The Retreat. Dijorn Moss
because of the cars he’d stolen? What if someone was one tardy away from being fired by an inflexible boss, and Will had stolen his only means of transportation? Will had become (it would be funny if it weren’t so sad) a menace to society.
“Don’t wait, tomorrow is not promised. Make a choice to accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior, and He will remove your sins. You might not feel like you deserve it, but the scripture says that His ways are not your ways.”
Will crossed Paramount Street and turned down a poorly lit alley. A group of guys hung out underneath a streetlight. They wore all black, with beanies. A little flicker of light indicated that they had been smoking. Will pulled up and turned off the lights when he got near the group. He hopped out of the van and exchanged fist bumps with the group.
“What’s this?” D-Loc asked him.
D-Loc was the Untouchable’s leader. He put in enough work to get everyone’s respect in the hood. Even though he was only twenty-four years old, Will saw him as a father figure. Shaped like a bowling pin, only the whites in D-Loc’s eyes stood out. A chill swept through Will’s body whenever he stared at D-Loc for a long period of time.
“I had a problem with the other car,” Will said.
“Oh, so you steal a church van?” D-Loc said.
Will couldn’t care less about stealing a church van, as he thought about the Mustang GT he had to abandon in order to keep from being caught. “Look, I can get you another whip. Just give me a minute.”
“It’ll do,” D-Loc said.
Of course Will knew that a minivan and a drive-by were exclusive concepts. They needed something with some muscle and a little bit of a pickup.
“Give me twenty minutes; I’ll find you something better,” Will said.
“We don’t have time to waste, so you got twenty minutes before we leave.” D-Loc looked at the minivan.
Will watched as D-Loc scanned his crew’s eyes. J-Rock had just been put on, and the drive-by that was about to occur was his initiation. Droopy was a veteran street soldier. D-Loc handed Will a chrome pistol.
“It ain’t a fancy tool kit, but it’ll get the job done,” D-Loc said.
Despite being in a gang, Will did not like guns. Guns were a magnet for trouble; however, he could not afford for his crew to do a drive-by in a church van. So Will took the gun and wedged it into the front part of his pants.
“We ain’t called Untouchables for no reason. We live this, we breathe this, and each and every one of us is willing to die for the set. So when I look into your eyes, I better not see fear. There ain’t no room for fear,” D-Loc said.
D-Loc could inspire the smallest guy in the room to feel like a giant. D-Loc had given Will’s father his word that Will would never have to kill anyone. He used Will to steal cars and allowed his other compos to put in work.
“Nobody messes with the Untouchables because they know that we ain’t the ones, man. We strike fear in their hearts, and you know what?” D-Loc pointed to his head. “That stays with them longer. It messes with their head, man, they because know when they see you on the streets, they see death.”
While D-Loc spoke, guns were passed like an offering plate. From sawed-off shotguns to nine millimeters, this looked more like soldiers going to Iraq than doing a drive-by. Will was not off the hook for the evening. After some mumbled good-byes, Will made his way back toward South Street on foot. The wind started to make its presence known as it began to shake the trees. Will always tried to see what lurked in the shadows.
He never knew what could prey on him as he tried to walk toward the intersection. Maybe the preacher man’s devil lurked in the shadows. He approached the corner of South and Paramount. The plan was to jack the first car he saw and get off of the creepy block. He waited for the right car to stop by the gas station across the street, where the gas attendant never got involved with any carjacking. The owner didn’t even have security cameras to turn over to the police. A few minutes later, a champagne Cadillac pulled into the gas station, and a robust man in a wool jacket got out and began pumping gas.
“That’s what’s up,” Will said to himself.
Will crossed the empty street and made his way up to the gas station lot. The guy had his back to Will, and he had no clue what was about to happen. Will grabbed his gun, pulled back the handle, and got within inches of the guy. The guy turned around with a weird, contorted look on his face.
“Check this out, playboy, we can either do this the easy way and you give me the keys, or I can go old school and put the gun in your face,” Will said.
Fear was evident on the guy’s face, to the point where he froze up. In Will’s peripheral, he saw a black-and-white squad car approaching the gas station.
“Can you believe this?” Will pointed the gun at the guy’s chest. “Get in the car. Now!”
The guy got into car from the driver’s side, and slid his way into the passenger seat. Will entered the car on the driver’s side with his gun in hand, and pointed it toward the guy’s abdomen.
“Oh, Jesus, please don’t shoot me. Jesus. Oh, Lord!” the guy yelled.
“Shut up!” Will placed the gun on his lap and turned on the ignition. The police car was at the pump behind Will. This would have to be Will’s worst string of bad luck.
The Cadillac slowly pulled away from the gas station. Will could see the dashboard glow of the cop’s computer. Two pros, he mused, going about their work. One jacking and the other filling out paperwork. The night was unusual to say the least.
“What’s your name?” Will asked.
“Chauncey. Deacon Chauncey McClendon,” Chauncey replied. He had a look of utter terror in his eyes. “If you need money I would be happy to give it to you.”
“I do need money, but I don’t want your money.” Will looked at him in a way that started to freak the man out. “Listen, I need you to be cool. I don’t want to hurt you. I just need your car.”
Will could tell that statement relaxed Chauncey a little.
“Listen, I know this is awkward, but I really am trying to get to this church event. I should’ve left hours ago, but I was held up.”
“You’re real religious?”
“I’m not religious; I have a relationship with God.”
This statement raised an awkward look from Will. “How’s that?”
“Well, religion is based on a set of rules used to control people, and God is about setting people free.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” Will said.
“Well, maybe you can come with me to the Men’s Retreat,” Chauncey said joyously.
“Men’s Retreat!” Will said, almost bursting a seam from laughing so hard.
“Yes, it’s a time when men get together to get close with God.”
“Let me get this straight, you claim to be in a relationship with God, and now you want me to go away with you to a Men’s Retreat with nothing but men?”
“Yeah!”
“That sounds a little suspect.”
Silence set in as neither one of them could figure out what to say or where they were going. Will appreciated the moment of quiet.
This guy is definitely in a cult or something.
“Are you going to kill me?” Chauncey asked.
“If you keep asking stupid questions, then yes, I will.”
“Can I at least ask where we are going? South branches up ahead.”
Pops had a point. Will did not have a clue