Angel's Revenge (17 page)

Rahman checked his rearview mirror several times and made the unnecessary wrong turns until he was certain he wasn’t being
followed. He took the same precautions every night and he wasn’t being followed.

Or so he thought.

He pulled up to his spacious but modest home. It wasn’t far from Newark and offered a peacefulness that Newark couldn’t provide.
The house was a two-story, five-bedroom brick structure with a large basement that he used for study and prayer.

Rahman entered his home and smiled at the sounds of Ayesha being Mommy.

“Ali! Where is your other shoe and why is this one on the wrong foot?”

“Aminah got it!” Ali squealed.

“Aminah!”

Rahman went into the living room and greeted his family, but Ayesha detected a problem.

“Ali, go get your shoes, boy, and put them on,” Ayesha ordered.

“Okay, Mommy,” he replied, hobbling off in search of his sister with his other shoe.

Ayesha laced her fingers around Rahman’s neck.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Rahman responded, not realizing his face had betrayed his mental state.

Ayesha smirked knowingly. “That knot in your brow.”

“What knot? I’m smilin’,” he said, putting on a happy face.

“Every smilin’ face ain’t a happy face.”

“Being home makes me happy.”

She saw that he was being evasive, so she changed the subject.

“Are you hungry? I made hamburgers for the kids, but I could whip you up something.”

“A burger would be fine. In fact, let me serve you tonight, my queen,” he said, and scooped her up in his arms and carried
her into the kitchen.

“And to what do I owe this honor?” she asked, although she wasn’t surprised. Rahman was a wonderful husband who never forgot
the little things.

He sat her at the kitchen table.

“It’s the way of the Prophet, peace be upon him. He helped his wives with household chores, right?”

“True… which reminds me, the dishes need washing, too.” She giggled.

Rahman took four burgers out of the skillet and put them on buns. He sat down with Ayesha, breaking off a piece of burger
and placing it gently in her mouth.

“Oh, I know what this is.” Ayesha chewed.

“What is it?”

“You must know I saw your little girlfriend today.”

Rahman chuckled because he knew who she was referring to, Miss Grownie Pants. He also knew Miss Grownie Pants had a crush
on him. He guessed his wife knew it, too.

“My little girlfriend? I have no girlfriends, only a wife. But I’m sure you think you know something, so please tell me,”
he answered as Ayesha placed a piece of burger in his mouth.

“ ‘
Oh, tell Rahman thank you so much. The kids loved the toys and they thank him so much. He’s a beautiful brother
,’ ” Ayesha mocked in a high-pitched voice. “Then she had the nerve to ask, ‘
Can’t a Muslim man have more than one wife?
’ ” Ayesha snapped.

“Can’t they though? You let her know, right?” he asked jokingly, laughing at his wife’s stunned expression.

“Don’t play with me, Rah. Please! I don’t want to have to hurt you,” Ayesha warned, narrowing her almond-shaped eyes into
evil slits.

“Yo, the presents weren’t given to that girl by me. They were donated. You know that. Brother Shamzadeen passed out presents
to all the single Muslim mothers. Besides, I ain’t even seen that girl. But guess who I did see?” he asked, changing the subject
to something relevant.

“Who?” Ayesha asked curiously.

“Angel.”

Ayesha glared at him. She knew what Angel was about, and she knew exactly what his seeing her meant.

“And?”

“And what? You know the rest ’cause you know Angel and you know me,” he said, shaking his head. “She down wit’ some kid named
Roll. Roll’s the same dude who murdered Shahid, or so the streets say. I don’t know.” He sighed.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Ayesha inquired with concern because she, too, could see the storm brewing.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“You already there, honey. You already there.”

Rahman checked his watch.

“It’s time for prayer. Go on and get the babies ready.”

Ayesha let it go, trusting her husband to do the right thing and trusting in Allah to show him the way.

“Look at this muthafucka here! They can’t fuck wit’ Marbury. That’s right, give it to ’em!” Roll exclaimed as Marbury dunked
the basketball and scored two points for the Knicks.

He, along with his wife, Renée, and Goldilocks sat in the luxurious skybox overlooking the arena at Madison Square Garden.
It was outfitted with the amenities of wealth, courtesy of Gutter Records, a label his man owned, thanks to Roll. Roll had
invested a lot of money in Gutter Records so his man gave him the skybox as a gift of appreciation.

Roll picked up a Cuban and lit it.

“I should buy a basketball team,” he said to no one.

Angel walked in and slammed the door. She went straight to the bar and poured herself a glass of Hennessey.

Roll glanced over his shoulder. “How’d it go?”

Angel eyed him over the rim of her tinted glasses. “That nigga really on that Muslim shit hard!”

Roll was amused. He thought prison had really broken Roc and mistook his change of allegiance for weakness.

“He’ll come around, though,” Angel assured him.

“I think it’s good what he’s doing. It’s about time somebody tried to do something to help the community and the poor,” Renée
declared.

Roll looked at her as if she was crazy. “The fuckin’ community, the fuckin’ poor?” He snorted. “Bitch, since you so concerned,
why don’t you donate some of those rocks you wearin’ on your fingers or that Benz you drivin’? Better yet, give the hood your
shoppin’ money. Why don’t you do something since you think this nigga is so great?” Roll suggested.

“Look, you don’t have to get smart. I was just sayin’ that it’s a good thing the man tryin’ to do something to help the black
community.”

“Renée, shut up,” Roll said, getting up. He walked over to the bar and sat next to Angel.

“So what’s the deal? He really tryin’ to clean up Newark? ’Cause if he come to my spots wit’ that bullshit, he can forget
it.”

“I said he’ll come around.”

“And what if he don’t? Then what? I’ll tell you what. He’s gonna be a problem. Shit, he already is.” Roll spat, dropping his
ashes into an ashtray on the countertop.

“I’ll take care of it,” Angel answered halfheartedly.

“Yeah, you gonna have to, ’cause if you don’t, I will,” Roll declared, then walked back to his seat to watch the game.

Angel couldn’t stand taking orders from Roll. He was obnoxious, fat, lazy, and arrogant for no reason. He had too many weaknesses,
but it wasn’t time to reveal her hand, so she swallowed her tongue.

The blaring air horn sounded the end of the quarter. It was halftime.

“Roll, you worry too much. Look at you. You on top of the world, papi! And all the little people is scrambling for your crumbs.”

“I don’t worry. I prepare. That’s why I am who I am.”

“Well, tonight, I want to enjoy who you are,” Angel replied in a seductive tone that annoyed Renée.

Angel flipped on the stereo and popped in a reggae mix CD. The banging percussion instruments filled the skybox.

“Goldi, let’s give Roll a real halftime show.”

Goldilocks didn’t hesitate. She smirked at Roll, stood up, and joined Angel on the floor. She began kissing her mouth deeply,
gyrating her hips inside her lambskin skirt, ass facing Roll. Renée and Roll looked on in amazement as Angel pulled up Goldilocks’s
skirt to reveal a pink thong and pretty ass. She palmed Goldilocks and spread her cheeks for Roll to see Goldi’s pink and
wet lower lips.

“Oh, hell no, bitch!” Renée shouted. “What the fuck do you think you doin’?”

Roll grabbed her hand and sat her back down. “Damn, Renée. Chill! She only dancin’.” Roll smirked as Renée boiled.

Goldilocks dropped into a squat and spread her legs in front of Roll. Her arms were back up around Angel’s neck. Angel fingered
Goldilocks’s pussy, making her tremble and bite her tongue.

“It’s all about you, Roll,” Angel crooned as she slowly removed Goldilocks’s clothing until Goldilocks was completely naked.

“Ain’t she sexy, Roll? Ain’t my bitch sexy?” Angel asked.

Renée shot Roll an evil look. “Roland, I don’t appreciate this shit. I really don’t.”

“Shhh!” Roll snapped.

Goldilocks continued to dance and seductively wiggled her finger to beckon Roll.

“Dance, hell! You freaky bitches wanna fuck my man!” Renée protested.

“Aww, honey. You got it all wrong,” Angel assured her. “We don’t wanna fuck Roll. We wanna fuck you,” Angel said as she pulled
off her shirt and Goldilocks pulled down her pants.

Roll was totally fucked up. He had wanted to fuck Angel for years, ever since he had first seen her. But he knew she was a
dyke. But now, here she was, naked, in a skybox, conjuring up an orgy with his wife and her girlfriend. He was confused trying
to figure out where he would fit in.

Does she mean she only wants Renée or does she want the both of us?
he wondered.

“Me?!” Renée squealed, taken totally by surprise.

“What up, Nee?” Roll grinned lustfully. “You wit’ it?”

“Hell, no, I ain’t wit’ it! And I can’t believe you’d ask me some shit like that! I’m your wife, Roland, not them nickel bitches
you be fuckin’!” she screamed at him.

Angel and Goldilocks, both completely naked, slowly approached Renée.

“Even more so why we should be able to do anything together. You my wife!” he screamed back, using reverse psychology. He
was determined not to miss his chance. He couldn’t wait to stick his dick up in Angel and her girlfriend, and if the only
way he could do it was through his wife, then she needed to get her ass in motion. “I do everything you ask me to, when you
ask me to. Why you can’t do this for me? I want you to,” he said, convincing himself as he attempted to convince her.

Renée loved Roland and his money. It was true that he did everything under the sun for her and her children, even the ones
that weren’t his.

Maybe if we do it together, he won’t cheat on me. He’ll cheat with me
, she rationalized as she imagined Angel and Goldilocks up in her house with her man when she wasn’t home.
He’s gonna fuck ’em regardless. He wants to fuck them. I could do it for him,
she thought.

“Don’t worry, baby. We won’t hurt you,” Angel purred as she parted Renée’s thick caramel thighs. Renée’s skirt crept up her
thighs as Angel bent over between her legs.

“Please, Roland,” Renée begged.

“Go ’head, yo,” he drooled, completely aroused.

Angel and Goldilocks each placed one of Renée’s legs over a shoulder and began to double-tongue her apprehensions away, two
caressing tongues worked together for one common purpose.

Roll was too stupid to realize what the freak show would cost him.

Renée’s eyes rolled back into her head, and she mumbled incoherently. Angel sat up, straddled her lap, kissed her mouth deeply,
and pinched her hard nipples teasingly while Goldilocks licked and sucked her pussy. Renée had never come so hard, or so quickly,
in her life.

“Ohh, God!” she gasped as Angel pulled her to the floor on top of her. Roll couldn’t take seeing the three gorgeous bodies
wrapped around each other.

“She’s all yours now,” Angel said, offering him his wife. Roll responded quickly, his dick rock hard. He dropped his pants
and boxers to the floor and entered his wife doggie-style, keeping his eyes on Angel as he fucked his wife. For Roll, it was
as if he was finally living out his fantasy with Angel, and he plowed into Renée even harder.

“Yes, Roland! Yes!” Renée screamed, gripping the carpet so hard she ripped off a nail.

“It’s all about you, Roll,” Angel repeated, feeling Goldilocks’s tongue across her nipple. “It’s all about you,” she repeated,
licking her tongue at him before twirling it into Renée’s mouth. Roll exploded inside his wife, all the while fantasizing
it was Angel taking his dick.

Angel had used his mind and another woman’s body to rock Roll to sleep. It was only a matter of time before she’d be in complete
control.

“You love him don’t you.”

“Yeah.”

Goldilocks and Angel lay in bed during the wee hours of the morning. Angel had thought Goldilocks was asleep, but she wasn’t.
She was well aware of Angel’s movements at all the times. She knew Angel was looking at the picture of her and Dutch at her
twenty-first birthday party. It was something Angel did every night, almost like a prayer, and Goldilocks had gotten used
to it.

Goldilocks rolled over onto her back.

“Let me see.”

Angel handed her the photo. Goldilocks had seen it a thousand times before, but she liked to admire Dutch’s features. He was
definitely fine. His charisma seemed to ooze from the photo. She understood why Angel smiled every time she looked at him.

“You look so happy here,” Goldilocks remarked. “How can I make you happy like that?”

Angel looked at her lover with appreciation. Goldi was definitely riding with her to the end. She took the picture back, glanced
at it, then replied. “When I was eight years old, my father raped me,” Angel stated flatly. “He called me his little angel,
bounced me on his knee, kissed me, kissed me again, then slide his hand between my legs,” she said, her voice cracking with
rage and resentment. “It wasn’t just once, either. It was a lot, and my mother,
nada
. She did nothing. She let him. She knew. She had to know. I know she knew what was happening to me, but she never helped
me. She turned a deaf ear, a blind eye, and every week from when I was eight until I ran away from home at thirteen, he raped
me. Sometimes it was two and three times a week. He would tell Mama he was putting me to bed and going to read me a bedtime
story and not to disturb us during reading time. She would be in the next room. I thought that if I didn’t look like a cute
little girl, he’d leave me alone. So, I started dressing like a boy. I figured he’d leave me alone if I looked like a boy.
But it didn’t work. He still looked at me with that sinister lust in his eyes.”