She could feel the small Sankofa symbol on her spine tingle as the reality entered her mind. Waves of awareness slid between her boredom to visit like a friend and kept quiet company with her. It whispered deep truths: The ancient ones had spilled good spirit onto the earth, making it hallowed and impervious to demon inhabitation. By lineage, they had offered sanctuary and had baptized each of them with wisdom through experience. Every one of their past actions had created a bond, linking the fate of each team member, intertwining it with the subtlety of a spider's web, but it was a healing connection like the multicolored threads of Tara's medicine wheel. Now she understood that, too.
Damali nodded and wrapped her arms about herself. "Okay, y'all, I got it," she said softly and closed her eyes.
They'd indeed been graced by many blessings too profound to name. They were family. They were somewhat injured, but still alive. They were all half-crazy, but they'd mellowed. They loved one another, even though they all got on one another's nerves. They all wondered what the others were doing when apart. They all got in each other's business, constantly. They all fought over the bathroom. They argued and cussed each other out with regularity, but they all needed each other and wouldn't dream of having it any other way.
However, as she glanced around her house with a sly chuckle, she was still glad to finally have her own space.
Damali could do whatever. Always did, always would. Carlos jumped into his Jeep and pulled out of the driveway, headed in the opposite direction from her place down the road. He swerved into his driveway three minutes later, making dust fly, and got out of the vehicle to stand before the partially finished structure. A ranch. Aboveground. Wood, drywall, windows... shit. He might as well have been living in a papier-mache box.
Yeah, cool. Be thankful for the many blessings. He was alive, she was alive, and his whole squad, except one, had made it through the worst. But the drama with Damali rubbed him the wrong way. What was all that "Baby I need my space" bull about? They needed space. Together. They hadn't been able to get busy since they'd all moved into the one big happy family vibe - for months. Last time was all quiet - like in a hotel on the sneak tip, all because she didn't want anybody hearing anything down the damned hall... like they were kids and whatnot. And now girlfriend was talking about being alone the first weekend. Forget her nonsense. If it wasn't important to her, it damned sure wasn't important to him.
Carlos walked up the path with purpose and stood in the unfinished doorframe. The hair on the back of his neck was raised. He didn't do Navajo art, colors, and whatnot. This wasn't him at all!
He needed a place that he could truly funk out - surfaces needed to be solid. Whatever happened to marble, Spanish tile, real stone masonry that might give a man twenty seconds of reaction time before something mad-crazy blew through the room?
"Huh? What about that, D!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the empty space.
Living with kids, a band of big brothers, two mommas... he might as well have been back in the barrios of East L.A. A hundred f**king million dollars in the bank, and he was gonna be living in a tiny ranch down a dusty road in no-man's land. Carlos wiped his palms down his face and tried to regain a sense of calm. He was not gonna lose it out here. Yeah, yeah, yeah, he remembered all the Zen crap that Shabazz had taught him, and the old ones had shown him. "Okay, fine!" This was a new level of hell.
None of this was what he'd envisioned. A mad joint off the California cliffs, access to the clubs, transpo, real security, the family hooked up in lovely Beverly Hills, far enough away to miss, close enough to get to in a jam; but he and his woman together, under one roof, in the same bed at night - or day. Not this campground bullshit! Driving a bloodred Lamborghini, tricked the f**k out with bulletproof glass, his boy, Yonnie, able to fall by and go hang out at will. Handlin' their bizness, like men. Training day was about to be over, por favor. What the hell was on D's mind?
Carlos pushed off a wall and walked straight through the house to the back deck. Yeah, all right, the mountains were impressive. Beautiful view. Cool. A natural cathedral. So what? After the places he'd been and the things he'd seen, it wasn't about merely surviving. "If you're gonna be alive," he shouted, opening his arms wide toward the canyon, "then, dammit, you might as well live! What is this bullshit!"
Plus, right around the corner, his ex was pushing up on his house brother - and why that shit disturbed him so much made him question his sanity. Jose was cool, though. Carlos folded his arms and shook his head in disgust. Jose was walking on eggshells - but why was Damali? If girlfriend had acted right, had gotten with him, then Jose coulda hooked up with Juanita without any drama and everything woulda been smooth. But this tiptoeing around the subject at hand about who used to get with whom, was working his nerves.
It was too much madness under one roof, especially with Mike sighing every time he passed Inez's big behind and got damned wood every time she put a plate in front of him; and Shabazz all tight in the jaws because Marlene was keeping her distance; plus Berkfield snapping and barking; and goddamned Rider drinking like a fish and all edgy, while J.L.'s ass was so damned horny waiting for Berkfield's daughter to turn eighteen, he was about to put a bullet in the brother's skull himself to end it with the quickness before the girl's daddy did! And Juanita's crazy ass, hanging on Jose every time he passed them by, trying to stir the jealousy pot that didn't exist, but making Damali bristle - and why was that?
Crazy-ass Marj running around like Suzy homemaker, making sure everybody had something green on their plates; her kids following him foot-to-foot all day long; Marlene whispering and praying like a storm was coming, f**king chanting in the kitchen like a crazy, old witch; Dan begging him to tell him stories of the underworld for vicarious thrills... Yeah, next time Yonnie passed through, he was out, and might take Dan to the clubs just to get the newbie laid so he could chill. At least somebody would walk back through that screen door with their head on straight. "Oh, shit - I cannot live with these people another day!"
His voice bounced back from the hills as though it were laughing at him. As he stared out at the sky, he knew it was all going to come to a head. Juanita and Damali weren't feeling each other. Never had. Sooner or later he and Juanita had to really talk. They couldn't get this raggedy-assed little house built fast enough. But that also meant that, sooner or later, Jose and D were gonna have to have a serious conversation - and that was really getting on his last nerve.
His head jerked up and he spun to stare toward the direction of Damali's new home. "Aw, hell no!" He began walking and tore through his half-completed house, making his way to his car. Oh, so she was trying to play him - after all they'd been through? She wanted time and space to have that conversation with his house brother? Alone? Why couldn't girlfriend just say what she had to say on the back steps or in the yard out of earshot, huh? That's what he wanted to know!
Then it hit him, and he stopped short. Oh shit... Jose had been more of a provider than him. This was Jose's people's land. Jose was the one going to the tribal council, sealing the deals, getting the permits in order, was handling his business. Carlos spat on the ground as he walked across his front yard, shaking his head.
He wasn't having it. The way this shoulda gone down, if nothing was up, he and Damali were supposed to be together this weekend, then get some transpo over to L.A., or Vegas, or whatever, hang out, be where the action was, not solo communing with the freakin' universe, old flames, or any of that other twisted we-are-the-world bull. He'd had it, had followed all the rules, gotten a second chance, delivered as promised, and was not doing another tour of duty in Hell, whether dictated by the Light or the Darkness!
If there was a problem, and they needed another Neteru to step up, they had his digits, and could blow up his cell phone. And if the Chairman was topside and wanted to bring it, then he was ready to go. He'd step to his punk ass, too, but on his own terms. Squash the plans to build here. Rider could take this joint - now he was a man who needed and deserved some headspace. He was going to Cali, might crash in Yonnie's lair until he got a new place and had it funked-out and furnished, security doors and shit put on. If not there, sheeit... Gabrielle had a place to his liking, if she kept her girls outta his face.
Carlos slammed the Jeep door with such force it made his ears ring as he drove away. By the time he pulled into the driveway of Jose's grandfather's house, he was breathing hard. He jumped out of the Jeep, his gaze tearing around the front yard. But when he saw Jose through the screen, he waited a beat, took a few deep breaths, and kicked gravel away from his tires.
But first, he needed to chill. This didn't make no sense.
CHAPTER TWO
As soon as the sun kissed the horizon, Yonnie's black transport cloud began to form in the pathway leading to Carlos's semibuilt house. Carlos leapt up from the steps and almost ran to meet him.
"Yo, holmes, you ain't forget about a brother!"
"Naw, dawg," Yonnie said, laughing, as the two men pounded fists and returned bear hugs.
"Get me the f**k outta here, man," Carlos said, raking his hands through his hair. "You have no idea!"
"C'mon, now," Yonnie said, laughing harder. He held Carlos by his arms and surveyed his black T-shirt and leather pants. "This ain't you, nerves fried and shit, brother."
"Stop f**king with me, man," Carlos said, play-boxing Yonnie. "See, how you gonna do me like that? I thought we was boyz?"
It felt so good to be in nonhousehold company that tears almost came to Carlos's eyes. He laughed from deep within his chest as a sense of pure freedom filled him.