The Secret Stead is the pen name of a UK-based writer and
This chapter contains scenes of extreme sexual and drug abuse and mild profanity, which may cause some readers distress. Please be warned. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. It is a work of cautionary fiction.
Who's There? | (Love is patient, love is kind — Corinthians 13:4)
  Chapt 6 | Contents | Chapt 8  
|
aba Mamba was not happy."Well, that didn't work. From what Caleb said, I didn't expect him to play nice."
"And when did you start believeing what Caleb said?"
Baba Mamba gave his right-hand man a silencing look. "We're going to have to do this another way."
His right-hand man rubbed his beard, thoughtfully. It was not a good idea to get on the wrong side of his second-in-command, but he tried again, "Do you not have a bad feeling about this, my friend?"
"Angelo, I love and respect you, but you and I know that I can't afford to have feelings on this one. And that goes for both of us."
Before Baba Mamba could continue, his burner phone rang. He looked at the number, and picked it up. He listened. Responded with a "Yes" twice, and ended the call.
Baba Mamba was not happy. "They're pissed at me. Which means I'm pissed period." He straighted his white puffa jacket, with slow, deliberate moves. "Well, we tried the easy way. We're gonna have to do it the hard way."
Angelo said nothing at first. He took out a packet of cigarettes, and pulled one out with his mouth. He let it hang on his full lips as he looked up at Baba Mamba and said, "Let me try."
"Try what?"
"Let me knock on his door."
"You ain't a stable animal, my brother." He put a hand around the back of Angelo's neck, and rubbed it. "You're too important to me out here. You're my eyes and ears."
"And that will never change, Baba. But I can connect with him. I know I can. I can get him to join us."
"Because you're Italian?"
Angelo took out the crucifix from around his neck. "Because I am a man of God, like he is."
"I ain't seen God around you with some of things we've had to do."
Shame filled Angelo's deep blue eyes, but he didn't divert his eyes from Baba's own. "I may stray from the path, but I am still a son of God, my friend. Dante is the same. We could be brothers."
Baba Mamba smiled, but it wasn't a nice smile. "If I were you, I would keep God only for Christmas, my brother. There are no gods on this street. Only kings."
Angelo took a Zippo lighter from out of his leather jacket, and flipped it open and lit it simultaneously, with a flick of the wrist. He joined the lighter's flame with the end of his cigarette, and took in a deep plume of smoke and fire.
When he spoke again, he tried a different tack. "Think of it this way. If I, one person, can solve our problem, like you say, quietly, then there is no need to waste valuable resources or to make so much noise."
Baba Mamba thought for a moment. Angelo was right. Resources cost money. And you never said no if you could keep a dollar. "You might be on to something."
"So, you will let me try?"
"Fuck it. Why not? What we got to lose but our heads?"
Angelo look pleased, and let out a large breath of cigarette smoke. "Baba never loses his head, though, right?"
"You got it in one, brother." He dodged Angelo's smoke. "And take it easy with those things. Don't you know they'll kill ya?"
Angelo grinned. "What doesn't kill you, my friend? Even love kills you eventually."
fter the "feeding of the fam", as the incident became known, the knocking began at Dante's door.
It was Caleb. It was always Caleb.
He first tried the innocent ruse. With the smile.
Knock. Knock. "Hey, I'm so sorry about what I said the other day. I don't know what came over me."
"That is okay. No need to apologise," Dante replied, and then promptly shut the door in his face.
Next, in true hustler mode, Caleb tried the ashamed ruse. Without the smile.
Knock. Knock. "Hello, it's me again. I am so, so sorry for my rudeness that day. I'm really embarr-"
"It is okay. No need to apologise," Dante repeated, and then promptly shut the door.
On his third attempt, Caleb went all out and came with a bunch of flowers he had stolen from the local cemetary. This time with his brightest smile that he used to attract the little kids.
Knock. Knock. "Hi. These are for you. Just my way of saying sorry."
"Please do not murder flowers. Let them live in their own home soil," Dante said, before shutting the door.
Caleb was just about to leave, when Dante opened the door again. His face lit up.
"And It is okay. No need to apologise," he added, before promptly shutting the door again.
Caleb was not a hustler to give up easily, however. Hope springs enternal. The knocking on Dante's door went on for a few days, but while Dante continued to share his food with those who had begun to gather daily outside his flat, he ignored Caleb.
One night, up at Derek's, Caleb vented his frustration. "Why isn't it working? Why can't I get him to like me? What am I doing wrong?"
Derek didn't speak. But he rarely spoke to Caleb these days. Not even during the nightly prayer sessions. It was all silence and hand commands. Until he could heal, it consisted mainly of baptising in holy water and getting choked until he passed out.
Their plan wasn't going the way Caleb thought it would.
ante was just about to enter his bathroom to shower, when there was a knock at his door.
This time, Dante thought, if it is that Caleb boy, I will tell him in no uncertain terms to stay away. He had tried to be polite to the boy and understanding of his hardship, but enough was enough.
But when he opened the door, it wasn't a boy on his doorstep. It was a man. A handsome, bearded man.
Dante suddenly remembered him. "You are Baba's friend, are you not?'
"Si. Posso entrare?"
"Cosa vuoi? If you have a message from your master, then you can tell me here."
Angelo showed him the crucifix around his neck. "I have no master but one, amico mio. I also have no friends here."
"I think you have many friends. You do not need one more," Dante said. "Besides I do not make friends easily."
"The Queen of Sheba speaks very highly of you," he said softly.
Dante's eyes lit up at the mention of Shantel. "She is my friend, but she does not knock at my door anymore. I only get this one boy--"
Angelo's deep blue eyes darkened. "Caleb?"
"Yes, him. Can you not ask your Baba to keep him away from my door?"
"If you let me in, he will not come," Angelo said.
"I do not barter over who I let in my home, hai capito?" Dante said, his temper threatening to flare.
"I understand. All too well." Angelo smiled at him, and took a cigarette out from a packet in his pocket. He placed it in the corner of his mouth, unlit. "I am hungry," he said finally, in an even softer tone. "Will not one countryman give food to another at his door?"
For a moment, Angelo reminded Dante of another man who had come to his door one night. He touched the crucifix around his own neck, and reminded himself of his own pact not to repeat the mistakes of his past.
"Come in then countryman. I will cook for you. You must miss the food back home."
And with that, Angelo stepped into Dante's home, and in time, into his heart.
ante did not exactly know when it happened. If you knew you were going to fall in love, then you would note down the date. But this was another time he could not have predicted what lay around a new corner in his life, without first having walked it.
Angelo's vists increased; they became nightly. It began with food, as all great loves should. He would cook for him and, with great enjoyment, watch him eat it to the last morsel. They would talk about their respective regions. Angelo was from Naples in southern Italy, Dante was Sicilian; their cultural passions for food matched, as did their love for family.
"I call my Mama every week," Angelo had said one evening, after their usual repast. "Every time she hears my voice she cries. And every time it is another nail in my heart."
"Angelo, why do not leave this path you're on? It is never too late. Think of your Mama. Be thankful that you still have a Mama who cries for you!"
Angelo placed an unlit cigarette to his full lips. He asked, "And you?"
"Oh, Angelo, what I wouldn't give to have my Mama back in my arms again. I console myself with pictures and memories. But you? Your Mama is with you, and yet where are you? You should be ashamed of yourself."
Angelo looked hurt, but his voice remained soft. "Now you hammer a nail into my heart, Dante."
"Have I? I did not mean to. I only say what is in my own, my friend."
Angelo lit his cigarette, and with one finger, touched Dante's cheek, gently tracing an image of a tear. "Did no one tell you that you are special? You have the strongest heart I have met in anyone. It can take the truth. But we, with weaker hearts, cannot, Dante. Sometimes the truth is like a nail in the heart. You understand?"
Dante understood. "I am sorry. Let me take the nail out."
"How?" Angelo moved in closer, his face wrapped in smoke, his deep blue eyes, deepened.
Dante did not recognise Angelo's advances. He said, simply, "From now on I will look after you better, for your Mama's sake and her blessing."
Angelo lay back, laughing softly. "Oh, Dante. You may remove the nail, but like the truth, the hole in the heart always remains."
ante was true to his word. He gave Angelo a place to sleep. He let him shower and clean. He would wash his clothes, and let him borrow his own. And, of course, he would cook for him.
Every night Angelo would signal his arrival by whistling Santa Lucia, a popular folk song from Naples. Dante soon began to wait out for the sound of his voice. Worry if he was late. Rush to open the door. His heart would leap when he saw Angelo's deep blue eyes, his black beard, and his constant companion, a cigarette hanging between his lips.
Angelo would never come empty handed. He always came with some small gift. Food for Dante to cook for them. Small trinkets that cost nothing in value, but were valued more because of the thought put into it. Dante knew these were bought with proceeds from Angelo's profession, and his heart and his morals initially rejected them.
But Dante had also began to keep more of what was in his heart to himself. He still did not believe he should lie, and with someone you loved, you should share everything, but for Angelo's sake, he stayed silent. He didn't want to hammer nails into the heart of the man he loved. So, he accepted his gifts, and said nothing, because he did not want to hurt him.
In his soft spoken, gentle way, Angelo had changed him. Some lines could be crossed. For love.
"What are you thinking, Dante?"
"I don't know if I should tell you what is in my heart. Is your own strong enough to take it?"
Angelo smiled, and blew out a puff of cigarette smoke. "Try me."
"I do not want to hammer any nails into your heart. You have made me realise that sometimes silence can be golden, as they say here."
"And I have come to realise any nail from you is welcome. It is better than your silence. I want to hear the sound of your voice. Share with me what is in your heart."
"I always thought I could not love a coward. But," he placed a hand on Angelo's chest, "you are a coward. This poison you sell on the streets is death to so many of the people I see, and share my food with out there. I can no longer look them in the eyes. I feel responsible for their misery, because I am associated with you."
Angelo took Dante's hand, and kissed it. It was their first ever physical interaction. He crushed out his cigarette on his empty dinner plate. "I, too, feel the same. But I am locked in a cage of debt, I cannot get out of. They own me, Dante. I am not as brave as you. But you said something that I want you to repeat. You said you could not love a coward. Do you love one now?"
"Yes," Dante said, simply and honestly, for it was what was in his heart to say.
"The love of a brother?"
"No. The love of a brother means you would die for them. My love for you is one where I would die not once, but a thousand times for you."
"I don't deserve that kind of love, because I am a coward," Angelo said, pulling Dante towards him, "but I will take it. I will take it because you have shown me that there are some holes in the heart that can be healed."
They kissed, their first. Dante's fingers on Angelo's beard, Angelo wrapped his arms around Dante and pulled him into his lap. The kiss deepened, grew passionate, and Dante tasted the cigarette on Angelo's tongue, and his fire.
own on the steps, Caleb was eavesdropping on Dante and Angelo, as he had done every night, before he would creep into his old man's flat above.
He didn't understand much of what he heard, but he knew it sickened him. The anger in him that Derek had tamed, had returned, and he didn't know why. All he knew was that Dante was the cause it all. He lit his loaded glass pipe and sucked down its smoke.
You are better than that? Dante had said that to him. What did that even mean? Better than what? Mr Fucking-High-Almighty, that's what he was. Thought himself a big man. Well, he would show him.
He had spread as much malicious gossip about the faggot as he could; it made him feel better, even if his friends would still go to Dante's door for food. He told them that Dante prayed to the Devil and was a kiddie fiddler, a pervert of the lowest calibre. But his friends had just laughed at him.
And Caleb didn't like to be laughed at.
His ears perked up at the sounds coming from Dante's flat.
So, Angelo had finally succeeded in popping the faggot. He wasn't so high and mighty, after all. He was just like the rest of them.
He started to giggle as the crack took effect.
ante held Angelo close, stroking one hand over his beard. Angelo's hands were stroking Dante's long hair affectionately.
"I have been thinking of getting my hair cut," Dante said.
"Really? It suits you."
"I keep it for a silly reason."
"I cannot imagine any reason of yours is silly," Angelo said.
"I keep it because these ends," he said taking the length of his hair from Angelo's hands, "were there when my Mama was alive. I haven't had the heart to cut them from me."
Dante had never confessed that out loud before, not even to himself, and tears came to his eyes. Angelo sighing, kissed him, shifted a little against him and their bodies slid together as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
"I wish I could take the pain of your Mama's loss from you, il mio cuore."
"But you have," he said, rocking into Angelo's body, wiping his tears. "It is what I am trying to tell you. You have filled me in ways I cannot express, for even my heart has not the words now."
Angelo caressed the small of Dante's back. "Like you filled me you mean?"
Dante rubbed his nose against Angelo's, and grinned. "I am not talking about the body, but the soul. A body is easy to fill, it takes mere attraction, but to fill a soul, Angelo, that takes love."
"Or to kill it," Angelo said, despite himself.
Dante pulled away to look at him. "Now, what do you mean by that?"
But Angelo said nothing, simply pulled Dante back into his arms and kissed his hair.
aleb was listening to Dante and Angelo so intently that he forgot the time.
"What are you still doing down there?"
He turned his head around to see Derek standing at the top of the steps. His demeanour was the one he hid away in his home; Caleb had never seen him break character outside before. With a mixture of fear and shock, he scrambled to his feet. His glass pipe dropped out of his hands.
"Shit. I was just- just-" he whispered, but Derek silenced him with a finger to his lips. He looked around to see if anyone had seen or heard them, then he indicated for Caleb to go in.
Caleb nodded obediently, and crawled up the steps into his old man's flat.
His pipe lay forgotten on the steps.
ante moved away from Angelo's embrace.
"Did you hear that?"
"It's the wind," Angelo said. "What does it matter?"
Once, it would have been in Dante's curious nature to go out and see, but this was a changed Dante. He shrugged. "Are you hungry? Shall I make you something?"
"I am hungry, but not for food," Angelo said with a smile, pulling Dante to him again.
"You are insatiable," he said, but was happy to oblige.
erek was seething with anger. Caleb had seen his old man unplugged before, but it was usually controlled.
"I am sorry," he pleaded, "I was just-"
Derek slapped the words out of his mouth. Slapped him again. And again.
With every hit to the face, Caleb hurtled further back until he landed against the front door.
"Don't touch me," he said without thinking, and put a hand to his mouth, as though to catch the words before they came out.
Too late. Derek slate eyes turned red. He grabbed Caleb and turned him around. Pulling down his bottoms, he ripped a hole in his soiled boxers, to reveal Caleb's cheeks. "Oh God, please. It's not healed yet. Pleaseeeee-argheee." But his pleas turned into a high pitched squeal as Derek entered him, fully, with a fist punch. One punch after another. Caleb squealed until he fainted.
ante had fallen asleep in Angelo's arms, and Angelo was glad.
So he wouldn't hear the noises from above them.
Angelo heard Caleb's muffled voice. He heard the banging. Then came Caleb's squeals. It sounded as though they were slaughtering a piglet up there. It reminded him of his family farm at Easter, when his father would kill a pig for the tradtional feast.
Angelo hated Caleb, but even he had started to feel sorry for him. He'd had a brief relationship with him when they had first met, but then Caleb had a brief relationship with everyone. It was his way of saying hello and making friends. Then he would make enemies, by turning his friends against each other with his gossip, and watch them fight over him.
Caleb's relationship with the old man living above Dante was a badly kept secret now. Everyone knew about it, but no one spoke about it. The old man was sick, though not in the way Caleb had told them. He wasn't sick in the head, he was sick in the heart. But his family had money and connections that even his bosses feared.
Then the squealing stopped. Could the whole street hear it? Angelo wondered. But had anyone heard, who would call the police? And if they called, would the police come? He highly doubted it.
He watched Dante sleeping in his arms. And he was glad.
He started to reach for his cigarettes, but decided against it. He didn't want to wake him.
Dante. He had not expected to fall in love with him. But who could spend any time with him, and not fall in love with his openness, kindness, his decency? He was like a bright light in a long dark night.
A night he wished he could escape for both of them.
ngelo woke to the smell of frying bacon.
He stretched, a stupid grin on his face. He called out, "Dante?"
"I am making us breakfast, Angelo," came his voice from the kitchen.
"Come here," he said, grabbing his packet of cigarettes.
"You smoke too much," Dante said, walking in to the bedroom. "Are you hungry?"
"Always," he grinned, putting a cigarette to his lips. "I said, come here."
Dante tilted his face down to look into his eyes, and a pang of guilt hit Angelo in the heart. Would Dante forgive him if he knew the truth? There was nothing he wouldn’t do for Dante, he realised, and right now here, alone, lying on his bed, he shivered suddenly from the thought of his loss.
"Are you okay?" Dante asked him, looking concerned.
Angelo threw the unlit cigarette from his mouth, and smiled. He wanted to forget the outside world. He grabbed Dante and pulled him on to the bed. He would make Dante forget, too.
"The breakfast will burn," Dante protested.
"There's other things I would rather we do than talk about breakfast," he said.
aba Mamba was not happy.
That was getting to be a regular occurrence these days. Ever since the Devil came to Downland.
He gave a loud groan as he finished in Caleb's mouth.
Caleb got off his knees, and with a wide grin, licked his lips.
"This won't look good if the old man finds out," Baba Mamba said with a grunt, zipping himself up. "For you, that is."
"Whose gonna tell him?"
They were at the Coke n' Poke. It was empty these days, with the crowd camping outside Dante's flat.
"I can keep a secret, if you can, Baba."
"Uh-huh. You can keep yours, but can you keep mine, pretty boy?"
"I've always been loyal to you. Not like Angelo."
Baba Mamba stopped at the name of his right-hand man. "Angelo is loyal to me. And he doesn't have to get on his knees to prove it."
"Well, that's not what I've been hearing of a night down at that faggot's flat. He's brainwashed him or did some sort of voodoo on him. Angelo is head over heels with that weirdo."
"You lie, boy. He's keeping the Devil quiet, ain't he? Bringing him to our side like the old man wants."
"You better make sure Angelo isn't giving away our plans and making his own pact with the Devil of Downland," Caleb said, as he got on his stolen bike, and careful not to sit down, road away, waving back as though he hadn't a care in the world.
reakfast for kings.
Dante placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Angelo.
Angelo began to eat. "You make the perfect scrambled eggs," he said. "Never from a microwave."
Dante looked aghast at even the mention of such a thing. "A microwave is to reheat, never to cook. And even then, rarely."
A kitchen came to life, when its stove breathed fire. And a kitchen with no life, meant a home without a beating heart.
Watching Angelo eat, he realised that while the kitchen was the heart of a home, the man you loved was the heart of your family.
"Speak," said Angelo. "Tell me what is in your heart."
So, Dante told him. He told him of his past, too. Told him of Lorenzo. Told him of being shunned by his village. Of every detail he had not shared with him before. He left nothing out.
"You see, my strange ways? The mistakes I made? How I cannot lie? How I cannot forgive?"
Angelo had listened all that time without saying anything. He had finished his breakfast and lit a cigarette. While Dante spoke, Angelo never once took his eyes off him.
He asked, "Did you love Lorenzo?"
"Yes, but obviously not as much as you. I could not change for him. I changed for you. I could not even change for my parents. And this upsets me."
Angelo shook his head. "You did not change for me. You just opened your heart to love. You understand?"
Dante shook his head. Angelo stood up and walked over to him. He began to place tiny kisses all over Dante's face as he spoke.
"You did nothing wrong, they did. The villagers were wrong to shun you. Lorenzo should never have left you. It wasn't you, my darling, it was them. Your heart knew this. Our Mama knew this."
Each word kissed upon Dante's skin, served to seal Angelo into his soul. He wrapped his arms around him.
Angelo whispered in his ear, "You change now, not to change who you are, but because of who you are."
Dante moved back to look deep into Angelo's blue eyes. How could this man know him better than himself? Something fluttered inside him; it was the sound of his heart, telling him something he never thought he would hear it say. He loved this man as much as his Mama and Papa; there were now three people that he loved more than anything in the world.
And he was right, he could not lie for him, or change who he really was. He had just opened his heart to love. That wasn't to change who you were, but to find someone who would accept you for who you were.
"Your only mistake," Angelo said in that soft-spoken way of his, "is that you wear the mistakes of others like a crown of thorns. Let me remove that crown for you now, and replace it with mine. One of my undying love."
"Oh, Angelo. I was wrong to say I would die a thousand times for you. I would die a thousand times a thousand for you."
Angelo laughed. "What is all this talk of dying? Let's live, my darling. I mean, really live."
Suddenly, Angelo's burner phone rang. His expression changed to a frown, but he answered it. He only spoke to say "Okay" and the line went dead. He sighed. "I have to go," he said.
Dante nodded. " I understand. But your bosses work you too hard, my love. Can they not give you a holiday?"
Angelo's happy expression returned to his face. He hugged Dante, and then took his hand and led him to the front door. He opened it and led him through it.
Dante asked, "What are you doing?"
"You are right about me being a coward, my love. But let me, just this one time be brave for you."
He walked out with Dante, into the bright morning sunshine, hand in hand.
Caleb was sitting in his usual place on the steps, breathless from having biked so hard to get back from the Coke n' Poke to eavesdrop on them. His mouth dropped along with his glass pipe, when he saw Dante and Angelo come out together.
They both ignored Caleb, as Angelo took Dante's face with both hands and gave him a deep, long kiss on the lips. "See you tonight, my love."
Dante nodded, and watched him walk down the street, and did not go in until he saw him turn the corner, and go out of his sight.
He then promptly went inside without even giving the boy on the steps a second glance.
erek watched Dante and Angelo kiss from the usual safe distance of his kitchen window above.
Although you wouldn't know it to look at him, he was not happy.
He was very angry, in fact. And getting impatient.
He picked up his smartphone and tapped out a phone number on its screen. He put it to his ear and waited for it to ring.
When the line picked up, he spoke with his usual, emotionless tone.
"Hello, Mum," he said.
aba Mamba was not happy.
To say he was royally pissed would be an understatement, in fact.
He had gathered a few of his entourage to the Coke n' Poke after Caleb had left. They waited for Angelo. But the mood was not the usual one of knights waiting to greet one of their best to the round table.
There was something rotten in the state of Camelot.
When Angelo walked under the bridge, whistling his usual Italian folk song, no one looked at him. He sensed there was something wrong, but greeted them all with his usual smile and cigarette smoke.
"You okay, Baba?"
"Things are going too slow, my brother."
"What things?"
"You still haven't cut the Downland Devil's horns off from what I hear. Should we move on to Plan C?"
Angelo's eyes flashed a dark blue when he heard Dante described in this way. But he said nothing, except to reply in that usual soft tone of his, "Dante is no longer a problem. He is on our side."
Baba Mamba shook his head, slowly, from one side to the other. "Wrong answer, brother. That wasn't the plan. It wasn't part of our deal."
"What was our deal, Baba? He stays at home and waits for your right-hand man every night. He feeds the hungry amongst your people during the day. What harm is he doing to anyone?"
Before Baba Mamba could respond, his burner phone rang.
He answered the call. He didn't speak to the female voice on the other end of the line. But his expression changed. And when he ended the call, he walked over to Angelo. He bent down deliberately slow, and got into his face.
"The plan is to put him on crack, smack or whatever shit will work him into a stable animal or innkeeper. I don't care which. Just turn him into a Caleb."
"You will never be able to turn Dante into Caleb. They walk different paths. Bad things happen to all of us, but we choose our own path. Caleb, and me, and all of us chose the easy path out of our pain. Dante has chosen the hardest path out of his. He will die before he let's you turn him into that squealing pig."
"Then he will die," Baba Mamba said.
"You mean the plan was to destroy him?" For the first time since anyone had known Angelo, he raised his voice. "Tell me, who amongst has Dante not fed? And what has he asked for in return? And is this the thanks we now give him? To kill him while he lives? To take away his every joy, and for what? Simply for being who he is?"
"I don't call the shots for this one brother. It goes up very high, so high, even I can't see the talking head for the clouds."
"Capito. I get it."
"Then you'll do it? You're the only one who can."
"What do you mean?"
"I wouldn't kiss that fucker in the light of day. They might call me the Devil's concubine."
Caleb, Angelo thought. It could have only been Caleb that told Baba. Who else would have seen them that would care? But how did the news travel so fast?
"It is best you give me a knife to cut my own wrists. I am no one's concubine and neither is Dante. Would you kill the one you loved if I asked it of you? Would you sacrifice your baby mama?"
"It's not the same."
"It is the same, for me, and you know it!"
Everyone in the tunnel fell silent, as Angelo's words reverberated back to them. The knights looked down, embarrassed. They had all, sometime or another, in one form or another, engaged in sex with their male friends, but no spoke about it openly. No one framed it in terms of love. Or thought of it as normal. It was just a side effect of the drugs.
"You've changed, brother Angelo." Baba Mamba said, after a while. "Then you will step out of the way, and let Caleb do what you don't have the balls to do."
Angelo pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, put it to his lips. His soft spoken manner returned. "Can we not pretend that we have done it? I will buy the crack for him and take it myself if I have to."
"Justice seen to be done? Nah, brother, justice has to be done."
"Justice? Justice for who, for what? I don't understand it."
"Like all of us. It's not your place to understand. There's no right or wrong to it. You follow orders, or else."
Angelo took a slow, long last drag of his cigarette and then threw it away. He asked the question, but he knew the answer. Had been too long in the game. "Or else?"
"An example has to be made. A message has to be sent." Baba Mamba clicked his fingers, and his knights stood to attention. They began to pull down their pants. Some had bought tools to do what they physically could not do without the drugs.
"Do not do this my friend. Kill me if you must, but for the sake of your own soul, do not do this."
"Was it not you that said everything gets you in the end? Even love, my brother? Well, see it this way. I'm doing this out of love."
Angelo's eyes flatlined. Dante couldn't be turned into Caleb. But he could. And they all knew it. And once the deed was done, he would never be able to face Dante again. Or anyone, but in a world like this, again. Resigned to his fate, he took off his crucifix and handed it to Baba Mamba.
Dante had been right about him. He was a coward. Just another Lorenzo to walk in and out of his life.
"This is my mother's. Will you see Dante gets it? If anything I have ever done for you means anything, can you at least do that for me?"
Baba Mamba took the crucifix and hung it around his own neck, but he didn't say anything.
Then the beatings and the gang rape began.
It went on for hours.
It was said afterwards that they got Angelo high on a mixture of drugs to soften his punishment. He'd been one of theirs, after all. No one knew the truth of it, but out of respect for their greatest knight, many of Baba Mamba's people never went back to the tunnel again.
ante did not hear the sound of Angelo's whistling that night. See you tonight. That's what he had said. And Angelo had always come. So, he worried and waited. The next night, and the next, but still Angelo did not come to his door.
Dante went out to look for him. Went to the spots Angelo had told him about. Called out his name. But he did not answer.
He asked the homeless and the desperate, the ones he had shared food with, if they knew where Angelo was, but they would not speak to him. They shunned him now, and would not accept his charity.
He then asked for Shantel, the Queen of Sheba. Who? We don't know anyone by those names, they said.
"Well, you know Baba Mamba," he would say. "Where is he? Tell him to come to my door. I wish to talk to him."
He would get no response. But he would keep asking.
One day, Baba Mamba knocked at his door.
"I hear you've been asking for me," he said.
Dante did not smile, or ask him in. He simply asked, "Where is Angelo?"
Baba Mamba smiled. "With me."
"Is he with you willingly?"
Baba Mamba did not reply, so Dante took a step towards him, and said, "If you are holding him against his will, I will find him, and then I will come and find you."
Baba Mamba took a step back in surprise. Dante's face, his eyes, had changed.
"I don't keep him in a cage," Baba Mamba said, finally, opening up his white puffa jacket, slowly.
Dante noticed Angelo's crucifix around his neck.
"That is Angelo's. Why do you have it?"
"He gave it to me. He's my boyfriend now. So, careful who you kiss in public, eh?"
Dante nodded, realised then, that Baba Mamba was still Angelo's master. "If that is true, then be good to him," was all he said.
Dante shut his door, but he did not shut up his heart.
He played his music, sang his songs, and cooked his food. He would not give up the life God gave him, so easily, or his love for Angelo. He consoled himself that, although the truth of Angelo's absence had hammered a nail into his heart, he would keep it there to hang the pictures of his memories. And, like his Mama's picture on the wall, he would wake up every morning and talk to him.
"Good morning, my love. Wherever you are, I wish you well."
It was the way Dante was made; he did not shout his suffering to the world, but endured his personal pain as secretly as he openly displayed his love and honesty. Just by looking at him, no one would ever know that he grieved for Angelo every day.
He grieved, but he did not regret. Angelo's loss had taught him that caring for someone meant caring for yourself. Like Christian charity, it brought its own reward. So, one day, when a stray black cat with deep blue eyes appeared on his door step, he took him in, fed him, and gave him a home.
It was a sign, he decided. In Angelo's absence, he would care for this new Luna, and pray that one day, Angelo himself would come back around some corner in his life, whistling his arrival and his love.
Published 26 April, 2026
