Gangsta Divas (18 page)

Read Gangsta Divas Online

Authors: De'nesha Diamond

BOOK: Gangsta Divas
2.25Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
27
Lucifer
T
he moon throws an eerie glow over the cemetery. The only thing that's missing is a howling wolf and a black crow to complete the tragic scene. I lose track of time whenever I come out here to Mason's empty grave. People say that it's cathartic to talk to these cold slabs of granite, but each time I come, it feels as if my lips glue together. I can't figure out what to say and I sure as hell don't know what do with all this guilt.
If only I had been able to strike that spark.
It's not the first time that thought has raced across my head. Hell, it's been known to just skip around for hours. Had I blown the SUV up that night, not only would I have saved myself from this empty misery called life, but I would've dragged that muthafucka Python down to hell with me.
Mason “Fat Ace” Lewis
September 13, 1990–August 24, 2011
I have to be strong for the baby.
I purse my lips together while sliding my hand over the barely-there baby bump. “You're going to have some very big shoes to fill.” A small part of me worries about my lack of maternal instincts but I'm sure I'll be better at the whole mommy gig than Mason's real mother.
I wonder if she's still alive?
Maybe I should check into it.
And maybe not.
Squatting, I remove twigs and debris tangled in the flowers. This is the kind of shit I'm gonna be doing until they plant my ass in the ground: creeping out here in the middle of the night to keep this grave clean.
Pathetic.
I press two fingers to my lips and then transfer the kiss to the engraved name across the tombstone. “Forever, my nigga.” Feeling the burn at the back of my eyes, I stand and march off into the darkness.
Snap!
I whip around and am unable to make anything out. However, I get that weird sensation that someone is watching again. My hand drifts from my belly to the back of my hip for my gat. After a full minute of straining my ears for the slightest sound I convince myself that I must be hearing things. I trek back toward the car where Tombstone is waiting for me.
Halfway there, I almost miss another lone figure, standing in the dark.
You're slipping, Willow.
I dismiss that thought as I reach for the gat tucked at my lower back—but then I notice the woman gazing down at another grave—oblivious to everything around her.
Pathetic—just like me.
I should keep it moving, but my owl-like night vision detects something familiar about her so, instead, I head in her direction. When I get five feet out I peep the name on the tombstone in front of her:
Essence Blackwell
November 23, 1994–August 22, 2011
“I wondered whatever happened to her.”
At the sound of my voice, the woman whips around and reaches for her own weapon.
“Ah. Ah. Ah.” I shake my head and I level my shit at her chest. Instant recognition registers in her face and I get a comedic view of her eyes widening.
“You have me at a disadvantage.You know who I am.”
“I have
you
at a disadvantage?” she asks, incredulous.
“A figure of speech,” I answer with a careless shrug and then wait for her to introduce herself.
“Cleo,” she spits out, reluctantly. Her eyes deflate to their normal size.
The name bounces around in my head, but I come up with nothing. “Sister?” I ask, taking in the resemblance to the little girl I tortured out behind the hospital months ago. The girl had heart.
Cleo throws up her chin in defiance. “What's it to you?”
I stretch one brow out of formation.
“Yes,” she answers, having second thoughts about catching an attitude.
“Guess that means that you're a Queen G, too.”
The muscles in her jaw twitch while her teeth grind together.
“Don't mistake me for a bitch who repeats herself,” I warn.
“Yes.”
I nod and weigh what I want to do about this situation. Killing a QG might be the sleep aid I need to have a peaceful night.
“Well?” she prods.
I stare at her, prolonging her anxiety.
“Shoot if you're going to shoot,” Cleo snaps. “You already killed my sister, you evil bitch! Go ahead and pull the fucking trigger. Get the shit over with.”
“Anybody tell you that you bitches need to change your name to
Drama Queens?
If I wanted to shoot you, I would've done it already.” That shit throws a monkey wrench into her performance. After my words sink in, her entire body visibly relaxes.
“Then what do you want?”
“What—a bitch can't hang out at a cemetery if she wants?” I stump her ass again. She's as much fun to fuck with as her sister was. “What the fuck did you mean by that shit that
I
had already killed your sister? Where did you get that shit?”
“Don't play me stupid,” she hisses. “I know it was you who doused my sister with gasoline and then tossed a match into the car when she tried to get away from you.”
“Fuck. That sounds like an awful way to go.”
Cleo goes for her gun.
POW!
Her shit goes flying out of her hand.
“Fuuucck!” Cleo flaps her hand around.
“I warned you.”
Cleo glances at her shit and marvels at how my shot didn't put a hole through her hand.
“You're welcome.” She fixes her mouth to thank me, but then stops herself at the last second.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Though I'm not sorry that there's one less Queen G in the world, I didn't kill your sister.”
“Liar!”
“And I would lie because . . .?”
She opens her mouth, I guess, to air it out because she doesn't say shit to that.
My attention shifts to the lonely tombstone behind her. “Without using too much brain power, I'm willing to bet that your snake-fucking head bitch told you that I was the one flame-broiled your sister.”
The bitch blinks at me like a deer in headlights.
Why am I bothering with this silly bitch?
“Fine. Believe what you want to believe. I really don't give a fuck.” I tuck my gun back into place. “Have a good night.” I turn to leave.
“LeShelle wouldn't lie about something like that,” Cleo shouts.
I stop and glance over my shoulder. “Really. Where the fuck do they recruit you dumb bitches, off a yellow bus?”
Cleo shakes her head as tears gloss her eyes. “
Why
would she kill her? Essence was working . . .” She clamps her mouth shut.
I cock my head with a half smile. “She was working for who—LeShelle? Or was she working for me?”
“What?”
Annoyed, I march back over to this simple bitch and jab my finger repeatedly in the center of her forehead. “Think. Damn, girl.You really think that I'd just let a Queen G roll up in my kingdom and hang the fuck out? Your girl LeShelle dumped a full clip into Mas”—I catch myself and lower my hand—“our leader's brother after his prom. The only reason I
allowed
your sister visitation with Profit is because we struck a deal.”
“Essence was no snitch.”
“Essence wanted revenge.” I wait for her next stupid remark, but when it doesn't come, I suspect sense is finally sinking in. “LeShelle ordered her best friend's brutal rape that landed her in the crazy house—are you connecting the dots?”
Cleo nods as she loses color beneath the silvery moonlight. “You killed all the guys who raped her.”
“Because I got their names through Essence.” I step back. “I'm a heartless bitch, but I'm an honest gangster. LeShelle had her own sister raped—and you don't think that she would lie to you? Bitch, wake up.”
“She found out,” Cleo concludes. “Somehow LeShelle found out that Essence was double-crossing her.”
I give her a small applause. “Congratulations.You did it.”
“That bitch,” Cleo swears under her breath, her dumbfounded look transforming into a mask of anger. “I'm going to kill her.”
“Humph.You mean if she ever wakes up in the hospital.”
Cleo's face jerks back up.
“What?”
“You haven't heard?”
I tense up. “Heard what?”
“LeShelle is awake. She has been for a month.”
28
Ta′Shara
E
very part of me melts at the sight of Profit's smile on the other side of the window. I try to take him in, but he's changed so much. It's the same handsome face, but fuller . . . more distinguished. His shoulders are huge, his chest wide, and his arms bulging with muscles.
Profit winks and then cocks his head. “Are you going to let me in?”
I rush to unlock the window. I'm so excited that I can barely get my fingers to work. He's here. I can't believe how good he looks. “What are you doing here? How did you know I was home? How—?”
Profit silences me with a kiss. Every question and thought flies out of my head. It's been so long and he feels so good. It isn't long before the salt of my tears blends with the sweetness of his lips. I'm on sensory overload as we cling together and devour each other's lips. I don't even remember how or when we moved from the window to the bed. All I know is how much I want him—how much I need him. I sense that he needs me, too. He's the most beautiful thing I've seen in a long while, but there's a troubling sadness dulling his brown eyes. “What is it?” I ask, wanting to take his pain away.
He shakes his head as if he's unable to speak on whatever is troubling him.
I try to wait him out, but he doesn't budge. “I know about Fat Ace,” I tell him, reaching for his hand. “I'm so sorry.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
An hour later, we're lying side by side, holding each other's hand staring into each other's eyes. I want to make love to him . . . but I'm not ready yet—too many bad memories of that horrible night.
“Do you remember me coming to visit you in the hospital?”
“You came?” I ask, surprised.
“Once.You were still out of it, but I kind of hoped . . .”
More tears leak from my eyes. “I'm sorry—but thank you for coming. It means so much . . . but how did you get in? I thought Reggie and Tracee—”
“Essence. She got me in.”
“Oh.” My gaze falls. “Do you know what happ—”
Profit presses his fingers back against my lips. “No. Not tonight. There's plenty of time to . . . talk on heavier things later. A lot has happened while you were away. Right now I need to hold you—to make sure that you're real.”
He kisses me again and for a while I feed off his peppermint-flavored lips, but then his hand touches my thigh and I tense.
Profit pulls back and frowns. “Did I hurt you?” Fear and concern ripple across his face.
“No,” I whisper, reaching up to caress the side of his cheek. “You could never hurt me.”
His gaze sweeps my face as if memorizing every detail. “I knew that you would come back to me.”
Shaking my head, I whisper back, “I still don't understand how it's possible that you're here. I held you in my arms that night. I thought that you were . . .”
“Shhh . . .” Profit presses a finger to my lips because I'm on the verge of breaking down. “I'm here because we belong together. We always have and always will.” He peppers kisses across my face before zeroing in on my lips. Profit was my first lover and we have made love at least a hundred times since that night at the drive-in, but tonight it is different. It is our first time all over again. He's so delicate with me as he pulls my nightgown up my body and then over my head. Seconds later his clothes follow mine, discarded on the floor.
I gasp at the sight of his broad, muscular chest in the silvery moonlight. “My God. Look at you.” I reach out and run my hands over his new incredible body. “You're so hard.” My hands drift over his washboard abs. “What did you do, move into a gym?”
“You like?”
“No. I love.” I draw his head down for another kiss. “But I love you no matter what you look like. You're my heart and soul. I didn't know how to live without you. Maybe that's why I was so lost.”
A sad smile hugs his lips as he caresses my face. “That makes two of us.”
Gazing into Profit's handsome face is like staring into my destiny. Him being here is already erasing the nightmares of LeShelle and her gang of rapists from my mind.
Although the black-and-blue bruises are gone, he touches me as though he can still see the scars. “I should've been able to protect you that night.” He brushes his hand down the center of my ribcage. “I let you down.”
“Oh, baby, no.” I cup his chin and force him to look at me. “Don't blame yourself for that night. You fought for me and that means more than you'll ever know.There's only one person responsible for that night and I will deal with her.”
“Not if I get my hands on her first,” he hisses with his jaw clenched. “Cousin Skeet has been blocking my ass on getting my hands on her. He says he's under pressure to get the city's violence under control. He has a cop posted outside her door for the past few months.”
Surprisingly, conflicting emotions war within me before I vow, “I won't fail the next time.”
“Don't tell me that my good girl has gone gangsta on me,” Profit chuckles.
“Shhh. Keep it down. We don't want to wake up Tracee and Reggie.”
He kisses my finger. “Well? Have you?”
“I don't know what I am anymore,” I confess. “I just want her dead.”
“Then you'll have it.”When his lips return to mine, it's as if we're the only two people who exist.
“We're together now,” Profit whispers. “Nothing is ever going to come between us again. I promise.”
A phone rings and Profit and I jump up.
“Get it before you wake Tracee and Reggie,” I hiss urgently.
Profit falls over the side of the bed, sounding like a red oak crashing on the house. I slap my hand over my mouth to stop my bark of laughter.
It seems like forever but Profit finally pulls his phone out of his pocket. “It's Lucifer,” he says and then answers the call. “Hello.”
Lucifer must've got to the point because in the next second, Profit tenses.
“I'm on my way,” he says gravely and then disconnects the call.
I don't like the look on his face. “What is it?”
“I have to go,” he tells me, jumping up from the floor and snatching up his clothes.
“Why? What's going on?”
“Your sister—she's awake.”

Other books

Stakeout (Aurora Sky by Nikki Jefford
Up In Smoke by Katie MacAlister
The Suicide Motor Club by Christopher Buehlman
A Shout for the Dead by James Barclay
Ripple by Heather Smith Meloche
Flotsam and Jetsam by Keith Moray
Sunfail by Steven Savile