Son of the Crossroad (Prologue)

Enjoy an excerpt from my impending third novel, Son of the Crossroad!

November 1989

Rob

The church smelled damp. It always smelled damp. I had only been here a handful of times, but it never changed. I looked around at the congregation, observing the odd mix of people sittin’ in the pews. I recognized every face sittin’ on the wooden elongated chairs, and I was quite honestly shocked to see some of em. I ain’t one to judge, but it was always interestin’ to me to see people who raise all type of hell Monday through Saturday be so sanctified on Sunday. 

That’s one of the reasons I stayed away from the church. I never felt comfortable because I’m what one would call a “heathen.” I drink. I smoke reefa. I cuss. I don’t like to commit to no women, I like choices. I’m the one that these “christ-like followers” turn their nose up at funny enough.

I’m ok with that.

I rubbed my nose to try and get that damp smell out, but it seemed like it was glued to the inside of my nose. If nothin’ else confirmed that I wouldn’t be back here, it was definitely that. The Deacons called for offering and I stayed in my seat. It was one thing to be here, but give a church my money? Naw. 

I watched as the congregation moved to the center aisle of the church, money in hand like robots. The organist stroked the keys of the organ in an almost hypnotic manner, his eyes closed and his head back as the organ hummed its tune. The ushers positioned themselves at the altar at the front of the church, baskets in hand, awaiting the dead trees that held so much power.

One by one, the members placed their hard-earned money in one of the three baskets held by the ushers. Dumbasses.

I sat in the pews observing, and the pastor standing in the pulpit locked eyes with me. Even though he was talkin’ he kept his eyes on me the whole time. Any other time I woulda took this as a challenge and checked his ass, but I do have some form of ‘ack right. He continued to minister (more like instruct) the church goers to “give the way God wanted them to.”

“God gives us so much, ain’t that right? I SAID AIN’T THAT RIGHT?! Oh yall too quiet in here this mornin’! We give with joy in our hearts. We come with thanksgiving. We give our offerin’ knowin’ that even though we may be givin’ our last, that God will take care of us! Look at ya neighbor and say Amen!” The church echoed with voices repeatin’ after the pastor.

I chuckled to myself. These pastors don’t even care to be coy anymore, and it seemed like the church folk didn’t either. Ain’t no way these people thought that the money they were givin’ was for God. Not the one they were thinkin’ about anyway.

Service dragged on, and two hours later, we stood as the pastor gave the benediction.

“Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy..to the only wise God our Savior, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen.” Some of the church goers gathered their things and fellowshipped amongst each other, while others left.

I sat with my hands clammy, waiting for the sanctuary to clear out. I had a meeting with the pastor that I wasn’t lookin’ forward to. I had actually been avoiding it. I thought that I would have some time before the sanctuary was cleared, but folks were already leaving out in droves.

Once the space was clear, the pastor came from the pulpit and sat down in the pew in front of me. We sat in silence for what seemed like forever. I analyzed his face and the apparent nervousness and apprehension of saying the wrong thing was etched across his face.

“Thank you for comin’, I wasn’t sure if I was gon’ see your face today.” He started.

I chuckled. “You almost didn’t and now I can remember why.”

“Well, I’m glad you did. You was never one for church, or God for that matter.” He whispered.

I shot him a look. Strike one. “Is this really how you wanna start this conversation old man?”

“Look, I’ll cut right to the chase. I’m gettin’ old. God’s been tellin’ me it’s time to step down, and quite frankly I don’t wanna spend the few years I got left in the pulpit. I done gave God and this church most of my life. It’s my turn to live the way I feel like livin’. He sputtered.

“And how’s that?” I was kinda curious now.

“For me to know. I called you here because I wanted to know how you felt about takin’ over the church.” He spat out.

I stood up to leave. I knew there was a catch to comin’ here today, and I fell right into the trap. Ain’t no way in anybody hell I was about to take a over a soul suckin’ church. I’d be leadin’ people straight to hell by the souls.

“Now come back here, don’t you wanna hear what’s in it for you?” The pastor pleaded.

I kept walkin’. 

“Boy, this ain’t just about God and this church. I’m tryna do right by you. Leave you somethin’. You could be set for the rest of your life and I’m tryna see to it that you are. Just give me a chance.” He choked out.

I stopped at the double doors leading out of the sanctuary and turned around slowly.

“So you pimpin’ God in the attempt to be a betta father? I wonder what your congregation would think about you gettin’ rich of them.” I smirked.

“I don’t too much care what they think son. We’re Watsons. Folk in this town don’t question us. If I said today you the pastor, they’d welcome you with open arms.” He chuckled.

“Listen,” he continued. “I’m just tryna do right by you. I know I haven’t been the best father if I’ve even been one at all. I’m tryna leave you a dynasty, one to where you and your future kids and grandkids don’t have to worry about shit. All you have to do is say yes. I did, and I don’t regret it. Just hear me out.”

I considered what the old preacher was sayin’. He hadn’t been a father at all, and I don’t know why he had even conjured that up in his head. Ain’t no way you call yourself a father when you hid your love child away and left him to fend for himself. Everybody knew about me, but people acted like they didn’t, especially seeing as though my pops was already two years into being a pastor when I popped up. The whole church knew that he was messin’ with one of the newest members at the time, under the guise of helping her out.My momma and me struggled to put food on the table while this holier than thou nigga was across town with his farce of a family livin’ like royalty. Nigga didn’t even try.

It felt right on time though, because a nigga was strugglin’. What’s the worst that could happen? I always had this inkling that most of these pastors don’t even wanna be pastors. To be honest, he owed me. He owed my mother. The sayin’ all money ain’t good money wasn’t even on my mind, and I had no idea what evil I was taking on until it consumed me. In the moment though? I saw it as my way out, and I damn sho’ need one.

I sat back in the pew. “I’m listening.”