Me crying, begging, pleading, and hurting
But with God by my side... I’ll be fine
Betrayed, beaten, and mocked. I feel like I’m living by the clock
Enslave my mind, rape my body, and hurt my pride
For you this is just a jolly ol’ ride
But with God by my side... I’ll be fine
I may be tired and weary, fumbling and stumbling
But on wings like an eagle, one day I’ll soar away and leave you
Victory will be mine, in hell you’ll do your time
But with God by my side... I’ll be fine
With a Heart of Thanksgiving
All that I am and all that I’ll ever be is because of you, Lord.... Thank you!
To my family and friends who support me (you know who you are)... Thank you!
To my readers who enjoy my soul-fulfilling, entertaining books and take the time to share them with others . . . Thank you!
Prologue
Kingston, Jamaica, West Indies, 1976
His long legs eating up the dark, cracked, narrow road, the fourteen-year-old boy bolted down South Cochburn Road, zigzagging from one side to the other, his heart somersaulting in his chest.
Ziiing! The bullet snapped at Suave’s right ear, and he ducked his head, his feet picking up even more speed as he ran for his life. Perspiration poured down his face with the black, damp T-shirt clinging to his body. The big backpack containing the reason for the attack still on his back, Suave sprinted toward Spanish Town Road.
Pow! Another bullet crackled at Suave’s foot, followed by a muzzled blast as the clapping of hurried feet behind him got closer and closer.
The small boarded and zinced houses and dilapidated buildings along the street were eerily quiet in the night. But Suave wasn’t fooled. He knew unseen eyes were watching him, so he kept running, jumping over potholes, stepping on loose stones, and leaping over the litter-strewn street.
“Stop right there!” commanded a deep, winded voice some distance behind Suave, shattering the silence. A warning shot then exploded into the air.
“Drop the bag now,” roared another breathless voice. “We don’t want to kill you.”
But Suave ignored both men.
“Don’t put up a fight if you’re getting robbed,” his boss had told him a few months after he had started his job. “Trust me, I’ll find the culprit, and you can be sure they’ll pay one way or another. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Suave had nodded in agreement but was now doing the opposite. He sucked oxygen into his burning lungs, breathing heavily through his mouth as he zoomed around a corner with the bag still secure on his back.
The black car seemed to have fishtailed out of nowhere into the narrow three-road intersection. Its tires shrieked as it spun around in the middle of the road before stopping a few feet in front of Suave, blocking his escape to freedom.
Suave stumbled when he screeched to a sudden halt. His eyes bugged, and his mouth popped wide open in alarm.
“Don’t move!” yelled the short, stocky man who hopped out of the driver’s seat. The gun in his hand was raised and pointed at Suave.
His chest rising and falling rhythmically, Suave peered over his shoulder at the two men trotting toward him. He turned back to the front and saw the other man was almost upon him. He was trapped.
“All right. You win.” Suave raised both hands in the air while taking a few slow, calculated steps to the right where a low, rusty zinc fence was wrapped around an abandoned house that was gutted by fire a few months before.
“I said, don’t move,” the man from the car shouted again as he wobbled over to stand in front of Suave, his finger on the trigger of the gun. With his head tilted back, he stared up at the tall, lanky boy and spat, “Are you deaf, boy?”
Suave looked down at the little man without fear. For some reason, an image of a pit bull popped into his mind. But he dare not say a word. This pit bull had a gun trained on him.
Soon, the other two men joined them, huffing and puffing from running after the boy.
“I told you to drop the bag.” The light-skinned Michael Manley look-alike slapped Suave hard across his face.
Suave’s face was on fire. Tears welled up in eyes, but he blinked rapidly, refusing to cry.
“This is for not listening when a big man talks to you.” The other man who was running after Suave delivered an upper cut to the boy’s stomach in true Muhammad Ali style.
Suave doubled over in the middle of the street, screaming in pain. He was retching and coughing, his mouth filled with bile, and the tears now seeped down his face.
“Now I take the bag the hard way,” said the same man. He gave Suave a sharp kick in his bottom, sending the boy flying into the zinc fence, before landing hard facedown.
Suave sprawled out on the road, motionless. His head was bent at an unusual angle, and blood poured from his mouth.
“You killed him?” Michael Manley look-alike asked in disbelief.
“He... He’s not dead.” The man’s voice was laced with fear.
“Look at him. He’s—”
“Shut up!” Mr. Pit Bull, the leader of the group, barked. “We had him cornered, so that wasn’t necessary. Do you know what’s going to happen if his boss finds out we killed him?” He glared at the two men.
“It’s his fault.”
“You hit him first.”
As the men argued over who was responsible for Suave’s demise, his backpack forgotten for the moment, Suave took a tiny peek from under an almost closed eye. Agonizing pain pierced his body from head to toe, but he played possum, barely breathing.
They’re going to kill me once they realize I’m not dead, Suave thought. I have to get away or at least die trying.
“Go get the bag, and let’s go,” the leader instructed one of the men. “We need to get out of here now.”
That’s all Suave needed to hear to make a move. He dug deep down inside and found the strength to leap to his feet. Biting his lips against the excruciating pain, he threw himself over the short fence into the tall, wild grasses and bushes.
“What the...?”
“He wasn’t dead?”
For a few seconds, the three men stared with open mouths at the place where Suave disappeared.
“He’s getting away!” The boss opened fire in the yard as he moved closer to the broken-down fence. His two accomplices joined in, spraying the area with bullets.
Suave lay on his belly, eyes closed, with bullets flying all around him. His heart hammering in his chest, he waited for a bullet to penetrate his body.
“Cease fire,” the leader shouted, and the other two men complied. “Do you see anything?” He leaned forward, squinting as he peered into the dark.
“It’s too dark in there,” one man replied. “Let’s go and look. I’m sure we hit him.” He hopped over the fence.
“Follow him,” the boss commanded the other man. “Hurry. With all those shots we fired, I’m sure someone must have called the cops by now.”
Suave, who wasn’t too far away, overhead the conversation. He began crawling away as fast as he could