Angel's Revenge

PEACE
CHAPTER TEN

I’m going to miss you, Ms. Martin,” Susan, her secretary, confessed warmly.

They stood in Nina’s office among cardboard cartons waiting to be removed.

“Me, too, Susan. I know we got off to a bad start and all…”

“No need. It was all a misunderstanding. I know I can be a bitch sometimes. But we worked it out and that’s all that matters,” she said. “So what’s the plan? Got a better offer somewhere else?”

What is the plan? I don’t even know.

Nina didn’t have a better offer. In fact, she wasn’t looking for one. She had impulsively handed in her two weeks’ notice almost on the spur of the moment. She needed to get away.

After the breakup with Dwight, she tried to refocus on work but just couldn’t pull it together. She knew Dwight was perfect for her and she had been a fool.

So she had to get away. She felt it was her only choice. Her financial investments were sound enough to live off of. What wasn’t sound was her peace of mind. She knew the only way to move on with her life and be free of the ghosts of her past was to relocate. Maybe down south, maybe out west. But first, she booked a Caribbean cruise vacation. She would sail around the islands, figure out a plan for her future, and decide what she wanted out of life. Money wasn’t the issue. She had enough in savings to cover her relocation, and Nina didn’t have to work. She worked because it was what she had chosen to do with her life.

“Well, whatever you decide, I wish you the best,” Susan said, sensing Nina’s hesitancy to discuss her plans.

“Thank you, Susan. I really appreciate that.”

Susan walked to the door and put her hand on the knob. She turned around and faced Nina.

“Even though things didn’t work out with Dwight, I think you are a good person and you deserve the best. Don’t let disappointments make you not believe in rainbows. There’s a pot of gold for everybody. You just have to find it.”

I just have to find it? Yeah, maybe she’s right or maybe I just lost my pot of gold when I let Dwight go.

Susan walked out leaving Nina to ponder.

Three days later, Angel retaliated.

She drove silently in a blue Taurus rental and a blonde wig, her arm in a sling. Every time she moved it, she felt pain, and every time she felt pain, she thought of Roc.

Angel had to hate him. She had to despise him. She knew what she had to do, and the only way she could carry out what she had to was to let hate boil inside her. The look in his eyes on the subway platform played over and over again in her mind.

“Here I am,” she had said to him, stepping into his path.

Angel thought of how he hadn’t hesitated to raise his gun, eyes focused like a hawk’s, ready to shed her blood like she meant nothing to him.

Who the fuck is he? Fuck him! Fuckin’ sellout! she chanted in her mind, trying to convince herself that she hated him.

And, oh, how she wanted to. But something in her heart wouldn’t let her. Several times, she fought the urge to turn back. But pride pushed her forward as she headed to the conclusion of her mission.

Roc had to die, and she would kill him. But it wouldn’t be out of hate.

Angel hit the Trenton exit off the turnpike and drove through the city looking for the Muslim girls’ school on East State Street. She remembered Roc telling her about it in his prison letters and how good he felt at the accomplishment.

The school wasn’t difficult to find. The small brick building was on a corner, a playground and a parking lot in the back. At nine on a Saturday morning, only a few girls were in school for special Qur’an and Arabic lessons.

Angel had planned on attacking Ayesha first, but Roc covered his tracks well and protected her whereabouts. Even when she ran the plates of his car, her connect said the address was 25 Branford Place, the masjid in Newark. Angel settled on the next best thing.

His cause.

She knew how to get at Roc from the start but held her trump card, hoping she would never have to use it. When he made the fatal mistake of trying to kill her, she put it in play. The move was like everything else was to her. Business. Nothing personal.

Angel got out of the rental, threw on dark-tinted shades, and looked around. The area was quiet and peaceful. She adjusted her sling, which held a concealed revolver, and approached the school.

“Okay, Rasheeda. I want you to draw me alif,” the female teacher instructed. She wore an orange kemar and white niqab. On the floor around her were nine young girls between the ages of eight and ten, struggling to learn their religion.

Rasheeda, tall for her age, approached the board and took the chalk from the teacher. She drew a straight line that resembled the letter L.

“Very good, Rasheeda. Class, this is an alif. Say it with me. Al-lif.”

“Al-lif,” the class repeated.

“Alif is like the letter A in English. Can anyone tell me a word that starts with the letter A?” the teacher asked.

“Allah,” one girl said.

“Asad, which means lion,” another suggested.

“Angel.”

The teacher looked up to find a strange woman in an obvious wig, with a large golden dragon dangling from her neck, leaning with her arm in a sling on the inside of the door frame. She knew she wasn’t one of the girls’ mothers.

“Can I help you?” the teacher asked.

“I was wondering if I could speak with you for a moment,” Angel requested politely.

The teacher looked at Angel then at all nine little faces.

“All… all right. Class, keep studying your lesson book.”

The teacher walked over to Angel. “How may I help you?” she politely offered, trying to mask nervousness behind hospitality.

“Please, don’t be nervous. I just need to meet someone here, and I need you to wait with me until he arrives,” Angel said softly.

“I… I don’t under…”

Angel slid the pistol out of the sling. The teacher gasped with fright. “Please don’t…”

“Shh…” Angel quietly silenced her. “Don’t alarm the girls. I won’t hurt you as long as you cooperate. If you don’t, I will kill everyone here.”

The statement was simple yet so menacing that the teacher knew the woman meant business. Her eyes glazed over with tears as she contemplated the safety of the children.

“I’ll… I’ll do whatever you ask. Just don’t…”

“Hurt the children?” Angel finished her plea. “We already discussed that.” Angel pulled out her cell phone and handed the teacher the phone.

“Dial this number.”

Rahman closed his cell phone. He did it without emotion, without words, and without choice. He had no choices because Angel had left him none. He listened to the Muslim sister’s trembling voice.

“Brother, Angel is here,” the teacher said as tears streamed down her cheek. She finished reading the note Angel had passed her. “She has a gun and there are nine little girls here.”

Then Angel got on the line and finished. “I know you won’t call the police, but if you’ve changed that much, you know the consequences. Come alone and unarmed, one hour, your life for theirs. A minute late, start subtracting from nine. You bring a gun, I’ll kill them with it.”

Click.

Rahman resigned himself to his fate. The game was over and Angel had won.

You can’t win, Roc, he remembered her saying, but he had brushed it off as an empty threat.

You missed, but I won’t, nigga, she had promised that day on the train platform.

Angel had laid at his feet his entire cause, represented by nine little Muslim girls, the ultimate sacrifice.

Your life for theirs.

Anyone could live for the cause, kill for the cause, even die for the cause in the heat of battle. But to be asked to trade your life for another’s when you could sit safely at home was what separated the faithful from the false.

Do you think that you will be left alone, saying you believe, and not be tested?

Rahman recited the Qur’anic verse over and over again in his mind. There was nothing he would not do for a cause that involved Islam. Nothing.

Your life for theirs.

Rahman didn’t hesitate. He had to do what he had to do. Only one obstacle remained. His family.

Rahman grimaced over what he had to say to Ayesha. Could he just kiss her and walk out, leaving her with the impression that he’d be back, and then go to Angel, never to return?

It would be a lie, and their relationship had never been based on lies. Of all the blood he had shed, lives he had ruined, and money he had made, he never lied to Ayesha about anything. She had stayed with him through thick and thin, through his wickedness, his incarceration, and his rebirth, each time sacrificing a part of herself to accommodate his intentions. All she ever asked in return was his love and support. All she wanted was for him to be a good father to their three children. She would sacrifice for her family. She already had.

Didn’t Ayesha and his children deserve his presence? Hadn’t he put them through enough? How could he leave his children fatherless, taking life from them to give to nine more? What if he didn’t go?

He shook off the cowardly thought because he realized he had created the situation. If he didn’t go, blood would surely be on his hands.

He had no choice.

Rahman rose from his stupor and went into the bathroom to make wudu for prayer, his last prayer. He unfolded his prayer rug and stood before his Lord to offer the two ra’kahs of prayer Muslims do before imminent death.

He bowed and fell on his face. As he prayed, tears lined his face and wet his beard. He cried not out of fear of death but because he had failed.

As he prayed, Ayesha came to ask him to go to the store to get some milk. She found him in prayer, sobbing hard, and it made her want to go to him and embrace him. Instead, she waited by the door until he was finished.

“Baby, are you okay?” she asked.

He couldn’t even look her in the face. She approached him and touched his shoulder.

“We’re out of milk. I wanted you to go to the store for me,” she said, not knowing what else to say.

Rahman wrapped his arms around her waist and cried against her stomach. The force of his tears ran down Ayesha’s cheeks and they cried as one even though she didn’t know what she was crying about. She held her husband’s head nervously. She had never seen him cry like this before and couldn’t imagine what had caused him to be so emotional.

Rahman rose to his full height and continued to hold Ayesha tightly. Finally, he said, “I… have to go.”

The way he said “go” she knew it wasn’t the type of go she had heard before. It made her search his eyes frantically for answers.

“Rahman, what do you mean ‘go’? Go where? Where do you have to go?”

“Ayesha, something has happened that… that I can’t stop and I can’t let it go on either,” he said, trying to explain rationally what her emotions would never allow her to understand.

“No! No, Rahman! Wherever it is, whatever it is, no! You can’t go!” she said, trembling, fearing the worse.

“Ayesha…”

“Then I’m going, too! If you go, I’m going, and the children are going. We’re all going, Rahman.”

Ayesha was hysterical. Her instincts told her that something terrible was threatening to rip their lives apart.

He grabbed her arms with force and shook her, hoping to make her understand.

“Nine little girls, Ayesha. Nine little girls are going to die unless I do! If I don’t go, they die! Do you understand? I have to go!”

Ayesha would hear none of it. She wrapped her arms around his neck like a vise.

“You promised me, Rahman! You promised me you wouldn’t leave me! What about that? You can’t leave me now, leave us,” Ayesha pleaded selfishly.

“Ayesha, please. There’s nothing I can do. Please. Don’t make it harder for me. Don’t let the kids hear us,” he pleaded softly, but Ayesha was in hysteria’s grip.

“No! They will hear if that’ll keep you here! Ali! Aminah! Anisa!” she yelled, tearing herself from Rahman’s arms and running into the living room.

“Ayesha!”

Rahman followed her into the living room.

“Go to your father! Go to Abu and tell him not to go! Tell him not to leave us!” Ayesha cried from the depths of her soul.

The children understood nothing but their mother’s tears. They ran and wrapped their little bodies around Rahman’s legs and each other.

“Abu? Where are you going? Don’t go. Please!”

“Abu, don’t leave us!”

“Daddy!”

The chorus of young pleas tore Rahman in two pieces, father and man.

“Tell them, Rahman. Tell them! You tell them where you’re going!” Ayesha screamed. She fell to her knees, pleading and praying. “Nine little girls… but what about your own three? You can die for strangers but you can’t live for your own family?”

Rahman knew if he didn’t pull himself away he’d never leave. He hugged and kissed his begging, wet-faced babies and embraced his wife for the last time.

“How could you do this to me, Rahman? How?” she repeatedly asked as he rocked her in his arms.

“I’ll meet you in Paradise. Insha Allah,” he said before pulling away, leaving his children wrapped in their mother’s arms, not knowing why their daddy was leaving.

Rahman looked at them once more and said a silent prayer for their protection. Then he was gone.

Nina pulled up to her house and climbed out of the car. It was still morning but the sun was already scorching.

She looked at the For Sale sign on her lawn. This was the first home she had ever purchased and she couldn’t believe she was selling it. She never thought she’d move. She never thought this wouldn’t be home. Luckily, the market was strong with the low interest rates and the house had sold within ninety days after being placed on the market.

“Really good, Nina. Really good. And we got our asking price. What more could you ask for?” asked her real estate lawyer with papers in hand for her to sign so he could close the deal.

She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, looking at her house one last time, hoping she was doing the right thing. It felt like the right thing. The burden on her already felt lighter. She ascended the porch and had already taken out her keys when she noticed that the door was open a crack. Her heart skipped a beat thinking that there was a burglar or an intruder inside.

Maybe it was Dwight. But he had left his key the night they broke up.

Maybe she had left the door ajar. She had become absentminded lately. Just the other day she left a cup of mocha on her car roof only to have the hot liquid spill all over her windshield when she backed out of Dunkin’ Donuts.

Nina gingerly pushed the door wider and yelled, “Hello?”

She got no response.

Nina peered into her house, afraid to go in, not knowing what could be waiting for her. When she reached for the knob to close the door and call the police, she saw a rose petal on the foyer floor.

It was blood-red and unmistakable, just inches from her Nike sneaker. It was too fresh to have been there long, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had flowers in her house. She opened the door a little wider. Her heartbeat accelerated when she saw another rose petal and another and another.

Nina was frightened. She felt in her heart that Dwight hadn’t left the trail of rose petals. Only one man would leave such a subtle and alluring message. Only one man, and that’s what petrified her and excited her all at the same time. The trail of rose petals became one long rainbow, the rainbow Susan said to believe in, the one with the pot of gold at the end. Nina’s first step confirmed her belief and each shaky step after urged her to run in the other direction.

He’s toying with you.

Run.

She reached the steps.

All he’s ever brought you is pain.

Run.

She reached the landing where the steps turned and climbed to the second floor.

He left you when you loved him most.

Run.

He lied to you. He’s here.

Nina reached the second floor and the rose petals continued to her bedroom door.

Run.

She saw the sun shining on her pillow through the slightly open door. Her knees trembled, her stomach fluttered, and her lips quivered in anticipation.

She wanted to call out his name but couldn’t will her voice to work. The sunlight took on a surreal aura inside her room. She approached the door and stared at the knob.

Run.

But she didn’t run, she couldn’t run. The mystery of what awaited her magnetized her. She pushed the door open slowly and what she found stopped her breath.

“Hello, Rahman,” Angel said as he stepped into the classroom.

Angel sat on the floor with her legs folded under her and was reading a book to the nine little girls circled around her. Her gun rested on the floor between her legs.

The teacher remained in Angel’s line of vision but was not part of Angel’s little circle. The girls looked around and saw Rahman.

“As-Salaamu Alaikum,brother Rahman,” said one of the little girls. The others shouted out the same.

Rahman looked into their smiling faces and could see that they didn’t have any idea of what was happening. He had half expected to find them tied up and gagged. Thanks to Allah they weren’t. But the situation couldn’t have been much worse. They were sitting next to a loaded cannon. Rahman glanced at the teacher. As he expected, Angel had scared her half to death. The teacher was visibly shaken.

“What are you doin’, Angel?” Rahman asked.

“Just tellin’ ’em a story.” Angel smiled at the girls sitting around her so happily.

“Miss Angel, tell us about the dragons and the prince again,” one little girl chimed.

Angel gripped the chain. “Not now, little ones. I need to talk to mi amigo. Si?”

“Si,” they all repeated, as if Angel had just taught Spanish 101. The little girls giggled as Angel brushed their heads as she stood up, her gun once again cleverly hidden in her sling. She took a seat on one of the hard wooden chairs and faced Roc.

“Can… can I take the children now, please?” the teacher asked.

“Of course you can go now, but don’t get stupid. Don’t get anyone else hurt,” Angel replied, nodding to Rahman.

“Come on, girls. Let’s go,” the teacher said, and quickly hurried them out of the room.

Angel took out her gun and cocked the hammer.

“Didn’t I tell you you couldn’t win, Roc? I told you that. Remember?”

Rahman kept his eyes on her without speaking. Angel rose from the chair and crossed the room toward him.

“You a true gangsta, Roc. Or should I say, a true Muslim? You’re like a Tupac song, playin’ no games, right?” Angel smiled. “But that was your weakness, the one I knew I could use against you at will.”

“I’m here. I fear nothing except Allah, not even death. So, if you gonna shoot… shoot. I ain’t got all day,” Rahman calmly said. He was completely at peace with the death he was about to meet.

Angel raised the gun and held it sideways to execute a head shot. Rahman braced himself.

“Tell… me… why,” she growled.

“Why what?” Rahman replied, the smell of death burning his nostrils.

“Why? We made a vow, Roc. All of us. We vowed never to turn on each other!” Angel shouted, trembling with rage.

Rahman then saw Angel do something he had never seen her do before. She cried. Fat tears ran down her face. Rahman closed his eyes.

“We were family, Roc… family! And you threw it all away!”

He took a deep breath. He was ready for it to end. “If you gonna shoot,” he opened his eyes and locked his gaze with hers, “shoot.” He didn’t give a damn about her, their past, or anything she was saying. It was too late. Nothing could save him or her from what she was about to do.

She steadied her arm and said, “I still love you, Roc.”

“I love you, too.”

It was his reply but it didn’t come from Rahman. The familiar voice rang in her ears. She just couldn’t believe she was hearing it.

Nina pushed the door open, and her heart fell and leaped at the same time. Fell because he wasn’t there. She had expected to open the door and see the only man who made her body smile all over.

She expected to see Dutch.

She had imagined running into his arms, sticking her tongue down his throat, feeling his warmth all over, both inside and out.

But he wasn’t there.

What made her heart do double-time, however, was what lay on the bed.

Nina had followed the rose-petal trail to her bed. Spelled across her white comforter was a question.

Will you marry me?

Even the question mark was formed in petals, but the dot below was a one-way ticket to France. Nina covered her mouth. Her hands were shaking. She prayed that if it was a dream, she would never wake up.

“Yes,” she whispered to herself. Then in a louder voice, as if he could hear her, she shouted, “Yes! Yes! I will marry you, Bernard. I love you!”

Dutch had managed to romance her like no man had ever done before, from the shadows, without ever speaking a word. Nina knew she was in love with fire, a very dangerous, all-consuming fire, but the burn was the sweetest thing she had ever known.

“I leave and come back… to this?”

Angel and Rahman both looked into a face they knew well but hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Cr-C-Craze?” Angel spoke in a hushed whisper as she lowered her gun hand.

It was Craze, second in command in Dutch’s empire. It had been over three years since they had seen him, but he was still the same Craze. Same soft brown skin, same chipped tooth, same smirk, same dress code. The custom-made crème-colored linen suit draped his frame, showing he had gained some weight but had chiseled it into an athletic physique.

Angel’s intention to kill Roc was immediately forgotten. “Where’s Dutch?”

Craze chuckled. “Same ol’ Angel… What? Craze don’t get no love? Damn! What about me? Why you ain’t been worried about ol’ Craze?”

Craze smiled and Angel knew it was all real. She ran into his arms. “Crazy!”

Angel’s high-pitched squeal snapped Rahman out of his zone. When she hugged Craze and wrapped her arms around his back, Rahman quickly snatched the gun out of her hand.

Craze, with his back to Rahman, never turned around and never let go of Angel’s waist.

“What now, Roc? You gonna shoot me, too?”

Craze turned to face his former lieutenant with his arms around Angel’s neck.

“Behold the black messiah,” Craze remarked sarcastically. “You wanna clean up the hood? Then forget everything that’s happened between you and Angel and take a trip with me.”

Rahman held the gun on his side, not pointed, but poised.

“A lot’s changed since we last saw each other, Craze.”

Craze took his arm from around Angel’s neck and approached Rahman. Rahman was a head taller, so Craze had to look up to see him eye to eye.

“Look, Roc. You want Newark? Okay. It’s yours. All yours. Every spot under Angel’s control is yours. Now… what you gonna do wit’ it? What you gonna do when the crooked cops, crooked DAs and judges, the mob, and the cartels all come at you at once? Huh? Because you’ll be eatin’ off their plates if you stop the drugs in Jersey.”

“I’ll worry about that when it happens,” Rahman said, stunned that Craze seemed to know every little thing that had been going on. He handed the gun over to him.

“It’s gonna happen so you better worry now.”

Then he turned to Angel.

“And you…” He kissed her on the forehead and smiled at the chain around her neck. “You so busy tryin’ to take back what we left for dead… We been there, done that, ma, then moved on, left the scraps for the dogs.”

He gently lifted the dragon chain from her neck and held it up to watch it dangle in front of his eyes.

“You shoulda buried this wit’ World,” he said before he let it drop to the floor with a heavy thud. Angel moved to pick it up but Craze stopped her.

“Leave it. Just like we leavin’ this petty street paper to the pawns who think they playas.” Craze turned once more to Rahman.

“You want the streets? Take ’em. See how long you can keep ’em. ’Cause to the Feds, you the worst kind of gangsta. But you come wit’ us and we’ll show you how to really change the game. No more hood gangstas, no more street gangstas, but international gangstas. Then you can make your own decision from there,” Craze proposed.

Rahman looked at the gun in his hand and realized he had made a major miscalculation. He was so caught up in the battle he had forgotten about the war. Craze was right about the judges and cops and district attorneys. They all had a piece of the drug pie, either directly or indirectly. Cops were either paid under the table or promoted to detective or captain after a big bust. DAs got convictions and became senators or presidents. One black man in prison could launch and elevate the careers of four white men.

The streets weren’t his enemy. They were his army. His only regret was all the blood that had been shed for this one valuable lesson.

“The trip,” Rahman began, “where we goin’?”

Craze smiled, threw his arm back around Angel, and said, “We’re goin’ to see an old friend.”

The three of them walked out, leaving the tangled dragon chain in a pile on the floor, glittering in the morning sun.