Mobster’s Gamble Coming January 23rd
My blue robe swishes across the dirty pavement as I walked hand-in-hand with the other followers. Joseph is on my right and Kylie is on my left. My head is lowered watching in the dimness of twilight, the cracked cement littered with bits of rotting trash that has blown about or the rounded spots blackened over time where someone has tossed their used gum pass underneath my feet. A breeze blows swirling strands of my hair into my face. I release my hand from Joseph’s to swipe them away, and I reattach myself to him, bonded by a simple clasping of our hands. I raise my head because I can’t help but examine the women we pass. Clad in leather, short skirts, and high heels. Their fingernails and makeup matching lighting them up against the dark backdrop one after the other hoping to be seen, to be chosen, not for the Anointed Heavens but to earn money. Cars idle by the curbside and others just creep along inspecting trying to choose which woman they would like in their bed. Most frown as we pass, angry at us trespassing across their place of business.
“Hey, freaks!” A rugged man from across the street, heckles us. “Isn’t it past your fuckin’ bedtime!” We ignore him like we do all the others who persecute or call us names.
Simon is carrying pamphlets as he leads the procession by Priest’s side. Typically, he stops to talk and bless each girl we pass in the hopes that she will be desperate enough to change her ways or enamored enough with Priest to join us. Instead, this evening he walks by them and nods reminding me of the Pope winding through crowds of people offering them hope from the divine except Priest doesn’t have celestial guidance no matter what he tells himself or his followers — he is a fraud.
Our bandwagon of redemption slows and out of the corner of my eye the shape of a man hovers beneath the overhang of a building on our right. I can’t see his face, it’s not completely dark yet nor have the streetlights come on; its that time in between dusk and the darkness. As uncomfortable as it is being in the underbelly of Chicago, the tiny hairs in the back of my neck rise in warning.
Priest does something that I’ve never seen at a demonstration before. He whispers something to Simon and steps away from us. The string of us halt not advancing. This brings on angry murmurs from the women working here tonight.
The twenty-four of us are alone at a standstill, our leader, and Savior gone. He’s talking to the man by the building. Simon waves his hand for us to face the street where the cars are hovering. A light early night air breeze blows filling my nose with the stench of the clogged sewers below us.
Simon has us in a straight line forming a barrier between the hookers and the street. Kylie’s hand squeezes mine in fear. She leans closer to me.
“What is going on?” her voice rattles. I opened my mouth to say I don’t know when one of the women comes up behind us clicking in her stiletto heels.
“You crazy freaks are blocking the road! Take your high and mighty asses back to wherever you came from!” Others gather around her.
“Yeah! Get the hell out of here! Before I knock your blue butts into the street in front of a moving car.”
Non-stop hollers of “yeah, get out of here,” chime in all around us. The woman behind us calls us bitches with cobwebs in our vaginas. I give a sharp sideways look to Kylie. Then never breaking the chain of linked hands I pivot my head to look for Priest. He’s ignoring the whole scene and is engrossed in a conversation that I can’t hear.
Anger bubbles up in me and I bow forward looking down the line of followers to Simon. His head is dancing around alerted in distress. I shift my gaze one more time to Priest, fury coats my insides. I decide on a bold move. The crowd of hookers is gaining prominence around us putting the group in a very vulnerable position. I step forward off the curb, detaching myself. Kylie and Joseph quickly grab hands locking themselves together. I walk to the other end of the line, passed Simon, through three very agitated prostitutes and straight for Priest. His back is to me.
“What are we doing here?” My voice comes out shaky but not because I’m afraid it’s because I’m filled with outrage. The audacity of him to leave us abandoned on a street corner full of dangerous people.
Priest whirls around to look at me and his eyes are menacing. For the first time in a long time I don’t care. The heckling and the animosity on that small street corner is growing. If Priest isn’t going to do something about getting us out of here, I will.
“Back in your place, Anya,” Priest snarls at me. I gaze at him straight in the eye. The unfamiliar person he is talking with leers at me. I turn on my heel back to the group.
Instead of rejoining where Kylie and Joseph are in the line, I walk to the opposite end, reach out taking the hand of the last person and begin moving, taking with me the train of the Anointed Heavens followers.
They come, trailing behind like little chicks behind their mother. I lead us away. The prostitutes clap and the cacophony of their hands slapping together resonates as we make our way back to towards compound. I look back at some confused faces, hesitant ones, and others that are happy to get away. The face I don’t see is Priest’s.
~Anya, Mobster’s Gamble
COMING JANUARY 23rd 2016 Mobster’s Gamble Book 1 in the Chicago Mob Series (Brand New Series with all of the Mobster action you love!) Where a cult meets the Mafia! Sometimes you just have to live with it! Add to your TBR on Goodreads! http://bit.ly/mobgamgood