Red Bull

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?”

I get up. I didn’t care how big this guy was. I think anyone who knew  Joyous Wallace for more than 5 minutes would be able to tell that I didn’t give a shit about something like the size. I defended my family until the death of me…

I’m in his face in no time. Our chest bumps up and before I know it we are both hurling insults through constructed lips as though we could speak life or death thru insults. He is angry and his breath smells as foul as his attitude.

My brothers are able to pull me off and Meek manages to calm us down.

“Father Simpson please just give this a minute to breathe, I’ll speak to him,” Meek offers.

Simpson. The name sounded familiar but I am not completely sure but then I remember something. I remember my father telling us stories of a man named Simpson.

“Mitchell Simpson?” I hear Joshua ask.

I look over at Joshua and I’m shocked by how he is reacting when he hears the name right. If I didn’t think I knew who he was before, I was wrong. I definitely knew the name.

“You know him?” I ask.

Joshua was shaking. Intensely. That’s when I see him do something that I’ve never seen him do in my life. Tears fall down his face. He keeps staring at the man.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jamison asks me.

The problem was that I had no idea.

Meek continues in a strange almost sing-songy way, “I am here to make sure that everyone has a safe place for them to own themselves and become who they need to be to get ahead in life.”

Who they needed to be? I wonder if he meant that we needed to be straight.

Feeling him this close to me and knowing that he’s been a hypocrite literally shakes me to the core. He hasn’t made any contact with me. Not even for a slight second as he goes through the orientation telling people what they should and should not expect from gay conversion therapy.

“You OK?” Jamison asks.

It’s not every day the man you still want to have sex with is teaching a class to a bunch of people on how NOT to have sex with people in your gender.

“Do you not remember him---” I start off asking Jamison.

Jamison seems confused. He was never as close to Meek as I was and he’d never been in the streets for long enough to know much about Meek. I made sure that if someone in the family had to sell drugs that would be me. I tried to keep the boys away from all sorts of drugs especially after I saw what it did to Jamila. Jamison didn’t live a dangerous lifestyle to cross paths with a dangerous guy like Meek.

“No idea,” he whispers back.

“He was…”

I am about to tell him the guy who I had over the night of Isabella’s shooting but out of nowhere, I am cut off directly by Meek. It was as though he somehow knew we were speaking about him right then and there.

“Is your brother OK?” Meek asks.

I don’t want to speak directly to Meek but when Jamison doubles over Joshua trying to shake him out of this trance he seems to be falling into, I can't just tell him things are fine.

“I got shit handled.”

“Listen I don’t mean to offend you.”

“You aren’t offending me at all,” I assure him, “You don’t have the power to do that.”

I was pushing back hard. Maybe it’s because I think this is a bad idea. I needed to be away from Meek. Clearly, all this is crap. He was a hypocrite. A big one for hosting an event for guys who wanted to be straight while he was still sleeping with men.

“Is this personal?” he asks.

“Why would it be personal?” I ask.

I can’t stand looking at this guy. He was the biggest hypocrite in the world and one thing I hated was a hypocrite. He was here trying to convert people and he was doing the same thing that he was preaching against. What kind of man did that? I’d lost a lot of respect for Meek in just that moment.

And in just a moment he does something that surprises me even more than being a hypocrite. He looks me dead in my eyes and he proves that he actually isn’t one.

“It would be personal because we slept together,” he announces.

“Whoa...what the fuck are you talking about?” I state raising my hands and backing away.

I don’t expect all the men in the room to turn to me including this Father Sampson. A few eyebrows go up. It’s clear that no one had an idea of our past relationship and it’s also clear that Meek just basically threw both of us under the bus.

“We had sex. I am not ashamed of my struggles as well,” He states, “I was hired by Father Simpson because he knows this is something I’ve been struggling with for years. I admit my faults and I must also admit that I had a major setback recently because I am attracted to this man in a strange way that I know I am trying to resist.”

Seeing him speak his truth honestly almost made me feel guilty at that moment. I’m embarrassed of course, my face is beat red. But also in a way it feels good to know that I hadn’t been feeling these feelings myself. I shouldn’t feel this way. I should feel disgusted by Meek, but instead, I like it in some weird way. In some weird way, I feel that relieved to know that Meek was just as attracted to me as I was to him.

And perhaps he had put in just as much effort to try to fight those emotions as I did.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Father Simpson tells Meek.

Hearing Father Simpson speak seems to drive Joshua up a wall. He has been staring at Simpson for some time now. It is as though Joshua is resisting him in some sort of way. I don’t like how Joshua looks. I don’t like how his face looks flushed like this.

He just breaks out and keeps saying, “Simpson...Simpson...Simple...Simple...Simple...Simple...Simple…”

It’s scary how he keeps going like that. Then he does something shocking. We all turn at the exact same time to see piss coming off of Joshua’s legs. The piss falls down his thigh. I’m shocked when I see this.

“My brother needs help!” Jamison screams.

If no one noticed Joshua was pissing himself then they definitely knew now. I jump in front of Joshua trying to protect his privacy. I try to grab him and help him compose himself but he’s shaking something crazy. Immediately I start panicking. I was always the foundation of my family but something was definitely wrong with Joshua and I didn’t know how to help him.

“YO WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING!” I bark, “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU GUYS DO TO HIM!?”

I don’t know why I ask the question. I am not sure what I’m saying. All I know is there is panic and my brother is in pain. He keeps saying “Simple” underneath his breath and I’m not quite sure what all of that means.

Meek puts a hand on my shoulder, “Calm down.”

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH MY BROTHER!”

“A demon,” Father says, “Come now. We must take him and we must pray it away. The homosexual demon is heavy in this one.”

He puts emphasis on the word HEAVY. I watch as all these men more suited to be in a wrestling team rather than in a church conversion program walk up to my little brother. He doesn’t even resist them but I see how they grab him up and I almost lose it. I almost swing on one of them. I don’t know who. I don’t care. I refused to have my little brother feel this pain alone. If he was in pain one of these motherfuckers would be in pain with him.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask.

“Bro----it’s OK,” Jamison explains, “He’ll be fine. He just needs some in-depth therapy that the rest of us don’t. Most everyone else here knows that we aren’t born gay. He thinks he was. It just will be a harder route for him...but isn’t this what you want?”

Jamison, I guess, was trying to calm me down but he was never the comforting type. He doesn’t put his hand on my shoulder or speak softly. None of the shit that most anyone would have done. But then again maybe it was a Wallace thing because all of us were a bit cold and aloof at times. We’d been through enough to not trust people...even family when times get tough.

“He looked like he knew him…” I suggest.

“Impossible,” Jamison states.

I don’t know how to feel about it when Jamison sits back in his seat.

Meek is back at that moment, “Guys this is going to be hard. I think that is clear with what just happened with Joshua, but maybe we can learn more about each other in the meantime and start growing...together into what God really wants from us. That seems enough for one night. Let’s go ahead and find our beds.”

~

I am taken to a room. It’s a bunk bed. The room has no decor. None whatsoever. I smile at the idea that maybe it’s because they were so against gay people. Like it or not...gay people have beautified the world in a way that I don’t think any other modern group has. The room was clean at least, but somehow the emptiness of it just made it feel so detached from reality.

I can’t believe I’m here. I’m a grown-ass man in my 30s. I’ve fucked countless bitches. I mean countless women. And here I was doing gay conversion therapy?

“God if you are trying to show me something please just be straight forward...because whatever path I’m on right now is weird...as fuck….”

The door opens.

It must be my roommate. Clearly, there was a bunk bed in here for a reason.

“Hey,” a familiar voice stated.

I look over his shoulder and start shuddering when I see it’s Meek who has stepped into the room. He has some linen under his arm. The same kind of linen he’d given me when he announced to the group that we were lining up for sleeping arrangements.

“You got to be kidding me?” I wonder.

Unfortunately Meek doesn’t seem like he’s kidding, “The Father likes to challenge us.”

Challenge? It didn’t seem like a challenge. It seemed like a sick game. I walk to the door. A part of me is ready to get out of here right now. Something makes me stop though.

Why would I let him get this sort of power? Why would I let him know that he made me so uncomfortable that I couldn’t even sleep in the same room with him?

So instead of doing that I just shrug, “I get it.”

Meek doesn’t seem too bothered when he says, “You wanna be on top or bottom?”

“Nigga, what the fuck are you saying?” I ask, “I AM NOT GAY. Stop coming at me with that gay shit bro. You might be attractive or...I don’t even fucking know. I’m not attracted to you. I’m straight. I have been straight all my fucking life! You know that. You’ve seen it. I know motherfuckers are curious but I’m straight. I DON’T WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU!”

Meek puts up a hand.

“I meant do you wanna be on the top bunk or the bottom bunk.”

Shit.

My face is flushed with embarrassment.

“Top...I wanna be on top,” I state.

~

I can’t sleep that night. The door is cracked. Meek let me know that it is against the rules here to sleep with the door closed. I also notice that there is someone who comes to check and make sure Meek and I are behaving every 10-15 minutes.

Meek falls asleep quickly and I’m left just listening to his breathing. He has very silent breathing which tells me he is very comfortable. The ease of it helps calm me down so that even if I’m not sleeping I can still listen to it. It’s a beautiful harmonious sound that drives me up a wall. I love the sound of it.

The next morning, he comes out of the shower.

“Breakfast is in 10...you should go shower yo,” he tells me.

It’s hard for me to even listen to the words he’s saying when his torso is naked standing there. I just stare at him for a moment taking it all in. I don’t understand. I really didn’t get it. I’d seen a million men. I’d seen chests, abs, dicks, asses and a million other things from a million other guys.

Why now am I just attracted to them? Was this homosexual spirit real? Had it really jumped from Joshua to me?

“I uh…”

“Is this a trigger for you?” Meek asks looking down at his shirtless body, “If not I can put a shirt on, fa real. Not a thing bro. Just want you to be comfortable and shit.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be comfortable around you?” I ask.

He shrugs, “You make me uncomfortable. I don’t know if I could handle being around you for this long. I don’t think I’d be able to. I’d just...I’d…”

“You’d what?” I ask.

I don’t know why I am so curious about it. He looks up at me. He is biting down on his lip in this way that is driving me crazy. He was a trigger for me. He was a huge trigger. And as I watch him bite his lips I could tell that I was already triggered my damn self.

He takes a deep breath, “Let’s just say it would be in conflict with uh...why I was here…”

He walks away. He is preparing his body for the morning. I try to ignore him but in the mirror, I catch his firm hardback as he flexes a bit while putting on a shirt. The shirt is slim fitting over his muscles like a glove.

And then I see it.

His ass.

It’s glorious. His ass is firm, plump round and sitting up high. I lick my lips wondering why I’d never looked at his ass before in such detail. Maybe it’s because of the sweat pants he has on. Maybe it’s how thin they are. They show the muscle details. They show that this man is big on doing squats clearly.

How the hell was I going to room with this guy? I turn away desperately and close my eyes as hard as I can.

“Why are you here?” I ask out of nowhere.

He shrugs, “Same reason you are. Tired of living in sin, I guess. When I was a teenager I got placed in foster care with Simpson. He specifically taught me how to fight the feelings that I have deep inside of me. He was teaching me how to change.”

“Is he gay?” I ask.

“No…” he responds.

I’m confused, “How can someone who isn’t gay tell you anything about it...if they haven’t experienced it?”

I don’t know why I ask the question. I don’t know after I ask the question he looks at me and just nods as though understanding what I mean.

He shrugs, “You have a point.”

“I didn’t mean to say he was wrong. I didn’t mean to say that this process isn’t a good one or that…”

I stop talking. I don’t know what I was trying to say. All I knew was that it was weird Simpson held this sort of control of Meek’s life.

“Let's head to breakfast,” He states, before stopping, “Can I say something first though?”

“Sure…”

“This is going to be tough for both of us. But I firmly believe God will make us better for this,” he explains.

“You’re religious?”

He nods, “I believe God does everything for a reason. Every little thing. Even had us sleeping in the same room together.”

With that, he walks away. He walks away and carries his faith with him. I watch as he walks away and a part of me is shocked when it happens.

~

“This way please…” one of the men in the conversion building states.

I notice there is a turnkey system. The doors are locked. I am gathered with the other guys. Jamison makes his way towards me but there is still no sign of Joshua.

“Where is he?” I ask.

“Shhh…” Jamison responds, “We have orders.”

He has a point. They were lining us up in the cafeteria. There were all these stupid little rules. You have to grab a plastic fork in the beginning and you had to get one tray. You couldn’t wander and you had to ask to use the bathroom.

We are taken to a table, where a bunch of guys are seated. I turn and see that Meek is sitting off alone from everyone else and eating alone purposely. As for Jamison, he was popular as usual and a majority of the boys were there.

“This is Ben, John, and Anthony,” he states.

The guys that Jamison has made friends with are oddly gay. I watch as they clabber to shake my hand and meet Jamison’s fine ass older brother. I wasn’t making any assumptions about that either. I knew when people were attracted to me. Gay guys had been attracted to me since High school. I’d never given them any attention.

I still didn’t.

Meek was different.

“Weird how Meek is here isn’t it?” I ask, “A gangster. Like a womanizer. Who knew he was gay…”

“It can happen to any of us,” the boy named Anthony.

I want to argue the point but I don’t get the chance because I’m distracted. I watch someone being rolled into the cafeteria in a wheelchair. I notice it’s my brother. I’m shocked when I see that. My brother is rolled into the cafeteria and places him at the table. I look at my brother and honestly, I’m shocked.

Joshua looked out of it.

They abandon him in the middle of the floor with liquified food in a sippy cup. It could be anyone to these people.

“What the fuck?” I ask, “Joshua ...hey Joshua…”

Joshua doesn’t respond. Drool forms at the sides of his mouth.

“What’s wrong with him?” one of the other guys asks.

By now everyone was a bit concerned seeing Joshua in this state.

“I don’t know…” I state, “He’s never been like this before.”

“Yes, he has,” Jamison states, “Remember when he was 15…”

I am shocked at that moment. I remember. Yes. He was like this before. When he first started sneaking off to see this young guy who had a crush on him and my father caught them. I remember how Joshua came home back then. It was like this. It was very similar.

It just seems inhumane at that moment that they were treating him as though he was just some sort of prop. I get to my brother and check his pulse. He’s weak. He’s still out of it.

I’m surprised when Meek is one of the first people to get over to him, “Is he OK?”

“Where is Simpson?” I ask Meek, “I need to speak to him about this now.”

Meek shakes his head, “That’s not how things work here…”

“I don’t give a fuck about how things work here. What the fuck did they do to my brother…” I ask, “Are those...those are bruises!”

I’m steaming at this moment. I’m pacing back and forth. The turnkey doors were locked so I walk over the door and start banging on it. I start raising hell back there. I want to break the entire fucking door down honestly.

Even Jamison seems concerned, “Was it necessary to do this to him?”

“Is this the first time you’ve seen him like this?” I ask Jamison.

Jamison gets quiet.

“The last time he saw Dr. Simpson…”

“Doctor?” I ask.

Jamison gets real quiet, “I didn’t want to tell you this because I knew you’d freak out. Remember when we were younger and we used to think about the devil so often. Well, Joshua has his own personal devil. Someone who was hell to him growing up.”

I’m so confused.

“Why did you fucking choose this place, Jamison?” I state, “Out of all the places to chose.

“I didn’t,” he states, “He was best friends with Pops. They reached out to me…”

I start slamming on the door earlier.

It’s clear more than ever that this situation isn’t going to get any better. And the more I knock one thing is clear.

There was no leaving...

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