Red Bull

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Growing up we used to believe in the Devil. See my dad was a Fire and Brimstone sort of teacher. So before you can even be good enough to hear the New Testament and about this wonderful man named Jesus we had to spend time instead speaking of the Devil. We grew up fearing for our lives thinking everyone was the devil.

It sent my brother Joshua into a tailspin at the age of 15. He started talking to himself and whatnot, all of a sudden. No one knew how. No one knew why. But what we did know was that he wasn't in his right mind.

And Dad took him somewhere.

Somewhere where they prayed for him. They prayed hard. And when he came back I kind of felt like Joshua was worse than before.

"Please sign the paperwork..." I hear Meek say.

"Don't sign shit without a lawyer," I state.

Meek gives me a hard look, "We will never hold you guys against your will. This is just legal red tape. You are free to do as you want whenever you want."

"Even have sex with guys?" One of the other men asks at that moment.

It was a good question. The orientation had been going on for almost an hour now and Meek hadn't really explained what the intensive week's worth of therapy would entail. All I knew was somehow these people promised to put me on the path to get rid of the homosexual spirit in just a week.

"My goal isn't to convert... my goal is to help people find out who they really are,". Meek offers.

"He means how God really wants you to be, isn't that right son?"

Son? There is this big fella standing off to the side. He silently has been stalking the room with a bunch of other guys the entire time Meek speaks. I didn't think Meek was his biological son. They just really didn't look alike but the idea of him somehow looking up to this man as a father crosses my mind when Meek's head hits the floor. He was some tough gangster that came back to Compton invading territories like a boss but somehow, in the end, there was something that humbled him. Some authority in his life made him into nothing but a little boy.

"Yes. How god wants us. We were all brought here for different reasons," Meek states standing in front of a number of his clients which number just shy of a dozen.

We're all watching Meek and watching one another. It doesn't help most of these men that Meek is ridiculously attractive, perhaps the only one who could hold a true candle to me from back in the day to now. His perfect goatee, his chiseled jawline, and the fitted white t-shirt don't help either. He looks like a drug dealer even now, one that is covered with sin but throughout all that he has this cross on his chest.

"How irritating is it that they have an attractive guy. How the hell am I supposed to concentrate," Joshua adds.

He had a point. Meek was fine. Almost immediately I see almost every guy in the room squirm in their chairs as we are forced to stare at him and examine just how special God could make a single specimen.

It wasn't even just Meek. Looking around the room it was hard to take this seriously with so many good looking guys sucked in the same way me and my brothers were.

Was this done on purpose?

"Quiet. No talking..." a voice growls.

Joshua and I are silenced immediately by a big burly ugly-ass man who looks like an evangelical Ving Rhames.

"No one hushes my fuckin Brotha, nigga," I warn the big burly guy, "You better go on with that rude shit."

"Or what?"