Page 23 of On Everything 2
Hov
A couple of hours later.
I figured it was best to give Ciara a little space to calm down before I approached her.
I wanted that conversation to happen face to face and not through a phone call or some long ass text message.
On my way to the Bronx, I went by Marine’s flower shop on Flatbush Ave.
From the moment I stepped inside, the air shifted from smug to an earthy scent.
I love coming inside of places like this because it was nothing but fresh air.
The first thing I spotted when I walked inside was a bouquet of pink flowers that were perfect for Ciara. I grabbed them from the display table and took them straight up to the counter.
“Great choice.”
Marine smiled and instantly started to wrap them up in brown paper.
I then glanced to my right, and the potted sunflowers on another shelf caught my attention, reminding me of my grandmother. It would make her day if I took her these flowers, and hopefully, I could get a meal in the process. I haven't eaten since I ate that donut this morning.
"Is this all I can get for you today?"
"Let me get this sunflower pot too."
She happily rang the shit up and took my money with a smile on her face like she wasn't committing daylight robbery with these prices.
I left the store, scoping out the scene from the bodega next door to the bookstore in the opposite direction.
After carefully sitting the flowers in my car I started my engine and drove over to my grandma's spot as my first stop.
When I got outside my grandma’s house, there were a few cars parked out front, including one that I knew belonged to the pastor.
I turned off the engine now second guessing going inside.
I couldn't stand his hypocritical ass, and sometimes I want to send a bitch with a big booty and a fat pussy in his office just to see how easy he folds.
My grandma and the congregation think the world of him, but just like Councilman Davis, I'm sure he was a snake, too.
After all, them niggas are blood brothers.
I heard that Pastor Davis is the reason Carl ever wanted to help out with the youth and the community, because, from what I hear, the old teenage Carl Davis was getting in trouble before his brother stepped in and pulled him into the church.
The nigga ended up getting a degree, started mentoring kids, and then had so many people admiring him that it pushed him into politics.
They used to say that Pastor Davis wanted to run for office, but felt he was committed to the church and couldn't leave if he wanted to.
It sounded to me like that nigga was bound by faith and not in a good way so he put Carl up to the job.
I was sitting across the street, minding my business while waiting this shit out, when Scotty's uncle, who was working on the house, spotted me across the street.
"Hey, Hov, can you come back here for a second, primo?"
"Yeah, give me a minute."
I cursed to myself before opening the car door. I am not trying to be spotted by my grandma or the pastor before they leave.
"Yeah, what is it?"
"I wanted to ask you, do we still get paid even though the job might be over?"
His strong Hispanic accent was hard to decipher in some parts, but I heard exactly what the fuck he was saying.
"What do you mean, the job might be over? Where did you hear that from?"
"Well, we overhear your grandmother and people upstairs talking through the vents. She is selling the house to the church, and we didn't mean to listen, but it's loud with the way the ventilation is set up. We hear conversations good."
He was trying to explain himself, but I walked away from him because what he was saying was now irrelevant. My main concern now was seeing what the fuck they had going on in here.
When I burst through the living room door, my grandma was sitting on her sofa with Decan Hynes beside her, and Pastor Davis was sitting in the chair like he was a king in this bitch. I hate to say it, but I can't stand this nigga.
"What's going on in here, Grandma?"
"Jehovah, first off, don't you see the Pastor and Deacon Hynes sitting here?"
"How can I miss the pastor in this powder blue suit. Tacky mutha fucka."
I said that last part under my breath to keep from pissing my grandma off.
"But what y'all talking about? Selling the house for what?"
They all looked like deer in headlights after I asked that question. My grandma fumbled over her words.
“Jeh, Jeh, Jehova. How did you hear about that?"
"Grandma, you know I have the men I hired downstairs doing the remodel on the basement. They heard your conversation and came to me when they felt like their job here might get cut short."
She dropped her head and then looked to Pastor Davis, who quickly started to run his fuckin mouth like I was talking to him.
"Jehovah. You know, with a name like that, you should be in the altar somewhere preaching the gospel, it's only right."
"Don't project your dreams on me. I'm doing just fine with how I live. All thanks be to God and not the pastor."
"Of course, you should give all thanks and glory to God. He is the protector, the creator, the force behind all things good in this world. But please also remember a classroom is only a room with a chalkboard if there is no teacher."
"Look, I'm not worried about any of that shit you're talking about. What is supposed to be going on right here, right now with this house? Why ain't no one answering me?
He leaned forward in his chair, pressing his fingertips together.
"Well, with the untimely death of my brother, we decided that it may be best to move the church from its location in that terrible area in order to stop crime from happening to us. We want to move it to this street. One of the last places in the city where old black roots still exist."
"So, you're trying to knock down my family home to build a church?"
"Not just your family home, but several, but in that we hope to build a community home where there is worship on these same grounds for many years."
"Soul Glow, cut the bull shit and tell me what you offering my grandma for this land? I'm sure it's not a good enough number even to consider letting go of our family home."
"Hynes." He looked to the deacon, who licked the back of his thumb and looked into a folder, pulling out a sheet of paper to hand to me.
After reading the first few lines, I crumbled the paper in my hand.
"Three hundred thousand dollars plus a bench in her honor? My family supposed to sleep on a bench if times get hard because you scared of the area your old church is in. Make that shit make sense. Grandma, I will give you three hundred grand if you need the money."
"Jehovah, what the pastor is trying to say is that the city is becoming even more dangerous than in the past. Carl being murdered in cold blood is showing us all that, and we are all scared of what bad could happen next.
Carl was supposed to help stop the crime in the city once elected mayor.
Now that hope is out of the door. I'm honestly scared myself being in this big house alone. "
"Grandma, Carl was not murdered because of a random crime, I'm sure. We don't know why he got killed. You about to give it all up because of that? He came over here to play with you, Grandma."
"No one is playing me, and I haven't signed any paperwork yet. Pastor still has to get the other neighbors to agree, anyway, before anything is squared away. I have time to think."
"Not to cut you off, but we have an accepted offer from Mr. Frank next door already."
"Man, Mr. Frank doesn't even know that he is Mr. Frank half of the time. It seems to me like you are taking advantage of old people and masking it behind religion. Where the fuck all this money you offering coming from anyway?"
"Ironically, Carl's murder. My brother and I shared life insurance policies on one another.
I always promised him that if he left here before I did, I would do something good with the money.
If everything goes right, there will be a bench in front of the church honoring Carl, your grandmother, Mr. Frank, and the Russles. "
"Nah, fuck that."
I shook my head."
"Grandma, I'm not letting you do this so you two niggas can get up out of here."
Pastor Davis stood to his feet, adjusting his suit with a conniving smile on his face. The gold tooth over one of his fang teeth probably smells like spoiled milk hidden behind all this cheap ass cologne he has on.
"You know, Jehovah, your father was disrespectful to me this same way, and where I don't want to offend your grandmother, I will say that I do think God cut his life short at a young age, because of the disrespect."
"Hov, baby, don't."
My grandma saw the look in my eyes instantly, but there wasn't shit she could do. I pushed him all the way into the wall, choking his bitch ass while watching the life slowly seep from his eyes.
"Jehovah, you stop it now!"
"Nigga, my daddy didn't give a fuck, and I don't either. I'll kill you, go home and pack my bags for hell nigga."
"Jehovah, let him go!"
My grandma tugged at my arm before I let the collar of his tacky ass suit go, only because of her.
"Now, you and your sidekick get the fuck out of my grandma's house."
Pastor Davis got up and ran out of the house with the deacon behind him on his tail. I reached down to help my grandmother pick up the shit on her floor, but she wasn't having it.
"I got it, Jehovah!" She snatched the frame from my hand.
"Look, I'm sorry, Grandma, but he disrespected my father, and you know that shit is not going to fly."
"Jehovah, you have to quit letting people have control over you. Words can't do anything to your health or wellbeing, so let things go sometimes! Your father was a hot head, too, but you are becoming much worse. The pastor Jehovah? How am I supposed to show my face at church now?"
"At least I didn't kill him. Grandma, he's trying to take advantage of you."