Chapter Eighteen: It's Not Good to Not Believe in God.

            Monday morning rang the bells of the day, Glen’s football bets were at a 60% win the previous day. It was a little disappointing to Glen and even Mario as well, as he expected Glen to win more than 6 out of the 10 games he put money on. Still, profit was made. But the linger thought that he may of left a bad taste in Mario’s mouth was getting to him time to time for the last fourteen hours, and had feared that his own personal expertise as well as Tommy’s combined would falter down the road. The concern kept in with him, the idea of making the big loss before Rudy comes back for Glen’s protection. He followed that thought on the good idea that he received Tommy’s help before he played the joke on him.

            He was about to think about Tommy while doing memos, something Glen would file under the second nature category until the Grocery Manager herself, a forty-something by the name of Marilyn who has higher power than he, had approached his desk.

Glen never found her threatening, he looked over to her and said, “Yes, Marilyn?”

“How are ya, Glen?” she said with her patented annoying voice.

“It’s all good here.”

“Can I ask you a personal question?”

That stopped Glen a little, he hoped that she won’t ask about Sheila, or even a question about perhaps his sex life. She had done so four years ago when he was just an IT Assistant.

Nevertheless, “Go ahead.”

“Do you believe in God?”

He paused with the typing; he played the offense card and said, “That question is a little too personal to me. But, I grew up in a strict-Mormon home. I’m currently non-religious.”

She shook her head.

“I imagine you don’t like that answer.”

“I really don’t,” she says, “You know that Jesus loves you, regardless of your religion. I’m very concerned even after your wife-to-be passed away.”

Glen shook his head on that, even though she had higher power than him, he had no problem challenging back. It was Ropers, not the Military.

“Her passing alone influences my lack of religious preference.”

He sat back in his professional chair and said, “But, I do have news about God and even the Devil himself. Recently, I was listening to a rock radio station and yours truly, Satan himself, was hosting a special edition of Midnight Metal and how he sponsored McDonalds. So, I think we can take the good guess that Ronald McDonald was able to make Satan say this, probably with the money he has, and I think now Ronald McDonald is someone you should worry about now. If he has more money than Satan, he perhaps can be called the devil.” Glen said with no emotion.

Marilyn dropped a disgusted notion to him and with another shake of her head, “That is not funny, Glen. And you shouldn’t be listening to heavy metal.”

“I don’t. Can I help you with a work-related issue?”

“Yes, but I’ll go to Barb instead of a sinner like you.”

She turned and headed to the door. Glen tried to call her back, but she ignored him and left.

He went back to what he was doing, but said out loud to himself, “I should’ve asked her if Country music was okay to listen to.”

Jasmine sat on the green couch with her friend watching the movie Loving Annabelle, a movie about a school teacher and school girl (both of whom female) going into a relationship and having sex at tend of the movie, in where that part was coming by. They watched as the two began to make out, cutting to a scene where the two strip each other’s clothes off and make love, cutting to them naked in the bed. The two turned to face each other, Jasmine saw that chubby blond haired female in front of her, and the two connected with a kiss. She went under Jasmine’s black top and massaged her breasts. The kissing continued as Jasmine began the tongue hockey while leading her hand down her pants, wanting her to touch her vagina.

It would be interrupted by the front door unlocking and opening. The two got off of each other and sat back down and away, appearing as nothing happened. Jasmine expected it to be Jimbo, but instead it was her mother, Colleen. The two stopped to see the dress slacks and classic white blouse and sunglasses wearing Colleen with a frown on her face. All one could hear was a pleasant acoustic guitar-driven song with a female singing kindly about love, it was filling the air of an unpleasant mood going in the trailer.

“I see you two are doing some bullshit, am I correct?” she said.

Jasmine sighed, her lover attempted to explain, “No, ma’am.”

“I’m her mother, now get the fuck out.” Colleen said ruthlessly.

She got off the couch with sadness written all over her face, with her head down along the way, she left the house.

Colleen put her hand on her hip, but before she could talk, Jasmine went on first while standing up, “I think it is bullshit that you can just walk in the house whenever you want.”

“Don’t take that shitty tone with me. I own this house and this is the shit I get? And I know what you were doing with that girl.”

Typically, Jasmine would be uncomfortable and embarrassed about this situation; it wasn’t the first time that she had been caught with other girl or woman by her mother. She went on the offensive and said, “Well gee, mom, I guess God made me that way.” She knew next what was going to be said.

“No, God did not make you a lesbian, it’s the devils work.”

She shrugged, “I’ll take the chance and go to hell. And I know, hell is bad. Don’t need to light a match and threaten to burn me with it while saying, ‘You wanna know what hell is like?’ And besides, you don’t do shit when Todd says things like he wants a tape of me doing it with a girl. He sick and twisted, and you just let him do as he pleases.”

Colleen lighted up a little, she raised her hand, “Todd is going to see a psychologist, he’s getting help. Trust me on this, he is also on my shit list.”

“A new entry I guess.”

“Don’t be smart, things are going to change for the good. He is going to end his drug dealing.”

“Was it because he got caught? Or is he scared of getting his ass kicked again?”

“Jasmine.”

“Say what you want, I don’t like Todd. He called me, Jim and Glen faggots for crying at Sheila’s funeral.”

“Stop bringing that up!” Colleen yapped, then covered her face.

Jasmine crossed her arms and kept that stare onto her mother, in her head, she was happy to be winning.

“Okay, okay. You have a problem with Todd, I’ll let you be angry at that. But, really Jasmine, he is trying to get himself together, and like or not, he is your brother.”

“Half-brother.” Jasmine said.

“Okay, but now, things are going to change here. Myself and Rob are divorcing and it’s going to get a little difficult around here.”

Jasmine wanted to say her answer why, but decided not to say it. Rob knew of Todd’s dealings and he was probably going to use that to swindle the divorce his way, which would lead to Colleen getting the bitter end of the stick plus some loss in the financial sector of her life, due to her being the breadwinner.

“But, since we are on the verge of change, I want you and Jimbo not to see or talk to Glen anymore.”

Frantically, Jasmine said, “What!?”

“Listen to me, Glen is involved with something illegal.”

Jasmine paused on how Colleen knew that, but she asked, “What is it?”

“I saw him hanging with a notorious drug lord. Which says to me that he is in the drug trade himself,” then with her eyebrows up, “and also, I have reason to believe that he also does drugs, I heard he does cocaine.”

Jasmine laughed, “What!? Glen does not do coke. What the fuck!?”

Colleen tilted her head, eyebrows down, Jasmine could tell she was at threat mode, “Easy on that f-word.”

“Glen does not do coke. He is a person who is trying to help us and protect us from that nutcase half-brother of ours and even trying to get Jimbo a job and even into college. He is helping Jim to become a sports analyst.”

“What!?” Colleen screamed.

Jimbo sat inside a bus shelter with his Carhart Coat on and under it was a nice blue dress shirt and blue tie. Despite the cold, he had a smile on his face for he finally got a better job. He couldn’t wait to tell his Mom that he needed not to work at Harbor Drugs, and tell Glen the good news. It was something better for him opposed to his current job he was going to quit or at least ask for weekends only. The Social Security dependent wanted to rid himself away from it, for he knew in his heart that he can be more than just a man who collected SSI and played a part-time sales associate being bossed around by his half-brother and often embarrassed by his mother, both for personal gain. He had Glen Fletcher to thank for that, although the words at first were a little discouraging.

He sat down with a cardboard cup of coffee and some Timbits, both from the Tim Horton’s nearby, sipping and listening in to the conversation of the two young black males. Typically, he would find the two threatening due to his paranoia influenced by the media and for his own lack of mental prowess, which explains why he qualified for the SSI, but he had greener passages to look forward to. Those two black teenagers could kick the hell out of him and take his coffee, donut bites for him and Jasmine and even what cash he had on hand, he had more to look forward to.

He paid mind to the road to see if the bus was coming around anytime soon, he would check his phone for that information, but he was on a government sponsored phone plan that handed out a Samsung Entro flip phone with horrid internet capabilities. The display looked like something from the early 90s, the graphics were poor. He also did not have a brochure for the bus, as none were available in the brochure holder inside the shelter. To add to that, his phone was a 12-key pad, making the texting a poor experience. He also heard a car driving in the parking lot behind him, but didn’t look to it.

The car stopped and he heard a familiar voice nag, “James Raynor!”

Jimbo looked up, “Oh, Jesus.” He slowly looked over his shoulder and the two black males did the same, with one saying, “What da fuck?”

Colleen with sunglasses on continued, “James Raynor, get over here now.”

Jim sighed and got out of the shelter, leaving his coffee and Timbits inside, he approached with a shake of his head and at the open window of her passenger seat, “yes?”

“Jasmine told me what you were doing.”

“Uhh, yes, Glen says he can help me out with college, but I need to pay for what financial aid. Harbor Drugs can’t pay me enough, so I got a job at a plastics joint.”

“No, Jimbo,” with wide eyes blocked by sunglasses, “you are not taking the job. Besides, you will not get that SSI money. And you are leaving a job that I had to convince Myra to give you?”

“Look, it’s time for a change. I’m not going to waste my life living in a trailer collecting welfare and working as a sales associate until the end of time, if I get that lucky. I like sports and stats and that dorky stuff, I want to be a sports analyst.”

“James, listen,” her eyebrows went down, “you can’t do that, it’s for experts. You are not an expert, you can’t even do the job at Harbor Drugs right. You are mentally ill, you can’t do it. Now, get in the car and I’ll forgive you.”

Jimbo looked away.

“James Raynor, it’s a no-brainer. Look, you are afraid of Todd, he is going to therapy for his problems. Things are going to change.”

He looked back, “Can I better myself? Would it hurt to better myself?”

“You can’t, now get in the car.” She said ruthlessly, as if she was about to actually kill him.

Jimbo smiled, “I can better myself, watch.”

He walked away and towards the bus shelter, approaching the two young black males and called for their attention with, “gentlemen?”

She saw him turn his back to him, the two did the same while the aligned with Jimbo side-by-side with his arms around the two of them. She called for him again, “James Raynor!”

No response from Jim or the two black males, they continued to what it appeared as Jim doing the talking while the two nodded about every five seconds. Next, she saw Jimbo grab his wallet from his coat pocket, or at least that is what it appeared. The three looked down and she had feared that the two were going to rob him. Jim looked at the man at his left, appearing to give him something and did the same for the man in the right.

Jimbo took his arms back and the two black males smiled and walked towards her while stuffing cash into their pockets. The two were perhaps teens, both slim in size and just about two or three inches taller than Jimbo, and just the same for the opposite for Colleen. One wore a North Carolina winter coat with the other wearing just a regular Triple Fat Goose.

They made their approach to the passenger window, with the NC coat wearing going first, “Yo, my man is trying to get himself a job and get his college going, so why the fuck are you being a bitch to him?”

Before she could respond, the other one had his go, “Yeah, what’s wrong? You man don’t want to fuck your wrinkly ass no more?”

She pointed sternly to them, “My son Todd will kick your asses.”

Jimbo heard that one and laughed.

The two looked at each other with smiles, the NC coat wearer said, “Todd?”

They looked back, with the other one saying, “What da fuck is this faggot Todd gonna do?”

“Some white motherfucker?”

Colleen looked away with defeat.

“Well, give him a call, get his little punk ass over here.”

“Yeah, tell him to bring his bitch over too. While I kick his ass, we will take the bitch and pimp her ass out, I’ll take care of her.”

Colleen assumed that they thought that Todd was married, that wasn’t the case. His relationship status was unknown to her, but knew likely he was not in one.

“Get the fuck outta here, you cunt. Leave the fuckin’ guy alone.” The Triple Fat Goose coat wearing man said.

The c-word appalled her, she looked at the two of them in shock.

“Yeah,” his friend continued while pointing at Jimbo, “my man says you have problems.” He took his hand back, “what the fuck are your problems? You have a nice ass car, you probably live in fucking West Bloomfield or some shit, what the fuck are you cryin’ about?”

“Yeah, why don’t you bring over your little faggot son over here, we’ll teach him how different West fuckin’ Bloomfield can be from The D.”

Colleen looked away, choking up tears by those insults and drove off.

            Tommy sat down in Mantis’ home, located on Mount Elliott Avenue between Six and Seven Mile Roads. Mantis' home is owned by him from three generations of his family when his black grandfather and half-n-half grandmother bought it some decades ago. The neighborhood went down the drain in the decades as well, the larger crime of robbery and grand theft auto reigned high. Although any resident was weary of it, as the local TV news media was hardcore telling about the murders, the neighborhood would see a lot less now than compared to other decades.

            The interior of Mantis’ home could be comparable to an average home to a better neighborhood of Eastpointe. He had carpet in both living and dining rooms and it was clean, with a couple of couches. The beige walls were covered with many posters of rap and R&B artists, but the late Eazy-E made its domination, including the larger of them all, in frame, denoting Eazy-E: 63-95. It was obvious that Mantis was a big fan of his work.

            Mantis sat on his chair smoking a cigar and a bottle of Jack Daniels on the side table, along with the ashtray. Tommy sat across from him on the nice white sofa.

“So, how bout it?” Tommy asked, he had a hat on of the Detroit Red Wings and wore a Thug Life football jersey with black jeans.

“Bout what?” Mantis asked, he wore a Dr. Dre hoodie and a Detroit Lions hoodie with black jeans as well.

Tommy was about to talk, until a little commotion from the kitchen by three of Mantis’ finest in the kitchen had made the ears.

“Yo, shut da fuck back there! My man is tryin’ to talk.” Mantis said while leaning over. Seeing three black males wearing similar brands of clothes and playing poker with 40 oz. beers on the white 50s style table. They complied but chuckled and one remarked, “He’s talking to Tommy!”

Tommy didn’t like that one, he shook his head and asked, “I imagine Glen has been here?”

“What, that motherfucker who was at the jail tryin’ to bail your ass out? Why the fuck would he be here?”

“Cuz he calls me Tommy, and that shit somehow got here.”

“Everyone has been callin’ you Tommy since you came outta ya mom’s cunt. So how bout what?” Mantis said, while taking a puff of his cigar.

“Lettin’ me back in?” Tom said with wide eyes.

“Nigga, you owe me $500, just the other day you were bragging like a motherfucker sayin’ that this Glen guy, that Ivy League motherfucker was giving you a good deal and a good cut.”

“Now he’s bein’ a dick.”

“What, he ain’t paying you shit now? I told you motherfucker about dealing with these rich assholes up there past Twenty-Mile. It ain’t for you, it ain’t for us. That fuckin’ cop throwin’ your ass in Hackel’s Hilton for DWB shoulda told you something. If you wanna deal with white motherfuckers, stay in this side of Sixteen Mile. The reason why I ain’t lettin’ you in because you owe me money and you fuckin’ ran away.”

“Listen, I learned my lesson, what if I paid ya debt plus interest?”

“I’ll get FroNerd on that, he does all that math and shit, he’s the only one ‘round here who went to college and actually did good. I’ll give ya another chance. But you leave me again, you better run, run, run motherfucker!” he said to take a another smoke of his cigar, then he lightened up with a shrug, “Hell, if I let ya back in, I got some shit going down there in Chesterfield. Cops are fuckin’ racist as shit, but they losing the battle. I’m losin’ my ass off with that Italian fucker Super Mario. I got problems over there in Marine City, our farm system gang over there in Eastpointe is havin’ troubles. I tell you what, can you convince this Glen to work for us?”

“I ain’t workin’ with Glen.” Tommy said with anger, he was still upset for the prank he pulled.

“I make the deal better,” Mantis said with another smoke of his cigar and leaned forward while saying out loud, “You and your friend Glen don’t have to come to the ghetto. All ya gotta do is go to the fuckin’ boons in Marine City and all those places where black people are not allowed in. He and you get a good cut. How bout it? Glen is independent, is he?”

“Nah, I’m leaving him because he works for Super Mario now.”  Tommy told a lie.

“Mario Formaris? The fuckin’ Italian prick!?” Mantis said while slamming his fist on the side table next to him, knocking over the Ashtray to the floor and tipping over the nearly-empty bottle of Jack.

“Tommy’s working for Mario?” yelled one from the kitchen.

“I think so.” Mantis said with anger, then to Tommy, “Did that motherfucker tell you who he was working for before you joined forces? You betta not lie, motherfucker.” He said with a point of his finger.

Tommy began to shake a little and struggled for an answer, “No, seriously, I just found out he was working for Super Mario. I found that out just now and I said to him, ‘fuck you, you cracker ass, Super Mario is my enemy.’ And that was that.”

Someone from the kitchen had approached with a camera rolling, he had a large afro hair-style and wore a green light-sweat coat prompting the Boston Celtics. A ring of the doorbell had come up.

Mantis abruptly got up and approached quickly to Tommy, who backed away into the couch with fear.

“Augh, shit.” Said the man with the fro.

Mantis instead pointed at the dripping Jack Daniels and the ashtray turned over on the carpet, and said, “Easy does it, bro. Now, clean this shit up and I won’t kick your ass, that bad. Your back in my gang, pay off the debt by fuckin’ betting against those Eastpointe pricks for your start. But for now, you’re my janitor.”

 The man with the fro chuckled at that, followed by the two men in the kitchen following suit.

Mantis proceeded to the door, but stopped and said to the Afroman holding the camera, “FroNerd, need you to do some papers, I need to get Tommy at $500 plus interest.”

He looked through the camera and said, “Sure, just let me get this going, I need another video for my WorldStar HipHop channel.”

The two looked at Tommy who was dejectedly getting the Bisby vacuum out of the closet, made in the 50s. The two laughed at him.

“Man, fuck you Nerd.” Tommy said while getting out the vacuum, once again noticing that the vacuum cleaner is older than a dinosaur.

Mantis opened the door to see two black women with long hair including beads, he identified the first one as Sinnamon whose hair was black, she wore a Pink winter coat and said to Mantis, “Why the fuck didn’t ya open the door once I knocked?”

Mantis approached with intimacy and after that, he said, “I had business goin’ down.” Next to hear the vacuum cleaner going.

The shorter of the two woman who had blond hair had made her way to FroNerd to say hello. She then noticed Tommy cleaning up the mess and laughed while saying, “Tommy? What the fuck are ya doing?”

Tommy looked over his shoulder, FroNerd still continued with recording and Tommy did notice someone he hadn’t seen for a while, perhaps since he starting talking to Glen. He said to her, “Man, fuck you Shorty.”

She turned to Mantis who was still French-kissing Sinnamon and she said, “Hey Rob, what happened with him and that white guy he was dealing with?”

He stopped and said, “It’s Mantis, Tommy says that this white motherfucker is screwing him over, and now working for Super Mario, that Italian fuck.”

Sinnamon walked over to the living room with a smile, “Man, Tommy, y’all be on some bullshit.”

Tommy looked over and shook his head with a wry look in his face, insulting her would be a problem with Mantis, something he didn’t need to escalate.

“So, she says Todd is in therapy,” Jasmine told to Jimbo while sitting on the same couch she was about to have a fling with, “and uh, she said she was going to make some changes.”

Jimbo looked over her and saw the animal cage on the side table next to him, along with a brown Dwarf Rabbit relaxing in his cage.

Jasmine noticed him doing that, and she said, “Just after Mom left to come after you, Patrick came by with Reggie here, cage, food and everything included.

“That’s cool, hopefully he won’t have to move again.” He said.

“What do you mean?” she said with a drop of her eyebrows.

Knocks came to the front door, next to it being open. The two looked over quickly to see with pleasantness, Glen Fletcher, better than what could be, Colleen Majors or even Todd Rucker, or even a cop.

Jimbo stood up and smiled with a breath taken, “Dude, we are so happy that it’s you.”

Glen closed the door and looked at him funny, “Why so?”

Jasmine stood up, “Mom showed up, telling us the new lowdown.”

He asked, “Is she kicking you out of the house? I don’t think she could do that.”

“No, she now admits that there is something wrong with Todd and he is going to Therapy.”

Glen chuckled at that, “A loony bin I would suggest. Take a look at some of the text messages he has sent me last week.” He then noticed the rabbit and walked towards it.

“It’s Reggie,” Jasmine said, “Patrick came by and I bought him, the cage and everything.”

“That’s nice.” Glen said, “be sure to take care of him. But don’t get too crazy with the money spending . I can’t guarantee the same results over and over.”

“We know,” Jimbo said, “I had a confrontation with Mom too, handled it well. I also got the job.”

“Good news then,” Glen said with a nod and a smile, “we will get going with your college his week, let me see what time I can get. Have you backed-up your files, Jim?”

“Yes, but last week.”

“Well, I think you should e-mail them to yourself, make a copy of all of this in cyberspace.”

Jimbo smiled widely, “hey, that’s a good idea.” With a snap of his fingers.

The two headed to his room, and Jimbo took off his coat and laid it along the office chair, with his nice dress shirt and tie on.

“I’m glad you dressed for the moment, I know it sucks wearing a tie, but…”

“No biggie, it’s needed. For my job, I can wear whatever I want.” He said while sitting on his chair and turning on his laptop.

The two awaited for the laptop to start and Glen asked, “What’s the job?”

“Plastics, done it before, second shift.”

“Hmm, hoping for you to get first or midnights.”

“I was hoping so too, but that is all they had.”

“Well, we just had to change the strategy on how I get the info, you’ll be working before you are working.” Glen said.

“I know.” Jim said with a smile.

            Colleen and Todd sat in her van with her at the driver’s seat. They sat and waited at the Harbor Drugs parking lot for a particular somebody to show up with vital information. The car was running with the heat on minimal, with Colleen sitting calmly on her seat, waiting patiently. Her older son Todd next to her was impatient and a little upset on how the work day went, and with news that if he is still living in her house, he would now have to go through psychological help, he had already left work a little early due to a session with a male doctor and his mom sitting close. Something he didn’t wish to do.

“When is this bitch going to show up?” Todd asked with opprobrious voice.

With calm in her voice and looking over her shoulder, “Listen to me, calm down. I know you didn’t like that doctor, but he is trying to help.”

“Why can’t I just see some hot chick doctor?” he asked.

She turned her head to him with abhorrence, “I tell you what, if you don’t like what I’m trying to do for you, paying $150 an hour to help you, you are more than welcome to leave my house.”

He didn’t reply off the bat, and then asked, “Okay, can we change doctors? I don’t like that guy. I mean Jimbo and Jasmine are both screwed-up in the head, they need to see a shrink.”

“They will in a matter of time.” Colleen assured. Next, a lovely brunette had suddenly appeared by Colleen’s window and knocked, abruptly scaring her. She turned over to see the beauty for herself, and wished she could look just like that. She rolled down her window and said, “Are you…?”

She nodded with a smile and with her mixed Italian-American accent, “That’s me. I need a hundred bucks.”

Colleen got her purse out, while Todd said, “One hundred bucks? Why the hell for?”

He got the elbow from her into his midsection with a sudden turn of her head to him saying, “Shut up.” She then pulled out five twenty-dollar bills and handed it to her.

She put it in her coat pocket and place both hand in the respective pockets, then asked, “You are wanting information about Glen Fletcher?”

“Yes, how much he makes, and how he is connected to your boss.” Colleen said.

“Glen makes about $2000-$4000 a week. He is not really a made man for my boss but is really striking some chords and beating some of our seasoned pros to the punch. So, I’m not sure what you are going to do with him, but I’ll tell you this: You rat us out, whether you rat him out and he in-lead rats us out, you will be in danger. If it’s just him, well, at best, all they will do is wait for him to get it together and he’ll be back in the game.”

“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do,” Todd said.

Colleen instantly turned to him and slapped him over the face, to prevent a potential harsh remark, with some homophobic term added to it.

“I’m not going to ask what you are going to do, but my suggestion is, that you let it go.” She said to Colleen who now looked back to her trying to smile, then pointed to Todd while looking at her, “And he needs to let go whatever issue he has, rumor has it that the Eastpointe gang beat him to the punch, not to mention making one of our family upset. I’ll tell you this, if he does anything to Glen, you can consider yourself and him in danger. Put him on a leash.”

She walked away to her Red Pontiac Grand Am that was perhaps a 2000 at the least, she got into the already running car and drove off.