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.”
29
LeShelle
Never let bitches see you sweat.
I learned that shit the hard way—even now when I’m surrounded by my family but they’re all acting strange. These bitches haven’t turned on me, have they? My mind races through a catalog of bad deeds and at the top of the list is my fear of Python finding out I struck a deal with a Flower to murk one of his baby mommas. I’m sure he didn’t give a fuck about her, but he would care about killing the seed that was in her belly.
“Where the fuck is that bag—or are y’all gonna keep me with my ass hanging out in this muthafucka?”
Pit Bull cheeses up as she shoves the black, leather duffle bag my way. “Your nigga picked your shit out,” she tells me, envy lacing her voice. “Everything is set.”
Kookie shifts her attention to the window.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask.
She glances back at me to see who I was spitting to. “Who—me?”
“Yeah, you.What’s with the long face? I thought you were glad to see me out?”
“Of course.You know that you’re my girl.” Kookie flashes me a big smile, but the shit doesn’t reach her eyes. “We’ll talk about it another time,” she adds before I can interrogate her further.
Whatever the fuck she gotta tell me everybody else must already know because they all go as silent as the grave.
Avonte ain’t playing behind the wheel because she floats our ass out of Memphis in no time flat. In the meantime, I change out of the ugly hospital gown into the packed clothes in the bag: black lacy underwear, short white mini-skirt and a white, crop cami—accompanied by a pair of breathtaking silver Louboutin pumps. If this is an apology for him not personally busting my ass out, apology accepted. I rush through the toiletries and then put my hair in some kind of order. No sense in looking like Whodunit and what for when I step out of this bitch.
“How do I look?” I ask, turning to Kookie.
“Like a muthafuckin’ queen.”
>
Heads nod in agreement all around me, but that doesn’t stop a few butterflies from tickling my belly when the car rolls to a stop. I can’t help but twist up my mug shot at seeing where we are. “A church?” I take in the old, red-brick building with paint-chipped columns and wonder whether this shit is some kind of a joke.
“C’mon.We better hurry up,” Pit Bull says, hopping out of the car. “Our asses is already late.”
Everybody scrambles out like fuckin’ roaches, but my ass is still stuck on stupid on why the fuck Python’s ass is hanging out at a dilapidated church with a graveyard out back.
“Girl, are you comin’?” Kookie snaps.
Swallowing my list of questions, I climb out of the car. My ass was already wobbly before the fuckin’ heels. Now I feel like a toddler tryna walk for the first time.
Kookie and Pit Bull flank my sides.
“It’s all right, girl. We got you.”
Never let bitches see you sweat.
“That’s all right. I got it.” I shake them off and they fall back a step. I start to head round back, thinking that’s where we need to enter, but once again, Kookie grasps hold of my wrist and leads me toward the front door.
“This way.”
I give her a look.The last thing I need right now is for the man upstairs to strike my ass down for rolling up in his house. For most of my life the Lord and I had an understanding: I stay out of his business and he stays out of mine. When I glance at the girls again, my nerves knot in my gut. These bitches are up to something.
“Are you going to go, girl, or what?” Pit Bull snaps impatiently. “Python’s waiting on you.”
This bitch better not be lying. I pat the Glock at my waist before turning and heading up the steep stairs. At the door, I pause, place my hand on the Glock, and then jerk the door open.
Immediately, an organ plays . . . The Wedding March?
Shocked as hell, I glance around wide-eyed to see a rather large gathering of jeans-clad, but blue-and-black-flagged niggas in the pews. In the center of the aisle is a grave-looking preacher . . . and Python.
Python.
My nigga, ugly as sin, but physically sexy as hell, looks like he’s packed on ten more pounds of muscles on his shoulders and arms. Black jeans hang off his trim waist while a gray-and-white plaid shirt covers his entire tatted body. Upon seeing me, he snatches off his shades and gives a lopsided grin that usually means that he’s in the mood for some pussy.
Kookie shoulder-bumps me. “Better get your ass down there, gurl, before that nigga changes his mind.”
I blink out of my shock but still manage to bat back the river of tears flooding my eyes. This shit is really happening. My hand falls away from my Glock and I begin the slow march down the aisle. My gaze never leaves Python. He’s smug because he’s pulled off the surprise of the decade. He fidgets and then he rolls his forked tongue over his thick lips, giving them a nice, sexy gloss.
By the time I reach him and the preacher, my heart’s pounding its way out of my chest.
“You all may be seated,” the preacher announces.
For a second, I think that he means my ass, too, because my knees dip. Python holds. Shit. It’s hot up in this bitch.
“Welcome back, baby,” Python says, winking and taking my hand.
I look down and I’m taken aback by ugly burns covering his hands. He was in that car accident.
He smiles and I push all my questions to the back of my head for another time. We turn toward the preacher, who opens his Bible and begins his spiel.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony. . . .”
I sneak a peek to my right and see Python heavily engrossed in what the preacher is saying. I, on the other hand, have a hard time concentrating on the words. I’m about to be a married woman. Every fiber in my body explodes with joy. I’ve wanted this for so long. I fought more bitches than I could name for this moment. No more playing house. No more wifey. No more “ride-or-die chick.” The official title will be wife. Mrs. Terrell Jerome Carver.
A little boy trots up to us with a pillow and two gold bands.
Python picks up one and slides it next to my diamond ring before repeating after the preacher, “I,Terrell Carver, take you, LeShelle, to be my lawfully wedded wife. Knowing in my heart that you will be my constant friend, lover, and partner in life. I pledge my love and promise to stay by your side in sickness and in health, in good times and bad. I will protect you from harm, comfort you in times of distress, and cherish you for as long as we both shall live.”
There’s no fighting back the tears after that. I’ve waited all my life for someone to say these words to me—for someone to want me. With blurry eyes, I reach for the other gold ring and repeat the same vows.
The preacher turns toward me. “Do you, LeShelle, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold from this day forward?”
Oh shit. “I do.”
“Do you,Terrell, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
Python’s beastly face splits open with a smile. “I do.”
“Then, by the power vested in me, I pronounce you two man and wife.You may kiss the bride.”
Niggas erupt out of their seats as Python sweeps me into his arms and lays a fat-ass kiss on me. Shit. Nothing ever tasted so sweet. I throw my arms around my husband’s neck and pour every ounce of love into him that I can. It isn’t until my lungs beg for oxygen that I break the kiss, but I hold on to him for a long time after.
Later, muthafuckas bum-rush us with congratulations.
“Girl, you should’ve seen your face,” Kookie crows. “You would’ve thought your ass was about to walk into a shoot-out or some shit.”
“I know that’s right,” Pit Bull cosigns, drawing me into a hug.
I stop trying to hold back these muthafuckin’ tears. I’m happy—and I want the whole fucking world to know it. Swinging my big-ass grin around the room, I search for Momma Peaches . . . then for McGriff . . . and there are a few more missing soldiers. I turn my pinched-up face toward Python and I see for the first time just how hard he’s struggling to hold up his plastic smile.
“Are you ready to roll, Mrs. Carver?” he asks before I can get my interrogation on. “There is a little matter of a honeymoon night.”
I hesitate for a beat and my joy is too great to let a few missing gray clouds ruin my wedding day. “I’m rolling with you until my last breath.”
A rare, genuine smile stretches across my husband’s lips before he wraps a muscular arm around my waist, plants another kiss on me, and then directs me toward the church’s front door.
Everyone cheers and waves as we make it down the aisle then burst through the doors. The celebration follows us outside. Python’s beloved black Monte Carlo pulls to the bottom of the stairs. The word “Newlyweds” is written across it with silver cans tied to the bumper. We race forward beneath a shower of rice and confetti.
Halfway down the stairs, the unmistakable sound of tires squealing catches my attention.
RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT!
POW! POW! POW!
There’s no time for me to react before something burns me and Python lunges his large body in front of me. The next thing I know I’m swept off my feet and then a second later, hitting the hard, concrete stairs with the wind knocked out of me.
“FIVE POPPIN’, SIX DROPPIN’, NIGGAS!”
30
Lucifer
RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT!
POW! POW! POW!
I watch as Python pulls his bitch back and then throws himself in front of our spray of bullets. His big un-dead ass is lifted about three feet in the air before crashing back on the white concrete steps on top of his new bride.
“FIVE POPPIN’, SIX DROPPIN’, NIGGAS!”
For a few seconds it feels like shooting fish in a barrel.They fall one after another. He’s Mason’s brother. That shit loops around in my head. My finger eases off the trigge
r as Tombstone floats our asses off into the distance. I pay no attention to the bullets whizzing by my head as the Gangster Disciples’ army spills out of the church to return fire.
Suddenly, I’m uncomfortable about the emotions whirling inside me. On the one hand, I’m thrilled see to his big, ugly ass go down and on the other, I’m attacked by the image of Python clutching his brother and weeping from his soul.
RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT!
POW! POW! POW!
Through the exchange of gunfire, I catch sight of Cleo, standing boldly at the church door. For a brief second our eyes connect, a transmission of an understanding passes between us and if I’m not mistaken, a ghost of a smile haunts the corners of her lips.
“Yes, goddamn it! Yes!” Profit punches his fist into the air. “We got that muthafucka. Did you see his face?”
“Guess his ass wasn’t dead,”Tombstone says.
“He’s dead now,” Profit declares.
My chest swells with pride. I’m happy to give him this moment. Calling him was the right thing to do. Who knows—maybe we can even begin to repair the bridge between us? At least I can hope.
“Pussy-ass punk niggas,” Profit spits, slapping in a second clip. “We ought to back up and shoot his ass again.The muthafucka got nine lives.”
The back window explodes and Novell spits out a stream of curses. “Fuck! Those roaches got me!”
I drop back in from the car’s window, spin around, and hit the interior light. “Let me see.”
Novell moans and groans like a bitch about to drop a baby.
Stretching back over the seat, I snatch the sleeve on his T-shirt up and examine the damage. “Get the fuck out of here. It’s nothing but a scratch. The way you’re carrying on I thought your ass was really hurt.”
Profit and Tombstone laugh.
Novell’s face twists up. “Yeah. Whatever. That nigga, Python, got more than a scratch.We cut his ass in half.That shit was for our man Fat Ace. May he rest in peace.”
I shut off the light and flop around in my seat.
“Fuck yeah,” Tombstone cosigns, nodding and checking the rearview mirror to make sure that the coast was still clear.
Gangsta Divas Page 17
