_____
AT HALF past seven on Sunday morning Cadillac felt as though Saturday night still hadn’t ended. His eyelids ignored his mind’s commands and remained padlocked shut. Soul City’s unhurried air floated in through the windows of his hotel room, and he felt he was changing, felt it just barely, like the hairs on your arms standing up. But there was no time for introspection. Revren Lil’ Mo Love would be at his pulpit in half an hour, and the sermons of the boy who could preach like he was grown but hadn’t read the Bible were not to be missed. Cadillac shined his shoes with one hand while holding an eye open manually, hoping maybe a little time in church would cleanse his sins of the previous night and bless his young book, which was so far going nowhere.
He ran down Freedom Ave, sweating into his suit, and at five past eight slid into the most popular church in Soul City, St. Pimp’s House of Baptist Rapture, widely known as Baby Love’s because the pastor, ten-year-old Revren Maurice Love, was the son of the famous Right Revren Daddy Love, which is why everyone called him Revren Lil’ Mo Love. The sermon was already under way.
“. . . and I’ve gotta thank Mrs. Dawkins,” the Revren said, standing in the pulpit atop two telephone books, “who was so nice as to take time out of her busy schedule to help me with my math homework on Monday night, and Mrs. Stickney, who left her home and came all the way over to the church to bring me a glass of milk Friday night as I was trying to write today’s sermon.” The first three rows were filled with grown women on the edge of their seats, fanning themselves furiously with fans that had Revren Lil’ Mo Love’s picture on them. They weren’t burning up from the temperature inside the church but from the heat caused by staring intensely at Revren Lil’ Mo Love, the most beautiful boy in all of Soul City.
He was just a wisp over four feet tall, with angelically gleaming skin, ceaselessly wet lips, and old-soul eyes wrapped in long, curled lashes that looked lapped by mascara. But the thing that dropped jaws lowest was his hair. Soul City called it the Sanctified Doo. And each Sunday after church people stood around deconstructing the messages he was sending them through his hair. The Revren was blessed with soft and silky chestnut brown curls so manageable that each Sunday he appeared in a different style: one week a gigantic fro, the next one cornrows, then it all blown out and straight, glistening halfway down his back. But no matter how it was shaped, the Sanctified Doo seemed to gleam. This was possibly because he washed the Sanctified Doo with nothing but holy water and a shampoo and conditioner blessed by his mentor, the Revren Hallelujah Jones. Today he’d passed the blessings on to his congregation with a glorious James Brown-style pompadour and a little purple pinstripe three-piece suit.
With his beautiful Sanctified Doo, his Mighty Mouse machismo, and the untouchability his tender age granted, the Revren was a magnet of such undeniable force that the sexual tension between him and the women constantly around him was as thick as chocolate cake. He used every bit of the power his youth and beauty bestowed upon him to inveigle and fondle Soul City’s curvier citizens, and though it was true a few had begged on their knees for carnal knowledge, he remained the most hotly chased not-so-chaste virgin in the city. He paid more attention to the females of his congregation than to the quality of his sermons, but it really didn’t matter. Whether sermonizing or spanking a sinner, Revren Lil’ Mo Love was a natural. “You’re just like your daddy,” said devotees and spankees, and between the strange but soulful preaching and the perpetual sexual tension in his church, it was absolutely true.
“. . . and I’m so happy sweet Mrs. Lovejoy came to church early this morning to grease my scalp and comb my hair so I’d look presentable for y’all today,” he preached. “And thank you Miss Birdsong and Miss Delicate Chocolate. They spent the last hour giving me the most wonderful manicure, pedicure, and foot massage. Thank ya so much, ladies!”
The church applauded politely.
“Now, we in Soul City are privileged to consider God a friend of the family!” he preached.
“Thass, right, Revren!” someone yelled out.
“And when ya know God like we know God,” he thundered, “ya get freed from a certain . . . spiritual gravity! Ya feel ya can fly even if ya cain’t! Can I get an amen if ya feel your spirit’s got wings because ya live in Soul City!”
“Hallelujah!”
“Is there anyone here-uh . . . !” he roared, “scared of going to Hell-uh!”
The congregation said as one, “NO!”
“Is there anyone here-uh uncertain of the grace-uh . . . !”
“Well!”
“. . . and the perpetual watchful eye . . .”
“Bring it home!”
“. . . of your friend and mine . . .”
“Come on with it, now!”
“. . . the Lawd-uh!”
“No-uh!”
“I say, is there anyone here uncertain that they’re going to Heaven?”
“NO!”
“Well good,” he said, no longer thundering, just talking now. “Then let’s have some fun.”
“Hallelujah-uh!”
“Now, a few of you been sayin I need to refer a little more to the Bible, and I’m gonna try. Once I finish it. You’ll be happy to know I’m almost finished.”
They applauded.
“So, today, as usual, we here to talk about our favorite savior . . . Shiftless Rice!”
“Tell it like it is, Revren! Tell it like it is!”
“Last week I told you the story of how Shiftless turned the slaves’ water into wine . . . !”
“Thass right!”
“. . . while turnin Massa’s wine into water!”
“Hallelujah!”
“Well, this week we gon pick up where we left off, with Shiftless still on the Jerusalem, Lose-ee-anna, plantation of Massa Utterly Unctuous!”
“The belly of the beast!”
“One mo’nin Shiftless went into Massa Unctuous’s massa bedroom to clean up and found Massa Unctuous jes then rising from a res-less sleep. Massa Unctuous say, ‘Shiftless, my friend, I had the worst dream last night. A bonified nightmare.’
“Shiftless say: ‘Let’s hear it.’
“Massa Unctuous say, ‘Well, I dreamed I was whippin this slave so hard my heart gave out and I died. But then St. Peter made a mistake and sent me to Nigger Heaven! There was garbage everywhere and it smelled bad. The houses was tore down, the fences was ripped up, the streets was muddy, and a bunch of raggedy Nigroes was sloshing around bein lazy and stupid. It was really scary!’
“Shiftless say, ‘Know what, Massa Unctuous? I had a nightmare last night, too! I was out in the field pickin cotton when the sun got s’darn hot I jes keelt over and past away. That’s when St. Peter sent me to White Heaven! The streets was lined with gold, the trees was filled with fruit, and the fountains was bubblin wit wine!’
“Massa Unctuous say, ‘Shiftless, you said you had a nightmare. What’s the scary part?’
“‘Scary part’s that I was in Heaven and there wasn’t a soul in the place!’”
“Let ’em know, Revren! Let ’em know!”
“After a few years of Shiftless outwittin Massa Unctuous and performin the miracle of gittin out ah all kinds ah work, Massa Unctuous sold Shiftless to the cruelest massa in alla Mississippi: Bums A. Honkymothafucka!”
“Preeeeeach!”
“And even though it was Sunday mo’nin Massa Honkymothafucka vowed he’d make Shiftless work! On Shiftless’s first mo’nin Massa Honkymothafucka waddled out and say, ‘Now, Shiftless, ya gone work t’day whether ya likes it or not! Ya gone start by pickin six load a cotton, cleanin the manure out the stables, and fillin the pig troughs, and if ya ain’t finish alla that by noontime I’ma whip ya til ya wish ya was never born!’
“Shiftless say, ‘Alright, Massa Honkymothafucka. But lemme asks ya somethin. Does ya like ta laugh?’
“Massa Honkymothafucka say, ‘No, I don’t! Ah ain’t never laughed in alla my life.’
“‘If I makes ya laugh right now, will ya let me out of cleanin the stables?’
“‘Bwoy, ain’t no slave in this world smart enough to make me laugh! For you to make me laugh would be a miracle. Tell ya little joke, and if I laugh I’ll set ya free. When I don’t, I’ll whip ya but good, which is fuh sho all I been wantin to do all mo’nin!’
“‘Well, it’s late one afternoon on the Honky plantation and up in the big house lil’ Ofay Honky’s in the kitchen making a chocolate cake with the help of his mother, Honkie Honky. When Honkie turns around lil’ Ofay dunks his whole face in the batter and whips around and say, ‘Look, Mama! I’m Black!’ Well, Honkie ain’t one bit happy bout this. She grabs a broom from the closet and beats lil’ Ofay’s entire ass. Then she say, ‘Go in the study and show your father what you’ve done!’ He runs in the room and say, ‘Look at me, Daddy! I’m Black!’ Now, Mister Charley Honky don’t find that so funny. He gets his bullwhip and whips lil’ Ofay’s ass summin good. Then he say, ‘Now go out on the porch and show your grampa what you’ve done!’ Ofay drags himself out on the porch and gets beat down a third time. When Ofay gets back to the kitchen Honkie say, ‘I hope you’ve learned your lesson, young man!’ Ofay say, ‘Oh, I surely have. I been Black five minutes and already there’s all these motherfuckin Honkys beatin my ass!’
“Well, Massa Honkymothafucka couldn’t help but blurt out a big ol’ laugh, and by noontime Shiftless was on his way to Canada!”
“Praise the Lawd!”
“But when Massa Unctuous heard Shiftless was free, he set the paterollers on him, and despite the deal with Massa Honkymothafucka, Shiftless was soon back on Massa Unctuous’s plantation, hungry for vengeance.”
“Back in de belly of de beast!”
“One Sunday Massa Unctuous was in church and he got into it with another massa about which of them had the biggest, baddest slave. Them two bet a thousand dollars and agreed to meet that very afternoon to let they slaves battle it out! When Massa Unctuous, Missus Unctuous, and Shiftless was ridin on over to the other plantation, Massa Unctuous say, ‘Now, Shiftless, there’s a lot riding on this here fight. You do whatever you got to do to win.’ Shiftless say, ‘Awright, Massa Unctuous.’ When they got there they saw the man Shiftless was to fight. He was twice as tall as Shiftless and had muscles upon muscles. He was chained to a tree, snortin and clawin the dirt like a hungry wild animal staring at fresh meat. Shiftless knew it would take a miracle to win that fight! So he walked over to Missus Unctuous and backhand slapped her across the face so hard that she fell to the ground and her skirt came up over her head exposin her bloomers!”
“Preach, Revren! PREACH!”
“When the manimal saw that, he ripped off his chain and sprinted into the fields!”
“Praise the Lawd-uh!”
“Shiftless was declared the winner, and one dumbfounded massa gave a stack of money to the other. Massa Unctuous ran over and say, ‘Shiftless, how dare you touch my wife! When we get back to the plantation I’ma whip you til my arm fall off!’ Shiftless say, ‘Hold on one cotton-pickin minute, Massa Unctuous. You said I’s to do anything possible to win the fight. Well, there wasn’t no way for me to stop that man with my hands, so I had to use my mind.’
“‘What you talkin bout, Shiftless?’
“‘Massa, e’ry nigger know any nigger bad enough to slap a white woman is damn sho bad nuff to murder a nigger!’”
“Tell the truth, Revren! TELL IT ALL!”
“Well, Massa Unctuous ain’t find that so funny. When they got back to the plantation Massa Unctuous tied Shiftless to a tree with his back in the sun and whipped him til he died!”
“Lawdy, Lawdy!”
“I say, he marched Shiftless right into the middle of Jerusalem, Louisiana, made him carry the whip himself, strapped him to a tree, and in front of a hundred folk he whipped him and whipped him and whipped him,” he was yelling now, “til the blood from Shiftless’s back flew out onto Massa’s face, and right up there on that there tree, Shiftless Rice, in the midst of a flock of body-snatchers . . . !”
“Come with it now, Revren!”
“. . . criminals of the flesh . . . !”
“Don’t hold back one lil’ bit!”
“. . . in the middle of a gang of thieves, I tell you, Shiftless Rice was crucified!”
“PREEEACH!”
“But he was not forsaken!”
“No, he wan’t!”
“Ah say, our savior was NOT forsaken!”
“Revren speaks the truth!”
“Oh, the dyin day was a good day for Shiftless Rice! Do ya know why?!”
“Tell us why, Revren!”
“I say, do ya know why?!”
“We’s waitin on the answer!”
“Cause then he ain’t have to slave no mo!”
“Hallelujah!”
“He immediately rose on up to Heaven, where he had a righteous warm welcome and was given a nice, big penthouse apartment on Amen Avenue in a neighborhood reserved for those who’d been in slavery, or suffered unjustly, or been wrongly persecuted. Mary Magdalene’s mansion was just four doors down the road. Everyone on Amen Avenue liked Shiftless so well that after a few months in Heaven they nominated him to become an angel. God had taken an instant liking to Shiftless and accepted the nomination immediately. Shiftless was to become the first African-American angel ever! Everyone was pretty excited about it, specially Shiftless! So when St. Peter came down and laid them wings on Shiftless, he couldn’t contain hisself. He started flyin all over the place, doin tricks and stunts and loop-de-loops, puttin more style into flyin than any angel ever had. And speed, whew! He flew so fast they couldn’t hardly see whether he was comin or goin! As with everythin, soon’s we get our hands on it, we make it better.”
“You know thass right!”
“Well, the white angels weren’t so happy bout Shiftless’s aesthetic innovations, especially one Pancho Pilot, and they complained to St. Peter.”
“De whitefolks done did it again!”
“So St. Peter went down to Shiftless’s apartment one night and talked to him about maybe slowin down a bit so’s not to embarrass the other angels. Shiftless agreed, but soon as he got back in the air he couldn’t keep his Blackness from showin and the next mo’nin he was out playin hide-and-go-seek with the clouds and tag with the comets! Well, Pancho and the other white angels went and complained agin! They wouldn’t put up with this behavior at all. Said it wasn’t dignified!”
“Tell it . . . !”
“. . . wasn’t sanctified!”
“Say it ain’t so!”
“Wasn’t angelic!”
“Betrayers!”
“Pancho and the white angels said if Shiftless wasn’t removed as an angel they’d go on strike and there’d be not one miracle performed til they got their way! God could see they was serious, and as charming as Shiftless was, Heaven couldn’t handle having all the angels on strike. So, on just his fifth day in Heaven, the Heaven Police grabbed Shiftless, took his wings, and escorted him to the edge of Heaven.”
“Now that ain’t right!”
“It’d been millenniums since anyone had been kicked out of Heaven, so most of the place gathered to say good-bye or good riddance. When they got to the back door of Heaven, St. Peter asked Shiftless if he had any last words.
“‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Life was a bitch and death’s been just the same. I been in Heaven five days and already the motherfuckin honkies are kickin my ass out.’”
“Praise the Lawd!”
“Shiftless considered makin a second comin, but he thought that after Heaven, Earth would be boring, and after slavery, Hell couldn’t possibly be that bad, so he strolled on down to the Inferno to check out the scene. Shiftless discovered Hell was a world of plenty, where everything you could imagine was within arm’s reach. He stayed a while. He ate juicy prime rib until he couldn’t stand the sight of it. He drank fine wine until the smell turned his stomach. He was given a harem, and though it took a long time, eventually his taste for women began to wane. Slowly, everything he loved was being spoiled for him!”
“Lawdy, Lawdy!”
“Hell was much more tricky and pernicious than he’d realized. It wasn’t any worse than slavery, but Shiftless hadn’t been happy bein in slavery in the first place! So he started looking for the back door out of there when he glimpsed the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen! Her name was Madonna Satanas. The Devil’s daughter!”
“Watch out now!”
“Shiftless went over and laid his game on her, and within minutes she was stuck on him. One night as they strolled through a river of fire, Shiftless said, ‘Hey, baby, you know the way out of here? It’s gettin kinda hot.’
“She said, ‘Course I do.’
“‘Well, you the finest thing I ever seen in my life. I could marry you right now and never look back! Let’s you and me zip over to someplace a little cooler like St. Bart’s, where we can jump the broom barefoot on the beach.’
“Madonna said, ‘Shiftless Rice, are you proposin to me?’
“And Shiftless said, ‘Yes, I am. I’d git down on one knee but I think I’d get burnt real bad.’
“They grabbed two of the Devil’s favorite stallions, Hallowed Be Thy Name and Thy Kingdom Come, and raced toward the back door of Hell, way over in West Hell. But before they got there, the Devil noticed his beloved horses were missing and heard about his daughter’s new man and raced off to catch them before they could reach the door!”
“Satan on ya tail!”
“Well, of course, he caught them, he’s the Devil, and he tried to trick Shiftless and Madonna into sticking round, but they were too smart for that and before long a plain ol’ fistfight broke out tween Shiftless and the Devil. Now ain’t too many men can hold up their end in a donnybrook with the Devil! A scuffle with Satan . . . !”
“Tell it, Revren!”
“. . . a melee with Mephistopheles . . . !”
“That’s right!”
“. . . a brouhaha with Beelzebub!”
“PREEEACH!”
“And there’s damn few who would win! But we here talkin bout Shiftless Rice and Shiftless Rice ain’t like other men. He was smart, fast, and highly motivated by the lifetime of top-shelf pussy riding on that fight!”
“Praise the pussy!”
“Plus, he was advised by Madonna that the Devil had a soft spot in the middle of his ribs on his left side, and a good punch there would leave him screamin like a hungry baby with a soakin diaper. Sure, she was betraying her father, but in her family they constantly betrayed each other. Shiftless punched the Devil in the spot and watched him curl up into a fetal ball. Shiftless took a stake from Madonna and drew a cross on the Devil’s chest. Then the Devil had to bow to Shiftless. It was time to save some souls!”
“Praise the Lawd!”
“Shiftless and Madonna postponed their nuptials a few hours, passed out ice water, and installed air-conditioning units to make the bottomless pit a bit more bearable.
“‘I’m only doin this,’ Shiftless said, ‘because you’re gonna be my father-in-law and someday we’re gonna wanna come back with some little ones, and if it’s too hot we ain’t comin. So don’t mess with these here ACs because if you do, I’ma beat that ass again and turn this whole place into a giant icebox!’ With that, the road was clear for Shiftless Rice’s second coming. He and Madonna flew on out of Hell and over to St. Bart’s in search of a broom they could jump and a hotel with outdoor showers!”
The service concluded with the organist, drummer, electric guitarist, and three-man horn section bursting into righteous riffs and the congregation clapping to the rhythm. The Revren yelled out, “May all our lives be filled with love, sex, and God! And where God will not provide, grant us the grace, courage, and cunning of Shiftless Rice so we might make it through! Amen!” The Revren stepped down off the phone books as though it pained his little body, thrust his arms out melodramatically, and moved through the aisles taking collection by allowing each member of the congregation to use a safety pin and stick a ten or a twenty to his suit. The ladies, of course, took their time, pinning on their currency like a delicate corsage and stealing a chance to touch his cheek or his hair or give him a quick kiss. As the Revren moved through the church he became a little strutting money tree. He stopped when he reached the church’s back pew, and with the church thundering with claps and cheers and stomps and tears, the tiny Revren took the hand of a light-skinned, ancient man with paper-thin skin stretched so taut over his bones and muscles that you could see every vein and tributary and the blood pulsing through them. As the church roared, the man moved in slow motion from his seat to his feet and nodded with an augustness available only to the extraordinarily long-lived. “We love you, Shiftless!” someone yelled out.