Backshot Kings Ep. 02

"You're annoying; we should've paid a few extra coins for you to put a bag on your nub head."

"Is that right?" Willie felt himself getting heated, dribbling the basketball harder as they bandied about in the center of the court.

"Yeah, that's right bub." He stopped dribbling, holding the ball under his arm as they faced off.

"Okay, since you say I'm a chauvinist: if I win, you're gonna wait on me hand and foot this afternoon and make me a five-star meal."

"A five-star meal?!"

"Yeah, and you're gonna wait on me hand and foot... with a towel folded over your arm, broomstick!" The color drained out of her face as she considered the stakes of the bet.

Bird Lady started laughing her ass off in chirpy, annoying fashion.

**************************************************************************

"Ma'am?" He walked onto the darkened main church floor finding Mrs. Fisher sitting up on the stage behind the pulpit staring out at the empty pews, stoic. Some late afternoon sunlight was filtering through a large window to the left with the beam highlighting her stone countenance.

One could almost see that solitary beam of sunlight as an ethereal accusatory finger from on high.

"Uhm, Mrs. Fisher?" Marvin held up the invoice, both brows raised as he wiped a dirty hand on his mover coveralls.

"Can you see me, boy?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" Mrs. Fisher's face scrunched up almost imploding with indignation at the use of slang in her presence. The waning afternoon light reflected off the old school cat eyes glasses giving her countenance an appearance that reminded him of the famous idol heads from Easter Island.

"Yes." Marvin corrected himself wanting nothing more than for this insufferable woman to sign the invoice so that he could vacate the fuck out of the premises.

"Then you can see me sitting here looking at your face, right boy?"

"I guess...uhm, yes ma'am." Marvin stumbled a bit, scratching his temple noticing the faux gold chalice in her hand. Her posture behind the pulpit in the vacant pastor's chair, read like some fallen queen looking out at the ruins of her kingdom. Mrs. Fisher wore a white collared short-sleeved maxi dress with a light-colored beige sweater draped across her shoulders like fine raiment. He could tell she was deep in thought but inched closer, invoice in hand.

"The invoice; you want payment for your services, am I correct in that assumption?" Her voice carried across the barren church floor echoing off the walls.

"Uh, yes Mrs. Fisher, ma'am." The way she spoke made him feel ashamed to ask for the payment he was owed.

"Well, bring me the invoice, hurry it up now." She took a deep drink from the chalice which gave him pause having spent his early childhood in the Baptist church. He always saw communion as something holy mostly done on Easter when all of the women would come to church in their Sunday finest, big decorative hats and all.

"Yes ma'am."

Marvin hurried forward, but stopped short of the stage unsure if he should just step up onto the platform or walk to the end and take the three steps up to her level. The look on Mrs. Fisher's face made him take the latter joining her behind the pulpit, realizing she still wasn't looking at him. He stood there with the single sheet in both hands until she gradually turned her head in his direction, unfazed.

"What's your name again?"

"Marvin."

"What's your full name Marvin?" The tone of her voice and the question felt like an attack, but he looked down at his feet answering.

"Marvin Johnson."

"Is that your full name, boy?"

"Marvin Lee Johnson, ma'am." He was all kinds of fidgety under her stern piercing gaze. Mrs. Fisher looked like the librarian from hell.

"Stand up straight; how old are you, Marvin?" He snapped to form as she took another drink from the chalice noticing a crumpled paper bag with the whiskey bottle sticking out of it.

"Twenty-five."

"Twenty-five years old with no home training to speak of, intimidated by an old lady alone in the church. Back in the day, I'd have called your parents to the carpet right in front of the pulpit here or taken the strap to you myself if I took the notion. You see they used to say it took a whole village to raise kids like you. I agree with that notion. Tell me Marvin; what do you see when you look out over this empty church?" Mrs. Fisher motioned towards the empty pews with the chalice as he followed her gaze.

"Uhm, it's just, empty ma'am."

"That's right Marvin Lee Johnson, it's empty. Do you know why its empty, Marvin Lee Johnson?"

"No." Mrs. Fisher stared intently into the empty room taking another drink.

"It's empty because the village failed it, boy. This church has been around, specifically here, since 1957. Several generations of my family and others worshipped here and sat in fellowship with other families, mostly rural blacks running up here from the south trying to escape their sorry ass situation. But my family were always here; they were always staunch members of the church. Glory Harvest Baptist Church started seven blocks over in a storefront, then with a little bit of money and a whole lot of faith we moved away from our liquor store neighbors to a new location. It burned down in the early seventies, arson. Yep, somebody set it ablaze. We never found out who, but the community came to the rescue again with a record number of tithes got us out of parks and backyards to this place, right here."

"That's an incredible story, ma'am."

"I'm not finished."

"Sorry."

"Don't be sorry, just don't do it boy; first rule of proper etiquette is that you do not interrupt your elders when they are speaking. Ideally, this would be ingrained in your hide after several lashes of the switch or belt. I'm afraid it's too late for you, Marvin. You're set in your ways and that's the gist of things. That is why I sit here looking out at this empty church that used to be the center of this fallen community. You, young people, are different these days. Back in the day there was a sense of responsibility, legacy."

She took another drink, steeling her nerves, continuing her tale.

"I was baptized in the church, set for the ministry back in the day when it was unheard of for a woman. The late Mr. Fisher didn't cotton to that line of thinking and didn't waste no time planting his seed deep in my loins. Got two babies after he stole my shoes and chained me to the stove while he regularly sinned at the gambling parlor. I had to fight hard to stay in the church I had wanted to preach in since I was a baby; wanted it throughout my childhood and teen years when it was the only place, I was allowed to go unchaperoned. Good Pastor Johnson, baptized and put me to work in the church office; no relation to you, right boy?"

"Uhm, no Mrs. Fisher."

"Of course not; he was a good and pious man; or so I thought. Pastor was always going about this community helping the helpless and whatnot. I really believed in him; you know? He married me to my husband right here in this church, boy. The good pastor baptized my kids here, too; and I brought my little girl Tressie into the office to continue our proud family legacy. Yeah, he was a good man."

"So, what happened?"

"What do you think, boy? You can't be that good with two decades of rich prosperity under your belt without attracting some attention. So, here came a snake into our midst, the first of two; just like that in our little bit of Eden, here. Look over there boy! That coal blackened snake used to sit right there in front of the pulpit with no shame to speak of, truly an agent of chaos if you ask me. Know what? Pastor brought her in off the streets where she'd been selling her godless body. Yes, our pastor brought a prostitute into the church and set her amongst us in a place of honor she didn't deserve."

Mrs. Fisher bristled silently before continuing.

"All of us knew she didn't belong, but he was adamant about the purpose of the church in helping wayward souls citing Mary Magdeline. We protested heavily to deaf ears, eventually accepting his wishes allowing her to sit right up front at that very piano. I knew it was wrong, but I had faith and respect for my pastor. She taught piano lessons right here with her finest student, my own daughter, Tressie. Well, time made me a dullard mentally and I didn't watch as closely as before. The other elders accepted her into our confidence, our circle. There was always this nagging feeling in the back of my head, but I knew I didn't have enough support to oust this jezebel, incarnate."

Marvin lowered the invoice knowing that she had to finish the tale of a church's downfall. This was the first time in his life that he'd seen a big church with a "For Sale" sign in front of it. The first time he'd ever seen a dumpster on side streets formerly clogged up with parked cars. There were scores of flyers at the entrance of the church blowing in the wind advertising a picnic that would never happen.

"She got in more than skin deep; straight to the bone while I watched bringing more of the gullible dupes in our circle around to her side, starting to make me uncomfortable more every day. After a while I knew better than to confront her directly...then he came into our midst."

"Who ma'am; who came into your midst, Mrs. Fisher?"

"The Beast, her master and the Devil, incarnate. That nasty ass serpent slithered through those double doors on the coattails of the Lord's charity, planted herself like a weed, a fang more like it. I had to watch her "infect" everyone with her darkness, never even bothering to hide her disdain for the most high; had to watch all the menfolk round these pews enthralled by her sinful figure. Then when our pastor took ill for a spell, there came that beast, looking to finish her evil work in this here church."

Marvin knew most of her diatribe was fueled by alcohol, wondering how long she'd been drinking.

"You could just kinda feel it in the air, like something changed the minute he darkened our doors. Every room seemed to bend and twist in their direction whenever they entered. I don't know when it started, but I found myself at the back of the crowd. Didn't like it and couldn't stop it either. That devil had a silver tongue; heck, maybe it was platinum, but he talked his way behind the pulpit when the pastor took ill and never left. Everybody was caught up in their wake and behind the scenes, I went to the pastor at home and..."

"What Mrs. Fisher?"

"Well, boy I was so desperate and put out of my comfort zone. If you know anything about womenfolk, you know a woman can be at her absolute best under pressure or her deepest, darkest low. Me, I was hovering above the bottom of that barrel, so I was about to do something that would bring my faith into question when I was standing at the pearly gates. I was about to do something to justify all the beatings my mother had given me in my youth to keep me on the straight and narrow. You see, everybody couldn't take their betraying eyes off that serpent's demonic backside. Had to fight fire with fire, boy."

"The old pastor?" Marvin questioned, dreading the answer and the visual of two old people hooking up.

"She was there...riding him like a wild banshee. That fucking bed was just a squeaking and ah, bouncing all over the place. I had to see that succubus draining the life outta him while his grandkids were off in the other room. Their parents left them there to tend to the ailing pastor for the night, and I found out why their eyes were big as saucers when I came inside the home. He could barely move, but his old hands were all over that coal blackened hide of hers. I lost track of time, didn't know how long I was there, just watching. Then, I realized they were looking at me. Pastor had tears running out of his eyes."

"Oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Fisher."

"Maybe they were doing that all those years before I happened upon the truth; maybe that's why he fought so hard to keep her close to the church. You should've seen the look on her face as she pulled her britches up glaring at me with this demonic grin on her blackened face. We both knew what it was in that moment with these weak ass menfolk of the church. She acted like nothing happened once she got herself decent telling me she brought him a hot plate. My pastor wouldn't look me in the face, and she sat there beside the bed making me feel like I was intruding. Them grandkids of his were snickering when I walked out of that bedroom. I slapped the shit out one of them, little piglets."

"Did you tell on them, Mrs. Fisher?"

"Tell who, huh boy? Her master was running things quite nicely with everyone in his hip pocket, knee deep. The supposed good people of the congregation, the community I'd loved and cherished for all my years, forgot about the good old pastor Johnson. The last decent thing he did was bury my husband."

"Did you quit?"

"Why would I do that, boy?"

"Because of what you saw, Mrs. Fisher. I guess uhm, he let you down?" Marvin framed it like a question noticing her brow furrowing. After a few moments, she took another drink from the chalice.

"I couldn't get that smug, demonic grin of hers out of my head; I told myself she was nothing more than a toy for weak souled men bereft of their faith. It plagued me continuously like some kind of challenge and I felt betrayed. It felt like that old pastor was my husband who'd cheated on me with a whore. It felt like she thought herself better than me and mine, because she had a big behind. I don't know what got into me, but it felt like we were schooling together, and I was the ugly girl, while she was the popular one. My daughter was just about to turn eighteen, and I felt like her classmate in my...jealousy."

Mrs. Fisher sat there nursing the cup staring off into space like I'd found her when I entered the church.

"Well, I had to silence that nagging voice in my head, especially after that jezebel spent almost the entire Easter service being extra with it, teasing and meddling with me, unopposed. It was that Easter Sunday brunch where I found her holding court with most, if not all of my friends. It felt like I was being forced, pushed out like I was in a tube of toothpaste. It seemed like I was on the chopping block because I caught her fornicating with my old pastor who'd come in for that service to uh, pass the torch."

"So, this new guy ended up with the church?"

"I tried; really tried it betraying myself and my faith...then failing my people, this supposed community, too."

"What happened?"

Mrs. Fisher remained silent peering out over the large empty church, pondering things unsaid before glancing at Marvin letting her gaze drift down to the invoice in his hand.

"Is that the paper I need to sign, boy?" The weight of the world was obviously on Mrs. Fisher's shoulders as she gestured lazily towards the invoice. He hesitated before stepping closer, handing her the piece of paper watching as she perused the information printed on it.

Her stern features seized up as she stared at the paper confusing him.

"BITCH!!!" Mrs. Fisher shrieked like a banshee, frightening Marvin as she contorted and twisted on her broken throne behind the pulpit. The invoice was crumpled in her hand as she made a fist around it, then dropped it at her feet stomping on it, repeatedly for a few intense moments.

"Are you, okay Mrs. Fisher?!" He collected himself with a hand flattened against his sternum with the other facing her direction, palm up. She leaned back in her chair with a fist hiding her lips, seething for a few moments, before speaking.

"Shit, sorry about that, boy. Could you come over here and pick it up so I can take it back to the office and make a copy. I'll sign both and staple them together; we still have the copy machine back there in the rectory." The church elder's chest was heaving as she fanned herself with the hem of her beige sweater.

"Okay, Mrs. Fisher."

"Fill my cup, too; if you don't mind?" He was cautious of this embattled mature, picking up on her despair. It felt like she was some politician finally realizing she'd been voted out of office, after the fact. Marvin didn't want to contribute to her drinking but needed her to sign the invoice so he could get paid along with the other guys after a hard day packing up the vacant church. He poured a little into the chalice but filled it under her strict gaze watching her take a deep swig of cheap liquor.

"Alright come on back to the office; I'll make that copy and sign it back there." Mrs. Fisher stumbled a bit, getting up shooting me a brief look, before using an arm to lightly move Marvin to the side.

"Sure." It looked like she was going to take the bottle, but settled on the crumpled invoice, instead. Mrs. Fisher adjusted the sweater on her shoulder drawing it up a bit above her waist.

"Follow me on back here to the office, now." She shuffled past me towards a door at the end of the elevated aisle that led to the administrative offices in the back of the building.

"Huh?" Marvin unexpectedly found his gaze lowered, finding something that made him avert his eyes, but look again.

The sway of her buttocks and the well-defined VPL called out to him in the worst way. He was embarrassed at the urgent twitch in his loins but looked some more as she walked to the end of the elevated stage. He told himself this was a woman in her mid-fifties, maybe even early sixties. His cock disagreed starting to unfurl in his boxer briefs. He shoved his hands in his pockets trying to adjust.

"Are you coming along to the office; I need you to move a few boxes back there and plug in the machine. Then I can sign that paper before you get on your way, youngster."

"Coming." There was an apprehensive look on her face that made him reluctant to follow. Marvin was worried he'd be labeled as a pervert if she noticed his package. Mrs. Fisher nodded with a hand on the doorknob, opening the somewhat rickety door. The other side of the shaky door was a literal void, inky darkness.

His eyes returned, finding the unmistakable sway of big, meaty buttocks that looked forced behind the material of her simple white cotton frock. That panty line was visually arresting enough to make him uncomfortable with himself as Mrs. Fisher flicked a switch inside the church office.

Marvin nodded to no one in particular, entering a cramped-looking office that consisted of two desks covered with piles of paperwork. The place was a mess with a whiteboard hanging on one side marked up with future events that would never happen. Somehow two file cabinets, one extremely banged up were fitted into the space. Marvin looked at the file cabinet, realizing it had been pried open and ransacked with the middle drawer missing. His feet caught on a kid's backpack left behind on the floor.

"Now just you hold on a minute while I get this door open; it sticks sometimes." Mrs. Fisher pulled a keychain out of her dress pocket, fumbling with the door before slipping it into the lock.

Marvin watched her struggle with the reluctant lock for a few minutes, getting the door open just as he was about to intercede. Mrs. Fisher tugged an unseen drawstring clicking on a simple lightbulb screwing into the low ceiling before looking back waving him forward. She backed out of the room as he stuck his head inside, finding a much smaller personal office made for one with an oak desk and nice leather chair with a stained-glass window behind it. This was the rectory she spoke of with a simple bed at the opposite end of the door against the knotty pinewood paneling. A crucifix hung over the unkempt bed.

"Here boy; move some of these boxes." Mrs. Fisher squeezed in behind him, making the room smaller, gesturing towards a haphazard stack of various cardboard and wooden boxes along with a drawer or two. He glimpsed the missing file cabinet drawer peeking out from the other side of the pastor's desk.