This Time for Real by Yahrah St. John

stepfather, Joe Johnson.

Chapter 7
    E ven though time had aged Joe with lines, wrinkles and a receding hairline, Malik would never forget the evil bastard’s face. Except that now Joe Johnson no longer intimidated him. Malik wasn’t the same nine-year-old who’d quivered in the corner of a closet hoping Joe wouldn’t find him. He not only equaled Johnson in physique, he was also several inches taller.
    â€œMalik, it’s good to see you.” Joe extended his hand as if Malik would shake it. Instead, Malik glared at him.
    Joe continued speaking. “I saw the humanitarian article about you in the Manhattan Weekly and heard you needed a corporate sponsor.”
    Malik found his voice. “And why would what I need matter to you?” He hadn’t heard a word from Joe or his mother after they’d failed to show up for the hearing that would place him permanently in child protective services. His own mother had wiped herhands clean of him when he was only ten years old, because that’s what Joe Johnson had wanted. Several years ago, he heard she’d died of cervical cancer. He’d been so angry at her for all the hurt she’d allowed to be inflicted on him that he hadn’t attended the funeral, all because of this man.
    Malik’s mind sprang back to an incident that had happened when he was nine years old and had stayed out after dark. When he returned, Joe punched him in his face and blood had poured out of his nose and lips. He’d lived in constant fear and loneliness. He wanted to die at first, but thankfully the law had stepped in. He guessed that after too many black eyes, broken arms and hand prints around his neck where Joe had choked him into submission, there had been enough evidence for his teachers to call Department of Children’s Services.
    â€œI thought my company, Johnson Construction, might be able to help you out. As you can see, I’ve done quite well for myself.” Joe motioned to the tailored slacks, blazer and Rolodex watch he was wearing.
    â€œI don’t want nor do I need any help from you.”
    â€œOh c’mon, Williams.” Joe circled Malik. “I see it like this. I help you.” He poked Malik in the chest. “By renovating this dump for free and in turn you give me all future construction work at the community centers. It’s a win-win situation.”
    Fury boiled inside Malik’s veins and he thought he would explode. “Do you honestly think I’d ever accept anything from you?”
    â€œNo, but your center is in desperate need of money, isn’t it?” Joe asked testily. “Well…I can help.”
    â€œI would never let a wife-beater and a child-abuser anywhere near this center. Now get out!” Malik yelled and pointed to the door. “And don’t ever come back.”
    â€œHow dare you talk to me like that, you little snot-nosed punk?” Joe took a threatening step towards Malik.
    â€œDon’t even try it, Joe,” Malik warned. His eyes were as cold as steel as he spoke. “You’re not the man you once were, and if you ever lay another hand on me, I promise you it will be your last move.”
    â€œSo you’re all high and mighty, now that you’re over this center. Well, I remember when you were nothing but a crying little wuss begging for his mama to save him and I had to teach you a lesson.”
    Malik had heard enough and lunged at Joe shoving him up against the wall.
    â€œOhmigod!” Malik heard Loretta gasp from behind him, but he didn’t care. He held his arm firmly up against Joe’s throat, restricting his air passage. He’d waited a lifetime to show Joe Johnson what he was made of, and there was no time like the present. When Joe began to fight, Malik squeezed down harder.
    Suddenly, Andrew walked through the center doors. When he saw Malik choking the man, he rushed over and pulled Malik off, but Malik lunged for Joe