"Hey, Hov, can you come back here for a second, primo?"
"Yeah, give me a minute."
I cursed to myself before opening the car door. I am not trying to be spotted by my grandma or the pastor before they leave.
"Yeah, what is it?"
"I wanted to ask you, do we still get paid even though the job might be over?"
His strong Hispanic accent was hard to decipher in some parts, but I heard exactly what the fuck he was saying.
"What do you mean, the job might be over? Where did you hear that from?"
"Well, we overhear your grandmother and people upstairs talking through the vents. She is selling the house to the church, and we didn't mean to listen, but it's loud with the way the ventilation is set up. We hear conversations good."
He was trying to explain himself, but I walked away from him because what he was saying was now irrelevant. My main concern now was seeing what the fuck they had going on in here.
When I burst through the living room door, my grandma was sitting on her sofa with Decan Hynes beside her, and Pastor Davis was sitting in the chair like he was a king in this bitch. I hate to say it, but I can't stand this nigga.
"What's going on in here, Grandma?"
"Jehovah, first off, don't you see the Pastor and Deacon Hynes sitting here?"
"How can I miss the pastor in this powder blue suit. Tacky mutha fucka."
I said that last part under my breath to keep from pissing my grandma off.
"But what y'all talking about? Selling the house for what?"
They all looked like deer in headlights after I asked that question. My grandma fumbled over her words.
“Jeh, Jeh, Jehova. How did you hear about that?"
"Grandma, you know I have the men I hired downstairs doing the remodel on the basement. They heard your conversation and came to me when they felt like their job here might get cut short."
She dropped her head and then looked to Pastor Davis, who quickly started to run his fuckin mouth like I was talking to him.
"Jehovah. You know, with a name like that, you should be in the altar somewhere preaching the gospel, it's only right."
"Don't project your dreams on me. I'm doing just fine with how I live. All thanks be to God and not the pastor."
"Of course, you should give all thanks and glory to God. He is the protector, the creator, the force behind all things good in this world. But please also remember a classroom is only a room with a chalkboard if there is no teacher."
"Look, I'm not worried about any of that shit you're talking about. What is supposed to be going on right here, right now with this house? Why ain't no one answering me?
He leaned forward in his chair, pressing his fingertips together.
"Well, with the untimely death of my brother, we decided that it may be best to move the church from its location in thatterrible area in order to stop crime from happening to us. We want to move it to this street. One of the last places in the city where old black roots still exist."
"So, you're trying to knock down my family home to build a church?"
"Not just your family home, but several, but in that we hope to build a community home where there is worship on these same grounds for many years."
"Soul Glow, cut the bull shit and tell me what you offering my grandma for this land? I'm sure it's not a good enough number even to consider letting go of our family home."
"Hynes." He looked to the deacon, who licked the back of his thumb and looked into a folder, pulling out a sheet of paper to hand to me.
After reading the first few lines, I crumbled the paper in my hand.
