Maurice Broaddus - King Maker

Despite the lateness of the hour, the night always left him energized so he had an evening ending ritual to help him wind down: dinner at Mr Dan's, a twenty-four-hour burger joint with homestyle fries and greasy burgers like your momma would have made. Strains of Outkast's "Bombs over Baghdad" squawked from his cell phone. Wayne sighed, his stomach already grumbling, fearing it would be some street emergency which would delay him sitting down to eat.

"Wayne?" King asked.

"Who you expecting?"

"You didn't sound like yourself."

"Cause I'm ready to find something to meal on and you holding a brother up." Wayne shoved his free hand in his vest pocket and leaned against the minivan.

"Mind if we hook up? I got some things I need to talk to you about."

"Like what?"

"Not over the phone."

Wayne hated these "there's something of cosmic consequence, the fate of the universe hanging in the balance until we talk but I can't tell you about it for a few hours so now you have to spend that time wondering what it is and if you've screwed up somehow" calls. "Long as you don't mind meeting me at Mr Dan's."

"Over on Keystone?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. We'll meet you there."

"We?" Wayne asked to an already dead connection.

Wayne pulled the door to the Neighborhood Fellowship Church which housed Outreach Inc., double-checking to make sure the lock caught. By the time he turned around, Tavon nearly bowled him over. Tavon didn't know what else to do besides run, unable to trust anyone at that point, especially considering that his social circle pretty much exhausted itself after fiends, dealers, and police. Wayne was familiar from around the way as one of the neighborhood do-gooders.

"They dead. They dead, man," Tavon stammered.

"Who you talking bout?"

"The fiends that rode that Black Zombie blast."

"Slow your roll, man. Talk to me from the beginning of the story." Tavon's dilated eyes and constant scratching told Wayne a story all right — he was a fiend in need. "Tell you what, I'm about to hook up with some people and get me something to eat. Why don't you come with me and tell us all about it."

Tavon wasn't without compassion, but in the final analysis, fiends did what they did. The need overwhelmed him, pushed aside all other thoughts. A meal here. A ride there. These man-of-the-people types could hook a brother up. Maybe get something he could translate into cash — a bus pass, a gift certificate — and maybe catch the same blast that had knocked the other fiends on they ass. In the end, it was all about getting over, no matter who had to be crawled over.

"You float me?" Tavon asked, suddenly more lucid. "I'm a little light."

"Yeah, I got you."

Lott arrived at Mr Dan's first. One in the morning and he was eating here; his belly and backside would pay for it tomorrow. Actually probably later tonight. He rather enjoyed the simplicity of his life. Having just got off his mandated shift, the gentle skritch of the fabric of his uniform with each step reassured him. He had a little job, was saving a little money, had himself a little place. With no drama and more importantly nothing he couldn't walk away from at any point, he was content within his lifestyle. That was the secret to life, he'd discovered. Folks fell in love with a certain way of living, things they had to have and wouldn't be anything without. That meant they'd do anything to protect it, get all crazy about shit that made no sense. Not Lott. When shit started stacking up, he could cut out any time and set up somewhere else.

Wayne came in next, a fiend trailing behind him. A head nod to Lott, Wayne marched to the counter to place his — and Tavon's — order, not playing when it came to his food. Lott could guard the booth if he wanted. Wayne was still waiting for his order when King arrived.

Lady G and Rhianna pointed at pictures of burgers — though they'd be disappointed by the reality that would show up on their plates later — then joined Lott at the table. Lott seemed to sit up straighter at their arrival.

"He with you?" King asked Wayne, but eyed Tavon.

"Yeah, sorta."

"Always bringing your work home with you."

"You one to talk." Wayne glanced at homelessass Merle who trailed King. The irony was not lost on Wayne considering his line of work versus his feelings for Merle, but some folks were hard to like. "Extra grace" folks, his pastor called them. Merle always irritated him, as if Wayne was the object of a joke only Merle got.

"I am ever the servant's servant," Merle offered.

Wayne sucked his teeth in response.

"I was hoping we could chat in private," King said.

"You the one with an entourage." Wayne nodded toward Merle and the girls. "I didn't know you knew Lady G and Rhianna."

"It's not like that." King glanced over at Lady G, mildly jealous that she sat next to Lott. "Things been going on and I'm trying to piece things together."

"And I thought 'let us ask he-with-the-woundedneck'," Merle added.

Wayne rubbed the keloid scar on the back of his neck. "Well, I couldn't leave him alone. I'm trying to get a story out of him, myself. Thought maybe time, fresh air, and a full belly might chill him out enough to be straight with me."

Tavon stabbed several French fries into the gooey mess that was the Mr Dan's Open-Faced Chili Cheeseburger. Gulping down the fries and licking the remaining chili cheese sauce from his dirt-caked fingers, he chanced a peek at Merle and, feeling uncomfortable, he returned his attentions to his plate.

"Curious." Merle stared with mild fascination. "Who are you, my guy?"

"Tavon. Tavon Little." Tavon peered up with distrustful eyes, arm guarding his plate, then went back to mealing.

"Never bring strays where you lay."

"He kinda ain't got it all," Lady G said, more of Merle, not all too sure of Tavon, though fiends she had a better sense for.

"Nah, he good," King said.

"Can I get a new fries? These are greasy." Rhianna pushed the object of disdain away from her, sat back, and folded her arms.

"What you expect from Mr Dan's?"

"Girl, you better eat those fries and be grateful," Lady G said. "It's not like you paying for them."

Rhianna buried her head in her plate like an ostrich.

"What's this about, King?" Wayne asked.

"The gathering of knights," Merle said, ignored by the group.

"I'm not sure," King said. "It's like I have these flashes. Like things aren't what they're meant to be. And I have this feeling like I'm supposed to be doing something."

"Why you?" Wayne pressed.

"He is the dream of a waiting dragon," Merle said.

"Does he ever shut the fuck up?"

King waved off Merle's comments, or rather, Wayne's reaction to them. "Not me. Us. It's like I can almost see the whole story, but when I think on it too hard, it all slips away from me. Merle told me you've all seen something and I thought if we got together, maybe we could sort it out."

"How does Merle know what we've seen?" Wayne glared at him with distrust.

"Magic," Merle said.

"Magic?"

"Magic."

"Bullshit. Chronic maybe," Wayne said.

"In my day, magic was much more commonplace. There's no room for magic in your lives, only darkness. You've forgotten how to dream. To imagine possibilities. All you know is this." Merle knocked on the table. "Continue to make your mud pies and never think to dream of the ocean. Now, some still serve the Old Ways, but there are the Old Ways and ways older still. It is the eternal struggle. The struggle chooses its vessels and we fight where we are. I warn against the beast that sleeps."

"Did that make a damn lick of sense?" Wayne asked.

King steepled his fingers in front of his face and sifted through Merle's words. Like everything else of late, they made sense, an inelegant poem, again, as long as he didn't think about it too hard.