A Gangster's Girl

by Chunichi

  We all knew what that meant. Whoever Samuel felt had the slightest possibility of being the snitch was surely on death row. He would kill every possible witness before he would serve time. We were surprised he didn’t have a shootout with the police when they arrested him. Normally, all types of soldiers, ready for war, would have been surrounding him, but this time the authorities caught him alone. His brother didn’t exactly say what Samuel was doing at the time he was apprehended, but the evidence pointed toward sex.

  India didn’t know what to think. Not only was her man in jail, he was cheating when he was arrested, and he might even have someone try to kill her. She wished that she had listened to me when I used to tell her about all the wicked things involved in that life. We had to do something, not only for her safety but also for her sanity. Our plan was to find out who set up Samuel and to find out if he really was cheating. The most important thing was to keep India alive while we were doing our research. She decided she would stay at my old condo and take leave from work until things got a little safer.

  The following weekend, I went to my next counseling session with Charlotte. When I walked in, she noticed I had not improved at all.

  “Oh my, Ceazia, you look terrible. Why didn’t you call for an emergency session?”

  I cried as I told her all the events of the week. I didn’t understand how so many terrible things could happen to one person. I just wondered what was in store for the next week.

  “Well, let’s see how we did on the assignment. Tell me a time when you felt relaxed,” she said.

  “Sadly, the only time during the entire week that I was truly relaxed was after a ten minute session with my dildo,” I responded, truly embarrassed.

  I would have told her about the time I sat in the Jacuzzi and drank BeIvedere as I listened to reggae and smoked a blunt, but I didn’t think that would draw a pretty self-portrait. I would be classified as a drunk and druggie on top of having to discuss how I used artificial things to give me false happiness. As we talked, she gave me a number of exercises to do when I found myself most stressed. They included breathing exercises, meditation, and muscle stretches. I thought it would be much easier if she would just prescribe Prozac, but at this point, I was willing to try anything, so I agreed.

  Due to a call from my father, as soon as I got home, I had the opportunity to try the stress relief exercise Charlotte taught me.

  “I would like for you to come to New York for Thanksgiving,” he said. And like every call, we ended up arguing.

  “No way. I refuse to spend Thanksgiving with you and your dumb blonde wife. Besides, since you cut off my weekly deposits a long time ago. I can’t afford a trip to New York,” I lied in an attempt to make my father feel guilty.

  “Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be busy working, so what’s the point?” I continued my guilt trip.

  He was so persistent that finally I just agreed to go and hung up the phone. Once I hung up, I did the exercise. I started with my toes and tightened each muscle then relaxed it. I did each muscle until I reached my neck. Amazingly, it worked. I actually felt relieved after I did the exercise.

  That night, I called the girls and we decided to have dinner. We went to one of our favorite spots, a local soul food joint in downtown Norfolk. I was happy. It had been a long time since all of us were able to get together in one centralized location. With the exception of India and me, everyone seemed pretty happy.

  Tionna was excited to tell us about her new man, Jonathan. He was the gynecologist who’d examined her at the health department. We all found that very funny. She told us how she ran into him a month later at the grocery store. He approached her and actually asked her out, and they had been dating ever since. She told us that they even talked about adopting Tonya’s baby. They decided that since Tionna could not have children, they would adopt the little boy. They did not have a decision from the adoption agency yet, but they were confident that everything would go through. We all were happy that things were finally going well for Tionna.

  After we ate, we decided to go sit near the stage and listen to the poetry. As we listened, I noticed India kept looking over her shoulder.

  “What are you doing?” I asked her, annoyed at her constant motion.

  She pointed to a tall, slender, dark girl who sat at the bar. The girl was dressed plainly and wore a turban. India said the girl had been looking in our direction for the past thirty minutes. I assumed she was just being paranoid, so I ordered her a Long Island Iced Tea to calm her nerves.

  That dinner was just the atmosphere I needed. For the first time in a long time, I felt relieved. There was no stress at all. We all laughed, joked, and drank for the next hour. When it was time to go, we were all pretty toasted. I decided to follow India to make sure she got home safely since she was the most drunk. The condo was on the way to the Interstate, so it was on my route home. As she was pulling off toward the complex, I saw her make a sudden stop. I stopped behind her and headed toward the car door. As I approached, she opened the door and stuck her head out. Two seconds later, vomit was everywhere. Just the smell of it made my stomach turn, so I quickly turned and headed back to my car.

  “Pull into the garage,” I yelled.

  I followed her and helped her into the condo. When we got inside, I filled the tub with aromatherapy bath pearls and warm water. I helped her undress and placed her inside the bathtub. While she was bathing, I went to the kitchen to make some cappuccino.

  All of a sudden, I heard a loud thump. I figured she had probably fallen, so I headed to the bathroom to make sure she was okay. On the way, I felt a draft coming from the direction of the living room. When I reached the living room, I noticed the French doors were cracked open. I opened the doors completely to inspect and there was India standing on the balcony, butt naked and dripping wet, pointing a gold glock with a pearl handle to her head. She had no idea I was standing right behind her.

  She sobbed as she prayed in a soft whisper. “Lord, forgive me for the ultimate sin which I am about to commit . . .”

  Bam!

  At that moment, we both spun around at the sound of the French doors shutting. A tall, slender frame stood before us. In the person’s hand was a long, silver machete that glistened in the dim light. Instinctively, I jumped on the person and pushed the lanky body against the rail of the balcony. As we struggled, the towering person pushed the machete toward my neck. I became weaker and weaker as the struggle progressed. The dark being didn’t seem to lose any strength, and the machete was pressing against my neck. It took every ounce of energy in my body to keep the force from cutting my throat. I could feel the pain as the knife began to slice the skin and the blood slowly trickled down my chest.

  Bang . . . bang . . . bang . . . bang!

  And the struggle was over. The dark beast fell to the ground, stiff and lifeless. The balcony and doors were covered with dark wetness. I turned around to see India standing motionless with the gun pointing straight ahead. Smoke rose from the barrel as she stood in the dark.

  Chapter 12

  Wonderful Closures

  Things slowly came together as the months passed. I attended court with Vegas for the case he had in Virginia Beach Juvenile Domestic Court. “Karen White versus Laymont Jackson” the court clerk announced.

  As I walked in, I noticed a much older woman with a child who looked at least twelve years old. Now I know Vegas was a male whore in his younger days, but this is ridiculous. In fact, it’s virtually impossible, I thought as they brought Vegas from the back holding cell and stood him in front of the judge. Then the judge explained that they were there for child support. Vegas looked back at me pitifully and I glared at him with a look of death. While the judge spoke, the woman looked at Vegas as if she was in a state of confusion.

  “This in not my child’s father. I’m here to collect back child support from Laymont Jackson,” the woman said after the judge finished speaking.

  “That is Laymont Jackson,” the judge responde
d.

  As it turned out, the courts had subpoenaed the wrong Laymont Jackson. Vegas was telling the truth. He didn’t know that woman after all. I felt so bad that I had doubted him. I should have trusted him. I watched as the deputy took him away in shackles. He looked at me and gave me that same mesmerizing smile from the first day we met and whispered, “Catch my heart.”

  Tears rolled from my eyes as I blew him a kiss and mouthed the words “I love you.”

  For the first time in months, I felt like I loved Vegas and missed him. I had so much anger and frustration inside of me over the past few months that I nearly forgot what it was like to love.

  Things with India were continuously progressing. She returned to work, and with Charlotte’s help, she got over Samuel as well. After the shooting at the condo, everything came together. The masked person from that night was a female by the name of Chantelli. She was one of Samuel’s soldiers. It was the same girl India had seen in the restaurant that night. We slipped up when we went to our favorite restaurant. Samuel knew India would end up there eventually so he had the girl stake out the place for weeks until we showed up.

  We soon found out that Samuel’s brother was the culprit behind all the hysteria. He was jealous of Samuel’s success, so he set him up. He knew if Samuel was killed or jailed, the empire would be passed on to him. Therefore, he contacted the authorities and gave them leads on a number of murders. Then, he gave them the cue for the arrest. Because he was Samuel’s brother, he knew there were only a few instances when Samuel would be alone. Usually Samuel was surrounded by his soldiers and they were always ready for war. However, his brother knew Samuel had one thing he did alone, and that was sex. So, when Samuel was in the act, his brother gave the signal. The police rushed in and caught him with his pants down, literally. He was standing ass naked, with penis strong, getting what seemed to be the head of a lifetime.

  We were surprised to learn a bootie boy was giving the head he was receiving. Who would have ever thought the don dada would be getting sucked off by a homo? That’s why he was alone. He was so afraid of someone finding out about his secret life that he would risk his safety and send his soldiers away. Any good kingpin would have known that would be his downfall.

  India was infuriated by Samuel’s infidelity. She wanted to get even. She wanted him to pay dearly for breaking her heart. She had put her career and her life in danger by doing the money exchange for him. She was even going to leave the States, move to Jamaica, and marry Samuel. And to think the entire time he had a secret life. He had to pay.

  India asked that I lay an evil cloud above his head for the misery and pain she suffered. The evil spells of voodoo were not something I usually practiced, but I agreed. The smell of cinnamon was in the air as I did the wicked trickery. The empire of his family would surely fall and his soul along with it.

  Tionna and Jonathan decided to get married. They were planning a huge wedding at the botanical gardens in Norfolk. Tionna arranged for a wedding party of at least fifteen and invited five hundred guests. They would spend their honeymoon in Paris. I was so happy for Tionna. She deserved Jonathan, the wedding, and the honeymoon. She was dealt bad hands her whole life, and it was finally her turn to be blessed.

  Although they were not granted the right to adopt Tonya’s little boy, she was still happy. The adoption agency felt the circumstances by which the child was conceived did not make Tionna the best candidate for the adoption. They did grant the adoption to her uncle, though. We were just happy the child was going to be raised by a family member. Tionna and Jonathan had plans of their own to have a child. With Jonathan being a gynecologist, he did plenty of research on a number of studies about infertility. He arranged for Tionna to try infertility pills, injections, and if neither of those methods work, in vitro fertilization.

  Once they got married, they were planning to move to Atlanta. Jonathan landed a job with the Centers for Disease Control and Tionna wanted a new start. Her life was finally on the path we all dreamed of and we wished her well.

  As the days passed, I continued missing Vegas more and more. Each weekend I would travel one hundred miles to visit him. I hated the constant struggle with the deputies every weekend. First, all the visitors lined up to be sniffed by a dog. Then, the butch female deputies sexually harassed us. Each week one particular female deputy would give me a hard time. I don’t know what it was about me, but she just did not like me.

  I wouldn’t be surprised if she was fucking Vegas , I would think to myself each weekend.

  One visit she had the audacity to say, “Excuse me, ma’am. Do you have a thong on?”

  I looked at her with a cold stare and said, “No, I do not.”

  In fact, I had no panties on at all. It took all I had to keep from smacking the color off her face.

  After the harassment session, we were seated on hard folding chairs as we waited for our loved ones to come out. Even though I went through hell to see Vegas, I enjoyed each visit.

  I was always dressed for easy access. Vegas had it worked out with the correctional officers to simply ignore us when we went into the broom closet during each visit. The closet was about the size of a bathroom—just the right size for a quickie. Vegas would unfold the chair that was conveniently placed in the closet, pull down his pants, and sit with his penis at attention. That was my cue to pull up my skirt and hop right on it. I would ride him until he released inside me. It was amazing all the positions we could do in that chair. Vegas’ favorite position was when I would sit on his penis facing away from him, grab my ankles, and bounce up and down. He loved to see my ass bounce while he watched his penis disappear deep inside my vagina. After our quick session, our visit was over and I was on the road home.

  I would immediately run to the car to retrieve the wet wipes and panties that I had waiting. I would clean myself up, put on the fresh pair of panties, and hit the road. After a few visits, I was used to the drive and made it home with no problem.

  Chapter 13

  Reach for the Rasta

  Thanksgiving finally rolled around and it was time for me to take that dreaded trip to New York to see my father. The flight was smooth and I figured it would probably be the highlight of my entire trip. I knew hell was waiting. When I arrived at the airport, old blondie herself was waiting. “Hel-lo,” I greeted sarcastically. Before she could even return the greeting, the drama began. “Darling, you look terrible. Was your flight here okay?”

  Now what type of shit is that to say? What if I thought I looked great?

  “Yeah, the flight was kind of rough, so what’s your excuse?” I glared at her. Even though the flight was fine, I needed a comeback.

  During the entire drive to the house, she quizzed me.

  “How are things back home? Did that boyfriend of yours get out of prison yet? How is your mother? Is she still caring for sick poor people at that city hospital?”

  A look of disgust crossed my face as she blabbed on and on. When she finally took a breath, I got my chance to fire back.

  “Life at home is great. The business is doing well, and Vegas will be home soon. And as far as my mother is concerned, that’s none of your business. Now, if you would like to know how things were before you became my father’s mistress, I can certainly tell you about that.”

  I would never tell that wench anything she could use to belittle me. She did everything she could to make me look bad and make herself look good. That’s the only way she could lift herself up, because in reality, she was nothing without my dad.

  It was cold and windy as I walked to the front door of my father’s house. The butler met me and quickly took my coat. The house was warm and I could smell the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. I was shown to “my quarters” as the balding butler said in an English accent. The room was huge but not very welcoming. I don’t know who my dad used as his interior decorator, but from the looks of things, I’m sure the dumb blonde had a lot to do with it. I felt like I was walking into a barn. The theme of the ro
om was antique country, and it was disgusting. I felt like singing old MacDonald as I entered. There was definitely a moo-moo here and a quack-quack there. There were farm animals everywhere—the wallpaper border, linens, and even the pictures on the wall.

  Once I was settled, I decided to give Carmin a call. She was in New York preparing for a Thanksgiving fashion show for the stars. I was glad she was close by to provide me relief from the Addam’s family.

  “Carmin’s Creations,” she said as she answered the phone.

  “Hey girl! Where’s the party at tonight?” I said, surprising her.

  “Ceazia Devereaux! What the hell is going on?” Carmin excitedly responded “You know the fashion show is on Thanksgiving, so I’m gonna be really busy. But I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to the show and then the after party. I have someone I want you to meet.”

  Carmin knew damn well I wasn’t trying to meet nobody.

  “Don’t nobody want to meet no possessive ass ‘I want you and my girl plus my man’s girl’ type nigga,” I complained.

  “I’ll be there at eight. Dress to impress,” Carmin said, ignoring my statement.

  “A’ight girl,” I simply said, and with that, we hung up.

  Just then, the butler knocked at the door. “The man of the house would like you in his presence.”

  “And where might that man’s presence be?” I laughed and said in a mocking voice.

  He directed me down a long hall to my father’s study. My father sat behind a huge maple wood desk in a burgundy leather chair reading a newspaper. When I entered, he looked over his glasses.

  “Hi, darling. How are you?” he asked.

  He seemed happy to see me, but I’ll never know if it was genuine. My father had changed so much. He acted like he had a stick up his ass. He was such a stiff. When he lived with my mother and me, he didn’t speak the way he does now, he didn’t dress the way he does now, and he definitely didn’t have the same taste in women. Who said money doesn’t change people?