by Teri Woods
“He… help me…” a dying hustler begged, green vomit on his chin. Capo lifted the gun to his face and helped him with a bullet to the head.
Angel saw that Roll’s body had landed on top of two poisoned dead bodies. He was still alive. Angel kneeled beside him and removed the chain from his neck. She held up Dutch’s chain with lust in her eyes. The jewels winked at her. She kissed the dragon.
“Welcome home.”
“Fuck you… bitch… Kill me, you piece of shit,” Roll moaned.
Angel ignored his plea for death, her eyes set on the dragon chain. “Finish him.”
Goldilocks spread out and began pouring alcohol every-where, on live and dead bodies alike. Angel approached Capo.
“Tu verlo! Tu verlo? This is what happens when you slip. In this game, nothing else matters. Any weakness can be exploited! You understand?”
Capo looked around at the squirming bodies. It was a sight he would never forget. “Si,” he replied solemnly.
Angel studied his eyes for any weakness in him. Satisfied, she patted his cheek and kissed him on the forehead.
“La familia.”
Angel placed the chain around her neck, feeling the weight of it against her breasts. Goldilocks approached her and said, “It’s done.”
Angel lit a cigarette with a wooden match, grabbed half a bottle of Remy, stood over Roll, and emptied it on him. “Happy birthday, nigga. Let me see you blow out this candle.”
As she strolled away, she tossed the match over her shoulder. Roll watched the small deadly flame arc through the air and land on his chest. In seconds, he was a human inferno.
“Noooo!” he shrieked as his flesh ignited.
From his body, the flames spread through the club, and cries of pain and the odor of burning bodies filled the air. Angel, Capo, and Goldilocks turned and exited Hell.
By the time they reached the Jag the club was fully engulfed in flames.
In one night, Angel had succeeded in doing what had taken Dutch a month to accomplish. She had locked down the streets without firing a single shot. She had proven that pussy was the most dangerous weapon of all.
Goldilocks caressed Angel’s thigh. “You were right. Pussy does control the game.”
She kissed Angel on the cheek, then on the neck, then put her knees in the seat and faced Angel’s lap. Angel cocked her right knee up on the gearshift, giving Goldilocks easy access to her golden sweetness.
While Angel was celebrating her success orally, back in Newark Roll’s final order was being carried out.
Salahudeen closed up his martial arts shop and pulled the metal awning down over the window. He squatted to lock it in position. His fingers worked unconsciously as he thought of Rahman. Salahudeen didn’t disagree with Rahman’s tactics, only the motive he felt was behind them. He felt Rahman was losing focus on the overall goal and getting caught up in the objectives designed to obtain them. He planned on having a long talk with him.
“Yo, nigga!”
Salahudeen’s razor-sharp instincts told him to react. He reached for his gun and spun out of his squat in one smooth motion, ready to blaze, but he was met by four assassins, all dressed in black and carrying AR-15s.
BBBRRRAAAAHHHHH!
A chorus of flying bullets sang Sal to sleep. His body jerked and twisted like a puppet on a string.
When the gunbursts finally ended, he fell to the ground.
“There is no God but Allah, and Muhammad is his messenger…” Salahudeen spoke before closing his eyes for good.
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 h
e 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.
