. He paused to sip a drink of ice water as his statement hung in the air with the heat.

I have some deacons that’ll lead early morning Bible study and act like they want the world to know it, he said, smiling back at his deacons who started to look at each other suspiciously before turning his attention back to the congregation.

"I’m just teasing, my deacons wouldn’t do that. Amen.

"Now I said I wasn’t gonna preach, but when you come across someone like this in your life that’s not only a friend to you but a friend to your flock, you have to take a moment to thank the Lord," Shaw said as he stops to wipe more sweat from his forehead.

As he began to bring his eulogy to a close, Shaw took this time to remind people that God gives you chances, but it’s up to you to take advantage of them.

"Now I’m going to ask Willie’s mother to stand. Aaaamen. Mrs. Davis, please stand. I want you to know if there’s anything, sister, that we can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask. The church is here for you. Amen. That’s why the church is so important. We’re going to be there to help you through these difficult times. Aaaamen!

"Before you sit down, I want you to know something about your son. For those of you that don’t know, Willie brought his mother to church on time every single Sunday. If Mrs. Davis was not sitting right there on her seat on the third row, I knew that she was either out of town visiting relatives, or she was out too late the night before playing bingo at one of the casinos," he teased with a loving chuckle as he came from behind the pulpit to embrace Mrs. Davis.

Shaw informed the audience that "this woman knows her bible. Amen. When I’m preaching, sometimes she makes me feel like a schoolboy before his teacher. This woman is a tougher critic than my father, but I know when I get an affirmative pat on the back after my sermon on Sunday from this lady, I know I did a good job."

Shaw’s playfulness worked to quell a lot of tension. He was at the scene when firefighters dragged a burnt and beaten body out of the vacant house about a mile from his church. That night, he opened the church up to anyone that wanted to talk about it when there were rumors circulating that the body was that of Willie. The doors of the church have not closed since, and the sandbags under Shaw’s eyes are proof that he’s doing everything in his power to prevent a war from spilling over.

Meanwhile, the location where Willie was slain has been turned into a memorial of balloons, flowers, pictures, signs, teddy bears, and liquor bottles. One sign in bold letters reads, WILLIE, WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH. WE CAN’T BELIEVE THAT U R GONE. OUR LIVES WILL NEVER BE THE SAME WITHOUT YOU, LOVE ALWAYS, PEACHES.

Prior to the funeral, rumors were flying rampantly over whom Willie’s killers might be, and the list includes everyone from a club patron to the mob. For as loud as Big Willie appeared to be on the outside, he made up for how quiet and private he was on the inside.

Only two men knew who did this to Willie, and they were not cooperating with police. I and Nathaniel Crazy Nate Briggs knew that the real killers resided in Chicago, but we both had no intention of snitching. The punishment that we plan to administer to Memphis Wright is only accepted by an Iraqi court.

Choir, lead us in song, Shaw ordered before giving Mrs. Davis some private words of comfort.

Dressed in their new purple and white robes, with white crosses over the heart, the Metropolitan Missionary Baptist Church choir sang Precious Lord (Take My Hand), by Mahalia Jackson.

"Precious Lord, take my hand

Lead me on, let me stand

I’m tired, I’m weak, I’m lone

Through the storm, through the night

Lead me on to the light

Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home . . ."

The church was filled with a who’s who of the city and the state, and the crowd was as diverse as Willie himself. There were doctors, lawyers, pimps, prostitutes, and politicians together to give their final respects to Big Willie.

CHAPTER 1

I was like a son to Willie, so I sat in the front row, sandwiched between two grieving mothers—Willie’s mom and my own.

Uncomfortable from the heat and the unwanted responsibility of people assuming I would take Willie’s place, I kept glancing over my shoulder every couple minutes, hoping a game—show personality would walk into the church and tell me this was a prank. Many in the neighborhood believed Willie was still alive and that he staged his death. A closed casket fueled speculation.

I knew the truth. I went to the Milwaukee County Medical Examiner’s Office to identify the body.

*     *     *

I need a member of the family to follow me to the back please, the examiner’s assistant said with a blank face. The duty was automatically trust on me as others waited behind in a quiet room with outdated Jet magazines and two-week-old newspapers. When I stepped into the cold white room with a pulled-down screen, I wasn’t given a warning before the lights went dim, and Willie’s burnt and disfigured face appeared before me.

My heart dropped into my stomach, and my legs got so weak that I crumbled to the floor like I was punched on the temple.

When the assistant helped me up, she asked me if I could identify the man on the screen as Theodore William Davis III. Through eyes full of tears, I responded, Yes. He’s my father.

Without saying a word, the stocky assistant helped me to a sunken black leather couch in a room that, I’m sure, supported countless grieving family members that tragically lost loved ones.

I sat there for a moment with a box of rough generic tissues at my side providing no comfort. When the assistant came back, she put some forms before me. Sign by the X, she directed. As she continued to talk about family counseling provided by Milwaukee County and other support groups, I just put my hand on my forehead and blindly signed the papers.

Before leaving the room, she clinched her clipboard. Mr. Brown, I’m sorry for your loss.

A priest, as if on cue, walked into the room next and asked if his family would like prayer.

No, thanks, Father. It’s going to take something far greater than your prayers to stop what’s about to happen.

When I walked back into the quiet room with Willie’s mother, my mother, Crazy Nate, and Pastor Shaw, my red eyes told the story. I didn’t have to say a word, as the room broke down in unison with cries of pain. I tried desperately to comfort Willie’s mother as she continued to scream, I want to see my baby! Where’s my son? It’s a scene that I’ll never forget, but I knew one thing, Memphis will feel the same pain. In all the chaos, Nate approached me, steadying me by grabbing my shoulders.

You know what we’ve got to do. You know, don’t ya’, boy! Nate stated.

I nodded my compliance before burying my head into Nate’s chest.

This is on your shoulders, boy. It’s all on you. But we’re going to make this right. I promise.

*     *     *

My mom squeezed my hand to bring me out of my nightmare and asked me if I’m going to be all right to say a few words on behalf of the family.

She didn’t wait for a response. Baby, what’s wrong? The Lord will make a way, she said, rocking slightly to convince herself. "He never gives us more than we can stand."

I leaned over and whispered, I was just looking for Nate. I haven’t seen him all morning, and I’m worried about him.

Knowing that old fool, he’s probably somewhere getting lit up, she shoots back sarcastically. "I don’t know why he’s not here. He pretended like he loved Willie so much. I want you to stay away from him, Tray! He’s bad news. Get away from Milwaukee ‘cause there ain’t nothing here for you. Do you hear me? Go back to Miami and keep writing and reporting."

Deep down, I knew Mom loved Willie more than she let on, and the feeling from Willie was mutual, but his background wouldn’t allow for them to be anything more than friends. Every man that Mom ever loved had commitment issues, and this goes for my biological father who left her when I was nine. That wound left a nasty scar on her heart that never healed. The only man who may have been able to take that pain away was now lying fifteen feet ahead of her in a pine box. The lesson I learned from my mother’s newfound pain was to never hold back telling someone how you feel because you may never get that chance again.

Pastor Shaw understood how Willie was well loved and adored by his community, and he opened his doors to anyone who needed consultation.

"For everyone out there, it’s never too late to turn your lives over to God. All you have to do is ask, and God’s will will be done. Before I turn the mic over, I want to share a secret. Before Willie’s life was cut short, we had a private meeting, and during our talk, Willie told me that he didn’t think his life here on earth would be a long one.

When I asked him what he meant, he told me he was having this dream that something bad was going to happen, and he asked me if God had any love for an old pimp like himself. I looked at Willie and told him it’s never too late to turn your life over to God. Amen! We both got on our knees and prayed together, and I brought him here that night, and I baptized him. Willie was a saved man. Amen. I want you all to think about that for a moment. He knew his time was gettin’ short, and he wanted to turn his life over to God. Remember, church it ain’t never too late, until it’s too late. Tomorrow is not promised, people. Now I talked enough, and the family wanted to have Travon Brown say a few words.

As Shaw walked toward the family, I met him halfway. We embraced, and I walked toward the casket and lightly kissed the top before turning my attention to the church. I never remember hearing so many people so quiet. I soaked it up and held it in until the silence was broken by a baby crying in the back of the church and an elder speaking out in encouragement, It’s all right, baby!

Willie’s death had taken its toll on me. Dressed in a black suit with a thick black tie and big black shades to hide swollen eyes, I looked like a beaten fighter trying to hide his bruises. Before I could speak, I reached under my shades and caught the tears before they could run down my sunken cheeks.

Suddenly, the words started to come out—calm, calculated, and clear.

What do I say? I lost a man that was like a father to me for most of my life. Actually, he was my father. He was the man that was there for most of my firsts. My first date, my first kiss, my first fight, getting my driver’s license, graduating from high school, going off to college, how can I forget winning my first Golden Gloves, and the first time my heart was broken by a girl. Not only was he there, but he lifted me and gave me advice and direction to succeed. He showed me the way like he showed a lot of you the way out, that’s why I know it’s so hard for you to believe he’s gone. Willie showed me how to become a man, and although I didn’t always listen to him and we sometimes had our moments, he was the father figure in my life. He was a man before his time, and there will forever be an empty space in my heart. I clutched my fist to my chest and turned back toward the casket to kiss it one last time.

I just want to say I’m sorry, Willie, that you won’t be there to see your prince become a king, but I’m going to do the right thing and make you proud of me. I swear on everything I love that your death will not be in vain. I will make them pay.

I handed the microphone back to the minister, kissed my mother on the cheek, and headed toward the exit.

As members of the church started to applaud, Pastor Shaw warned me.

Travon, let it go. Let the police handle this, son, he yelled as the applause and hugs and pats on the back continued. One man followed me into the vestibule.

He unbuttoned his jacket to reveal a small-caliber handgun in his waistband. With a hungover stare, he said, I brought this just in case something jumped off up in here. I’ve known Willie since before you were born. If you need anything, I got you.

I looked at the gun.

Thanks, partner, but this is something I’ve got to do on my own, I replied before walking out the huge double doors as two deacons tried haphazardly to stop me.

Once outside, I quickened my pace and jumped into one of the awaiting limos.

Where to?

I don’t care, just take me away from here.

As the driver pulled off, I called Nate again, only to get his voice mail. I started to call Faith, but before I could dial the last digit, pride took over, and I hung up.

Damn, Faith, how much did you know?

In anger, I threw my phone against the tinted glass. Dammit! Where are you, Nate? This is too much for me to handle by myself.

*     *     *

I guess they really do bury them six feet deep, Nate said, pausing for a moment to rest after throwing piles of dirt over his shoulder like he’s searching for a buried treasure.

He continued digging, while admiring the nearly perfect hole he’s managed to make, when at last, the end of his shovel strikes something hard. Overcame with emotion, Nate dropped to his knees and started violently sweeping dirt away with his arms until a white casket begins to appear.

I knew I would find ya!

Let me get you outta there, Nate said as he struggles to climb out of the tomb to grab his pickax buried under a mound of dirt. As he drops back into the hole, he paused for a moment before spitting on his callused hands, slapping them together, and swinging the ax into the tomb below.

He swung violently several more times before breaking through, and then using his hands and a crowbar, he continued to burrow away until he creates an opening the size of a baby. He took a flashlight from his back pocket to peer inside.

There you are, baby, looking like sleeping beauty. You thought I wasn’t coming back, didn’t you? Nate is a man that keeps his word. I promised you that I was going to bring you back to your husband, Nate said, peering into the hole.

He pulled a large garbage bag out of his shirt.

We’ve got a special delivery to make.

Reaching into the coffin ever so carefully, he pulled White Chocolate out by her thinning blonde hair. He sat back against the wall of dirt and cradled her head in his arms, thinking back to when he took her life.

I’m sorry, but you were like that forbidden fruit, he continued as he tenderly stroked her scalp and what was left of her face. I had to get back at Memphis. I had to show him that you can die a thousand deaths, but they may not be your own. It wasn’t personal. You were just the pawn.

Holding her head up toward the light, he continued his conversation.

Think about this, I went up into his raggedy ass strip club, took his wife out of there walking hand and hand, took you back to the hotel, we made sweet love, and then I cut you up like my mother used to do chickens in the south. I did all of this right up under his nose, and he knew I was coming. I wonder when he realized that I was the high roller, did he turn as white as you? Nate grinned. I guess a brother can clean up pretty good when he has to, Nate said, rubbing his scraggly beard.

I didn’t want you to suffer too much. I cut you right there, so it would be quick, he said, pointing to her neck. They taught me that in Nam. That’s called the jugular. You didn’t need this life no more. I did you a favor. You’d been stabbed by enough dicks in your lifetime. You were already dead.

Looking at his camouflaged military watch, Nate yelled, Fifteen hundred hours.

Now it’s time to get you outta here, he said, carefully placing her head inside his black plastic garbage bag.

After removing the rest of White Chocolate’s remains from her resting place, Nate relieved his wine-filled bladder in the hole of the coffin. He threw the bag on top of the mounds of dirt he created, climbed out of his hole, and began the backbreaking task of refilling the grave.

While filling in the hole, Nate talked out loud.

"I missed Willie’s funeral for this, now I just got to take care of a couple more people before I’m done—and, Willie, me and you can be together again. Two of America’s most wanted. I know together we’re gonna drive ‘em crazy in hell."

Pausing to catch his breath, Nate noticed that there were gravestones lined up for as far as the eyes can see.

"Hey, Willie, I know you’re listening, I’ve got a joke.

Where can you go that has the most people but the least amount of visitors? he said, pausing like he’s waiting for an answer from the sky.

A graveyard! he answered, cracking his own self up. "I just made that one up myself. All these dead people and I haven’t seen not one visitor, unless I count myself. I guess people don’t like to come to places like this, because it reminds them of where they’re going to end up one day. But you know my philosophy on that, right, Willie? Ain’t nobody gonna miss a nigga from the ghetto.

Oh yeah, big fella, before I forget, did you hear that Tray is a daddy now? That boy got that stripper he was messing around with at his friend’s bachelor party pregnant.

Nate continued.

I know, I know, why didn’t that boy put a cap on it? You know you can’t tell these young bloods nothing. Anyway it gets better than that. The girl he’s been dating is the stripper’s sister, and they didn’t even know it, Nate said, grinning as he continued to fill the hole. Now how twisted is that? He got a baby by one sister and was sexing up the other sister. She’s fine too. I think he said her name was Faith or something like that.

Nate’s mood suddenly turned somber. He didn’t find this all out until, well, until we found you.

Wiping a tear from his eye, he continued, I’m not crying, Will. I just got something in my eye. I’m still being a strong soldier, and we do have reason to celebrate because this makes us grandfathers.

This actually calls for a drink, Nate said, reaching for his inscribed flask that his friend had given him years ago.

I still keep it, Willie, he said, holding the silver flask up in the air before taking a sip and pouring out some in the dirt below.

That’s that good stuff. No more rot gut for me. You were the only one to understand me, Willie. You knew what I went through over there. Hell, Willie, you the only reason I’m still alive today, and I will never forget you, he said, taking another swig from his flask.

After completing the hole, Nate threw the bag over his shoulder, walked out of the cemetery whistling a military tune like an ordinary visitor with no one the wiser of his plastic bag full of secrets.

CHAPTER 2

Angel, have you heard from your sister? She was supposed to be back four days ago. Sandra Mills questioned her best friend’s sister.

"I called her, and she didn’t want to talk. I just figured she was getting sexed up by her mystery man in Miami. Who knows? Maybe she put it on him so good that he popped