King of the Dancehall by Nick Cannon

Author:Nick Cannon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

GOOD AND EVIL

Bishop was giving me a very cold stare. I pretended not to notice. I was so relieved to be free. Or at least I was free for now. One of the police was still alongside me. Together, we walked over to where Maya and her father stood, and greeted them.

“Here you go, Bishop. He’s all yours,” the officer said.

“Thank you, my good man. See you in service on Sunday, eh?”

The officer nodded. “Ya know mi never miss a day. God bless you, Bishop.”

I was surprised. I shook the bishop’s hand as the officer walked away.

“Thank you, sir.” I was truly appreciative. “You literally answered my prayers. I mean that.”

He gave me a cold and icy stare. “No. Maya answered them.”

She looked at me, shyly. “I knew that my father could help. He worked at the embassy for all those years and made a lot of friends.”

Bishop was still eyeing me. “Save the lost. Dis is my calling. Maya has been hounding me for days to get involved and help you.”

“Well, I appreciate it, Bishop.”

I wondered why we were still standing there. I wanted to get away from this hellish place.

“Ya still not off free,” he said. “There will be a fair trial. An investigation. All of that soon come.”

“I’m just glad to be out of there.”

I hugged Maya, careful to keep my hands in respectful places in the presence of her father.

“And I’m happy to see you,” I said to her.

She looked at me, her eyes full of affection. “You, too.”

I lost myself for a moment and leaned forward to kiss her. But, Bishop put his hand in my face, preventing me from going in.

“You want to go back in that jail? Because I will be happy to join you.”

I let Maya go, and the three of us headed to the car, finally. I climbed in the back, and Maya sat up front with her father. He had the radio on at a low volume. I was nervous. The last time I had encountered this guy, he wasn’t very pleasant. I hoped to keep the conversation to a minimum. But, the bishop kept grilling me in the rearview mirror. He was staring at me so hard that it felt like he expected me to say something. I cleared my throat.

“You don’t know how much I appreciate you bailing me out. Jamaican prison is no joke. Thank you, Bishop.”

The bishop grunted. “Hopefully I nah waste my time.”

I thought about the way I had cried and prayed myself to sleep last night. Now, here I was riding free with my girl. I had to believe that God had a hand in it.

“I was starting to lose hope in there,” I said. “Each night I slept with one eye open. And each morning I woke up ready to fight. But, last night I prayed. It was the first time I did it in a very long time. My mama used to try to convince me that it works. But, I never saw the proof.

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