Angel's Revenge

WAR
CHAPTER EIGHT

Dwight and Nina lay in bed, both staring at the oscillating ceiling fan, lost in their own thoughts.

Their relationship was rapidly deteriorating. They didn’t laugh and joke like they used to, and every date seemed to be more tense and awkward. Their sex life was all but nonexistent. It had all started to go downhill ever since Nina’s birthday. For whatever reason, things had taken a turn for the worse.

Dwight thought it all stemmed from his marriage proposal. He had taken the biggest step of his life the night he asked Nina to marry him. But judging by the following weeks, it was also the biggest mistake of his life.

Nina remained torn between reality and hope. The reality was that she had a good man who cared for her, who vowed his commitment to her on bent knees. And even though she had accepted Dwight’s proposal, her hope for Dutch ate at her incessantly. Her long-dead feelings were attacking her with a vengeance.

What if?

In his absence, Dutch loomed larger in her life than he had when he was with her. Thoughts of him consumed her to the point that she could no longer make love to Dwight. But then, she had never really been making love to Dwight, insisting that he turn off the lights to help her fantasies unfold. She couldn’t reach orgasm with Dwight, but the mere thought of Dutch fucking her aroused her and moistened her desire day and night.

It had gotten to the point that she cringed at the thought of Dwight. Even his touch made her uncomfortable. She felt like she was being unfaithful to her dreams, her hopes, herself, and, of course, Dutch.

They lay in bed like inmates of a glass house, scared to throw stones and shatter the illusion of their relationship.

“You know… we can’t go on like this,” Dwight said softly.

“You’re right.”

“Baby, I’ve searched my heart and my mind, trying to… It’s like it just happened… I wonder if I did something to trigger this, whatever it is between us…” Dwight struggled to find the words. “Do you love me?” he finally asked, leaning on an elbow, peering through the dark at her.

“Yes,” Nina answered, wanting to want to love him.

“Do you still… want to… to marry me?”

“I do…” Nina replied, wishing that she could.

“But?” he probed. He detected hesitation in her reply.

Nina sat up, pushing a wisp of hair from her face, and wrapped her arms around her knees.

“Dwight… so much has been going on lately that it’s just…” She sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Dwight leaned forward and caressed her cheek and smiled sweetly. “How can I understand if you won’t talk to me? Haven’t I always been a good listener?”

She looked into the comfort of his brown eyes and wished she had never known Dutch so she’d be free to love this wonderful man. But Dutch had a lock on her heart and refused to release the key.

“I’m not sure I understand myself.”

“Whatever it is, it hasn’t changed how you feel about me, because you do love me and I do make you happy. Right?”

Happy?

Happiness was something she hadn’t truly felt for a long time. Nina knew she was being unfair to Dwight by not telling him the truth but she couldn’t let him go, because she didn’t want to lose him. She felt selfish, greedy, guilty. She felt many feelings, but happiness wasn’t one of them.

“Nina… do I?” he asked again, feeling a tightness in his chest because she didn’t answer.

Nina lowered her head and buried her face in her knees. Dwight put his feet on the floor, his back to her, and palmed his face.

“So when did I stop making you happy, Nina? When I put that ring on your finger?”

Nina heard bitterness in his tone. She lifted her head and attempted to speak.

“Dwight, I don’t know. I…”

Dwight stood up and faced her. “No, Nina. I really wanna know. Was it when I asked you to be my wife? When I thought enough about us and what we have to want to commit to it, to you, to us, for the rest of my life? Is that what made you so unhappy?”

Dwight was visibly hurt. He fought to hold back his tears. It killed Nina to hurt him.

“Dwight, you’re important to me, too,” she emphasized, instantly regretting her choice of words.

“Too?” he echoed. “Too?” It was almost too much for him to ask the next questions. “So, you’re saying there’s someone else? Is that why every time I touch you, want to make love to you, you act like I’m a stranger? Like you’re repulsed?” Dwight turned away, balling his fists tightly, trying to restrain his emotions. He regained his composure and slowly came around the bed and sat next to her.

“Listen, baby. We’re not the only people who have problems. The key is working through them. I’m willing to fight for us because what we have is worth fighting for. But if you won’t talk to me and let me in… if you don’t trust me enough to confide in me… then what do we really have?” he asked sincerely.

I’m in love with a ghost, and I’m going to lose the real thing. He’s right here in front of me. I can keep him if I want or I can lose him, let him go.

“I’m going. It’s obvious that we’re not getting anywhere. Maybe you need some time to think, to decide. I can’t make you choose, Nina. But, I love you. I do, and… I hope it’s enough because it’s all I got.”

Dwight turned away from her with his head bent down.

His words stung and brought tears to her eyes.

“Dwight, I love you, too, but…” She looked down at her left hand. She slowly slid the ring he gave her off her finger. “I can’t marry you. Not… not now.”

Nina placed the ring in his palm and folded his fingers around it. He looked down at his hand, feeling like Nina had just handed him back his heart.

A lesser man would have shrugged her off but he remained a gentleman. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.

“What’s meant to be, will be. Take care of yourself, baby. I hope he’s as good to you as I would’ve been.”

Nina watched him gather up his clothes and get dressed. He stopped at the door with a tear tracing his cheek.

“I’ll… I’ll come back for the rest of my things later,” he said to the door, not turning around.

Dwight didn’t wait for a reply. Nina listened to his fading footsteps descend the stairs, then out the door.

Why are you doing this to me? Why?

She remembered one of their conversations.

“Why would you be what I can’t have?” Dutch asked.

“Because I’m not a possession,” she replied.

“What are you then? Possessive?”

She was indeed possessive. Dutch had made her greedy for him, and as long as he was alive, he would remain hers.

Nina remained wide awake in bed after Dwight left, lost in thought, until the ringing phone brought her back to reality.

“Hello?”

“Nee! Get up, girl,” Tamika said on the other end.

Nina looked at the clock. It was twelve past seven on a Sunday morning. Tamika must have been up all night and wanted to gossip. But Nina was in no mood.

“Tamika, I’m up, but I really don’t feel like talking right now.”

Tamika shrugged and checked herself in the mirror. She was wearing only a slip. “I don’t feel like talking neither. I just called to see if you want to go to church with me.”

“You going to church?” Nina asked, mildly shocked.

Tamika rolled her eyes at the phone. “Don’t even go there. It ain’t like you beat down the door every Sunday either, okay? When’s the last time you been?” Tamika asked.

Nina snickered. “Point made.”

“So let’s go.”

Tamika was right. Nina couldn’t think of the last time she had been to Sunday service, and after a moment of thought, realized there was no reason not to go.

She sat up in the bed and replied, “Let me get dressed.”

Since Tamika and Nina weren’t regular churchgoers, they went to the one nearest Tamika’s apartment. Church had always been good for the soul and was still the same. The choir was still uplifting and soulful. The older women still wore fancy hats, and the collection plate still circulated at regular intervals.

The sermon was “The Prodigal Son Returns,” and Nina and Tamika both would have sworn the message was for just them, even if for totally different reasons.

Overall, it was a good service. Nina could understand why churches were filled on Sundays. The sermons were comforting.

After church, she and Tamika went out for brunch.

“I gotta hand it to you, Mika. That was really good for me. I needed it more than I realized,” Nina remarked, sipping her coffee.

“You? Girl, you just don’t know what I’ve been going through,” Tamika said, her eyes filled with frustration and worry.

“You okay? What’s up?” asked Nina, concerned. Tamika wiped her mouth and gazed out the window at the passing cars.

“Nina, you ever feel like you’re going in circles? Like you need a change?”

Tamika didn’t know how much Nina could relate.

“Did you hear about that club burnin’ down about a week ago?”

“Club? Where? Was anybody hurt?” Nina frowned.

Tamika’s face took on a solemn expression. “Everyone was killed.”

Nina felt a chill run up her spine. “What do you mean everyone was killed? I don’t understand.”

“They say that they all got trapped inside. Somehow a fire started and with all that alcohol… Girl, can you imagine burning to death?” Tamika stressed.

“No, I can’t,” Nina said.

Nina didn’t want to imagine it either. Surrounded by flames, doors melted shut, people clawing and stampeding to get out. She recalled how the hot comb used to blister her ear when she was a child and couldn’t imagine anything worse than that.

“Nina, that coulda been me. I was supposed to go with this guy from Linden. It was a big drug dealer party for some kid named Roll. It was his birthday party and only his people could get in. The guy, Ronald, from Linden worked for Roll. He was supposed to pick me up at nine. Girl, I was all set to go. I had my hair and my nails done, even went and bought this Roberto Cavalli blouse for like $750. Honey, I was ready! Wasn’t no way I was gonna miss it but…” Tamika rubbed her forehead. “I got sleepy. I’m talkin’ I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Sleepy.”

She closed them at the table.

“I woke up at one in the morning and Ronald had left me six messages. I tried to call him but I couldn’t reach him. I thought he was mad at me or somethin’… until I heard he was dead.”

Nina saw how badly the incident had shaken Tamika. She reached over and grabbed her friend’s hand.

“I just… I can’t get over it. I coulda been in the club, you know? That shit made me realize that there’s gotta be a better way. Niggas shootin’ each other like there’s no tomorrow, all of ’em going to jail, locking girls up, too, just ’cause they were in the house with a nigga, clubs burnin’ down…” Tamika took a deep breath. “What good is money if you ain’t around to spend it?”

“Now ain’t that the truth. Amen to that,” said Nina, letting her friend vent.

I think we both might need a change. A big change, Nina thought to herself.

“Don’t worry, Tamika. It’s going to be okay. I know exactly what we need to do.”

While Nina and Tamika were having Sunday brunch, the Muslims were holding the Janazah ceremony for Salahudeen.

The Muslims lined up, prayed over his body, then took him to the cemetery and buried him facing Makkah, the Muslim Holy City.

The women were dressed in black, and the Muslims blocked all entrances and exits to the cemetery. Rahman wasn’t taking any chances with his enemies. He knew them all too well, because he had once been one of them and hadn’t hesitated blazing several funerals in his past. So he prepared himself for all possibilities.

He stood stone still, watching as Salahudeen’s body was lowered into the ground. They were all well aware of the risks. They all knew death was a strong possibility and sometimes a consequence of what they were doing. Still, losing Salahudeen was painful. Rahman would miss his longtime friend.

Rahman felt someone looking at him. He glanced up and met Ayesha’s gaze. She had been watching him and knew he was hurt, but she also knew he was angry. She could see him boiling inside. But somehow he found the strength to maintain his composure. He flashed her a slight grin to let her know he was all right.

Hanif approached him. “As-Salaamu Alaikum,Ock. How you?” Hanif inquired, giving him a hug.

“All praise is due Allah. To Allah we belong and to him we return.”

“True indeed,” Hanif agreed. “But are you okay?”

Rahman didn’t respond.

“Rahman, I need to know. We got a lot of brothers upset and ready to flip for the wrong reason. We can’t change from fighting for Allah’s cause to fighting for revenge. That, my brother, is not Islam. Justice, yes. Revenge, no. The difference is intention.”

Rahman understood what Hanif was saying. He had already been to war within himself. He wanted to avenge Sal’s murder but knew the fallacy of reacting on emotion. Anger clouds and love blinds, but a thinking man remains unswayed. He was prepared to turn up the heat on the streets, not for revenge but for justice.

Before he responded, his cell phone rang. He excused himself from Hanif and answered his phone.

“Speak.”

“I’m sorry about Sal,” Angel said with true remorse.

“We ain’t got nothin’ to say to one another,” Rahman said and hung up on her.

A few seconds later his phone rang again.

“Roc, listen. I know you’re upset, but on my word, I had nothing to do with it. I didn’t know anything about it. That was all Roll,” Angel explained.

Truthfully, Angel wanted to solve the problem, not squash it like Roll had tried to do.

Rahman knew Angel was telling the truth, but there was no way back, no way to return.

“Roc… Roll is gone. He ain’t a problem for neither one of us. I took care of it. I just wanna make this right. I really do,” Angel offered.

“There’s nothing…”

“The area we discussed, the one you wanted. It’s yours. Period. I’m in control now and it’s yours. You take it and you handle your part of the city. I’ll handle mine.”

She was trying to compromise but that was a luxury he didn’t have. His cause wouldn’t allow him to. Outside, he remained stone but inside, he was in turmoil. He had to say no, but to do so brought him one step closer to what he dreaded. An all-out war with Angel.

“No deal. I want all the drugs out of Newark. Anything less, I won’t accept. You wanna pick up where Roll left off, then you inherit his beef,” Rahman said calmly.

“I remember a time when your beef was mine, yo. Now the same vow means the exact opposite.”

Rahman closed his eyes tight against his emotions before speaking evenly and firmly. “The next time we meet, we meet as enemies.”

Silence filled the air for a moment.

“I… I know there’s no way we can avoid that now. Either you gonna kill me or I’ma kill you. But regardless, we both lose. But know this, Roc. Whatever happens, I love you.”

His heart silently returned the sentiment.

“Salaam.”

“Siempre.”

Angel sat on the couch in Capo’s safe house, staring at the money counters. The machines counted endlessly until the rickety sound became meaningless to her. With the money coming in since Roll’s death, they didn’t count it as often as they weighed it. They had calculated that a million dollars in small bills filled a duffel bag made to hold two basketballs.

Capo sat across the room with headphones strapped to his head, feeding the machine then taping the stacks and depositing them in bags.

Angel looked into his eighteen-year-old face. He was a brown-skinned Puerto Rican but his features were clearly Latino right down to his curly brown hair and bushy eyebrows. She watched him, wondering how long he would live before the life took him under.

Goldilocks came out of the kitchen with a glass of water for Angel. Her shapely figure swayed as she walked. She smiled when she noticed Angel watching her.

“Here you go, boo,” Goldilocks said, handing her the glass, then curling up on the couch next to her.

Angel didn’t respond. She just sipped her water and wondered when Goldilocks’s love for her would make Angel kill her, too. She wondered when love would cloud her vision, blind her judgment, and cause her to make emotional mistakes. In the high-stakes game of street survival, Angel could not afford any mistakes.

Angel remembered a time when Dutch, Craze, Zoom, and Roc occupied a room like this. There used to be laughter and arguments, love and trust, and nobody’s mind was exclusively on the money. But with Dutch, Craze, and Zoom gone and Roc her sworn enemy, the taste of success curdled in her mouth like spoiled milk.

“Fuck!” she bellowed so loudly that Capo heard her over his music. She stood up angrily.

“Shut that fuckin’ machine off! It’s drivin’ me crazy!” she exclaimed, holding her hands over her ears.

Goldilocks stood and wiggled up to her. “Baby, you…” but Angel’s eyes silenced her.

Capo saw the abrupt change in her demeanor and quickly shut the machine off.

“What… what is we doin’? What are we here for?” Angel wanted to know, looking from face to face.

Capo was puzzled. “Countin’ paper like we always do?” he replied.

“No,” Angel retorted, Dutch’s dragon chain swinging with her movements. “What are we doing here? In this position, huh? Where we at, who we are?”

Neither could understand what she meant so they didn’t say anything. Capo thought Angel was losing it, and Goldilocks tried to soothe her.

“Baby, sit down and relax. You just have a lot on your mind. Let me give you a massage,” she offered, but Angel yanked away.

“Relax? Relax?! Bitch is you crazy? Don’t you know right now there’s a hungry muthafucka out there goin’ all out to come to get what we got, and you want me to relax?!”

Angel appeared hysterical yet her mind was totally clear.

“When they come, we got ’nuff guns to go around!” Capo boasted.

Angel snatched the headphones off his head.

“You dumb fuck! You think we the only ones wit’ guns? Huh? Kazami had guns, and Dutch took him out. Dutch had guns, and the mob pushed him out. Young World had guns, Roll slumped ’im. And we slumped Roll. Do you think that’s it? You think one day you won’t get slumped?” she asked him, staring into his eyes until he looked away.

“Do you? Digame!” Angel screamed. “Do you think I could be slumped, Capo? Would you slump me, Capo?”

Capo knew Angel was crazy, but he had never seen her like this before. “Naw, yo. We family, la familia, remember?” he replied, shifting in his chair.

Angel laughed in his face. “You lyin’, Cap. You lyin’ and you know it.”

Capo hated to be called a liar, but he feared the consequences of being judged one even more.

“My word, Angel. Death before dishonor, you know that,” he vowed.

“That ain’t got shit to do wit’ what I asked,” Angel retorted. “Push come to shove, you better slump me because I won’t hesitate to slump you,” she hissed, then looked at Goldilocks. “Or you.”

Goldilocks’s heart jumped. “I would never do anything to hurt you, lover, you know that.”

“Do I?” Angel asked, then again to Capo, “Do I?”

“Let’s hope it never comes to that,” Capo replied.

“Fuck hope! It better not come to that because I promise you all, I won’t lose,” Angel replied, sitting back down, laying her head back and closing her eyes.

“Count the money.”