Chapter 2

Keith Hosea Williams closed his Bible and then knelt down in front of his mammoth-sized leather chair and prayed. He dubbed his office the throne room, and this chair, the throne of God. Keith bowed down before this chair when he prayed. He loved to be in this room. He loved to talk with God each day. He and his heavenly Father met in the cool of the day, the dark of the night, and just about any time Keith needed to lean on the Lord. Like most new converts, Keith gave his life to God after some trying times. But unlike most, it took murder to bring Keith to his knees. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes he could still see Ray-Ray falling to the ground, lying in a pool of blood. The night Ray-Ray died, Keith swore that he’d never touch another gun. The only problem with his declaration was that he made his living as Isaac Walker’s enforcer. Simple job description – shoot hustlers with attitudes.

But when Nina told him about God’s love and how He forgives sin, Keith knew where he would spend the rest of his life; safe in the arms of his Lord.

The Lord had blessed him to start a construction company that was well on its way to earning millions. Construction work suited Keith. Six-two and 220-pounds with a rock-hard body, he was more than able to handle any job thrown his way. It was his baby-face that caused people to do a double-take. Teddy bear on steroids he’d once been called. He didn’t care. He liked his face, thought it gave him a soft edge to an otherwise hard body.

All those years ago, Keith learned to trust God. Twelve years later he still didn’t doubt his Lord. Well, he did have one problem. Keith’s Lord and Savior, as he prayed, had just spoke into his heart, telling him the name of the woman he would marry. But as far as Keith was concerned, it was the wrong name. In his heart he felt that he had already met the woman he was sure would be a wonderful help-mate.

Keith hadn’t heard God’s word right, that’s all. Somehow Satan had snuck into his office/throne room and was speaking into his ear. Don’t get him wrong. Keith had much love for Cynda Stephens, but it wasn’t the I-wanna-be-your-babby’s-daddy kind of love. Keith shook his head as he remembered the last time he’d seen Cynda. Like a wild cat, she stormed into Isaac’s wedding reception and told him and his new wife that they didn’t mean nothing to her. As high as gas prices were, why would she drive from Chicago to Dayton if they didn’t mean anything to her? It sure wasn’t to throw rice at the departing couple. Salt maybe, but not rice.

Then Cynda blurted out that she was the one who informed the cops about Isaac’s drug run and had caused him to do three years of federal time. The thought of that moment still sent sweat chills to Keith’s forehead. Cynda’s declaration was a true test of Isaac’s salvation. Where he and Isaac came from, snitches got shanked. Cynda should still be on her knees thanking God for Isaac’s salvation. But right now she was probably on North Street selling her body.

Go see about her.

“What do you want me to see about her for?” He looked to heaven and said, “I’m telling You right now, whether this is a call from God or from the devil, I ain’t about to turn no hooker into a housewife.”

He waited on God to respond. Waited for God to tell him that Satan had been bound, gagged, and banished and would never again be allowed near the throne of God, requesting to sift His people as wheat. But God didn’t say a mumbling word.

He is the Almighty, Keith reasoned. He didn’t have to speak if He didn’t want to. So Keith back tracked. The last thing he heard from God was, go see about her.

He could do that, right? No big deal, but marrying her would be another story.

Standing, Keith put down his Bible and picked up the keys to his sonic blue Ford Ranger. Driving down the streets of Chicago, he wondered, not for the first time, why he still lived here. Since finally marrying Nina a year ago, Isaac was now a permanent resident of Dayton, Ohio. And truth be told, Keith wanted to be there, helping with his best friend’s street ministry. But God kept his feet planted in Chicago. He left Bishop Sumler’s church after Isaac and Nina married and was now attending a small church on the south side. The pastor was a decent, honorable man, and Keith knew that he could grow spiritually at this church. Maybe he would talk with Pastor Norton about what God had to say about Cynda. Maybe he needed to see a doctor, get on medication or something.

Keith got off the highway in one of the hot spots and turned on Slumville, or maybe it was Trashville. When did the trash man run around here? He thought as he held his breath and rolled up the window as he parked. “I must be crazy.” Just as he was getting out of his truck his phone rang. Hopefully it was Jesus, calling to change the plans for his life.

He looked down at the caller ID. It was his boy, the Ike-man. Keith smiled as he hit the talk button. “What up, playa?” Keith asked.

“What’s with all this playa stuff? I’m a happily married man now,” Isaac stated.

Sometimes that fact slipped Keith’s mind. He kept praying about it. Didn’t know if it kept slipping because he was still in love with Nina, Isaac’s wife, or because he was getting older, and wasn’t used to his boy being hooked up like that.

“Okay, I’ll try to remember that,” Keith chuckled.

“Do you have plans for next weekend?”

Keith glanced outside his truck window. A lot of people with nothing to do were leaning against walls or walking down the street like zombies. Somebody should hand them some gloves and a trash bag, Keith thought to himself before replying to Isaac. “No, what’s up?”

“You remember Spoony Davidson, the man who taught me about street life when I was eleven?”

A knock on the window caused Keith to jump.

“Hey man, you looking to get your high on?” the man outside his window asked.

Keith held up a hand to the snaggle-toothed brother and continued his conversation. “Yeah, I remember ol’ Spoony. Couldn’t tell you the last time I saw him though.”

“It’s been about ten years for me. That’s why I need to come down there. I’m really starting to feel bad about not reaching out to him since I got out of jail.” Spoony Davidson had been Isaac’s mentor. Isaac met Spoony when he was eleven. At that time Spoony was a twenty-seven year old pimp. Spoony taught Isaac how to pick pockets, run women, sell drugs, and how to set up his own territory. Isaac thought it was high time he returned the favor and taught Spoony a thing or two about his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

“You sent him a couple of letters when you were in prison, right?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t contacted him since.”

“All right, man. I feel you. Come on down. Maybe I’ll even go evangelizing with you.”

“Like old times.”

The pang of wanting to be with his friend to help in his street ministry stabbed at Keith. “Yeah, like old times.”

After ending the call on that note, Keith got out of the truck to do a little evangelizing of his own. Flesh and temptation were sold by the hour all day long on this street. A woman in Daisy Dukes and a shirt unbuttoned so that it exposed mounds of cleavage said to him, “Your wait is over, baby. I got what you need right here.”

“No, thank you. I’m looking for someone,” Keith kindly replied. Twenty years ago he had walked these same streets looking for a woman. He had loved that woman with all his heart; just wished that she had made better choices in life. Now God had sent him back to the same place, looking to save another woman. He doubted that this would turn out any better than before.

Further down the street an older woman pushed on her bra, exposing what the good Lord endowed her with. “I’m right here, Sugar. Come tell Mama what you need,” she cooed at Keith. Keith shook his head and tried to walk past her, but she grabbed his arm. “What’s a matter? ‘Fraid I’ll be too much woman for you?”

He removed her hand from his arm, blood pressure rising. “I don’t want what you’re offering. I’m looking for someone,” he stated firmly.

“All I want is twenty bucks. I’m a lot cheaper than these other whores down here,” the woman pleaded.

“Hey, why don’t you leave him alone, Granny? Didn’t he ask you to leave him alone?”

Keith recognized the voice. He closed his eyes to the reality of this place and turned to face Ms. Cynda Stephens. She had been Isaac’s lady over a decade ago. When Keith met her back then, she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He’d wished then that he’d met her before Isaac. Maybe Cynda’s life would have turned out differently.

After all these years, even with her current lifestyle, she still took his breath away. Her type of beauty didn’t fade easily. She had that J-Lo thing going on. But if P-Diddy saw her now, instead of falling all over himself to drop his model of the week, he’d probably loan her a bottle of Proactive.

“Hey, Keith, what you doing down here?” Cynda asked him.

He took note of the short skirt and stilettos, and the low-cut shirt showing bosom and belly. He parted his full lips to tell her, “Looking for you.”

She laughed. “Wonder what your God would say about that?”

He studied her face and found her hazel eyes mesmerizing. He knew she purchased that eye color, because her natural eyes appeared coal black. But the hazel looked good with her amber skin tone. What didn’t look good on her was the fat lip and swollen cheek she was sporting.

Fire shot through his eyes as he speculated on how her wounds might have come about, and before he could think about it, his hands were caressing her face. “What happened?”

She averted her gaze and moved his hand from her face. “Just some black splotches.”

“You know I’m not talking about the pimples and splotches on your face.” He pointed at her swollen eye. “Who did that?”

“Man, you know what I do. It’s just a hazard of the job.”

He backed up, inhaling deeply to calm himself. “Do you have some time? I’d like to talk to you about something.”

“Time is money.”

“How much for an hour?”

“For an old friend like you? Fifty bucks.”

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and gave her a hundred.

“What you want to do, man? I’m all yours; for the next hour anyway.”

“Have you eaten?”

Twirling her hair around her finger she told him, “Not since yesterday.”

“Can I take you to lunch?”

“If you want to waste money like that, I won’t complain.”

They walked hand in hand toward his car; the prostitute and the man of God. For God told Keith to take this woman to be his wife and to love her, so that he might know the magnitude of God’s love for a world that continually whored after other gods.