Eye of Ra (4 page)

“I just need a little cash … just a little cash and I’m out!”

“Laurence stop! You have to stop and calm down son!” His father pleaded. “Please stop!”

“Just give me what’s mine and you’ll never see me again!” Laurence howled. “Just give me what’s mine!”

It turned into a violent struggle as Mr. Danjuma attempted to restrain his son to the living room. Despite a bad wheel and weakened constitution due to his withdrawal, Laurence still had a considerable amount of strength, which was enough to accidently knock his father over a living room chair where his head narrowly missed the edge of the coffee room table.

It was enough to bring him to his senses as he stood wracked with guilt at what he had done. Mr. Danjuma grimaced as he used the coffee table to prop himself to a seated position on the floor. His breathing was heavy as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Tears fell staining his white shirt as he pulled out the little cash within his wallet and tossed it onto the floor in front of his son. His father, too, had broken his own rule not to give money to fuel his son’s addictions.

“Take it …and go.”

Laurence did not utter a word to his father, nor did he hesitate as he quickly stooped down to snatch up the cash on the floor. As his ears picked up the sound of his father weeping bitterly where he sat, his steps did not halt or lessen as he walked out of the place he used to call home. That night after scoring, he fixed himself a double dose hoping to catch the dragon.

He woke up the next afternoon in his own bitter tears, having failed again.

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Laurence was jarred from his memories by the sound of an ear popping cracking noise. The old rusted lock that the super had repeatedly promised to fix finally gave in as it fell to the floor while the window went half way up. His lungs contracted, slowly pushing out air as he pulled out the crowbar and used his hand to timorously raise the window granting them entrance to his room.

Once inside Rosemary greedily scanned for items of value that they could sell in order to score. Laurence towered over her to get her attention.

“We’re here for one thing and one thing only.” He said with a bass filled voice. “You follow me?”

“Yes, okay,” her eyes uncomfortably shifted.

Laurence grabbed her arm for good measure. They entered the hallway and made a beeline to his father’s room. Standing at the doorway, he flicked on the light and stood rooted in place looking in. It too had not changed after all these years. The bed was neatly made, and everything was in its place. The scent inside was a sharp bite of Aqua Velva and Bengay.  On the wooden night stand were a thick brown Bible and various pictures of him and his father throughout the years along with two pictures of his late mother. One was of their wedding day, and the other was her holding him in a blue blanket as an infant.

He stood there as his stomach churned knowing the second he entered, things would change between him and his father forever, and there would be no going back.

“Laurence, what the hell are we standing around for?” Rosemary poked her head underneath his arm looking in. “What are we looking for?”

Her whining and the throbbing pain building in his knee drove him forward. Dread blanketed him the second his foot hit the faded hardwood floor. He shook it off the best he could as he began scanning the room searching for something.

Rosemary went to yank one of his father’s drawers out looking for something valuable when he furiously grabbed her arm.

“We ain’t come here to tear up my pop’s crib,” he snarled at her. “We’re just looking for one thing. One thing that belongs to me, and we’ll be set.”

“So where the hell is it?” She ripped her arm away from him.

He held a finger up for her to keep her mouth shut and allow him to think. He went to the first place he remembered seeing his father with it, near the bed. He groaned as he got down on his good knee to look underneath the bed, only to find slippers and some dust bunnies. He used the bed to pull himself back up and sat on the end of it. He calmly cast an eye over the room again as an impatient Rosemary with her arms folded stood watching him. His eyes first turned to the closet, but then shifted to the large oak dresser in front of the bed.

As if drawn, he painfully rose to his feet and hobbled over to it. He ran his hand over the dresser as if searching for a secret button or lever to push or pull.

“Help me move this out the way.”

Rosemary rolling her eyes sauntered over to get her best grip on the heavy piece of furniture. With very little strength between the two of them they awkwardly pulled and pushed it out of the way to reveal an old vent behind it. His stomach went on a rampage along with his heart as he went down once again with a groan on his good knee. He gripped the unsecured vent pulling it out of its place and set it aside. A part of him prayed when he reached in that he would find nothing. This prayer would not be answered as his hand touched cloth and something hard underneath.

He closed his eyes as he gripped it pulling it out.

“What it is?” Rosemary curiously hovered over him. “What did you find?”

He ignored her as he opened his eyes realizing it was truly in his hand. He moaned as he used the dresser as leverage to help him back to his feet. Leaning up against the bedroom furniture, he slowly began to remove the old burlap cloth that covered it.

Rosemary’s eyes almost rolled out of their sockets from bulging as they bore witness to what he had uncovered.

It was a good eight to nine inches in length. The head was shaped in the image of a large king cobra with a sun dial attached to the back of its hood. Parts of the shaft and crescent moon-shaped base were forged from what appeared to be pure gold, while other parts of the shaft and sundial were constructed from dark red crystal or gemstone. Two small gems similar in color were the eyes of the cobra. Laurence’s eyelids shut halfway as what seemed like an unknown light within the red crystal of the staff emitted a faint glow, mesmerizing him.

“Holy shit,” she beamed. “What is that?”

“My pops called it the Staff of the Ancients,” he shook from his trance and gave it a proper look. “When I was about nine, I walked past here with the door shut. I thought I heard him talking to someone, so I opened his door and saw him holding this. He had a face like I wasn’t suppose to see it. He then called me into his room, sat me down, and told me that all he could say at that time was it was a family heirloom passed down to the first born of every generation of my family. He said one day when I was old enough and ready, he would pass it down to me, and tell its full story. Until then he made me promise not to look for it around the house or tell anyone about it. Something about it and him on that day scared the shit out of me. I kept my promise and didn’t go looking for it or tell anyone about it until now.”

“Looks more like a scepter than a staff,” she analyzed it with a tilt of her head. “This thing must be worth a friggin fortune!”

“It’s worth something …worth more than his own damn son.”

Anger began to build within him as he clutched the scepter tighter. Concern fell on Rosemary’s face as she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s get the hell up out of here,” he furiously pushed off the dresser to stand.

“We’re not putting the dresser and vent back …?”

“No,” He cut her off. “Let him see what I did when he comes home this morning. Let him see that I took what was mine. What he chose over me.”

He stormed out of the room the best he could on his bad wheel with her following. He opted to exit through the main apartment door as opposed to heading back down the fire escape. The radiating pain in his knee increased with each step as if someone was taking a chainsaw to it, and he felt that he would not survive the descent. As they turned the corner to the living room, Rosemary halted as something caught her eye.

“Hey Laurence, you want to take some of these?” Rosemary motioned. “Might be able to cop a couple of bucks for them?”

Laurence stopped and turned looking back at the display case his father built to house his son’s medals and trophies.

“No,” he shook his head. “They’re worthless …leave them.”

“You sure yo,” she scratched. “They look pretty valuable …”

He hobbled back over walking past her and gripping the side of the trophy case. With one motion he sent it toppling to the floor. Glass flew everywhere, and the case and some of the bigger trophies broke into pieces.

“Jesus!” She jumped out of her skin. “I thought you said not to trash the place?”

“Come on!” He grabbed her arm almost dragging her away. “We got what we came for.”

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Almost thirty minutes later, Laurence and Rosemary stood in one of the few pawn shops in Flatbush where they could sell an item without the owner asking questions. The proprietor who everyone called Pops was a husky short man of Latin-Italian descent and three years Laurence’s father’s senior. Calmly he strolled from the back of his store where he examined the value of items holding the scepter in his hand, while his loupe still sat atop his forehead. He calmly placed the scepter down on the display cabinet as an anticipating Laurence and salivating Rosemary waited to hear its astronomical value.

“This ain’t worth shit,” Pops flatly said.

“Say what?” Laurence scowled his face.

“What the fuck are you talking about Pops?” Rosemary frantically chimed in.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Pops scoffed a sarcastic apology. “Allow me to clarify, this … ain’t …worth … jack shit. First of all, this shit that
looks
like gold ain’t made of gold.”

“So what the hell is it?” Laurence nervously asked.

“That’s the problem; I can’t place this type of metal anywhere on the Periodic Table. Whatever this thing is, it’s harder than anything I’ve ever seen,” Pops shook his head. “And the gems, which don’t look like any gems I’ve ever seen either, are just as hard. I’m tried to pry one of the eyes out, and the shit bend two of my tools in half. Where’d you say you got this?”

“It’s a family heirloom,” Laurence answered while shamefully glancing away.

Pops gave him a disappointed look as he slid the scepter back across the top of the display cabinet to him.

“Whatever this is, you need to take it back where the hell you found it, and leave it there.”

“But you said that the gems are gems right?” Rosemary smacked her hands on the counter. “Even if you don’t recognize them, they’re worth something!”

“Take my advice with what little brain cells you got left between the two of you,” Pops pointed a finger at them. “I got a bad vibe while examining this shit, as if it’s alive or something.”

“We didn’t come here for any of your stupid fucking brewha shit man!” She snapped.

“It’s call brujería you stupid little crackwhore,” Pops shot back at her. “Now get whatever that is, the fuck out of my shop! Estúpido de mierda drogadicto traer algo de mierda demonio africana en mi tienda. Ahora tengo que conseguir salvia y cagar a quemar lo que coño te metiste en mi tienda. A la mierda fuera de mi tienda!”

“Fuck you old man!” She screamed back slamming her fist down onto the glass counter.

“Get your bitch and that thing out of here Laurence,” Pops barked. “Before I pull Big Bertha out! Now!”

“Aight Pops! Aight! Chill!” He held up a hand grabbing the scepter off the counter. “Rose, let’s go …let’s go!”

With his other hand, he grabbed Rosemary by her scrawny neck dragging her out of the pawn shop cursing and screaming while tucking the relic back into his coat.

Outside she wrenched herself free of his grip. She was now full blown into the next stage of withdrawal as she kicked over a garbage can.

Desperation.

“What do we do now?” she began to frantically pace. “What the fuck are you gonna do now? How are we gonna score without any money?”

“I don’t know, but I think I need to take this back to my pops,” he huffed.

“What? No!” She screamed.

“You heard what he said!” Laurence pointed. “This shit ain’t worth anything! The metal ain’t gold and the gems …”

“He said he couldn’t tell what the gems are!” She pleaded. “It doesn’t mean that they aren’t gems!”

“If Pops ain’t touching this thing, no one is going to touch it!” He shot back at her. “I’m taking this back to where I found it. My father was right …whatever value this thing has is not monetary …I shouldn’t have taken it.”

She held her hands up stopping him as a thought popped into her brainpan.

“Brick Bear … let’s take it to Brick Bear.”

“What?” His eyes widened at the audacity of her new plan. “No! Hells to the fuck no!”

“Listen!” She grabbed the front of his coat. “If it’s worthless, your father won’t need it right? It’s supposed to be yours right? As long as it looks valuable, which it does, we can sell or trade it for some shit! We take it to him, and say we lifted it from some rich folks.”

“And how the hell did we happen on these supposed rich folks?” He asked with a contorted face of disbelief.

“I went to go do a john on the East side for Skeeter!” Her eyes widened as she pulled her plan together. “He won’t question it, or call Skeeter cuz they’re still beefing with one another! I grabbed it from a luggage trolley while we were exiting a hotel! You were with me for protection, so you can verify the story!”