IF I COULD GO BACK
A/N Short and sweet; this is my telling of how Rondo came to be one of Angela's Guardians.
The past is trying to overtake the present. The shadows sneak up on him and cover every ray of light. It happens more and more frequently. Sometimes he isn't even aware of it. The past just swallows him. It's now happening on a daily basis, where once it was a brief second, and then it became a day or two every few months. Now, it took him everyday.
One person recognized the demon he had allowed to possess him. The demon responsible for destroying him and so many other innocents. The dream he chased with every fiber of his being. And now that the demon had heard it's name spoken, it wanted to live again. It wanted to overtake him and feed from his life force.
Rondo gathered the blanket closer, fighting to keep the memories at bay. He clawed the surrounding area seeking the only comfort left to him. His trembling hands closed around the crumpled brown bag. "I know this is my punishment, but I can't face it. Lord Jesus. I can't face it. Please deliver me from this hell on earth. Remember back when … it happened. I begged you to take me. To send me to hell where I belong, but you forgave me. You left me here. You wanted me to atone. You still want me to atone. But I can't!" The words exploded in an anguished cry, his eyes lifted to the heavens. "Please, please make it stop!"
"Hey Man, you OK? You got what you need Rondo?" Mo Money asked as he stepped into the packing crate one hand extended toward Rondo. He had been standing outside for a full minute banging on the wooden crate.
"It won't let me go. It won't let me go!" Rondo squeezed his eyes as tight as he could and swayed back and forth the empty pint bottle nestled in it's familiar wrapping paper. He listened hard for the slosh of liquid, but heard only the paper crinkle. Tonight he couldn't escape the memories. They were dancing on the very center of his soul.
"Easy Man. Here, here take a sip. Everything be OK once you get a couple drinks of this fresh bottle." Mo Money gave a sharp twist and broke the seal on the cheap whiskey. He took a small sip before pressing it into the empty hand lying limp on the dirty blanket.
"Please make it stop. Please." Rondo grasped the bottle, his lifeline restored. He drank greedily and felt the welcoming wave of forgetfulness begin to wrap it's comforting arms around his aching psyche. He blessed the saint who gave him this needed respite.
In all the years Mo and Rondo had shared the streets, this was the absolute worst he had ever seen Rondo. "Fuck, I should have visited last night when Big Amy told me to."
The area around Rondo's packing crate and the docks was Big Amy's usual territory. She liked the longshoremen and the rougher clientele. Big Amy never failed to bring her Daddy at least a thousand a night. Last night after turning in her take, she had knocked on Money's door and asked if she could have a word about a mutual friend. Once in awhile, the girls liked to take on a little side trade. As long as they gave Mo his cut, he allowed them to take on extra clients. It was one of these clients, he thought Amy wanted to discuss.
"Daddy, I got a bad feeling about Rondo. He aint been seen on the street in a couple of days. Me and some of the other girls were wondering if you could go see that he's OK." Amy asked in a timid voice, not at all like her usual booming tone.
"Why you worried about Rondo. He a grown ass man. Rondo been on these streets longer than you been off your Mamma's teat. Leave him be. He'll work it out. Don't go bothering him." Mo had snapped. He was in a foul mood because only Amy and one of his other girls had made their quota for the night. The lazy bitches had tried to tell him no one was looking for a party. He knew better, sex always sold!
Amy had left, but the feeling that something was wrong had remained. He spent the next day doing business as usual. Except his thoughts kept straying to Rondo. Maybe he should take a ride down to the docks and see if things were running smoothly. He left his apartment and headed to the nearest liquor store. If Rondo was in some kind of trouble, only the whiskey could lure him back to safety.
Shaking his head to clear the memories, Mo Money sank onto his heels and watched Rondo gulp half the pint before lowering the bottle. "What's the world coming to when a bitch be right?"
"An end." Rondo whispered brokenly.
"Plenty more where that came from Rondo. Drink up man and forget the shit hurtin' your head. I'll page Amy to bring us another bottle. I need to see if that Bitch been workin' tonight anyway." Money fished his mobile from his jacket and sent a text to Amy.
Rondo tried to focus on the three white faces in front of him. One was Mo Money, he didn't recognize the other two. Maybe the two new arrivals on the next block. ""Thirty-four years. This hole in my soul has been swallowing me for thirty-four years."
It took every ounce of willpower he possessed to prevent asking why Rondo didn't just jump into the fucking ocean and end it all. Life was meant to be enjoyed, not wallow in agony and take a hundred years drinking your liver to death. That's what hell was for, but only after you die. Life was a party. The ultimate party!
"I can't even hear one note without all the demons clawing at my insides. They rip my heart to shreds and feed on the marrow of my bones." Rondo tried to pass the bottle back to Money, but fell sideways and lay there unable to either slide all the way down, or push back up.
"You is one mess." Money gently took Rondo's slumped shoulders and returned him to a sitting position. "Man the past is done and gone. You gotta let it go. Live in the now of today."
"It won't let me go." Rondo answered his eyes glazing. How he wanted the peace of forgetfulness.
Money lifted the hand holding the bottle back to Rondo's lips. "This is what you need my friend. Everything be OK tomorrow."
"There is no tomorrow. She said that to me. I didn't believe her. Plenty tomorrows and the day after tomorrows too. I told her. My dream in reach stretch out my hand just another inch." Rondo slurred after swallowing the last sip of whiskey. Had he drank two bottles today or three? Did it really matter?
Money rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "If bitches could keep they mouth shut the world wouldn't tilt on it's fucking ear!" He eased back against the packing crate cursing Officer Jane Rizzoli. Now she was a hot shot detective. He should call her bleeding heart down here to sit with Rondo. His index finger hovered over the keypad. Not two months ago, Detective Rizzoli had ridden out a very bad heroin trip in this very packing crate. Money had instructed Amy and his other girls to keep an eye on Rondo and Jane and call him if they needed help. Officer Rizzoli had busted him once, when she worked Vice, but she never failed to lend a hand to anyone needing help. Protect and Serve was stitched on her soul.
The low sounds of a love song drifted on the night air. Money closed his eyes and let the music wash over him. Man, could this dude sing. All honey and silk. The bitches would be screaming and throwing panties on the stage for this ….
Money opened his eyes and stared at Rondo. The beautiful music came from the drunken bum not three feet in front of him. Money had heard stories on the street that back in the day, Rondo had been the lead singer of a silky soul band. He didn't doubt that Rondo had been in a band, but he never would have guessed the sweet music filling his ears came form the man who had just downed a pint of cheap whiskey.
"What kind of demons do you have my friend. I know you got plenty the way you drink, and after hearing this music, I know they is a story that needs to be told." But who would tell it?
A/N I appreciate you stopping by to read. Please, drop me a note and let me know what you think of the beginning.