Coffee and Sugar by C. Sean McGee (ready player one ebook .txt) 📕

Joao thanked her and she gave him and hug and a kiss on the cheek before he picked up the table in his arms and slowly plodded his way up the way, swerving to and fro as he dodged invisible stones and pot holes the size of quarries in the road and along the path of which was only being held together by the very obstacles that made it almost impossible to pass.

“Hey there cutie” said one of the prostitutes lined up against the concrete wall where all along the road there sat rows of plastic tables circled by plastic seats in every seat there was a man drunk waving his fist around and raising his voice in directive protest while around him, heads bobbed back and forth, nodding away and slurring their way through drunken approval.

Joao nodded his head at the prostitute because he could not wave. His hands were nursing the awkward table and his legs were busy stopping him from falling over as the hill ventured near vertical as he reached close to the summit. As he neared his church he was stopped by a hoarse yell coming from one of the bars beside him.

“Preacher boy, you got my money?” said The Alpha coming out of the bar with his weapon strapped under his arm and followed closely by his henchmen who squinted profusely and snarled their upper lips, feigning mean and unpredictable as they shadowed their leader out onto the streets.

“Yes sir, I have your money here” Joao said.

Joao took the wallet out from his front pocket and pushed his fingers inside. He took out the notes and swished them about in his hands before the alpha boy reached across and stole them from his hands.

“Is this a fucking joke? Eight fucking dollars? You tryna fuck me here, or do you want me to fuck your daddy again with the broom stick? Where’s the money preacher boy?” yelled The Alpha.

Joao panicked and opened his wallet and picked and pulled at every little compartment, pushing his fingers into the tiniest of spaces knowing there was no way they would be filled, but hopping to all Christ that somehow they would.

“I had two hundred dollars. Two hundred and eighteen. It’s my advance. I asked Fatts and he said if I agreed to stop calling him sir and was less polite because he doesn’t’ like…

“Shut the fuck up. Where is my [ money? Nobody lives on this hill without paying their tax, nobody. Not even friends of Fatts. Do you understand? You don’t pay your tax, you’re gonna die preacher boy” snarled The Alpha, throwing the eight dollars at Joao and pushing him backwards with his two hands, sending the frail boy hurdling over onto the ground, tripping over his table and banging his head on a large stone.

“Leave him go, he’s just a kid. He doesn’t know any better. Look at him, he’s scared” said The Harmonious Hooker.

The Alpha turned to The Harmonious Hooker and grabbed her by the throat, rushing back against the wall, squeezing so tight that her eyes bulged and not even a gasp could escape her mouth.

The Harmonious Hooker kicked away with her legs while her fingers twitched but she The Alpha eventually released his hand sending her crashing to the floor. As she fought for breath, The Alpha and his henchmen kicked at her stomach and stomped on the back of her head while seemingly everywhere, sitting at every table, heads bowed and dissenting voices silenced as a wave of fear lapped across the conscious mass of one and all.

“Get up preacher. You’re next” said The Alpha, leaving the bruised and bloody harmonious hooker and; with his hungry henchmen, making his way over to where Joao lay cowering, cracking his knuckles and pulling from a sheath on the back of his belt, a long and very sharp hunting knife.

Joao flipped through his wallet but it was empty, only the few small notes circling about his body as a light breeze picked them up and they fluttered about insultingly.

“The Nice Old Lady,” he said, “she must have made a mistake. She took too much money. I can speak to her and when she sees she made a mistake she will give me the money back and I can give you your money. Please, trust me” pleaded Joao.

The Alpha took Joao by the throat and pushed the tip of the hunting knife under his chin, breaking the skin; a cool trickle of blood running from his neck down his chest of pooling on the cloth that tucked into his pants and caught against his belly button.

“I want my money preacher boy” he said.

“Here, take it” said a girl’s voice from behind throwing a handful of notes over The Alpha’s head, the light warm breeze holding them long enough for Joao too see the cost of salvation.

“This is his debt, not yours. Half of that money’s mine anyway. What the fuck are you doing away from your post and why are you helping this stupid kid?” yelled The Alpha.

“He’s a friend. And it’s not my money. It’s his. I robbed him earlier. I’m just giving it back is all.”

“Since when did you have a fucking conscience?”

“Just let him go. Look, you made him piss his pants. Let the kid go.”

“There’s only one fifty here. He’s fifty short” said The Alpha.

“I can get the money sir, I can. I’ll speak to The Nice Old lady” said Joao pleadingly.

“Go home Joao, it’s ok, go” said the girl.

“Charity? Is that you?” he said wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Joao, go home, I’ve got this. Don’t worry” said Charity.

“What are you doing here?” asked Joao.

“Don’t worry. Go home. Your father is waiting” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“Just go” she said smiling to him.

Joao picked himself up slowly and backed away like an injured crab from The Alpha who was squatting on the ground, holding his hunting knife in his teeth while his hands were busy collecting the notes that were flying about in the light breeze before him. He looked at Charity who was smiling back at him innocently making all of the fear in his blood turn warm and consolingly as if her tender stare were a fever that boiled away the impurity in his heart and returned him to calm and love. He stilled himself in her eyes and smiled as he picked up the table and walked past the bars and rows of blind witnesses to the small decrepit entrance to his church where a blinking light invited him to the shadow of his father, stumbling about drunk.

“What happened to you?” asked The Bishop, zipping his pants and wiping something from the tip of his nose.

“Nothing” said Joao.

‘’Where were you all day?” said The Bishop.

“I got a job sir. At a café, at the bottom of the hill and I got an advance and…” said Joao.

“A job? Doing what?” said The Bishop interrupting.

“I help Mr Fatts. I clean things; cups, plates, the floor and I served a customer today. I wasn’t supposed to, but I did. I made her a coffee and she was really happy. She cried. That’s how happy she was and Mr Fatts, he was a bit angry I think, but when the lady spoke to him he kind of changed his mind and was happy as well. I did good, I did” said Joao proudly.

“Your job is here, helping me with the church. Did you even knock on doors today? Did you do your real work?” said the bishop.

“No sir, I didn’t. I’m sorry sir, I just thought if I could get some money then we could pay those men and they wouldn’t, you know…”

“Those men did nothing to me, you hear? Nothing. You think I’m scared of a couple of thugs with guns? Where’s the money? You said you got an advance, how much? Where is it?” asked The Bishop.

“It’s gone” said Joao.

“Gone?”

“I have this sir” Joao said passing him the eight dollars that he had collected from the ground.

“This is your advance?”

“I bought this table. I thought you would be happy. Look, there is a crucifix in the middle which is good if you put it against the wall and people sit on one side and they always see the right crucifix and I thought you would be happy sir’ said Joao.

“You’re bleeding” said The Bishop.

“The bad men, they hurt me. My friend, Charity, do you remember her? From the bus, remember? She helped us find our way? Well I saw her today at work and it was really weird cause I thought she stole something then I saw her again tonight. She gave the men money. They were going to hurt me. He had a knife at my neck. I thought he was going to kill me then Charity saved me. Do you think that was the money that she stole?” said Joao.

“What?”

“The money, she gave the men, if it was the money I think I saw her steal from a lady at the café earlier today. I chased her but I forgot to ask her. I kind of forget everything really. She’s really friendly and I don’t think she would have stolen something cause she is really friendly and nice people don’t do bad things” he said.

“It’s eight o’clock” said The Bishop.

“Oh, The Carriage of my Heart is on” said Joao excitedly forgetting the stinging pain in his neck and the singing bruises rising up his back and legs.

“You disappoint me” said The Bishop folding his arms.

Father and son sat down in front of the television that now sat on the new plastic table that Joao had bought and they shared little emotional or lexical reference as they dove into their favourite reality and skipped far from the one that buggered them ceaselessly.

The next morning Joao woke with new life and purpose and he felt alive in his own skin feeling himself moving through the air and parting through life, at one with existence. When he showered, he felt every drop of water touch his skin and run down his body, tickling every nerve and splashing in a pool above the rusted grate that guided each droplet in a swirl down into the blackness of the drain below his feet.

When he brushed his teeth, he felt every bristle scratching at the surface of his enamel and he could hear the sound of plaque, bread crumbs and old coffee lifting off his teeth like old wallpaper and he wondered if the same drops that had washed his skin one day were the droplets of water rushing from the faucet to wash away the black grime from the tips of the bristles on his brush. Had those droplets cleansed his arms and his legs in a time when he was less spirited and if so, how did they feel about him now; now that he filled every breath with a mount of gusto?

When he left for work, the church was in an abysmal state from a night of savage drinking by The Bishop, something which was becoming more common. Joao said little about the drinking or the drugs. He always knew the Bishop had an unquenchable thirst but for many years; for as long as he could remember, it had been