Street Soldiers (10 page)

The drumbeats from next door grow more intense and cause Lexi to growl from her perch outside the door.

“What’s going on over there?” I ask, interrupting our psychic session.

Mama’s eyes begin to shine as she focuses on the house next door. We can’t see everything from the window nor do we need to. Anyone with a soul can feel the evil going on.

“Let’s go inside, Jayd,” Mama says, calming her green glow. “I’ll send Jay back out here when the cake’s done.”

“Okay.” I claim my things from the main room ready to lay down myself.

“Grab the spirit book, sweetie,” Mama says, turning off the lights.

I do as I’m told and follow Mama through the back yard lit only by the full moon. Daddy was supposed to replace the porch light outside the spirit room weeks ago but hasn’t even purchased the bulbs yet.

“To answer your question,” Mama whispers. “Esmeralda’s creating an army of blind allegiance to her and only her through the Orisha community. She wants to run all of the spirit houses on the west side, but I have a feeling it’s more than that.”

“Wow,” I say, unable to take it all in.

“When Esmeralda married Hector’s ile she also married the spirits of Rousseau’s animals with the spirits of her followers making a living voodoo doll, if you will.”

“Mama, how do you know all of this?” I ask, shocked at how calm Mama’s being.

“With the exception of working at the shop, Netta and I have been in the spirit room since yesterday working on finding out Esmeralda’s plan.” We step quietly through the grass with Lexi leading the way. “All we know is that she’s used Rousseau to summon my father’s spirit and help create the zombies and shape shifters. I have to find a way to stop her before it’s too late.”

“Can’t we just make a potion to stop them?” I ask, keeping my eyes and ears open. You never know who or what’s waiting in the dark.

I can’t believe Esmeralda’s game is this tight. Just a couple of months ago I was crushing her with my newfound power of sight. The tables sure have turned quickly. I’m still stuck on the fact that zombies are real. I don’t want to deal with any of them even if they’re not like the ones on television. My run-in with Pam’s vacant eyes—now permanently etched into my memory—was more than enough contact with the walking dead for me.

“It doesn’t work like that,” Mama says, lifting her long skirt and stepping over the exposed tree roots. “They were initiated by Esmeralda and she’s the keeper of their soperas. Without them I can’t influence their heads.”

Mama reminds me that I haven’t cleaned my vessels this week. They each hold the ashe of the orishas and also the ashe of their owners’ heads. Mine are at my mom’s house on the small shrine I placed in the living room corner. I took better care of my shrines when they were here.

“Misty and Emilio were initiated like I was, right?” I ask, eager to help. If that means crippling my enemies in the process, so be it. “Maybe I can find a way to get into their heads without using their vessels.”

“No, Jayd. Don’t mess with them,” Mama says, stopping in her tracks before reaching the back door. She turns around and faces me. “They were not properly married to their spiritual heads but instead to Esmeralda’s will. She can manipulate them to do whatever she needs them to do and be whoever she wants them to be. And with Rousseau summoning his godfather—my father—on her behalf, who knows what kind of demented thoughts they’ve already managed to put in their heads.”

“Good evening, ladies,” Rousseau says, appearing at the back gate adjacent to the same driveway where Pam’s body was found. “Did I hear someone call my name?”

Lexi charges and stops short of the gate, growling fiercely at our unwelcomed visitor. I feel like doing the same thing.

“Returning to the scene of your latest crime, I see,” I say, stepping toward the gate behind Lexi.

“Get in the house, now,” Mama says, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind for speaking to Rousseau. Mama ignores the intrusive neighbor, ushering Lexi and me through the door. Once we’re safely inside the kitchen, Mama smacks me on the back of my arm like she used to do when I was a little girl.

“Ouch!” I say, rubbing the sore spot. “What was that for?”

“That was for being a smart-ass,” Mama says, slitting her eyes at me. “Whatever you do from now on, don’t engage he or Esmeralda. Ever.”

“I have a feeling you’re not telling me something,” I say, following her through the living room toward her bedroom.

I nod what’s up to my cousin, Jay, and other uncles. It’s still early for them to go out. Bryan’s the only one missing because he’s at his weekend night gig deejaying for the local independent radio station. Bryan doesn’t get paid for his show, Night Science, which is dedicated to conscious music across various genres. Bryan loves that job almost as much as he loves his girlfriend.

“There’s a lot you don’t know, which is exactly why you need to watch your step.” Mama removes her sandals and sits down on the corner of her bed. I follow suit and sit down on mine ready to listen. “When Esmeralda lost her spiritual house in New Orleans she also lost her powers to influence animals the same way she used to when we were younger. It’s a divine gift, indeed. I know what Lexi’s saying because we communicate in various ways, but to talk to her like we’re talking now is beyond my scope of understanding.”

“I feel you,” I say, touching the spirit book on my bed. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to constantly hear animals’ voices in my head. The sample I got when I saw as she does a while back was a complete trip.” No wonder Esmeralda’s one step away from the insane asylum.

“When it was just Esmeralda over there I could handle it. But now that she’s got her partner in both crime and in life back from the undead, it’s going to take a lot more to tame her wild ass,” Mama says, staring at Lexi making herself comfortable in the hallway separating Mama’s room, Daddy’s room and the bathroom.

“Mama, why don’t we just fight fire with fire,” I say, recalling one of my visions where Maman’s dress caught on fire when her husband walked into the room. My great-grandfather’s head belongs to Shango, just like G’s. Everything he does is hot.

“Never that, Jayd. We are sweet water children, daughters of Oshune. We don’t need fire or their type of evil to win this battle.”

“Then what do we need?” I ask, settling into my pillow.

Mama looks at the shrine next to her bed before claiming the mail from the nightstand in between our beds. She doesn’t have to voice her frustration; her eyebrows always crinkle at the sight of bills.

“What I’ve learned from the ancestors is that through it all you keep going. No matter what you never lose faith—period. And that’s what we have to do.”

“But Mama, that’s not an answer.”

“We have to trust in the process, Jayd,” Mama says, visibly exhausted. “How many times have I told you that? The answer will come as long as we do the work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, ready to drift off.

I promised Rah I’d hook he and Rahima’s hair up tomorrow after church. His younger brother Kamal should be home for the weekend. He started middle school this year and rarely comes back to Los Angeles to hang with his brother and baby mama drama. Who can blame him? There’s peace at their grandparent’s house on the other side of Compton. Maybe Rah should consider moving back there for a while to get away from Sandy’s crazy ass. It could also help with the financial pinch he’s been feeling since his mom stopped paying her half of the bills and rent.

The alarm from the oven in the backhouse sounds loudly and the neighborhood dogs respond. We can smell the pound cake through the bedroom window. I hope Mama lets me taste it in the morning.

“Jay, go and get the cake out of the oven and turn it off, please,” Mama says out of the opened bedroom door.

Jay’s the only man Mama allows in the spirit room alone. Bryan can go sometimes but has a habit of borrowing incense and candles from the supply cabinet, which works Mama’s nerves.

Mama replaces the mortgage payment in the neatly opened envelope and puts it on the edge of her dresser before climbing into bed. Daddy will pick it up when he comes home. This is my grandparent’s system: It allows them to communicate once a day without being too intimate. In their brief conversation they’ll exchange important household information such as necessary groceries and other bills, chores and a brief discussion on children and neighbors in that order, every time. Daddy might ask me about my day, but usually I just sit on the corner of my bed and stare at whatever’s on television. It must be uncomfortable for Daddy to stand at the threshold of what used to be his room, but that’s the way it’s been since I can remember.

I can’t imagine Jeremy and I ever becoming that distant but it feels like that’s the direction we’re headed. Hell, I never thought I’d date a white boy in the first place but I did, and I fell in love with him—hard. Lord knows I want to help Jeremy in any way that I can but it’s his family’s disease that’s got him thinking his way of life is okay. I hope Jeremy can find his way back to us before I completely move on.

“Speak for your ancestors and they will take care of you.”

-Mama

Drama High, volume 10: Culture Clash

* * *

CHAPTER SIX: BLOOD TIES

Sometimes I forget just how many people attempt to fit into the crammed sanctuary at First AME Church of Compton. Mama, Netta and I decided to dress in yellow and white honoring both Oshune and Pam’s spirit. Had I known I was going to end up wearing everyone else’s scent I wouldn’t have bothered putting on my own perfume. I wish I had time to take a shower before I came to work but we all drove straight to the shop. Clients started arriving at noon and have been coming steadily for the last six hours.

Mama and Netta are wrapping up the last sister’s hair now, sending her home with a few samples of our latest products. All the proceeds from the Heavenly Healing line will go to Pam’s funeral first, and then G’s defense fund. Mama’s meeting at the church was good for that and for finding a team of lawyers to volunteer in the meantime. Mama promised they would eventually get paid for their services and the church congregation backed her up.

Daddy’s sermon was very inspiring, so much so that he called the entire congregation to service. He walked straight out of the church and down the street to all of the other churches of various denominations to ask them to join us for the early morning outing, and they did. We walked several blocks until our feet hurt. Bryan, who was at home with the rest of my uncles and Jay, said we looked like Jehovah’s witnesses. Mama said we looked like God’s soldiers, handed them a tambourine and made them all join us on our trek.

“Jayd, you’re free to leave, honey. It’s been a long day,” Netta says, kissing me on the forehead.

“Yes, baby. Get some good rest,” Mama says, following her best friend into the back office.

I finish sweeping the floor before preparing to head out. I’m glad tomorrow’s Columbus Day, even if I could care less about the holiday. As Mama says, only in this country can you be rewarded for getting lost and enslaving every indigenous person you encountered along the way. At least we get a day off from school. I have plenty of work to catch up on and an ASU meeting to plan. Spirit week and Homecoming are both around the corner leaving our group little time to recruit new members.

“Bye. I love y’all,” I say, knowing they’re in the back counting money and checking the books.

“Be safe, Jayd. Mo feran o,” Mama says, sending her love in Yoruba.

My phone vibrates in my jean pocket. Every time it rings I half hope it’s Jeremy but it never is. Instead, it’s Rah.

“Hello,” I say, hanging my work apron up in my locker and retrieving my purse from the hook. I take a quick look out of the peephole and head out the front door.

“Jayd, what up?” Rah asks. “We still on for tonight?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I say, starting the car.

My mom’s clutch has been acting funny lately. Rah said if it needs replacing he could get me a good deal on the parts and do the labor free—yet another thing I need to save my money for.

“Cool. I’m going to drop off Kamal at my grandparent’s house. I’ll holla when I’m on my way back.”

“I was hoping I’d get to see him,” I say, pulling away from the shop. “Tell him I said what’s up.”

“Bet. In a minute,” Rah says, ending the call. I guess I can get some studying done in the meantime.

Mama said we need to keep the faith and the answer will come. I get that, but I also want to see if our ancestors have any advice on how to stop Esmeralda’s sinister plan in this moment. We’ve got enough going on in our hood without her twisted bull adding to the pot. I brought the spirit book with me to look up more on my great-grandmother as well. If anyone knows how to deal with Jon Paul it’s his wife, Maman.

*

Luckily, my mom didn’t find my
Lay’s
stashed away in the cupboard. They were just as good today as they would’ve been on Friday, which is when I originally planned to eat them. I haven’t had a moment to myself in this apartment since then and am enjoying the peace and quiet as well as my readings on Maman and her favorite great-ancestor, Queen Califia. She was gangster with her style and her power of sight.

Califia was able to see through anything and anyone to reveal hidden treasures and vulnerabilities. If she was looking at the earth, she could see vaults, valuable stones and other things hidden beneath the surface. If Califia was dealing with a person she could see their intentions before they manifested. No wonder Maman liked summoning her energy. Predicting one’s behavior has many advantages especially when dealing with those who want to do me harm.