Angel's Revenge (12 page)

“But, yo. I need to holla at you after the wake, aiight?”

“Don’t worry, Duke. You can talk to Young World about it later.”

Duke looked at Lana like she was crazy.
Shortie’s fucked up for real. She looks good though
, he thought as he eyed her bangin’ frame.

“Can we see my World now, Mommy?” she asked, like a child wanting to open her Christmas gifts early.

Her mother could only nod and lead her down the aisle to the casket.

“I’m so sorry, Lana.”

“I’m here for you, girl.”

“Be strong.”

The words spoken to her by her friends had no impact. Lana approached the casket holding her mother’s hand. She imagined that
she was in church, wearing a Cinderella-white gown, heading for the altar where Young World stood holding his hand out to
her.

She peered into the softly cushioned casket at World’s face and slowly the room began to spin around her. The veil that protected
her from reality had been snatched away, leaving her heart naked to the truth. There would be no wedding, no sandy beach honeymoon,
no church. World was dead.

Dead.
The word echoed in her head and all she could do was stare. Lana’s mind flashed back to the day they met, their first kiss,
the first time they made love, the pain, the pleasure, the tears, the laughter. She remembered the last thing he said.

I promise.

Her body began to tremble. Her mother gripped her tighter.

“Steady, child. He’s with God now. You must be strong,” her mother said comfortingly.

Lana heard none of it. Her trembles became a bodily earthquake, like the moment before a volcanic eruption. It started as
a whimper.

“No… nooooo…” she moaned.

“Please, baby. It’s going to be okay.” Her mother tried to console her.

“No, no it’s not! It’s not ever going to be okay. How can you say something like that? It’s not okay! Nothing’s okay!”

Her mother pulled her close, but Lana shoved her away. The mourners stopped talking and socializing and turned their heads
toward the casket and Lana.

“You think you gonna take my World from me? You’re not. It’s not going to happen. It’s not going to happen!” she screamed.

Her mother was embarrassed and covered her face with her hands to wipe her own tears. It was a mistake she would regret for
the rest of her life, because she took her eyes off Lana long enough for Lana to dig into her purse and pull out a .25 automatic.
It was the .25 Young World always made her carry.

“You won’t take my World from me!” she screamed hysterically, pointing the gun at anyone near the casket.

“Get away from him!” Lana yelled, aiming the gun at Peaches, who jumped back.

“Lana, no! What are you doing?” Peaches begged through tears.

“Get away!”

Peaches grabbed Lana’s mother and pulled her away, but she kept reaching out to Lana.

“Lana, give me the gun, baby. Please. He’s gone now. He’s with God!”

“I want him with me!” Lana bellowed, backing toward the coffin.

No one knew what was going to happen, but within seconds Lana had climbed into the casket, raised the gun to her temple, and
fired a single shot into her brain. The gunshot reverberated through the stunned crowd. Her mother broke the silence with
a scream.

“Somebody get an ambulance!” Peaches yelled.

Lana’s bleeding head lay on Young World’s neck. World, Lana, and their unborn seed were gone.

Angel stood outside the funeral home as the EMT workers wheeled Lana’s white-sheeted body past her to the ambulance. People
lined the sidewalk, stunned and amazed. It was one thing to stand by your man. It was another to ride and die for a nigga.
No one could believe what Lana had done and everyone was talking about the tragic event that had unfolded in the funeral parlor.

Angel waited for Duke until he emerged from the building. When his eyes met Angel’s, she subtly beckoned him. He quickly crossed
the span between them.

“Crazy night, huh?”

“Crazy world.” She shrugged.

“Love makes a nigga do some crazy shit, right?”

“And what ’bout you?”

“Naw, how ’bout you?”

Angel grinned and blew out Newport smoke. “Kinda fucked up how World went out, yo.”

“Word, and you can believe it ain’t over. Niggas gonna bleed for this. We gonna rep son till the last man’s standing.”

“Come on, Duke. Who you think you talkin’ to? I can see it in your eyes. Now World’s out the way, you the man. What you care
about some bitch-ass nigga that got nodded on the toilet,” Angel asked, wiping her eye with the palm of her cigarette hand.

“You bein’ real disrespectful to my man. Watch yo’ fuckin’ mouth,” Duke warned, fronting like he really gave a fuck.

“Dig, Duke. If you wanna stand around and bullshit behind a fake-ass vendetta, then you wastin’ my time. Don’t worry, I ain’t
here to cause you no problems. I just want the bloodline represented right. So either you the man for the job or you ain’t.”

“Yeah, I’m the man. But what kind of job you got in mind?”

“Let’s ride and discuss the possibilities,” Angel suggested, throwing her cigarette into the street.

Duke glanced around, weighing the proposition. Angel was Dutch’s main shortie. To have her come fresh out the joint and ride
with him would let the streets know that his shit was official. But something about her vibe wasn’t right. Angel read right
through his hesitation.

“Nigga, it’s cold out here in more ways than one. Them same niggas that got World see you the same way. But wit’ me, you fuckin’
wit’ a vet, and niggas know it. The name Angel rings bells in these niggas’ hearts. So what’s it gonna be?”

She didn’t wait for a reply. She waved her arm and Goldilocks pulled up in an ’85 Cadillac Fleetwood. Angel approached the
car and opened the back door.

“You rollin’ or what?”

Duke walked over and got into the backseat. Angel closed his door, got into the front seat, and signaled for Goldilocks to
pull off.

“I double-checked that account personally. The check deposited on October 4 did not clear the system because of insufficient
funds. So when the customer checked his account and saw those as available, they actually hadn’t cleared the account. They
were merely posted on the account. Mr. Hamel doesn’t seem to understand.

“Uh-huh,” she added.

“Exactly. The check he deposited was no good and he should receive it in the mail within seven days once our system kicks
it out.

“You’re welcome,” she added before she hung up the phone and removed her Cartier frames. She pinched the bridge of her nose
with her middle finger and thumb. Being a bank manager wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. But she put up with it because
she was ambitious and had her eyes on bigger and better.

It wasn’t only about the money. It was mostly about the challenge of being a thirty-four-year-old black woman making her own
way in the lily-white world of finance. For the last year and a half, she had dived headfirst into her career, trying to fill
the void Dutch’s death left in her heart. She relived their last time together and her aborted trip to the courtroom over
and over. She went through the shoulda, coulda, woulda stages and finally left the what-ifs for the reality of what was. Dutch
was gone, and as painful as it had been, Nina had to continue with her life. Her career filled the void.

Until she met Dwight.

He was a mechanic and worked at a local body shop. She met him when her BMW needed body work after a minor fender bender.
He was a regular Joe, not into the streets or the game or the fast life. Dwight was a hardworking man. He worked a seventy-two-hour,
six-day workweek and watched football on Sundays. He didn’t feel intimidated because she earned more than he did, nor did
he try to exploit it and live off her. He viewed their relationship on equal terms and respected her independence.

All that, and he was fine.

Dwight wasn’t tall or muscular, but he did have big, strong hands that Nina loved to hold. He had a brown complexion, clean-cut
face, brown eyes with bushy eyebrows, and a charming smile that brightened even the cloudiest day.

Her day was going horribly, and she really needed to hear his voice. She picked up the phone but was interrupted by a knock
on the door.

“Miss Martin,” her secretary asked before entering.

“Come on in, Susan,” Nina sighed, wishing the day was over.

“You have a visitor. It’s Dwight,” Susan teased.

Nina beamed and hung up the phone. Dwight always seemed to have perfect timing.

“Sure, Susan. Show him in.”

Susan giggled as she closed the door behind her. A few seconds later, Dwight walked in and closed the door behind him. He
had taken half a day off and was dressed casually instead of in his work clothes.

“Gimme all the money and nobody’ll get hurt,” he joked, aiming a finger gun at her.

Nina laughed.

“On second thought, forget the money. Fine as you are, I’m takin’ you instead,” he charmed as he sat on the edge of her desk.

“Yeah, right,” Nina replied “Me over all the money in the bank? I don’t think so.”

“Well, maybe not all the money,” he said with a grin as she playfully hit him. “So how’s your day been? Lunch on me?” he offered.

“I wish. I’ve already got a lunch meeting scheduled at two-thirty.”

“So cancel it.”

“If only it was that simple.”

“It is,” he answered, staring her down with his pretty browns. He made her wish it was that simple.

“Anyway, I just dropped by to check on you.”

“So you’re checkin’ on me now?” Nina’s eyebrows arched playfully.

“Damn right, ’cause a brother ain’t takin’ nothing for granted when he’s got a woman like you.”

“Excuuuuuuse me,” she replied.

“You heard me,” he said as he studied her, expressing a bit of his concern. “You okay, baby? You look tired.”

“Long day, I guess.” Nina shrugged.

“Long? It isn’t even noon.”

“I know. This day is going to take forever to end.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got the remedy.”

He walked around the desk and got on one knee in front of her then patted his knee. “Put your feet right here.”

“Dwight, what are you up to?” she asked skeptically.

“What? I can’t give my lady a foot massage without twenty-one questions? Feet please, right here. That’s an order, not a request.”

“Yes, sir!” she said, saluting him jokingly.

Nina kicked off her tan leather pumps and placed her stockinged feet on his knee.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he crooned, using his strong hands to knead and rub the sole of her right foot. “Why keep
toes this pretty covered up?”

“Dwight, I’m a bank manager. No one is interested in seeing my toes.” She giggled.

He continued to soothe her spirit as he massaged her foot.

“This is all wrong.”

“What?”

“These stockings. You’re going to have to take them off.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your stockings. I can’t do this right with these stock—”

“Nuh-uh! See, I knew you were up to something,” she said, removing her feet from his knee.

Dwight lifted them back into place.

“No, no, for real. I can’t massage your feet like I could through this material,” he said, lying through his pretty smile.

Nina eyed him, but his gaze melted away her resolve.

“Foot massage, Dwight,” she reminded him.

“Scout’s honor, I’m telling the truth.” He smiled, holding up the two-fingered Boy Scout sign.

“Mmm-hmm,” she doubted, sliding her stockings down from under her blue skirt. “Your ass probably wasn’t even a Scout.”

Dwight chuckled as he slid the stockings all the way off. He began to work his magic, and Nina leaned back in her adjustable
chair, relaxed, and closed her eyes. She definitely needed the attention. Her pumps were murder on her feet.

“Feel good?” he questioned.

“Mmm-hmm,” she answered.

The feeling almost made her fall asleep, until she felt his tongue on her ankle, gently kissing along her calf muscle.

“See, I knew it,” she protested, but it felt so damned good. His expert tongue found her most sensitive spots along her inner
thigh and made her squirm in the chair. “Dwight, no! Not here,” she said weakly.

“Okay, how about here?”

She felt his breath tickle her flesh. He ran his tongue tantalizingly lightly across her clit.

Nina gripped the arms of the chair. He leaned her back, parting her inner flesh with his thumbs and probed her orally. She
couldn’t believe this was happening in her office. She felt like Samantha in
Sex and the City
.

Nina couldn’t take it anymore. She pulled his head up from between her legs and fumbled with his belt.

Dwight helped her by pushing his jeans down around his ankles and entered her all at once. The moment had her on fire as Dwight
filled her throbbing walls. He placed her legs on his shoulders and pounded her incessantly. It took all her will not to scream
out and alert everyone in the bank of what she was doing in her office. It was a hot and intense quickie. Nina exploded followed
by Dwight moments later. They lay slumped in the chair, huffing and puffing.

“Some foot massage,” Nina quipped.

Dwight laughed. “Hey, I’m a mechanic. All we do is body work, baby.”

For the rest of the day, Nina floated on cloud nine, beaming with happiness. The meeting was stress-free, and before she knew
it, it was time to go home. She parked her burgundy BMW in front of her newly purchased home in the Jefferson Park section
of Elizabeth. It was a modest-sized house that was just the right size for her needs.

She got out of the car just as two young children rode their bikes down the street. She could imagine herself coming home
to her own children. Her blossoming emotions could easily place Dwight in the role of the man waiting for her.

She unlocked the door and let her keys fall into her purse. Her future family thoughts were interrupted when she opened the
door and heard music playing. She stopped dead in her tracks and listened carefully. Music was coming from the living room.
It wasn’t loud, but it could be heard from the doorway. She entered the living room, realizing the song was Rolls Royce’s
“I’m Going Down.”