Birth of a Dark Nation (11 page)

"Naw, this is kind of important though. I…the
way my people…man, listen. It's like this. There were a couple of
times that I was following you."

"Following me where?"

"One night, you were coming home from
downtown. And another time down on U Street."

"Why the hell were you following me, man?
That's creepy as fuck."

"It's complicated. The way my people do
things. We keep each other safe. It's not about stalking. It's…man,
I don't even know why I decided to tell you. It's hard to
understand if you're not part of our culture."

"Let me stop you right there. So, every time
that happened, you know I felt panicked, right? It's like my
Spidey-sense was tingling. I knew something was off, but I didn't
know what."

"Yo, man, I'm really sorry about that. I
never meant to make you feel uncomfortable or anything. It's just
that the minute you came into my life, I had to keep you safe. It's
just how we do things. And I didn't know you that well to just show
up and be your bodyguard."

"So how about this…from now on, no more
stalking. You wanna make sure I'm safe? Just walk beside me. You
dig?"

"I dig, man." He reached out to hold my hand.
I reached back, and he brought my hand to his mouth, tenderly
kissing it.

I smiled like a kid again.

~

At home, I knew I needed to finally tell my
mom about the job so I called her up during our regular time.

"Hey ma."

"Hey sweetie! How's it going?"

"I've got something to tell you."

"Uh-oh, what's wrong?"

"I lost my job last week."

My mother gasped audibly.

"What happened?"

"Well the good news is I didn't get
fired."

"So you quit?"

"Heck no."

"Laid off, then."

"In a manner of speaking. The organization
closed."

"Say what?"

I laughed. "It's a long story, but basically
Ernie and his goons got caught with their hands in the cookie
jar."

"Stealing? From a nonprofit
organization?"

"Yup. I mean, we all knew it, but nobody
could prove it. Well, except the feds. Been investigating for a
year until they finally got him. LaJwanne, too."

"Mmm-mm-mm," my mother said. "That's a shame.
You always suspected it was something going on with them. So have
you been dropping your resume anywhere?"

"I will tomorrow morning. That will be my
full-time job. Wanted to take a break. Just a few days."

"Well they're always hiring IT people
someplace."

"Yeah. It would be nice to work for a good
nonprofit organization, though."

"I know that's what you'd prefer. But don't
forget you can do just as much—if not more—if you make a great
salary and join a board of directors. You don't always have to be
'in the mix' to be of service."

"You're right, ma."

"Do you need anything, though? You good on
groceries?"

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. How's dad?"

"He's great. Everybody up here is fine. Ms.
Thompson asked about you."

"Did she?"

"Yeah. She wants to know when you're coming
up to visit. We all want to know."

"Thanksgiving, of course!"

"It would be nice to see you more than once a
year."

"I know, Ma, I know. I gotta go though. I
just wanted to update you on what was going on."

"Alrighty…take care. And let me know if you
need anything!"

"Will do, Ma. Bye."

I clicked off my cell phone and put it on my
dining room table. Dante was watching the DC United play soccer on
my television in the living room. He watched intently as the ball
traveled back and forth between the brown and tan legs of the
players.

I sat next to him and watched. His eyebrows
crinkled into knots.

"Why you so far away, papi?" he asked me,
breaking from his soccer spell.

"Papi? What, you Dominican now?"

"
He vivido en decenas de lugares y puedo
hablar cientos de idiomas. Este es sólo uno, mi príncipe
," he
whispered in my ear.

"Uh…I don't know what you just said, but you
got me!" I straddled him and he grabbed my sides. We kissed through
our laughs.

He stood up and I held on. Lifting me was
effortless to him and I was amazed.

"Why you look so surprised?" he asked.

"You just lifted me like it's nothing."

He slowly put me back on my feet.

"Sometimes I forget."

"Forget what? That you're always the
strongest person in the room?"

"I'm not always the strongest."

"You're stronger than me."

"Maybe. But you're stronger in other ways.
Promise."

I smiled.

"Think I can take you?"

Before he could answer, I planted another
kiss on his lips. He opened his mouth while his arms went limp and
his manhood became erect. I cradled his neck in one hand and pushed
him back down to the couch with the other.

His eyes remained closed as I began to
unbuckle his belt. Just then, heavy knocks rattled my door.

"Shit," I said, annoyed that my session with
my man had been interrupted.

Dante sprang up from the couch and
immediately went to look through the peephole.

"It's cool," he said.

"Why wouldn't it be?" I didn't wait for an
answer. I went to the door and looked through the peephole. A tall,
slim man with light brown skin stared back at me. He was wearing a
sharp, black suit and a crisp white shirt.

"Who is it?!" I asked in my overly aggressive
inner-city voice.

"Salaad."

"And who is Salaad?"

"I'm just delivering a message, sir." He held
a sealed envelope in the air in front of the door.

I opened my door, which still had the chain
over it. Salaad passed the envelope through and I took it.

"Thank you," I said, closing the door. I
looked through the peephole and saw that he was already gone.

I looked at Dante.

"What?" he asked.

"How you just gonna look once and say 'it's
cool' like you know that dude. You know him?"

"Naw. What's in the letter?"

I didn't appreciate him deflecting the
subject, but my curiosity was getting the better of me. I looked
down to see my name written by hand in an ornate script. There was
no return address, but there was a simple logo that looked like
stylized letters F, C, and J.

I tore the envelope open and unfolded the
letter:

.

Dear Mr. Kena:

The Foundation for Community Justice requests your
presence at a reorganizational meeting of Magdalene House
tomorrow

at nine o'clock in the morning.

John Smith,

Chairman of the Board of Directors

The Foundation for Community Justice

.

I was dumbfounded.

"What's it say?" Dante asked. I passed him
the letter. He read it and smiled.

"You know something."

"No, I don't. I'm just happy for you."

"I wish you wouldn't lie to me."

"I'm not lying. I'm just not saying." He
kissed me on the forehead and rose.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"I got some shit to do. See you
tomorrow."

He left me feeling more confused than
ever.

~

When I arrived at Magdalene House the next
morning, the doors were wide open and a brunch buffet was waiting.
The conference room was filled with the smells of bacon, eggs,
bagels, freshly squeezed orange juice, and coffee.

"Hello?" I called out.

"Hey," Dante called back, emerging from the
kitchen with two pitchers of orange juice.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I
asked.

"Helping," he smugly said. "Do you want some
breakfast?"

"What's going on? Who are you here with?"

"Relax. You'll see."

I gave him the side-eye and helped myself to
a plate full of food. He had some serious explaining to do.

Victor entered the conference room. He
wheeled out a flat screen television and began fiddling with the
remote control.

Not this guy, too,
I thought to
myself.

Shortly, Steve and Cissy entered the
conference room.

"Hey sweetie!" Cissy exclaimed as she
embraced me. "You got a letter too?"

"Yup, got it yesterday."

"Hand delivered?" Steve asked. I nodded.

"Who are these guys? What do you suppose this
is all about?" Cissy whispered.

"The shorter one is my…guy friend," I
admitted in hush tones. "But I have no idea what this is
about."

"Dude…your man sells…"

"I know what he sells," I interjected.

"Drugs?" Cissy asked.

"No! He sells movies."

"Bootlegs," Steve added.

"Will you shut up?" I said, embarrassed.

"I'm just saying. How does somebody go from
bootleg man to…you know…whatever it is he's doing?"

"I'm telling you, I do not know."

"You think somebody bought the organization?"
Steve asked.

"You can't buy a nonprofit," Cissy said. "But
I'm sure Ernie tried to sell it a few times!"

We laughed heartily. Victor looked
annoyed.

"Gentlemen. Ma'am." He got our attention.

"My name is Victor Pearl," he continued. "I'm
a member of the Foundation for Community Justice. My uncle has a
message for all of you."

Victor turned on the DVD player. A man in his
thirties, or possibly forties, with a full head of long dreadlocks
came on the screen. He had brown skin and a strong, wide nose.

"Greetings, ladies and gentlemen. My name is
John Smith and I am the chairman of the board of directors for the
Foundation for Community Justice. I'm sorry that I couldn't be with
you in person today. The foundation's many interests nationwide
keep me very busy here at our headquarters in Colorado and around
the world. However, it became imperative to send you this
message.

"The Foundation has been following with great
interest the situation with Magdalene House. We were saddened to
learn of the sudden closure of the facility. We had been planning
all along to approach the board of directors about potentially
joining up with our network of local and regional nonprofit
organizations, but, unfortunately, the issues of Magdalene House
proved insurmountable.

"Until now, that is. Perhaps what Magdalene
House needed was to die, so that it might be reborn again. What do
you think about that?" Mr. Smith paused. Cissy, Steve, and I
glanced at each other. Dante handed out sealed envelopes to each of
us.

On screen, Mr. Smith continued. "Mrs. Flint,
Mr. Waller, Mr. Kena, I would like to make you an offer. The
Foundation for Community Justice has come to an agreement with the
District of Columbia government. The foundation will assume the
financial liabilities of Magdalene House and will continue to
provide service to women and families infected and affected by HIV
and AIDS. Of the previous staff members, we have decided to retain
the three of you.

"Steven, we would like you to come aboard as
our Director of Programs. Your achievements in social work have
gone unacknowledged for long enough. You have what it takes to
develop and enhance Magdalene's programming.

"Cissy, we would like you to return to
Magdalene as the Director of Advancement. We want you continue to
cultivate relationships for the organization while investigating
opportunities for expansion.

"And Justin, this promotion might come as a
bigger surprise to you than anyone else. We thought long and hard
about whom should lead Magdalene into its next phase. We wanted
someone who was well respected among the staff, who was invested
enough to see it succeed while maintaining the distance necessary
to allow the senior staff to do their jobs. We didn't want someone
with the most education or the greatest number of connections-the
foundation doesn't need that. What we need—what Magdalene needs—is
someone with the vision, the ideas, and the courage to take the
organization further than it had ever been before. Justin, we
decided that person was you."

Cissy squealed and Steve immediately patted
me on the back and smiled. I was in shock.

"What?"

"If you will all kindly open the envelopes
before you, you will find inside offer letters. We believe you will
find the compensation to be generous as well as commensurate with
your unique experiences.

"The foundation has a large board of
directors. The gentlemen before you, Victor Pearl and Dante Oliver,
are members of the board of directors as well. They will provide
you with the tools you need to get your jobs done."

I remained speechless even as I opened my
offer letter.

"This is amazing," Cissy said, under her
breath.

"Holy shit!" Steve shouted. Dante smiled.

I opened my letter and skimmed to the
bottom.

Six figures.

My hand began to tremble.

"Please let Dante and Victor know what your
decisions are. And please know that above all else, the foundation
believes in you to lead Magdalene House into the future, boldly, in
service to those who need it the most. Good day."

The screen went black. Dante turned off the
TV and wheeled the television out.

"Any questions?" Victor asked.

"Several," Cissy said.

"Ask away."

"Obviously the foundation is national and
pretty…blessed, if you will. Where does the money come from?"

"We're a very old family foundation. We're
actually all descendants from the so-called 'free people of color'
in New Orleans. We're no Rockefellers, but we've done well over the
years."

"And what do you all…do…now?" Steve
asked.

"I'm a musician. My cousin Dante…well, he
does a lot of things. But all in all, our Uncle John is the head of
the family. He's something of an investment banker."

"I see," said Steve, eyeballing Dante.

"I can assure you that our family has years
of experience on various nonprofit boards, even aside from our own
foundation. And we're not here to interfere. We're here to get you
what you need. We've been on the ground for weeks now, maybe even
months, trying to figure out what's best for Magdalene, and our
uncle truly believes, based on the evidence, that you all are his
dream team, and that Justin is ready for this challenge."