What God Loves

By Robert N. Lewis

What God Loves is a tell of urban family hardship, friendship, betrayal and love. It is the story of a kid raised by a hardened father haunted by the demons of the Vietnam War. This book exposes the love and culture that was ever so prevalent in the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s. It takes you on a journey back in time and shows you in detail how a strong father figure can lead you away from the wrong path, even in the absence of that figure. It’s a musically charged book full of truth and countless stories. A biography of Robert Lewis.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Nov 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9781982255398

Robert N. Lewis

Robert (RX LORD) Lewis was born in St. Louis Mo., groomed in the Gulf Coast and raised in Central Florida. He grew up making records for an independent record company in Miami, owned by Cuban immigrants. He began recording professionally at the age of 16 going on 17. Raised by mother and adopted father, whom was psychologically damaged from the Vietnam War; Robert was exposed to violence throughout most of his childhood. Selling millions of records throughout his youth with no notoriety, the infamous lead singer of Bass Patrol’s Kings of Bass, worked his way up from a child prodigy, song writer and arranger; to grabbing the attention of Michael Jackson’s label MJJ Records and doing a sound track through that entity. The ever changing world along with its hardships, seasoned the now adult author, and allowed him to find a medium between the bitter and the sweet experiences he has encountered- causing him to express his hardship in words; much like he did when he was a kid. Faced with adversity on countless occasions, and winning as many times as he has lost. This seasoned veteran writer has finally come full circle with his karma and all that is owed to him.

Book preview

WHAT

GOD

LOVES

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ROBERT N. LEWIS

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Copyright © 2020 Robert N. Lewis.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by

any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system

without the written permission of the author except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

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Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

844-682-1282

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or

links contained in this book may have changed since publication and

may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those

of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher,

and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use

of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical

problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The

intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help

you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use

any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional

right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are

models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-9822-5538-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-5539-8 (e)

Balboa Press rev. date: 09/18/2020

CONTENTS

Don’t Mess With Bill

‘Gateway City (Growing Up)

Gateway City (Growing Up)

Gateway City (Growing Up)

Creole Country

Creole Country

Creole Country

Creole Country

Creole Country

Florida Style

Florida Style

The Demo Years

The Demo Years

A Teenage Love

A Teenage Love

A Teenage Love

A Teenage Love

A Teenage Love

Growing Pains

Candii Girl

Candii Girl

Candii Girl

Coming Up

Coming Up

A Friend In Time Of Need

The Cross

Forever Bill

DON’T MESS WITH BILL

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A s abnormal as any weekday could be, in any urban metropolitan city. Anywhere in the U.S it couldn’t have been delivered any harsher or as crude, as this city would deliver it- on this day. ‘09’ and it was midsummer; scorching outside, the girls were out to play- and echoes of flirtatious laughs bounced throughout the streets. You could hear the cars pass booming Wayne Mix Tape, the ‘84’ or ‘85’ Seville sliding through slowly, coming to a halt at the stop sign- as tenders cross the street sexy in urban fashion, about as ripe as they’ll ever be, sweating, succulent, fine yet un-aged wine, chocolate, pecan tan and for adults- inappropriate to look at, or gaze in a sexual manner. But the way some may flaunt it, it’s causing every man with eyeballs on this block to ponder many thoughts. These are the South Side streets and Osage is the block- they sit on the porch, grandson ‘Lil Bill’, grandad Bill, his brother- ‘Uncle Skeet’, with the missing tooth in the direct front, & other grandson Red.

All in stereotypical black urban dialogue they sat on the porch of the two-family flat, in the Midwest. If you should see one of these buildings, it might put you in mind of the brownstone buildings in Brooklyn NY. As dysfunctional as a grandad sitting slouched at a slant, on the porch with a sawed-off double-barreled Beretta shotgun laying on his lap, passing a marijuana joint to his grandson, Bill smiled on this day- seemingly being in a less often good mood. To look upon the face of the man and sense the hurt in his eyes; the well groomed goatee, mustache aligned sharply, with a small afro neatly combed. You could easily tell that this was a military man, neat in stature in opposition to effeminate; Bill was a man’s man. At times overly macho, but this behavior was far from an act; here sits a deranged Vietnam Veteran (Special Forces) Army.

Aged well showing a few speckles of gray on his stern face, yet not as stout as he once was. Here grandson, Bill snickered as he rocked & danced on the steps, pointing four fingers directly at Skeet his younger brother, rocking steadily off beat, singing Norman Connors, You’re my Starship, then giving his attention back to his little brother. Time for you to get the fuck, Bill said, as he smiled sarcastically and starred at Skeet out of the corner of his eyes. He had finally had enough of his brother’s crabbing and mooching. Skeet never brought much to the table but a mouth full of empty promises; but at this point Bill had gotten ever so petty, petty enough to count the cup cakes in the cabinets and if Skeet as so much as eat one it was hell to pay. You gone get the fuck out my house Skeet, Bill repeated as Skeet looked in the opposite direction, as if to ignore the obvious comments being made towards him. I’m telling you what God love, Bill snickered. Somebody fixing to get the fuck out, or get they head bust to the fat meat, simple as that, Bill repeated! Often when in anger Bill would repeat his point over and over again. As Bill’s voice began to rise his grandson Lil Bill passed the joint back to his grandad, with high hopes that the marijuana would calm him down. Lil Bill was mild mannered and very respectful, and it was evident that Bill loved his grandson; as Bill gave him his attention as he received the joint. Grandad I’m fixing to go over this chick house I been talking to on the Face Book, Lil Bill said, as a huge grin came over Bill’s face as he immediately replied, Boy you better put on a dick rubber-before you be like your Uncle Man and be paying all that Child Support, Bill stated as a matter of fact. It’s not like that grandad, Lil Bill replied, smiling with a cunning grin. As he spoke he slowly began to get up gradually, as he had become familiar with his grandad’s behavior, and he knew it was just a matter of time before a spark hits the fuel. I’m gone, Lil Bill stated as he walked steadily down the street, as his uncle, grandad & brother starred as his image eventually disappeared in the mist of the city. Dad you smoking without me, Bill turned around quickly, it was his daughter Lynn, You missed out on the action this time Lynn, it’s down to the nothing now, Bill said. That’s alright cause I got my guy on his way right now, with some good-good, Lynn announced while skipping up the stairs of the two family flat; as her loud words echoed through the hall, making the statement loud enough for the neighbors to hear. She something else, Skeet said, as Bill looked at him villainously- again out the corner of his eyes; as Bill spat on the sidewalk and all continued the rest of that moment in silence. Hours had gone by & as the day lived the temperature seemed to rise by the second, seemingly reaching at least 100 degrees, or so it seemed. As the heat climaxed so did Bill’s temper. Fore everyone had disbursed from the stairs and by now were in their own living quarters of the South Side Apt. Lynn had gotten her marijuana fix, and was happily rolling a Swisher on the couch in the living room. The consistent arguing coming from the back room between Bill & Skeet was no less than normal on any day; but this day the quarrels seemed a bit more intensified, so Lynn turned down the Tv. So she could possibly intervene if their brotherly quarrel should ignite into anything harmful. Lucky for Skeet, Bill had put the sawed-off shotgun away and reverted back to verbal insults, with a hint of possible bodily harm.

This good for nothing, lazy ass punk motherfucker right here, Bill yelled making reference to his younger brother Skeet; Why wont you just get the fuck out my house, and manage your own shit nigga, Bill said, repeating himself at least three times, hoping his point would have relevance to Skeet. But as usual Skeet ignored Bill and smiled exposing that missing tooth- sitting directly in the front of his mouth. That smile pissed Bill off to the high heavens. As Lynn continued to roll her blunt all of a sudden she heard a loud thud, as if someone, or something had fallen. She hurried to the back room where Skeet the door gazing with a look of fear and shock in his eyes.

When Lynn reached the room, she saw Skeet holding both of Bill’s hands to keep Bill from attacking him. Now bro I’m not just gone let you whip my ass in front of my niece and nephew, Skeet said, with his lisp speech impediment; as he spoke, he continued to struggle with his older brother. Fuck You, Bill replied, as he continued to press forward, eventually Bill had broke free from his brother’s grip, he threw a combination of punches, landing maybe two or three to the jaw of Skeet. After the impact of the slew of punches that landed, Bill fell off balance and started to fall backwards. As he fell you could see the anger in Skeets eyes, he rushed over to his older brother & pinned him down between the mattress that sat on the floor and the wall. With both knees on his brother’s shoulders, Skeet began to punch Bill on the side of his head- and at times striking him in the face. Lynn ran over and began to pull Skeet off of Bill; but by that time Skeet had landed a flurry of blows to Bill’s skull.

With a trickle of blood leaking from over his left eye Bill came to his feet, slowly wiping the blood away from his face, as in disbelief that he was bleeding. Bill had come to terms that he had gotten older, and the one lung left in his war torn body didn’t help his situation; he was up against a much younger opponent, but the more he thought, the more enraged he would become. He rushed out of the room, as if there was something else he needed tending to. Fuck Him, Skeet said with his usual lisp oriented dialect. Lynn stood there starring at Skeet in disbelief that all of this just happened. By the time Lynn turned to look for Red, she saw her son sprint for the exit, when she turned around, she saw Bill standing there with his sawed off double-barreled Barretta shotgun in hand, by this time Skeet was standing in the kitchen, between the kitchen and the living room. All of a sudden the entire neighborhood heard a loud boom! It almost sounded like a bomb had just exploded, then there was another boom! Lynn saw a blaze of fire burst out of the Barretta. Blood scattered out of Skeet’s upper shoulder, splatting on to his head. Instinctively he ran down the stairs and later fainted in the alley, around the corner of Osage.

Lynn stood there starring at Bill, & as she looked in his eyes, she could see that he was not all there; it seemed as though he had been possessed by his rage. She ran down the stairs, as she heard Bill scream to himself in the background, I told that punk motherfucker! I told that punk motherfucker! Bill yelled in the distance. As Lynn reached outside all the neighbors had come out, as they could see the trail of blood coming from the stairs to the sidewalk. The shotgun blast must have gotten everyone’s attention, & the yells coming from the upstairs apartment hypnotized everyone as you could hear the police sirens in the near background, getting closer & closer. Lil Bill, unaware of anything that just happened was walking up the street, and as he got closer, all he could see was his mother and brother in handcuffs sitting on the curb, as his Uncle Skeet was being put into an ambulance. Just a few hours earlier, everyone was on the stoop enjoying the day, but now it looked like a murder scene. There was a crowd of around fifty people standing outside the apartment, & the police had yellow taped the scene. By the time Lil Bill reached the stop sign he could hear the Police on the loud speaker- Bill Lewis come out with your hands up!!! Bill Lewis, come out with your hands up, the Police repeated; as you could still hear Bill yelling from the upstairs apartment. I told that punk motherfucker, Bill yelled again! As his angry words echoed throughout the staircase, eventually reaching the ears of all on Osage- all in attendance of the violent showcase starred at each other, wondering what’s to come. There was about a 30 minute stand off, & by that time Lil Bill started to cross the yellow tape, Bill was coming down the stairs with his hands above his head. But when he saw the Police officers approaching Lil Bill, he warned them, with the same four fingers he warned Skeet with, pointing them at the officer; Leave that one alone, that’s my grandson, as the officers looked at each other with respect for the villains request. They handcuffed Bill & put him in the back of the Police car and slowly drove away from the shocked, disbelieving crowd. That man is William Earl Lewis, and he is the one I would come to know as dad.

‘GATEWAY CITY (GROWING UP)

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H ello my name is Man, or Lil Rodney as some family members may tend to call me. I was born in the city mostly noted as the Gate Way September 25,1974. Today I’m happy as heck because my favorite aunt is coming over and I know it’s because my birthday is in a few days. I’m going to be six years old, today is Sept 21, 1980 and though those Jehovah’s Witnesses people been talking to my mom, I know they bound to throw me a party. That would make the big day this Saturday & I’m happy as ever. I’m trying to get myself together for school, I’m looking around my room draped in Super Man apparel, I got the Super Man curtains, Super Man sheets and covers.

But as I take note to the puddle of pee that has soaked my covers & Fruit of the Looms, I remember I got to be on my best behavior if I want everything to go as planned. I could hear my mother calling me from downstairs, I’m trying to find some fresh Looms to throw on, since I pissed out these. Ahhh I got some, now I’ll just throw on these brown corduroy pants, my blue Spider Man wife beater & these fresh Buster Browns. Maaaaaan, the voice of Tiki, my mother is echoing up the hallway, that means its time to go to school. Man, now I want you to be good in school today, Ms. Hall said you’ve been improving; you know I gave her permission to paddle you if you act up boy Tiki said, as her open faced gold glistened off her pretty golden face. I’m gone be good in school today momma because I’m a big boy & I’m gone be six Saturday, Man replied looking down at his Buster Browns & favorite Spider Man tee shirt. Right as he finished gazing at his shoes, his two sisters Lynn & Trisha walked right past Lil Rodney aka Man, as his oldest sister Trisha slapped him in the head, as she blurted, Hurry up you know breakfast at Banneker start early, Trisha said, as her mother quickly responded- You gone wait for my baby, taking up for her son, as Lil Rodney smiled, and his sisters turned their lip up at him. Man kissed his mother and trailed behind his two older sisters.

The three walked down Laughton Place, Lynn the quieter shy sister with pig tails and pink and green barrettes with jelly beans on, Trisha was the taller brown skinnier version of Lynn, just much louder & often tends to shy away from quiet; but she’s the eldest & she beat a few people up for talking crazy to Man or touching her little sister Lynn. You had to be tough in Laclede Town. After walking through the battlefield & crossing over Olive Blvd. a couple blocks & the kids finally reached their destination. Soon as Man saw those hard wood doors that read ‘Banneker Elementary’, he yelled bye & ran full speed for that door, teaming up with his friends along the way. School went by fast that day for Man & all he could think about was his big day Saturday.

He didn’t even get upset when Ms. Hall gave the other student a toy, other than him for good behavior that day. Before you knew it the bell rang, & you know when the school bell rings what that means, the school day is over & it’s time to go home. This cycle repeated itself & before you knew it, it was Friday. Man got up quick that Friday morning, running downstairs to greet his mother with morning breath kisses and hugs. You don’t have to go to school today if you don’t want to, your auntie Cherry coming over & she bringing your cousins over Icky Bob & Iris, Tiki said as Man looked up to his mother as proud as ever. Ok momma I don’t want to go to school anyway, I want to play with my cousins, he shouted, as swirled around with his arms out as if he was an airplane- then playfully running upstairs at full speed. So excited & overjoyed Man fell asleep balled up under his Super