From Sinner to Saint

by Janice Jones

Genres: African American; African American Christian

Synopsis

Antonyo Ian Demonté Simms treats women as casually as most people treat their socks, changing them frequently. With the help of his aunt LaTrece, his mother's irresponsible twin sister, Antonyo learns how to use his good looks and charisma to win the hearts—and treasures—of a vast array of female companions. Each of these women thinks that she may just be the one who can turn this hot hunk into a husband, but Antonyo has no intention of changing his womanizing ways. The only woman Antonyo can't get over on is his no-nonsense mother, LaTrina. She struggles every day, trying to instill strong morals in her son and turn him into a good man, in spite of the example set by his deadbeat father. LaTrina gives her life to Christ, and as she grows in her relationship with God, she does all in her power to convince Antonyo to do the same thing. Antonyo is impressed with the new person his mother is becoming, but he's certain that his life is fine exactly the way it is. Can a mother's love and God's all-encompassing power, grace, and mercy change a young man from sinner to saint before Satan drags him into the pits of hell?

Release date: December 1, 2012

Publisher: Urban Christian

Print pages: 304

Sample

LaTrina and LaTreece Simms were beautiful, identical twins. They were tall, five feet seven inches, slim and curvy. They were medium brown in complexion, with big brown eyes. The only difference in their appearance was their hair. LaTrina kept her sandy brown locks long and naturally wavy, while LaTreece wore hers cut short and chemically straightened. The women’s looks, however, were where the similarities ended.

Antonyo was LaTrina’s only child. She worked very hard to raise him by herself. Sheldon, Antonyo’s sometimes to mostly-no-time daddy, barely put in an appearance. His financial efforts were laughable. Trina did the best she could, at times working up to three low-paying, menial jobs to support herself and her son, leaving very little personal time for the two of them to spend together.

LaTreece, on the other hand, had nothing but time. Even though she had three children to support, she had never worked a real job in her twenty-nine years. Treecie was a hustler. She sold marijuana from her home, styled hair in her basement without a license, was a welfare recipient, and always had a man or two on standby. Treecie had no earthly idea who fathered her youngest child, and there was no shame in her game about it.

LaTreece was all about the good time. Her small, rarely clean, but always crowded home was known as the party house. This was where Antonyo loved to be.

Since his mom worked so much, Antonyo often found himself in Treecie’s care. Trina was well aware of her sister’s derelict lifestyle, but daycare choices were limited for the impoverished single mother. The twins lived only three blocks from each other, one on Bentler and the other on Trinity, nestled in the Brightmoor Area, one of the worst neighborhoods in Detroit.

The mean streets of Detroit had not yielded any kindness to these ladies. The sisters had no one other than each other. Their mother had been beaten to death by a man who was fifteen years her junior, four days prior to Antonyo’s fourth birthday. The girls never knew their biological father, only a series of “uncles” that flitted in and out of their mother’s life.

Linda Simms, their mother, had been far from a shining example of motherhood. The twins practically raised themselves while their mother traveled from bar to bar searching for a sponsor for her and her daughters. And while there was never a shortage of men in her bed, Linda’s home had lacked everything else but roaches. At least two or three times a year the electricity and/or gas were shut off, the telephone stayed disconnected about half the year, and Trina and Treecie were lucky to receive one square meal a day.

Childhood was harsh and brief for these girls. By age fifteen, both girls had become pregnant and were forced to grow up quickly. School became a hindrance, as they needed the time allotted for class to figure out a way to make money to feed their babies. Welfare was their primary support system. Babysitting, braiding hair, delivering newspapers, working fast food, and seducing older men were secondary sources of income.

Trina eventually tired of the going-nowhere lifestyle after having her third abortion. Recognizing that she could barely take care of Antonyo, having another child was out of the question for her. While she was smart enough to identify her limitations as far as raising children, she was not as crafty about preventing the pregnancies from occurring.

When they left the clinic, she cried on the shoulder of her sister, older than her by seven minutes, who had accompanied her to her appointment. “Treecie, I can’t believe I just did this again. What kind of horrible person am I to kill three babies?”

“It’s okay, Trina. We all make mistakes and have problems. Just be glad God offers us solutions to help us fix our problems,” Treecie crooned as she rubbed her sister’s shoulder.

“Girl, you better stop. We may not be all holy and spiritual, but we both know that God does not want us to have abortions. No, Treecie. It is not that simple and I know it. Other women have normal lives, with normal families. They have husbands, good jobs, and they get excited when they find out they’re pregnant. I believe that is what God is about.”

“How would you know? You ain’t never set foot inside a church one day in your life. Mama’s funeral wasn’t even at a church, it was at the mortuary.” Treecie sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes at her naïve sister.

Becoming annoyed with her cynical sister, Trina lifted her head from Treecie’s shoulder and dried her eyes. “Well, that could be part of the problem. Maybe we should start going to church. Maybe somebody in there could teach us how to do life better than we are right now.”

At age nineteen, the day after she left the clinic following abortion number three, Trina enrolled herself in G.E.D classes and began trying to better her life. After obtaining her certificate, she was able to get work in the small factories that paid a little more than the fast food establishments. She found welfare demeaning, seeing as how it was never enough when she was a child, so she got off the system and instead worked her tail off to support herself and her son.

Approximately one year after receiving her G.E.D., Trina went to work at a video manufacturing plant, where she met a woman named Louise Fletcher. Ms. Louise was one of the kindest people Trina had ever encountered. No matter how bad the circumstances of her life, Ms. Louise never frowned, never seemed sad, never had a cross word for anyone. Even when her grandson was killed in a drive-by shooting, Ms. Louise managed to handle his death with courage and great strength.

Louise Fletcher was a confident child of God’s Kingdom. There was no shame in her game. While she was not pushy or preachy, she would tell anyone willing to listen how wonderful her Savior had been to her. During her work breaks and at lunchtime, people could always find Ms. Louise reading her Bible, some other spiritually educational material, or a Christian novel.

Trina found Ms. Louise’s pleasantness to be such a contrast to the world in which she lived and interacted; so much so that Trina’s curiosity was piqued. She found herself often wondering if being a Christian truly offered the contentment she saw in Ms. Louise.

While Trina admired the older woman’s confidence and strength from afar, she never had the nerve to inquire of her how she could go about achieving these qualities for herself. She did, however, purchase a King James Bible for herself at a dollar store, and tried reading it at home with the intention of starting at the beginning and working her way through. Unfortunately, she found the language hard to understand, so she quickly grew disinterested in what she was trying to accomplish. Trina assumed her inability to relate to what she read stemmed from her only having a G.E.D. versus having completed high school in the normal manner.

One afternoon during their shared break, Trina took a look at the Bible Ms. Louise was reading, finding a difference between her own and her co-worker’s. This she was bold enough to ask about.

“Ms. Louise, I bought a Bible the other day that says King James Version on it. I notice that your Bible says New International Version. Is there a difference between the two books?” Trina asked timidly.

“Both Bibles have the same information,” Ms. Louise told her, “but mine has been translated into a simpler language to read, is all. I would recommend all beginning Bible readers to start with a version other than the King James. It is good to have the original translation handy, but it sure is tough to understand sometimes.”

Ms. Louise was thrilled to hear that the young woman had begun reading the Bible, and she felt compelled to help her. “Here, you take my Bible. I have plenty more at home. This one is a little marked up, but you should find it much easier to read than the one you have.”

“I can’t take your Bible, Ms. Louise,” Trina stated, trying to refuse the generous offer.

“Oh, yes, you can. I insist. God wants us to help others to learn about Him. This is the best way I know for you to start and for me to help. I will also suggest you read the book of Proverbs first, then move on to the Psalms, which is right before the book of Proverbs. I think this is where all new learners should begin.”

Trina felt it would now be disrespectful not to accept Ms. Louise’s offer of assistance. She took the book and began studying in the exact manner Ms. Louise had recommended. Approximately two weeks later, Trina had left the video manufacturing plant for a better paying job at a different facility, but she took the memory of Ms. Louise’s disposition, as well as her advice on beginning Bible study, right along with her.

Her twin sister was less ambitious on both the career and spiritual levels, however. Treecie had her second child by age eighteen; number three by age twenty. These children were born in addition to three abortions of her own.

Darnell, her oldest and only son, was the same age as Antonyo. His father, Darryl, was about as supportive as Sheldon. Taraija (Ta-ray-ja) was ten. Her dad, Marcus, was a good man, a constant fixture in his daughter’s life. Eight-year-old Tianca was the baby and had no man laying claim to her as his child. Oddly, Treecie found this aspect of her and her daughter’s life amusing.

“Girl, I can’t tell you which one of them trifling Negroes I was dealing with at the time is my baby’s sorry daddy. That was a particularly busy time in a young pimpstress’s life. I was juggling three or four of them fools back then.” This was the reply she would give with a laugh to anyone who inquired about Tianca’s paternity.

Treecie would drink and smoke weed on any given day, but not every day. Despite her obviously rowdy lifestyle and her questionable ways of providing, she loved her children and her nephew. They were her first priority.

Treecie temporarily lost custody of her children as a result of a Child Protective Services investigation. The kids were placed in the care of their aunt Trina for three days while Treecie awaited a hearing with a judge regarding the incident that led to the children’s removal.

Treecie’s boyfriend, Tevin, had been visiting when the police and Tevin’s ex-girlfriend came to Treecie’s home with an arrest warrant for Tevin. While Treecie watched television in the living room and the children played in the back bedroom, Tevin was in the basement making crack cocaine.

Treecie opened the door at the insistence of the police officer’s knock, and the first thing she saw as she looked beyond the officers was Caryn, Tevin’s ex, sitting in her car directly in front of Treecie’s home.

“I know that heffa did not roll up to my house like she a welcome visitor. I just know she didn’t.” She immediately disregarded the officers standing on her porch, along with anything they had to say, setting her sights on getting to the woman who had nerve enough to show up at her home, with police escorts, no less. Needless to say, there was bad blood between the two females.

Treecie approached Caryn’s vehicle, tongue ablaze. “Did you forget your address, wench? ’Cause if you did, I’m here to set you straight. You don’t live here, so you better get going before I let loose and act a fool out here in front of these police officers.”

“Ma’am, I need you to go back inside of your house,” said the officer who followed Treecie to the car.

“I am not afraid of you. I am here to make sure that your boyfriend is arrested for putting his filthy hands on me. So, unless you want to join him in jail, I suggest you get away from my car, stupid,” Caryn shot back boldly, feeling brave because of the officer’s presence. She and Treecie had exchanged unpleasant words before over Tevin, but never had Caryn been so courageous.

Her new bravado only served to infuriate Treecie. Before the officer who followed had a chance to stop her, Treecie pulled Caryn from the car and the two started fighting. The police officer immediately got between the scuffling women. When he looked to the porch to summon his partner’s assistance, he discovered that he was no longer there. He assumed correctly that he had gone inside the house, where he found Tevin with his stash.

Tevin was arrested and charged with assault and battery on his baby’s mama, the initial reason for the police visit, and possession with intent to distribute drugs. Treecie was also arrested and charged with assault on Tevin’s baby’s mama, and conspiracy in the drug-related charges against Tevin. The children were taken into protective custody, where Trina was able to retrieve them after several hours.

After posting bond on the criminal charges, Treecie was released the following day, but was unable to get her kids back until she saw a judge two days later. During the hearing, she convinced the judge she was unaware of Tevin’s activities in her basement. Treecie told the judge she would never approve of such behavior while her children were home. The family court judge gave Treecie the benefit of the doubt and returned the children to her, pending the outcome of the criminal charges.

In the criminal case, the conspiracy charge was dropped and Treecie was eventually given six months probation on the assault charges. Tevin was sentenced to a much harsher punishment, and Treecie never saw him again.

Shortly after Treecie’s brush with the law, Taraija’s dad sought and won physical custody of his daughter. Marcus used every negative aspect of Treecie’s life against her in family court. The facts of Treecie’s life were his weapons. His attorney told the court that fact one: all three children had different fathers, one unknown. Fact two: Treecie had no actual job to speak of and no education. Fact three: there was always a constant barrage of men in and out of her home and around his client’s daughter. Fact four: the child’s mother was now a convicted criminal. Treecie tried denying the validity of Marcus’s claim, but proved less successful in family court than she had been in the initial protective custody hearing. These four truths were all the ammunition Marcus needed to gain full custody of his daughter.

When Taraija left to live with her dad, Antonyo took it especially hard. The two were very close.

This was life for Antonyo, minimal stability on the part of his dad and aunt, and minimal quality time spent with his overworked mother. School was not challenging enough, offering only a part-time distraction, and Antonyo had seen and heard too much about the mean streets to even consider taking the route to thug-dom. Still in his early teens, young Antonyo waded in limbo, bored, confused, and in search of a beginning to his identity.

Leave it to Aunt Treecie to help him discover where his true talents lay. . . .

Antonyo was a very handsome boy. His female classmates and all the young girls in his neighborhood all agreed that he was the cutest boy in both places. He stood tall for his thirteen years, almost six feet. His skin was deep brown and flawless, something else unusual. Most boys his age were plagued by acne. He wore his hair cut short and tapered close to his head. Antonyo possessed the most expressive big brown eyes and a million-watt smile.

Antonyo had yet to realize the power he carried as a result of his physical beauty. The genuine cluelessness he wore like cologne only fueled the underdeveloped desires of the adolescent groupies in school and around the neighborhood. His naïve demeanor kept him approachable and down to earth. Even at his tender age, he garnered a great deal of attention—attention he was oblivious to.

Treecie recognized her nephew’s potential and talents and insisted that he take full advantage of his capability. Treecie took it upon herself to clue Antonyo in to his magnetism during one of his visits to her home.

“Yo, Tony! Auntie need to holler at you for a second. You know that cow Jasmine that be trying to hang around here?” Treecie asked him as they sat on the sofa watching television. Antonyo nodded his head, acknowledging that he knew her.

“Well, she been asking about you like she want to get with you. Now, that girl is too old for you, and she nasty. She done already slept with all the boys around here her own age, so I guess she trying to find her some fresh meat.”

This bit of news excited Antonyo to no end. He thought Jasmine was very pretty. He really enjoyed seeing her when she would come over to hang out with his aunt and watch music videos on television. She always got up and danced around the living room, imitating the moves she saw the females performing on the screen. In his opinion, Jasmine was fabulous.

“How old is she, Auntie?” he inquired innocently.

“She sixteen, why? You want to holler at her?”

“If she likes me, why not?”

“Uh-oh! Look at my nephew trying to be a young pimp. Look, li’l man, if you do get with that tramp, make sure she gives you some of the McDonald’s money she making. Since she the one interested in you, make her take care of you. Know what I mean?”

Antonyo stared at his aunt, baffled. Though his knowledge of women was limited and secondhand, he was sure it was supposed to be the other way around. In his estimation, the man should take care of the woman.

“Auntie, I thought the guy was supposed to lace the girl. I don’t see you running around giving guys no money.”

“And you never will. However, nephew, you got it. You have something special that make these young chicken heads want to fight over you, throw themselves at you. You might not realize it yet ’cause you still young, but Auntie Treecie gon’ school you on the fine art of pimping.”

That day, the lessons began.

Three days later, Treecie arranged a date between thirteen-year-old Antonyo and sixteen-year-old Jasmine. They met at Treecie’s house, where she set up a romantic scenario in her basement. She made a small dinner of fried chicken, boxed macaroni and cheese, a tossed salad, and 7-Up soda. The pop looked like champagne in the plastic cups. Treecie covered a card table with clear plastic plates, utensils, and a cheap floral tablecloth.

Antonyo neglected to inform Trina he would be experiencing his first date this evening. She was working again. Antonyo only told her he would hang out at his aunt’s house until she got off work, and asked her to pick him up on her way home.

Antonyo arrived at Treecie’s before Jasmine. After inspecting his aunt’s handiwork, he found himself truly impressed with his aunt’s decorative work and choice of foods. Armed with the ammunition Treecie had given him in the form of information about women, Jasmine in particular, he was sure he was ready to win her over with his charm.

When Jasmine arrived, Antonyo greeted her at the door with a slight kiss on the cheek. He took her by the hand and led her into the house. “Auntie, Jasmine is here. Please come and say hello.”

“You look nice, Tony,” Jasmine said as they waited for Treecie to come from the back room, where she and her children were watching television.

“Thank you. So do you. You smell very nice, too,” he replied as he gave her a small peck on the lips.

Treecie caught this action just as she stepped into the living room. “All right. All right. Don’t be freaking each other all up in my living room. Y’all can take that mess in the basement.” She gave them both a hug then ushered the two kids downstairs.

In the basement, Antonyo turned on the charm. He held Jasmine’s hand and led her to the chair, pulled it out for her, and helped her into her seat. After settling himself into his own chair, he started small talk while he prepared each of their plates. He played the part of the perfect gentleman, just as his aunt had taught him.

“How was school today, Jasmine?” he asked his date as they ate.

“Don’t know. I’m not really in school right now.”

“Why not?” Antonyo asked innocently.

“I got kicked out about a month ago for cussing out my English teacher. I just never bothered to get back in,” she said nonchalantly.

“Does your mother know you don’t go to school? My mother would kick my butt if I stayed out of school a month.”

“Well, my mother doesn’t really care what I do. As long as I go to work and give her some money from time to time for her beer, she straight.” Jasmine laughed lightly. “Besides, school is no big deal to me anymore. I’ve already completed up through the tenth grade. How much more can they teach me?” She shrugged her shoulders casually and went back to eating her meal.

Antonyo thought about not being in school, being free to do whatever he wanted all day long. He then pondered the beat-down his mother would give him and realized those thoughts were too costly.

Trina may not have been too strict on him in other areas, but she was adamant about school. She was determined that her son receive a high school diploma, even if it meant beating him through every class, every year until he graduated. As a matter of fact, any whippings he ever received were a result of something he did or did not do in school. He would skip a class or two on occasion, but he made sure it was never enough to warrant his teachers having to call his mother.

They finished the rest of their meal mostly in silence, with the exception of Antonyo making the small talk his auntie had told him to make. Antonyo removed the used dishes from the table and took them upstairs to the trash. He returned and made a big show of clearing the table of the plastic cloth and wiping it clean. This was not part of the game he learned from Aunt Treecie, though. It was a lesson he had acquired from his mom. He was great at keeping their home clean.

Jasmine was very impressed with the actions of this young boy. “Can I help you do something?” she asked.

“No. You are my guest. It’s my job to serve you today,” he smoothly replied.

Once he completed the minor cleaning, Antonyo escorted Jasmine to Treecie’s beat-up sofa nestled in the basement area designated as the den. When they were comfortably seated, he located the remote control and turned on the television.

“Is there something you want to see on TV, or would you prefer to watch a DVD?” he asked.

“What movies do you have?”

“I need to go upstairs and check in my aunt’s room. I’ll be right back.” Antonyo went to Treecie’s room to inquire about her movie collection. “Aunt Treecie, she wants to watch a movie. What should we watch?”

Treecie got up from the bed and went to her closet, where she pulled out a box containing a vast array of movies. She had just the title in mind that would play into her scheme of teaching her nephew to mack a young girl. As she rummaged through the box, she hoped she had not misplaced or loaned out the particular movie she had in mind. . . .