“No,” Jerome started, “you don’t need to do this at all, I’ve learned my lesson, I prom—”
“Shut up.” Michelle pointed the barrel of her gun at Jerome’s chest, over his heart. “Not another word.”
She turned to Nikky. “This might be too hard of a shot to start with. We’ll spend some time on the range, teaching you how to slow your heart rate to help keep your hand steady. But for now, maybe it’s better for me to do it. What do you think?”
“The only thing is,” Nikky said, “if I don’t do it now, this asswipe might think I don’t have the balls to shoot him.”
Jerome’s eyes were wide as he shook his head.
“No, I think he can see you’re serious, and it’s a matter of wanting to do the job right.”
Jerome nodded several times.
“Tell you what,” Michelle said. “Since you’re being so conscientious, you can help, and together well get it done right.”
“Okay,” Nikky said.
Michelle went into the bathroom and brought back a towel. “Grab his dick and pull it off to the side, then cover your hand and arm with this. You don’t want his blood on you.”
Nikky did as instructed.
Michelle looked at Jerome. Tears ran down the sides of his face. “Understand this, asshole, this is your last—your absolute, very last—warning shot. You hurt any of my friends, or any woman, and I hear about it, you’ll be dead before you hear me coming.
Puhffiitt!
*
Steam wafted from several large bowls and dishes piled high with delicious-smelling food set in the center of the Nguyen’s dining room table.
“What did you call this again?” Nikky asked.
“We call the soup ‘fuh,’ like you would say ‘duh’ but with an ‘f’ like in ‘funny.’ If you see it on a menu at a Vietnamese café, it’s spelled p-h-o,” Mrs. Nguyen explained. She picked something out of the soup that looked like a piece of a white plastic straw. “This is lemongrass. You don’t eat it. Just put it on the side of your dish.”
“Sort of like the bay leaf in spaghetti sauce?” Nikky asked.
“Exactly.” Mrs. Nguyen offered Nikky a serving plate piled high with colorful sliced vegetables and meat. “And the other dish is bò lúc lắc. It’s pronounced baa, luke, lock. It’s thinly sliced beef, stir-fried in light oil with bell peppers, onions, and some spices. Do you like it?”
“Everything is delicious!” Nikky said. “I’m definitely checking out more of your kind of food. They told me you were going to have octopus tentacles.” She hooked a thumb at Michelle and G-Baby. “They’re so full of shit.”
“Well, we don’t get much octopus. It’s very expensive in this country so we mostly eat the tentacles of squid. They are quite delicious, as is the rest of the squid. You have to spit out the beak because it’s too hard to chew. Maybe if you come back, I will make you some. We have a dish similar to bò lúc lắc made with squid.”
“Michelle told us you eat baby chickens, dead in the egg. Is that for real?”
“Are you interested in the chicks in the shell? You can get them at most Asian markets. Ask the clerk for hot vit lon. Would you like me to write down the name for you, dear?”
It was clear there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Hell Nikky would ever eat vit lon.
Equally clear, Mrs. Nguyen enjoyed teasing her about it.
Tuan and G‑Baby had had a successful day of fishing.
Michelle and Nikky, well … they had an extremely full day.
Overall, it’d been a long and interesting day for everyone.
Twenty-Seven: Trouble Brewing
“ONE CHEESBURGER WITH the works.” Scott sat the burger and fries in front of Deja. “A Chef salad, with ranch on the side for you.” He set Michelle’s food in front of her. “And for Miss Nikky, the house specialty, one club sandwich. I added some fries along with the chips just in case you wanted them.” Scott smiled and laid her plates on the table, adding, “And drinks all around—an A&W, a Pepsi and a Pepsi.”
After Scott left, Deja asked Nikky, “What was that?”
“What?”
“I didn’t get free fries and called by name, that’s what.”
“He’s just being nice.”
Deja smirked. “Hmm …”
“I’ve been thinking about Jerome,” Michelle said. “I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him.”
“Jerome’s coward and a liar,” Nikky said. “He only said that stuff about doing right because he was scared shitless. Guaranteed, as soon as that sonuvabitch is back on the streets, he’ll be looking to cause trouble.”
“She’s right,” Deja said. “You don’t know that man like I do. Maybe he won’t talk to the police this time, but he’ll have to do something. Since the ambulance had to take him out, everybody will know he got shot. You know how it is in the hood. By now, word’s out that he got tied to his own bed and shot in the balls.”
“Since people will know how he got shot, he’s got to show he can do something.” Nikky added. “If he lets that shit slide, he’ll get dissed, bad. He couldn’t stand that. He won’t have any choice, He has to do something if he wants to stay in the hood.”
“You were right,” Michelle said. “Killing him wasn’t right for what he did, but we couldn’t let him get away with it, either. Shooting off his ball was pretty extreme. You’d think he’d get smart after that.”
Deja nodded. “Yeah, he definitely had it coming. I’m glad y’all did that shit. All I’m saying is he’ll come back at us, and we’ve got to be ready.”
“What do you think?” Michelle asked.
“First, Jerome’s a coward. He won’t go against us alone,” Nikky said. “He’ll talk shit to anyone who’ll listen to try to get someone to back him up.”
Deja scoffed. “Nobody with juice will back his play.”
“You’re right on that,” Nikky said. “No matter, because he’ll talk to whoever he can. You know the kind of trifling men who’ll listen to him. The kind who’s not doing shit, but thinks their woman is supposed to take care of them just because they’re men. They’ll be dangerous if they’re all emotional and pissed.”
“And you can bet they’ll be scared and act real pissed because some woman shot a man’s shit off,” Deja added. “I think we should get some backup.”
“She’s right,” Michelle said. “Word will spread, and the brothers’ll be scared. When an ignorant fool gets scared, he’ll start out being jumpy and stupid, then he’ll turn mean. Sad truth is, there are a lot of ignorant fools around.”
“I agree,” Nikky said. “You’re telling it like it is. I know how childish they can be. What do y’all want to do about this?”
Michelle paused, spread her hands, and shook her head. “Really? I think we need to think of it as a women’s thing. I mean, we don’t have any men who can watch our backs. Deja was only with Jerome.” She nodded to Nikky. “You’re not with anybody regular, and I don’t even live here.”
“That’s all true,” Nikky said.
“Without any men in our lives, we don’t have any real way of knowing what the brothers are up to. If we stay alone like we are, we won’t know when something’s coming.”
“What about your uncle, G‑Baby?” Deja asked. “He should hear something at the barbershop. He’ll tell you if anything’s jumping off, right?”
“Sure he would,” Michelle said, “if he hears it on time. Everything that happens in the hood gets talked about in his shop—sometimes before it happens; most times, after it’s all done. We need to know what’s coming before the shit goes down.”
“So we need more help than just him,” Nikky said.
“Right. I can holla at Baby‑Sister,” Michelle said. “She and G‑Baby have been getting tight. She might help. She works over at B’s Salon. The women sit around and talk about the menfolk.”
Nikky nodded. “That’s good, real good, but most the women in Miss B’s are older. They won’t be in the mix wit
h the pricks we’re dealing with. But you’re right about the women. The younger sisters sit around talking about their men, same as the older ones do. Sisters spending time in bed with their men will hear the grumbling long before it jumps off. We’ll need to hook up with any sister who could have a problem if their man starts getting ideas from Jerome.”
“That sounds real good, Nikky, real smart,” Deja said. “But how do we know who they are, and how do we get them to help us?”
“Good question. Got any ideas, Michelle?”
A smile spread across Michelle’s face. “Yeah, I think I might know just the thing.”
*
Michelle rang the bell at Miss Betty’s townhouse-style apartment. A moment later, Miss Betty opened the door. “Well, I’ll be, Michelle. What a nice surprise.”
“Hey, Miss Betty, how’re you doing?”
“I’m doing fine, child. Doing fine. And who’s that with you?” She looked past Michelle. “Deja? Is that you? I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays.” Miss Betty gave her a church-lady guilt frown.
“And who else do we have here?” Her gaze shifted over to the other side of Michelle. “Nikky, Nikky Harris? Where in the world have you children been? Y’all come on in out of the weather. The news said there’s a summer storm coming in and it’s about to turn nasty.” Miss Betty stepped aside to let the three friends into her home. “What can I get you? I’ve got iced tea, lemonade, or I can make some hot tea.”
“Is it your famous ‘picnic’ tea?” Michelle asked. Miss Betty’s iced tea was so sweet, the ants tried to carry it off.
“Course it is, child. What other kind is there?”
“I’ll have some of that,” Michelle said.
“Me, too,” Deja added.
“Me, three,” Nikky chimed in.
They all moved into the dining room and sat down at Miss Betty’s big table. She served up her picnic tea with slices of her best lemon cake. No one could visit Miss Betty without her feeding them something.
“All right, ladies.” Miss Betty took a seat across from Michelle and looked at each of the friends, one by one. “What’s this all about?”
With that, Michelle brought Miss Betty up-to-date on the Jerome situation and how they were concerned about what could happen if he got some of the brothers in the hood riled up and acting out. She left out the part about who actually shot Jerome.
“Some men will think Jerome had it coming,” Michelle said. “We’re worried that there might be some who’ll act like fools. They might even start acting out with their women. The women in the hood need to know this could blow up.”
“Well, that does sound like a fine mess,” Miss Betty said when Michelle finished her story. “What do you girls want to do?”
“At first, we wanted to make a list of the women most likely to need our help, but that list would be huge,” Nikky said. “Our next choice is those most likely to help us. And they’ve got to understand the police can’t be involved, so that’ll take some of them off. Once we have a good, solid list, we’ll tell them what happened to Jerome and why. Then ask them to pay special attention to any shit-talking from their man on the issue.”
“Where y’all getting this list from?” Miss Betty asked.
“That’s where you come in,” Michelle said. “We need help with creating the list. Between us, we know a lot of women our age, but that’s not enough. We hoped you would want to help. Sorry to bring up old memories, Miss Betty, but I know you’ve had some experience with this sort of thing a long time ago, and understand how a fool can act stupid for no real reason.”
Miss Betty nodded. “You’re right, they’re old memories, and bad ones, too.”
“Also, you know most everybody in the hood.”
“That I do. And everybody knows me, because I’ve been here since most of these fools were in diapers.” Not only did she know everyone, and their mommas, she also knew who was honest, who was a liar, who had heart, and who was a born coward. “Lots of people come to me to learn what’s happening, and I’m usually the one who can tell them, too. One thing’s for sure, I’ll keep this type of thing to myself.”
Miss Betty knew two types of secrets: those that begged to be spread far and wide, and those that were nobody’s business. If someone did any dirty business, or if a minister had an affair, it was all over but the shouting; the news would hit the streets before whoever it was had their lies straight. A woman in trouble is a whole different thing; she could trust her life to Miss Betty.
“We were hoping you might see your way to help us with this problem,” Michelle said.
“Lemme see … You need a couple things,” Miss Betty said, adding a bit of drama. “You need to figure out who you can hook up with and you’ll need to meet someplace where it won’t draw special attention. Good you came to me because I can help you better than just about anyone else.”
“Thank you.” Michelle nodded in respect and gratitude. “We appreciate your help, Miss Betty.”
“Well, girl, we women have to stick together. I had me a real good man for many years, God bless his soul. Before me and Big John got married, my first husband treated me real bad.”
From the time they were young, single girls, Michelle’s mother and Miss Betty had gone to the same church, and Michelle knew the story of how Miss Betty’s first husband put her in the hospital several times. One of the biggest reasons Miss Betty would always help a woman in need.
Miss Betty checked her small, silver watch. “I’ve got to go to church in a few minutes, so I can’t do much this evening. How about you girls come back here tomorrow, and I’ll have a list of who you should talk to. No, actually, I can do better than that. This is important, and we should act like it. I’ll get busy and round up some of the women most likely to help, ask them to meet with you here tomorrow. How does that sound?”
*
The next evening, back in Miss Betty’s house, Michelle scanned the room. Good to her word, Miss Betty had gathered up a group of the right type of women.
“And this is Latoya,” Miss Betty said, completing her introductions of the twelve women.
Michelle recognized everyone. Interesting, since she didn’t actually know most of them. Janeka was the exception; she was Michael’s old girlfriend, and Michelle knew her fairly well.
They represented many different groups. She knew T‑Dog and Sugar had their own crews. Latoya looked like a church sister but with a no-nonsense, don’t-mess-with-me attitude Michelle liked. Janeka had always been strong and straightforward.
“We don’t know for sure,” Michelle told the women, “but there may be a problem building up for everyone across the board. An asshat named Jerome got shot by some women the other night and there’s a good chance he’ll try to create some drama for the women in here the hood.”
“What’s new with some fool getting hisself shot by his woman?” Sugar asked. “Why’s that any of our bidness?”
“Because his woman didn’t shoot him,” Michelle answered. “It was a couple sisters he’s not with. They did the deed. They tied him up in his own bed and shot him in the balls.”
At this, the room blew up with laughter and whooping.
“It’s about time!”
“Give those sisters a medal!”
“Hooaaa!”
“Move over, Lorena Bobbitt.”
When everyone settled down, Miss Betty asked, “Michelle, can you tell everyone why Jerome got his ball shot off, and what you’re worried about?”
Michelle explained her concern that the drama might be fools getting stupid about about showing their women who’s in charge. A lot of women could get hurt.
T‑Dog asked, “What do you think we need to do?”
“Telling the ladies to watch out won’t be enough,” Nikky said. “We need a way to get the information, and then do something with it. We need a way to organize.”
“Something like a sisters’ crew,” Deja said. “Together, we’re strong and we can stop a sister
from getting hurt by some ignorant sonuvabitch.”
“But we don’t know enough strong women to put a group like that together,” Michelle added. “At least, not on a regular basis. Not where all of the women involved will work together. They’ll need to look out for each other even when they have other things going on. We’re hoping to get all y’all’s help with this.”
“What you think?” Sugar asked T‑Dog.
“I think this has been a long-time problem for women in the hood,” T-Dog replied. “This jerk, Jerome, only made it come out in the open. I’ll talk to my crew for their thoughts and ideas, but, yeah, we’re in.”
“Miss Betty, can we meet here again in a few days?” Sugar asked.
“How about Sunday, after church? Is that good for everyone? Maybe some of you could come to church with me.” Betty winked, then laughed. “After church, here?”
All of the women agreed.
“If we’re gonna be a crew, we need a name,” Deja said. “Not like any one person’s name, like Karrie’s Crew. It has to be something we can all get and be down with. It’s gotta be cool, and represent. What if we call ourselves ‘The Pussy Squad’ or ‘Pussy Posse’ or ‘Cat Attack’?”
“Girl, you’re crazy.” Michelle laughed. But she did think the idea wasn’t half-bad. She understood the importance of a name or slogan. A simple “Ooaahh!” from the Marine Corps had won battles.
“Okay, Deja, I think you’re right,” Michelle said. “We need to call ourselves something good, and it needs to mean something. Like NASA means something.”
“Wait, what? NASA means something?” Deja asked. “What’s it mean?”
“I don’t know. National Airplanes and Astronauts, or something like that. Whatever it is, it’s important to the people in it.”
“People United to Stop Sonuvabitchs like You,” Nikky said. “That’s it: P-U-S-S-Y.”
Several women laughed at the name, but Miss Betty surprised them when she said, “I like it. My generation is always afraid of saying it, like it’s a bad thing to have a pussy. I’m proud to be a part of the Pussy. Squad.”
“Well, there you go,” Michelle said. “We have ourselves a name. We’re the Pussy Squad.”
Sister's Revenge: Action Adventure Assassin Pulp Thriller Book #1 (Michelle Angelique Avenging Angel Assassin) Page 17
