Unshaken

By D.A. Bourne

The year is 1989.

Lamar L.A. Davis the 3rd has a vision that can impact a generation. His religious father Bishop L.A. Davis, Jr., considers the vision a threat to his church so he does whatever it takes to destroy it. And Eugene, a young millionaire and proud supporter of Bishop, is on a mission to damage L.As image.

Despite the plans of Bishop and Eugene, L.A. goes forth with the vision, assisted by his best friends V and Chazz, and supported by his love interest Deanna and his aunt Lucy. Success and favor come quickly, but then hell breaks loose. L.As past comes back to haunt him, family secrets are revealed, and the integrity of L.A.s crew is questioned. Will he allow his goals to abort, or will his faith remain unshaken?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781479717491

D.A. Bourne

D.A. Bourne is the author of CRAZY DRAMA. He is also a former radio host and rapper whose desire is to bring life and integrity through urban fiction. In 1999, D.A. received a Bachelor of Arts in Communication Studies from the University of Windsor. He currently lives in the Greater Toronto Area with his wife and three children.

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by D.A. Bourne.

Library of Congress Control Number:          2012917089

ISBN:                  Hardcover                         978-1-4797-1748-4

                            Softcover                           978-1-4797-1747-7

                            Ebook                               978-1-4797-1749-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

110569

Contents

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

PART ONE

1989

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

PART 2

1990

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

42

43

44

45

46

47

48

49

50

51

52

53

54

55

EPILOGUE

FROM THE AUTHOR OF

CRAZY DRAMA AND UNSHAKEN

AVAILABLE NOW

ON E-BOOK, PAPERBACK AND HARDCOVER

D.A. BOURNE’S EXCITING DEBUT NOVEL

CRAZY DRAMA

Bourne did an excellent job balancing and developing so many characters. He tells a highly dramatic, action-packed and suspenseful tale without explicit sex scenes and foul language. His style can appeal to lovers of street fiction, as well as Christian fiction which is a good balance that can be hard to capture. CRAZY DRAMA is one not to miss.

The RAWSISTAZ Literary Group

www.xlibris.com

This book is dedicated to the pioneers of gospelg/positive hip-hop whose music and ministry are the reason why I’m still a huge advocate of the genre (19 years):

PID, DC Talk, SFC, Dynamic Twins, Apocalypse, Grits, Gospel Gangstaz, and The Cross Movement

Gospel/positive hip-hop is the most under appreciated music genre in the world, but it has never been as popular as it is today. Many people do not know the crazy junk that religious folk and traditional churches put you through because they did not understand the vision. But you weathered the storm, and for this I’m truly grateful.

The struggles continue . . . but so do the victories.

D.A.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

From now on, when I promote an upcoming novel, I will only write Coming Soon and not give a date. My goal was to release this book in 2008. Stuff happens (good and bad), but I apologize. That being said, I am so excited because you have finally read Unshaken. As you can see, I am an edgy writer and my content isn’t all family-oriented. But as long as I don’t compromise the Gospel, my style won’t change. I hope that you were blessed by the story; this was an absolute pleasure to write with the themes very dear to my heart.

To my Lord and Saviour Jesus, thank you for your amazing grace and wonderful favor. Everyday I am grateful for you saving me because I don’t deserve it. You are my everything.

Before I thank the people who helped bring this book together, I must acknowledge those I couldn’t add to Crazy Drama. Much thanks to Jeremy Nieto, who designed the cover for Crazy Drama, and Shelly Semmler for her tremendous support. And I can’t forget the overwhelming positive reviews from the readers! Crazy Drama was a blessing to readers of all walks of life, and that’s a result of God’s favor. I can’t thank you all enough for the support.

To my wonderful wife Julia, your love and support of my dreams and goals has been absolutely amazing. We are such a great team and my success will always be OUR success. I love you so much. I am so blessed to be your husband.

To my three bundles of joy: Jada, Jasmyne, and Davian—Daddy loves you so much! Watching you grow up so quickly drives me to be the best father I can be—so that you will have abundant success in God and life.

To my parents, Godfrey and Eula Bourne and mother-in-law Esther Anthony for your continued love and support.

To my pastors, Kevin and Pamela Begley. Your godly wisdom and incredible knowledge of the Word always encourages me to earnestly seek God. Thank you for being a primary example of how to live like Christ. To my extended family Harvest Worship Centre and Liberty International (one church, two locations)—getting to know you all is one huge reason why I’m always excited to go to church every week.

I owe a huge thank you to the following for their friendship and help towards the release of Unshaken: Sheldon and Belinda Barrocks, Francis and Julie McLean, Chris Wilson, Rodney Woo, Dave and Brandi Jackman, Shirlette Mellish, Poli Nieto, Afua Williams and Bradley Gordon. If I forgot anyone, forgive my mind, remember my heart.

A big thank you to my fellow Chrysler workers—many of the Crazy Drama sales came from you, and the feedback was great. Much blessings!

Let me know your thoughts on Unshaken. Email me at [e-mail], hit me up on Facebook (D.A. Bourne). Follow me on Twitter @DABourne27.

My next book is what you’ve been waiting for—Crazy Drama: Tribulation. Check out the one-page preview . . .

Blessings,

D.A.

PART ONE

1989

1

The woman that I had to deliver a pizza to loved sleeping with preachers. That was the rumor among church folk in Buffalo. I didn’t worry about it because I was only a son of a pastor. A son of a well-known bishop, but I had no intention of following his footsteps.

Of course, many people would believe that my thoughts were foolish, but I didn’t care. So what if I was Lamar Abner Davis the 3rd? Was I supposed to become a bishop because of my father and granddad? Not if I could help it. That’s why I decided to deliver pizza as a part-time job. It kept me from going to mid-week services and church outings all the time. The less I heard people compare me to my father, the better.

LaWanda Francis had become one of my regular customers. Her fourteen-year old daughter Rhonda came to Friday youth nights at the church. LaWanda wasn’t a church member, but she was very supportive of her daughter and our youth conferences. At the last conference in May, she was the first person to congratulate me for my ten-minute message about being a witness for Christ. I thought nothing of it. I delivered pizza to her apartment for the first time a month later. Lady couldn’t stop talking about the sermon and comparing me to my old man. She wouldn’t even let Rhonda say more than hello and good-bye. It was odd behaviour for a mother, but I didn’t complain. Miss Francis was a pretty woman who gave great tips.

Every Thursday since then was a stop to the Francis home. One medium veggie pizza for Miss Francis, and one medium pepperoni pizza for Rhonda. The order never changed. The tips stayed good. My best friend Victor Fernandez aka V found out from Rhonda about my frequent visits and told me about Miss Francis and her fascination for pulpit speakers. I laughed at him. Why would a fine mid-thirties woman want to sleep with a seventeen year-old?

I arrived at the entrance of the high-rise condo where they resided. Turned the engine off but left the battery on. I had to finish listening to Public Enemy’s Fight The Power. After watching Spike Lee’s Do The Right Thing, I rushed to the store to buy the soundtrack. It was hard for a hip-hop fan not to love the scenes when homeboy toured the neighborhood with his boombox, blazing the track like it was the best tune ever. I was a hip-hop fanatic. Loved everything about it except for the cursing. Loved it even more after my parents banned it from our home. Whenever I drove my 1984 Dodge Sprint, I played my rap music like I didn’t have a tomorrow. To make myself feel less guilty for listening to it, I would convert the secular choruses to Christian. It sounded corny most of the time, but it made me content. Plus I had little options. I didn’t have any gospel rap to listen to. Didn’t even know if such a genre existed.

I reached for the pizza bag and looked for the Francis’ box. I had three deliveries to make, and there were three orders, but I was confused. Did I pick up the wrong order for the Francis’? I pulled out the box with their name and receipt on it. I didn’t make a mistake, because the receipt stated one medium veggie only. Rhonda wasn’t home.

Hey, sweetheart, how are you? greeted Miss Francis with her usual sweet Southern accent.

F-Fine, Miss Francis, I replied as I stared at her in awe.

I almost forgot what I was supposed to do. Miss Francis wore a blue and green polka dot bikini top and jean cut-off shorts. The woman was fit. I couldn’t believe that I was looking at Rhonda’s mother. I already knew that her face looked very much like Whitney Houston’s, but I had no idea she had a body of a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. It was the first time I’d seen her wear so little. Then again, it was the first time I’d seen her without Rhonda.

My Lord, come inside and cool down! she cried, pulling me into her lavish two-bedroom apartment. Do you want some water? Hard working young man like you must be exhausted!

I was sweating; more so after seeing Miss Francis. But the apartment was very cool, thanks to the A.C. It would be dumb for me to refuse water after coming from outside where it was still ninety degrees in the evening. I gladly accepted some H2O.

Be right back with that and your money, said Miss Francis as she headed towards the kitchen with her veggie pizza.

My eyes were glued to her backside as she walked away. Was I at Rhonda’s mother’s apartment or Miami Beach?

Watch yourself, Lamar! How would you like your boys staring at your mother’s booty?

I gave myself a disgusted look just thinking about it. My mom was beautiful, but my friends V and Chazz O’Connor saw her as First Lady Davis and a second mother. And Mom never wore clothes like Miss Francis. And Mom didn’t have a body like Miss Francis. There had to be a good amount of preachers guilty of adultery or fornication courtesy of this woman.

She returned with a glass of water. It was easily the most refreshing drink I had all summer. Surprisingly, it made me feel more relaxed. Must have been due to the quick prayer I said while gulping the beverage. I could look at Miss Francis and not get aroused. Word up, my God worked a miracle indeed.

The Francis home was one of the few stops that I actually took time to chat for a few minutes. Rhonda was a friend, plus I took advantage of their A.C. I asked Miss Francis where she was, and she told me that Rhonda was spending Labor Day weekend with her father in Arkansas. Miss Francis asked me if I was excited about my final year of high school.

Yes, ma’am! I answered with joy. My high school days are almost over!

Enjoy it, sweetheart. Some days I wish I could go back to my high school days. Life was so much easier.

That’s what every grown-up tells me.

Of course, being a typical teenager, seeing high school as the easy life made no sense.

So what are your plans after you graduate? she asked. Full-time ministry?

Dang, how cliché was that question? Because I have the same name as my pops and granddad, people expect me to be their clone. What if my ancestors were crack heads, I should do the same thing? No doubt the question bothered me, but I got rid of my frustration by staring at her two friends. Wasn’t a godly move, but they made me smile.

I’m actually interested in studying social work at the University of Buffalo, I replied. Or I might go elsewhere and study at Syracuse or NYU.

Really? she asked, sounding quite impressed. Social work is a great field. I can see you being a man that helps . . . the needy.

When Miss Francis said that, she looked at me like I was BBQ chicken. Was V right when he told me that she wants to break me off? Yes, I was six foot one, two-twenty in weight, and could pass for a twenty-one year old, but I was only seventeen. A youngin’ for crying out loud! Yes, she may like to get freaky with preachers, but she wasn’t desperate. Then again, when Miss Francis said the needy, she sounded just like Jessica from the film Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

I know you have to go, but I need a huge favor, said Miss Francis, sounding normal again. Do you have a couple of minutes to spare?

Oh my God, a couple of minutes? To do what, sleep with me???

I said, Sure . . . sure. What do you need?

Both light bulbs connected to the living room ceiling fan died yesterday. Usually Rhonda changes them when she’s here ’cause I have a fear of standing on stools. Childhood accident, long story. Can you change them for me? If you have to go, that’s—

Of course I can do it, that’s no problem.

She thanked me and went to the kitchen to get a pack of light bulbs. Then I followed her to the dark living room where the only light was coming from outside. Wheel of Fortune was on the television. MC Hammer was playing lightly through the stereo. This woman didn’t want to knock my boots. Stupid V had my mind tripping.

Miss Francis placed a footstool under the fan and I stood on it. With my left hand, I unscrewed the dead bulb. She gave me a new bulb and placed in my right hand while she took the dead one from my left. I screwed in the new bulb with my left while unscrewing the second dead bulb with my right. Had to move quick cause I didn’t want to give away any free pizzas to my other customers. So, one hand was holding the dead bulb, the other screwing in the second new bulb, and a third was caressing my privates.

That when I stopped moving. The dead bulb dropped to the floor.

I looked down at Miss Francis and she was smiling at me while rubbing you-know-what like a genie bottle. My first thought was disbelief, and then I got crazy scared. I honestly didn’t know how to react.

Do you like this, baby? she asked.

Of course I liked it. It was about to break through my pants.

M-M-Miss Francis, what are you doing?

You need to call me LaWanda, baby! Just relax, ’cause I wanna introduce you to manhood. What are you doing after work?

Uh, uh . . . I’m going to church.

I need you to come back here when you’re done work! We can have our own service. I want . . . I need you to lay your hands on me.

My God, she was desperate. And I was in trouble. My flesh was so ready to lose my job and get in trouble with my folks over something teenage boys could only dream about.

Miss Francis unbuckled my belt and pulled down my pants zipper.

Do you want me to give you a sneak preview?

That’s when I lost my balance and fell backwards on the carpet. Miss Francis moved the stool out of her way and continued trying to pull my pants off. I quickly crawled backwards, but I was stopped by the screen door to the porch. I really wanted to give in, but my faith kept me on the defensive.

Miss Francis, I really really have to go now, I pleaded as she sat on my lap.

She pressed her bosom against my chest and stared at me with eyes of seduction.

Promise me that you’ll come back tonight, she begged.

No, Miss Francis, I can’t-

No! All I want to hear is ‘Yes, LaWanda!’

Then she took off her top.

Oh yes, LaWanda! Yes, yes . . .

Don’t do it again, Lamar!

Her twin friends were fully exposed. It was the second time in my life that I’d been so close to the naked female body. Twice in the last four weeks. Our church had a weekend youth retreat in August with another church in the state. One of their youth members brought a guest that was visiting from Toronto, Canada. I was so attracted to her that I did whatever I had to do to get her alone with me for a half hour. To make a long story short, the opportunity came and I lost my virginity. Biggest mistake of my entire life. Minutes after it happened, I repented to God and promised him that I would never have sex again until my wedding night.

I can make this a night you’ll never forget, said Miss Francis. This tutoring session won’t be available once Rhonda comes back. I’ll show you the right ways to minister in the bedroom with your future first lady. All you gotta say is-

No Miss Francis!!!! NO!!!!

I pushed her off my lap, pulled up my pants, and headed for the door. Whatever her veggie pizza cost, I was willing to pay for it ’cause I didn’t want to wait for her cash or her tips. I had to flee like Joseph with Potiphar’s wife. Obviously it was easier said than done.

Wait, Brother Lamar! she cried, running to the door while re-connecting her polka-dot bikini top. Please forgive me. I’ve always seen you as an attractive young man, and . . . I allowed my emotions to get carried away.

Miss Francis, I’m shocked! I snapped as I straightened out my clothes. I’m shocked that a woman like yourself would lower your standards and take advantage of a friend of your only daughter! How could you?

She looked at me like I was a ghost. My words surprised her big time. Not only did I have a moderately deep voice, but I had no respect of age when I was shocked or angry. I was bold enough to tell off a little kid or a mature adult if someone rubbed me the wrong way. I spent many days slapped, grounded, or stuck in detention growing up. Blame it on my pops, a militant man who was ridiculously blunt in our home and on the pulpit.

I continued. A fine, beautiful woman like you should be with a good husband. But you’re not going to get a good man if you give up your body to anyone who could preach a hot sermon! I hear bad things about you, and I be buggin’ ’cause I know you’re a sweet lady. If you stay patient and trust God, you can have the man you’re looking for, in His perfect timing!

With that said I bounced before she got out of her shock and kicked me out. I sped down the hallway without looking back. Got to the elevator, pressed the down button, and waited for the door to open. It was taking its own time.

Come on! Hurry up! I snapped pushing the button constantly like it was the remedy to bring the elevator sooner.

Sweat poured down my forehead as mixed emotions frustrated my mind.

You did the right thing, Lamar. God’s gonna bless you for it.

The boss is gonna be pissed cause you have to give away free pizzas for being late!

Did I just preach to a woman who wanted to have sex with me? Lamar, what’s wrong with you? You should’ve been her love slave! A man would be insane to turn down a body like that! She could make a gay man turn straight!

It takes real integrity to do what you did, Lamar.

Getting with Rhonda’s mommy would’ve been a hundred times better than doing Sherelle!

Brother Lamar?

I didn’t even hear Miss Francis approach me. She’d put on a Cleveland Indians T-Shirt over her bikini. Tears were flowing down her face.

Here’s the money for the pizza, she said softly. Like always, keep the change.

I took the folded bill, put it in my pocket and said nothing as I kept looking at the elevator.

It took a lot of courage to say what you just told me, Miss Francis added. I didn’t want to hear it, but it was exactly what I needed. Thank you. You have just gained a lifetime of love and respect from me.

I looked at her and gave a bashful smile. When I said thank you, Miss Francis told me to never change ’cause I was an extraordinary young man. My words really humbled her; which made me feel much better about the outcome even though I greatly needed a cold shower. The biggest surprise came while I was in the elevator. I unfolded the bill. A fifty for a seven-dollar pizza!

I drove down the neighborhood streets like I was being chased by police. I was way behind schedule and excited about my forty-three dollar tip. Didn’t have much time to think about what just occurred or how I was going to spend the cash. Had to finish my rounds and catch church before it was over.

2

Tradition sucks.

I had to say it. Whenever I looked at the event listings under our church logo, I could only shake my head. Tonight it read Bishop L. A. Davis, Jr’s Pre-Birthday Celebration Service-7:30 pm. Who in the world celebrates a pre-birthday? Only those associated with the Pentecostal United Church. I was a member, but Lord knows it wasn’t by choice.

A pre-birthday celebration service according to True Holiness Pentecostal United Church a.k.a. TH was an opportunity to worship the Lord and praise Him for my father and bishop before he celebrated his forty-fourth birthday. According to yours truly, a pre-birthday service was another creative way for my father, I mean the church, to get more money. Religious folk could beg to differ, but it was nothing more and nothing less, all thanks to tradition. My grandfather started it, and my father wasn’t going to end it. Good thing I wasn’t gonna be a pastor.

On Sunday morning, it was highly stressed that everyone shows up to the service. Bishop asked me if I was going to book off work to attend. I said that I would try. I didn’t even ask my boss when the opportunity came earlier in the week. Think I tried to remember? I thought about asking my Muslim boss for time off so I could attend my father’s pre-birthday celebration and I laughed. Christians are supposed to be peculiar people, not ridiculous.

The church parking lot was packed like a regular service. True Holiness rarely messed with Thursdays for two reasons: The Cosby Show and A Different World. No doubt it was a re-run night. Three years ago when Cosby was the most popular show in America, I warned Bishop that members will stop showing up to Thursday night Bible Study. Of course, he refused to listen to his fourteen-year old son. During the season premiere month of September, two-thirds of the membership stopped coming. By October, Bible Study was switched to Wednesdays. As long as I can remember, that’s the only time the church went against tradition.

I knew that I was gonna get a lecture after service, so I didn’t bother rushing into the building. Didn’t even bother changing my clothes. I smelled like pepperoni, perfume, and sweat. I really should’ve gone home because it was almost ten o’ clock. Missed the entire service, and I did it on purpose. Boss asked me if I could make a few extra deliveries and I said sure, because I didn’t want to go to church. After I finished my regular shift, I was still hot and bothered. All I could think of was a naked Miss Francis as I walked into the convenience store next to my workplace Poppy’s Pizza. The cashier on-duty was a classmate of mine, and he would’ve sold me a Penthouse magazine. My goal was to enjoy the pictures, release, and go to church. Then I thought of how carnal it sounded, and I walked out with a Slurpee. I concluded that working overtime would keep my mind occupied and my hands busy, and it worked.

. . . Lord, keep us safe and in your favor until we meet again. We ask this in Jesus’ name, Amen!

That was the first thing I heard when I walked inside the sanctuary. Church was officially done. About a hundred and fifty men, women, and children began their usual after-church chatter. I greeted the usual members and chatted with some of the visitors that came with Rev. Charles, the guest speaker. Of course it was a surprise to them that I was in a work uniform instead of a suit, but I didn’t care. But someone else did, such as my father who was giving me a stern look in the midst of his conversation with a church elder. That expression meant Bishop wasn’t going to wait until we got home to lecture me. Seemed like a good idea. More people, less yelling from him.

When I finished a conversation with a visitor, I started walking towards the sanctuary exit, but I didn’t get very far.

Lamar! yelled my father.

I turned around and walked towards him. Looked at him with little fear of what he was about to say. I didn’t know why I wasn’t intimidated by Bishop, because his look was intimidating to many. He was six foot three with short slick hair, squinty eyes, a rugged face, and a goatee. When Bishop spoke, people listened carefully and most obeyed his commands. I only obeyed because the Bible told me to.

I was embarrassed tonight, Lamar, he began. Do you know how many people asked me where you were tonight? They couldn’t believe that my only son wouldn’t show up to a night honoring his father. Everybody came out tonight except you, including Victor and Chazz.

I gulped in surprise. My two boys never came out for mid-week services. Didn’t see them when I came in, so they must have been in the basement eating pre-birthday cake or something. I was about to get an earful now, cause my father wanted to make it seem like I broke a Ten Commandment for showing up late.

Sorry, sir, I said quietly. They asked me to work overtime.

And you couldn’t say no? he asked. You shouldn’t have worked tonight at all. What, you would rather deliver pizzas than be in the house of God?

No, Bishop, I would rather deliver pizzas than spend a night in a religious, traditional function called a pre-birthday service.

No, I replied, but it’s not your birthday.

Excuse me? he snapped.

It’s not your birthday! And there’s no such thing as a pre-birthday service either! Did you get any pre-birthday cards? Can I have a pre-birthday party before I turn eighteen next year? What about a pre-birthday gift?

Boy, how dare you get lippy with me? If we weren’t in church, I’d slap that rebellious spirit right outta you! One more wisecrack like that and you’ll be locked in the house instead of going to Rochester this weekend! Do I make myself clear?

Yes sir.

Looked to my left and saw church folk staring at us but trying not to look nosy. I was done talking ’cause I really wanted to go to my Aunt Lucy’s house in Rochester on Friday.

Bishop concluded, We’ll continue this discussion at home. I’m not through with you yet.

He made his way towards the lobby, greeting people as if nothing happened. I could only roll my eyes and shake my head. I really should’ve gone straight home. A normal father would be happy that their son is working, but not mine. Whenever we discussed employment and church, it amazed me to see how Dad would act as if he never worked eleven years as a tool and die maker. When was he going to realize that I wasn’t a believer of the eat church, sleep church, live church, die church philosophy?

CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP

I turned around and saw the last person I wanted to talk to. Eugene Forbes, True Holiness’ minister of music and Bishop’s armor bearer for his road trips. Biggest brownnoser I ever met. He was everything that my father wanted me to be; someone who wanted to be in church twenty-four/seven. That wouldn’t bother me if the man didn’t act like he was born into the world speaking in tongues. Eugene reeked of a holier-than-thou attitude.

Well, you really made your father happy tonight, said Eugene, coming in at the end of his special service wearing a pizza man uniform. What a thoughtful son you are.

I sucked my teeth without looking at him.

It’s called having a job, I answered. Something you don’t know anything about.

Eugene was raised by a single mother who was a successful real estate agent. In 1986, she won a lottery of twelve million dollars. Miss Forbes retired and moved to the Bahamas with her boyfriend who was barely older than Eugene. As a result, she gave her son full access to their quarter-million dollar home, an 89’ Corvette, and a plentiful bank account. Thus, Eugene had the freedom to do whatever Bishop needed him to do.

This is my job, he said while stretching his arms. Doing God’s work in God’s house, and I love it. I love serving your father as well, and tonight I showed how much I appreciated him. Gave Bishop a speech that earned me a standing ovation. Then I presented him a Rolex watch, something he’s always wanted. A heartfelt moment, brother and you missed it.

I’m sure I’ll hear about it more when I get home, I said with disinterest and a small touch of envy. Betcha you feel real special right now.

Word up. But I gotta tell you, Brother Lamar. The more you don’t check for what’s going on in this church and your father, the more church folk will start calling me ‘Bishop’s son.’ I couldn’t believe the number of people from our guest church who asked me if I was Lamar the Third.

And what’d you tell them?

I said that I was Bishop’s spiritual son. Nothing more, nothing less.

Not only was Eugene around my dad constantly, but the guy looked like him as well. His eyes were squinty and his face rugged. A twenty year-old who looked like he was close to thirty. I knew he loved looking like Bishop. He was the father Eugene always wanted. To some, that thought would be a tear-jerker, but it made me want to kick his you-know-what. And based on the mood I was in, dude had to get out of my face.

Don’t you have someone else to brag to? I got more important things to do, like talking to people who don’t try to put lip prints on Bishop’s butt, I said.

Excuse me?

You heard me. And there’s some brown junk on your nose. Probably some dirt.

Then I started walking away.

Eugene says, Ha ha, Brother Davis, you’re a funny guy. I’m just telling you to step up your game . . . or he might stop calling you ‘son.’

I stopped. Turned around and glared at him without grinning or smiling.

Don’t matter. At least I have a father and don’t have to kiss behind to get one.

That was low but I didn’t care. Walked away before I could see his response to my comeback diss. The minister of music constantly tried to intimidate me, but it did little to me. I had a diss for him anytime and anyplace. I’d diss him in front of Bishop, get punished for it at home, and do it again the next day. That’s how much I couldn’t stand Eugene.

I Finally made my way back to the lobby. Many people had already left, but I hoped that V and Chazz were still around. After-church wasn’t after-church without hanging with my boys. But I didn’t see them. However, my mother was bidding farewell to some visitors, so I decided to give her some love.

Hi, Mom, I said as I kissed her on the cheek.

Hey, baby, she replied cheerfully. How was work?

Good. Am I in trouble?

She looked puzzled. For what?

Bishop was bugging about me being late, like I missed the biggest night of his life.

You missed a good service, but not enough for him to get upset about. Some people asked him for you, and he didn’t want to say you were working. Don’t worry about it; I’ll talk to your father.

Thank God for my wonderful mother. She always knew how to bring my father back to earth when he was on Venus with his ‘I’m-mad-cause-you’re-messin’-with-tradition’ ways. If it wasn’t for her, I probably would have a permanent leather belt print on my butt. And I’d be forced to spend all my free time doing church stuff, excluding youth meetings. It wasn’t that my mother was a push-over, because she was quite assertive when it came to me and my little sister Lisa obeying her and Dad. She just didn’t want us to become rebellious pastor kids because we weren’t allowed to live like normal American children. Mom understood church tradition, but she would never let herself get caught up in the hype. That’s why I loved her. Plus she was beautiful, God-fearing, and knew the Bible better than a housewife knew the cast of All My Children.

Thanks, Mom. I’m gonna—Whoa!

Somebody gave me a surprise hug around my waist from behind. It could only be my little sister Lisa. I turned around and she gave me a large grin.

Guess who got further than you in Super Mario Three? she boasted with excitement.

I answered, Word? How’d you get to level six when I played that game all day yesterday and couldn’t do it?

Cause I’m all that, that’s why.

I don’t believe you! Let’s go home now so I can see how you did it!

Alright, let’s go! Lisa cries as she pulled my shirt. She got more hyper ’cause she was going home with me instead of the folks. Can we get a Slurpee at Seven-Eleven? Please, L. A.?

I looked at Mom and gave her a look of concern because my seven-year old sis seemed to have more glucose in her than a sugar cane plantation.

Only if you plan to be up with her if she gets a stomach ache, she said with a small grin.

I took my car keys out of my pocket. Alright, let’s go.

Yes! screamed Lisa before she snatched my keys and ran towards the exit. I wanna start the car!

I shook my head. Said good-bye to Mom and walked out the church.

Most guys my age didn’t want to be seen with their little siblings, but I loved spending time with Lisa. Didn’t know why except for the fact that I loved kids and I begged Mom and Bishop for a little brother or sister since I was three years old. Two miscarriages and seven years later, Lisa was born. Looked so much like Mom and Dad, people questioned why we looked more like cousins than siblings. But they never questioned our brother-sister relationship. My mother lost her twin and only sister at the age of sixteen due to a car accident, and she told me to never take my sister for granted. That stuck with me. That’s why I always made an effort to be there for Lisa, even when she was really annoying.

There were only a dozen cars left in the parking lot. Two of the cars were pumping hip-hop through the speakers. One was a Dodge Sprint with the windows rolled up. V didn’t leave yet. The other car was mine, with the windows rolled down.

Fight the power! yelled Lisa in the driver’s seat. You gotta fight the powers off me!

Public Enemy in the church parking lot. Not good. To Lisa it was just music that she couldn’t sing properly.

Lisa! I hollered. Turn the music off, yo! I don’t have to buy no Slurpee!

And then there was silence. Kids were always submissive to the thought of sugar.

I tapped on the driver’s side window and Victor Fernandez rolled it down after turning down the music. He gave a grin as we shook hands. My boy had medium-brown skin, short wavy black hair, and a complete goatee. A quiet guy, but not because of shyness. V was an observer and one to allow his actions to speak louder than his words. He wasn’t a Eugene, but he loved God. Loved God, loved hip-hop, and loved his mama. It didn’t take rocket science to figure out we were tight like Mr. T and gold jewelry.

L. A.Three, V said.

What up, Cool V?

He called me L. A. Three because I was the third Lamar Abner Davis. Sounded better than L. A. D. Three. His nickname was Cool V ’cause the brother was always calm. I’d never seen him lose his cool and we were friends since the sixth grade.

I finally make it to a mid-week service, and you weren’t around, he said. What’s up with that?

Had an excuse, I replied with a grin. And I took full advantage of it.

Lucky you! I never heard that preacher before tonight. For the first half hour, the man talked so soft, like he was on the verge of crying. Last ten minutes, dude’s hollering and breathing in-between sentences like he was Biz Markie finishing a marathon. Chazz and I tried so hard not to laugh, he was so annoying!

I gave my best Rev. Charles impersonation. ‘And the Word of God UUUUUUUHHH is like fire UUUUUUUHHH shot up in my bones! UUUUUUUHHH!!!!! I feel that fire! UUUUUUUHHH!!!!! The Word’s alive in my soul! UUUUUUUHHH!!!!! It’s burnin’ me up! UUUUUUUHHH!!!!! It’s burnin’ me up! UUUUUUUHHH!!!!!! But don’t get me no water! UUUUUUUHHH!!!!! Let it burn! UUUUUUUHHH!!!! Let it burn! UUUUUUUHHH!!!! LET IT BURN! AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!’

We laughed for a good half minute.

So you were here to hear the sermon.

Nah, man. Rev. Charles is a Broadway preacher. Heard him preach at least four or five times. He always ends his sermons like that. Where’s Chazz?

He left right after church finished. Went to the movies so he can make moves on some chick who works at the concession stand.

I laughed again. You’re talking about Charity. She already dissed him twice. But I gotta give Chazz props. He won’t quit on his pursuit to date a black girl.

He wanted me to roll with him, but I couldn’t. As you can see, I’m still waiting on my Mami to finish serving the guests. No big deal though. Gives me a chance to pump my brother’s new mix tape.

V’s mother Violet Fernandez was in charge of hospitality in the church. Easily the hardest working woman in True Holiness. She would stay at church long after service was over to make sure that my parents were well taken care of and making sure that the church was spic and span. Then she would go straight to work as a maid at Holiday Inn for a twelve-hour shift. Mama V, as I would call her, was a soldier and survivor. Recently divorced from Victor’s father who was a glass manufacturer by day and a wife abuser at night. One day they had an intense argument, and he beat the hell outta her. Victor’s older brother Ben aimed a shotgun at him and told his father to leave or get blown away. Sam Fernandez went to his native country of Dominican Republic and never returned.

From that day, her two sons became men. Ben worked as a hip-hop producer and a DJ for The Crystal, Buffalo’s hottest nightclub. V was a part-time cook at Red Lobster. Both of them made up for their father’s salary, while promising their mother that they would do anything for her, anytime, anyplace.

Yo, is that Ben doing them scratches on that Big Daddy Kane track? I asked.

It’s fresh, huh? My brother’s ridiculous on the one-two’s now. He’s starting to teach me some of his tricks now.

Sweet.

So, Bishop was cool with you working tonight?

I told V about my arguments with Bishop and Eugene. He shook his head.

Yo, even though Eugene has more money than anyone in the church, that dude envies you big time. Watch out for him.

I nodded.

He asked, So, are we still goin’ to Rochester tomorrow?

No doubt. What I said ain’t gonna change our plans this weekend.

And your aunt hasn’t said nuttin’ to your dad about us seeing Uncle L?

She’s said nothing about Uncle L, Erick or Parrish to him. Aunt Lucy knows how my dad is, so she left all the good stuff out of their conversation.

Aunt Lucy told me that I could bring V and Chazz with me and Lisa to her home for the long weekend. When I told my boys the news, they were very excited. Not only because of the brand new swimming pool in her backyard, but we were going to see Erick, Parrish, and Uncle L for the first time ever. Erick and Parrish were Making Dollars, better known as the hip-hop duo EPMD. Uncle L was the one and only LL Cool J. We spoke in code to prevent word getting to my folks that we were attending a rap concert.

Man, I can’t wait, son, said Victor. That concert’s gonna be dope!

I agreed as we shook hands. Then I heard the De La Soul song Buddy coming from my car. Little sis was exploring my tape collection.

I said, Yo, lemme get outta here before Lisa gets me in more trouble. Girl can’t keep her hands to herself.

What time are we bouncing tomorrow?

We’ll leave my house at six-thirty, but I’m telling Chazz five-thirty. Cause if I tell him six-thirty . . . 

We’ll leave at seven-thirty or later.

Exactly.

Lisa and I got home forty-five minutes before the parents. When they arrived, I waited in my room for part two of my lecture but it never came. Bishop watched a half-hour of CNN and went to bed while my mother made a long-distance call to a childhood friend in San Diego. Mom must’ve reminded Dad of their long-awaited weekend without the children and he thought twice about grounding me. No doubt he wanted to get busy without interruption from me and my sister. Speaking of sex, Miss Francis and I had some in the backseat of my ride before reality and wet sheets hit me on Friday morning. As soon as I woke up, I asked God to forgive me for my lustful thoughts, and then repented in advance for the secular event I was going to enjoy on Saturday night.

3

The concert was fly. It was easily one of the dopest nights of my life.

Seeing LL Cool J and EPMD perform live was everything I expected it to be and more. We didn’t want to miss the rare opportunity to see them in Rochester, close to Buffalo and still hours from NYC. I almost got hoarse reciting every lyric to every EPMD song. Didn’t even try to recite any LL raps because the ladies were crazy loud. The ratio of women to men had to be four-to-one, proving to me that Ladies Love Cool James. My boy Chazz could’ve broken his neck staring at the honeys all night. He loved black women more than black men loved black women. V couldn’t stop talking about Scratch, EPMD’s DJ. He kept comparing him to his brother, stating that one day the Fernandez brothers will be the best Djs in America. I kept studying how the rappers delivered their rhymes and choruses in order to keep the crowd attentive. They impressed me so much; I came to the conclusion that would change my life forever.

I wanted to be a rapper.

A rapper. A hip-hop MC. Lord knows that it was a lot easier said than done. My folks hated the genre and I wasn’t allowed to bring it in our home. I couldn’t watch MTV either. According to Bishop, the music was too violent and sex-driven. Called it the devil’s music. Mom said that the only lyrics she could understand from rappers were the words that got our faces slapped. I called it selective listening. Thus, for me to tell my parents that I wanted