Homeless (8 page)

“I can't believe that menopausal-in-full-swing judge went so hard on me. It wasn't fair. I didn't even have a chance to really speak,” Lonnie whined as Kevin and a handful of their so-called friends left the courthouse. “And that welfare lawyer I had didn't make matters any better telling me to just plead guilty and get it over with. She acted like she was working hand in hand with the damn prosecutor's office.”

Kevin shook his head while shrugging his shoulders. An expert at drinking and driving and getting caught, he'd been down this road before, truth be told, on more than one occasion. He knew that because Lonnie had never had any contact with the law whatsoever, including as a juvenile, the judge had no choice within the guidelines to sentence him the way she had. “Come on, Lonnie, shut that shit up and quit your bitching. It's only probation and community service.”

“Only,” Lonnie barked as if the world was ending.

“Yeah, only. Man, it ain't like you have to go to jail and do some real time or something.”

“Kev's right, Lonnie. That same bitch gave me forty-five days in the county last year this time. She don't play.”

Lonnie didn't want to hear any of the crap his homeboys were talking. That day he'd got pulled over and treated less than human was terrible; locked up in the county for six days until Kevin bailed him out. In his eyes, they could say what they wanted; the court system ain't no joke, especially when a young black male is caught up in it. Not only had the dirty-ass female cop taken it upon herself to report his arrest to the dean of students, Lonnie felt the two of them conspired to make him lose his scholarship. Now expelled from school, he had to wait for the next semester to roll around so that he could apply for financial aid and hopefully get accepted in another top-notch program.

“It's easy for all of y'all to talk that ‘she went easy on me' bullshit because all y'all peoples got money. I'm out in this world by my damn self. Now I'm all the way fucked up. I swear my mother must be looking down like, ‘Damn fool, what in the hell you done become?'” Lonnie was irate and disappointed thinking of all he'd messed up just like that.

With the cancellation of his scholarship, that meant he'd have to move out of his apartment for good in sixty days or less. Even though he'd been camping out with Kevin at the party house, he knew that was a temporary thing. Bottom line once again, Lonnie Eugene McKay would be homeless, which was ironic since the judge had ordered him to do community service at some homeless shelters of his choosing as long as they were inside the county boundaries.

Deciding to go back to the city and spend his last few weeks in his own apartment, Lonnie lay back on his bed. Yearning for some pills, the wayward young man fought the urge, knowing from this point on, he had to drop once every two weeks. And if he dropped dirty, even once, the asshole judge promised to throw him back in the county; which was the last place he wanted to be. Interlocking his fingers behind his head, Lonnie closed his eyes, trying to figure out what his next move would be.

With all of America seemingly awaiting the verdict to be read, the judge was quickly losing patience with the entire showboat proceedings. First, with all of the unexpected but understandable outbursts from the family members of the five various victims of Mr. McKay; then Mr. McKay himself, acting as if this day would not go on if he wasn't an active participant. She'd put up with outlandish requests from the media and added pressure from city officials, including the mayor, governor, and even a few calls from a couple of senators. Everyone seemed to have a horse in the race, so to speak, in wanting Lonnie Eugene McKay thrown in jail without so much as passing go. She promised them and the residents of Detroit that the defendant would receive his due process and have his day legally in court as stated in the Bill of Rights. She was sworn in to do her duty, and her duty was just what she was going to do.

“Okay, Counselor, I've had just about all I'm willing to, or am going to, take from Mr. McKay. Now, he can respond when spoken to, or I will find him in contempt of this court and escorted back into the holding cell, and he can choose to watch the verdict read on the monitor. The choice is entirely up to him, and you and your client have all of thirty seconds to make up your minds what it's going to be. And the clock starts now!”

* * *

With less than thirty days left to stay in his student housing apartment, shit was getting real. Lonnie woke up with a headache. He didn't know if it was because he'd gone cold turkey on taking the pills and was suffering from a side effect, or if the anxiety of dreading this day was in full control. This was the day the judge had ordered him to start his community service. With the threat of his freedom hanging in the balance, the weary-minded teen dragged himself out of bed. Weak and having little energy, he'd slept only a few hours last night, and even those weren't sound. Lonnie kept waking up in sweats from the nightmares he could no longer treat with pills. After washing his face with cold water to help him wake up and brushing his teeth with the last corner of toothpaste in the tube, he made his way into the kitchen.

Having a burning desire to have a shot of gin instead of a glass of milk, he opted for the childish drink. He didn't want to waste an alcohol buzz confined within a homeless shelter. Plus, he didn't know if they'd make him take a breathalyzer before entering for service. What he did want to do was pop some pills.

Having had dropped yesterday, he wanted to test his luck and take an X-pill today, wanting to treat himself to getting high one more good time before being forced to stay in the one place he hated more than life itself: the homeless shelter.

Expected to follow the schedule of several different shelters that'd agreed for him to volunteer at, Lonnie looked at the digital clock that sat on the far corner of his desk. Realizing it was almost time to leave, he had a strange grin on his face as he decided to take the X-pill with him in his pocket; just in case some of the same no-good, demanding, coldhearted women were still in charge of the facilities, and he needed a tension reliever.

The disgraced college student hoped like hell they'd gotten fired for their bad dispositions toward the misfortunate clients they were supposed to be helping, or at least moved on to pursue other endeavors. Whatever the case was to be, Lonnie had to face it head-on; especially if he wanted to remain in good standing with the judge and probation officer.

The bus dropped him off two blocks away from Oakdale Combined Family Services. The first of eight shelters on his list to have to show up to and do as he was told. Lonnie grew agitated at the fact he felt like he was now nothing more than a modern-day slave nonpaid laborer. For all intents and purposes, he was the court system's bitch. Regretting the crazy decisions he'd made in his life since hooking up with Kevin, Lonnie looked up at the clouds and apologized to his late mother for turning his back, deliberate or not, on everything she'd taught him. He wasn't raised to be labeled a drunk as well as a pillhead, but so be it. Here he was looked upon as just that. Wanting to ease his “emergency get-right pill” out of his front pocket and swallow it before bending the next corner, Lonnie fought off the urge.

Shit, I hate this place. I swear I wish it could have been anywhere but this dump. This the worse one outta all the ones I had to lay my damn head at.
Mad at the world and himself for having to be here standing at the front door of what he remembered to be hell, Lonnie rubbed his hands together, then cracked his knuckles. After ringing the buzzer a few good times, someone finally came to let him in. As the huge brown-painted metal door swung open, the anxious teen was relieved. The woman in her early thirties holding a semiwet mop in her hand was not a face Lonnie recognized from the many agonizing nights he slept there when not making curfew at his regular spot. Thank God she must have been one of the countless temporary residents of the shelters that were blessed enough to stay around during the day. Whereas most of Detroit's faceless throwaways without housing of their own had to vacate the premises immediately after breakfast is served, a few handpicked favorites that did odd jobs and tasks at the paid staff's leisure could remain on the premises.

“Yes, can I help you?” the woman asked, trying to sound as professional as possible.

“Yeah, I need to speak to the daytime supervisor. I'm supposed to be doing some volunteer work this week.”

The woman held the mop handle in one hand while looking Lonnie up and down. Not used to seeing a young man dressed as nicely as he was in or around the shelter, she hated she was looking a hot mess. Ignoring the fact he was years her junior, the woman made sure to put an extra swing in her hips as she let him in and led him to the office. Upon getting to the door she tried touching him on the shoulder telling him good luck, but Lonnie wasn't having any of that. He wasn't in the mood for anyone in this hellhole to have any sort of physical contact with him, pleasant or otherwise.

“Yeah, just come in and have a seat over there,” one of the secretaries rudely motioned to a set of chairs on the far side of the room.

Dismissing him as if he was one of the faceless homeless individuals that paraded in and out nightly, Lonnie had a burning desire to run across the room and slap the cow shit out of her. She was no better than anyone else, although the way she was dressed, Lonnie knew she couldn't be told that. And if she was, she'd never believe it. Doing as he was asked—or ordered—he took a seat and waited. After being forced to hear about two different guys she was dating, the fact she needed brakes on her car, and she'd braggingly just purchased several packs of expensive human hair from overseas, she was ready to deal with him. “Yeah, my name is Lonnie; Lonnie McKay.”

“Okay and . . . Soooo . . .” she kinda sucked her teeth as her stank attitude increased.

Thrown off by her unprofessional manner, Lonnie had to catch himself from dishing out what he was receiving. He'd been dealing with all sorts of women since hanging with Kevin, so nothing that came out of a female's mouth surprised him at this time. It didn't matter if they were a doctor, a lawyer, a factory worker, ballerina, drunk, or pillhead. To Lonnie, all bitches were the same; headaches waiting to happen. Containing himself, he simply responded by handing her a set of court-ordered documents that someone in charge of the shelter had to sign off on at the end of the day. “Here you go. I'm supposed to have these signed.”

Her attitude seemed to get worse as she read over the lower portion of the form. It was apparent she'd come to the part where he was to do whatever work, within reason, the shelter needed him to do. It was as if she got on a power trip and was ready to ride high. “Oh, I see. You just didn't come here to ‘volunteer'; you here to us by force. I should've known a young man your age wasn't into helping others; just because.”

Not wanting to cause trouble, Lonnie tried to keep his mouth shut, but couldn't resist knocking the uppity woman down a few pegs. “Look, I'm sorry you're having a bad day; I truly am. However, for a person that has the charge and responsibility to help others that are less fortunate, I find it outrageous that you look down at me for being young and for having made a mistake. I had a choice to do other forms of community service,” he decided to lie and add it on extra thick, “yet I chose to be here and at other shelters and do what I can. Now here I stand, hat in hand, and you make me feel less than human. I'm sorry I can't fix your brakes or afford that hair, but I can carry boxes or move furniture.”

The woman felt like shit on a stick after Lonnie finished reading her. Before she could even try to cop a plea for her over-the-top judgments, the man who was in charge came in. Relieved he wouldn't have to take orders from such a bitch, Lonnie went with Mr. Reynolds into his office.

“So, yeah, Mr. McKay, or can I call you Lonnie? Will that be all right?”

“Lonnie is cool with me. I'm good with that.”

“Well, great. Let me just say that even though you are here to perform volunteer hours with us, we still try to slip our people a li'l something something under the table when we can.” He went in the top drawer of his desk and took out an envelope. “Now, this type of thing isn't a regular thing you can count on, but when I can bless the next person, why not. I've been homeless before as well as in trouble as a youth, so trust me when I tell you, Lonnie, I know how it is to be a young black man out here trying to navigate through these streets.”

Not knowing what to make out of Mr. Reynolds's out-of-the-blue openhanded generosity, Lonnie happily accepted the envelope. Not knowing its contents, he put it in his back pocket. Living practically hand to mouth, the youngster knew at this point in his life he needed all the assistance he could get, free or otherwise. “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, son, just lend us a strong helping hand while you're here and do the best job you possibly can, even if there is no full-scale paycheck involved. Now, I might not be around every time you leave, so my secretary can sign off on the amount of hours you put in. The night shift staff comes in after six, but you and I both will be long gone by then for the day.”

Lonnie was happy that he wouldn't have to come in contact with any of the persons that worked at night. He wanted to confide in his elder that not only was he in trouble with the court system, he had also been homeless for some time and had actually slept in this facility on more than several occasions. Lonnie wanted to tell him all the sneaky deviant behavior that went on in the coed common area after dark as well as the drug usage. But he wasn't one to be labeled a snitch; especially since he was on the verge of possibly having to house back under this roof in the very near future. Instead, he dummied up and let shit be.

The alone-in-the-world teen felt at ease as the older man schooled him on the way he wanted things done around the shelter. Not wanting him to think he was a slacker or unappreciative of whatever blessing was in the envelope, Lonnie picked up quickly. When he took a break, the exhausted teen opened the envelope, finding a few weeks' worth of bus tickets and a fifty-dollar bill. Thinking this experience might not be so bad, he smiled, not even giving a second thought to the Ecstasy pill still in his pocket or buying anymore with his small, but much-needed windfall.

When it was finally time to leave, he looked for Mr. Reynolds but was informed by the woman that'd let him into the building earlier that he'd left the premises.

“Baby, he's gone for the day. He usually leaves about three or so. Sometimes five on Fridays.” She tried flirting as if she wasn't down and out on her luck and should have other things more important on her mind besides trying to push up on some young dude that was clearly paying her no attention whatsoever.

“Oh, all right, then, thanks, Miss.”

“Oh, no problem; no problem at all. Anytime, baby, or anything you want to know just ask. I gotcha!”

Lonnie nodded at the woman, hoping she'd just stop pretending to clean that same damn multicolored framed mirror so she could be in the hallway right outside the office door.
This bitch done lost her mind or something.
With no recourse but to have the uppity-mouthed secretary sign off on his paperwork, Lonnie braced himself to do verbal battle. No sooner than he turned the doorknob and stepped inside, he was met with a much different attitude. The originally crude creature informed him her first name was Brenda and asked him to forgive her, she was having a bad day. Lonnie was not in the mood to hear or except any fake apologies. As far as he was concerned, she could keep her little con game and run it on one of those naïve fools she was talking about like dogs on the phone earlier. After she signed his paper, he was out the door praying he'd beat any of the night staff arriving early.