The Black Widow Clique

by Genesis Woods

  Internal bleeding? Head injuries? Was I in a car accident and don’t remember? Since my throat was so sore, I hurriedly picked up the marker and began to write on the dry-erase board.

  Was I in an accident?

  The doctor looked back at my granny, who looked at me, then back at him, and nodded her head. I didn’t know if she was saying yes to my question or telling the doctor to continue.

  “Ms. Reid . . . May I call you Melonee?” the doctor asked as he sat down at the foot of my bed.

  I slowly nodded my head, never taking my eyes off my granny.

  This was the first time I had noticed just how stressed out she actually looked. Her eyes were red, and she looked really tired. The peach blouse she was wearing and the black dress pants she had on were slightly wrinkled, which was so unlike my granny. She started her mornings off with ironing her clothes for the day, and then she would go downstairs to make breakfast for herself and Madison. I took in her pecan-colored skin and didn’t like how pale she looked. It was as if she hadn’t been in the sunlight for days.

  “Melonee, as I said, for the past three months, you’ve been in a coma.” I tried to say something, but he held his hand up to stop me. “Don’t try to talk right now. Just listen.” When I rested my head back on my pillow, he continued. “The morning you were brought in, you were in real bad shape. Someone had really done a number to you. You were severely beaten, and you were so bloody that initially, the police thought you had been shot. You suffered some blunt trauma around your rib and chest area, which caused internal bleeding.”

  He went on. “During surgery, we were able to stop the bleeding and also make sure that none of your vital organs were affected. This person or persons that attacked you were really trying to kill you or to make sure you didn’t remember anything about what happened, because the blows to your head were enough to actually kill you. For a second there, we thought we had lost you, but something inside you kept fighting. A CT scan was performed after your surgery, and thankfully, you suffered only limited swelling to your brain.”

  “Baby, do you remember anything about the person who did this to you?” my granny asked, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember anything.

  “She probably won’t remember anything right now, because she’s suffering from short-term memory loss,” the doctor noted.

  “Short-term memory loss? How do you know that?” My granny walked closer to me. “You know who I am, right, baby?”

  I could see the tears start to build up in her eyes again, which caused them to build up in mine.

  “Granny,” I said, but I could barely get the word out.

  “See? She remembers me. Her memory isn’t lost.”

  The doctor shook his head. “She remembers you because, as I said, she is suffering from short-term memory loss. Anything before the night of the attack, she will most likely remember, but everything after that may come back or might not come back at all.”

  “Well, can she take some sort of medicine to get it back? Now that she’s awake, we can finally put that bastard in jail, where he belongs.”

  I didn’t know what my granny was talking about, but I sure was about to try to find out. When I reached for the dry-erase board, which I had placed on my belly, I was shocked by the small bulge, which I didn’t remember being there. I pulled the covers down from over my breasts and almost had a heart attack. Good thing I was already in the hospital.

  “What’s wrong with my stomach?” It hurt like hell for me to say that, but I needed answers.

  “Baby, I don’t know how to tell you this,” my granny said, trying to explain, “but that vicious asshole didn’t just stop at beating the living crap out of you. He . . . he . . .” My granny couldn’t even finish the sentence before she started sobbing again.

  “Melonee, what your grandmother is trying to tell you is that on top of beating you damn near to death, your attacker also raped you.”

  “Raped me?”

  He nodded his head. “The police found you naked in a beach house in Malibu after they received an anonymous call from someone. Your underwear and clothes were ripped off and discarded. We did a rape kit on you and found some vaginal tearing, lacerations, and bruising. There was also the presence of semen, which we collected and gave to the police to test for DNA.” He looked at me as if he was trying to say something with his eyes, and I gave him that “Okay . . . and?” look.

  He continued. “A pregnancy test was performed a few weeks after your rape to confirm if you were pregnant or not, and the test came back negative. The second test that was done came back with the same results, so we didn’t think anything of it. Well, that was until the nurse who was originally assigned to you went on vacation and you were given a new one.”

  I was tired of him beating around the bush, and the medicine I had just been given in my IV by the blond nurse was making me sleepy. “What are you not saying?” I asked.

  He wiped his hand down his face and looked down at the floor. “Well, the nurse who administered the first two tests had a lapse in judgment due to her pro-life beliefs. A selfish choice was made for you by her, which in turn resulted in her immediate termination from Sacred Hearts.”

  “Meaning?”

  He blew out a frustrated breath. “Meaning that we were unaware that you were with child for a number of weeks. The falsified paperwork completed by the nurse indicated that your tests were both negative. By the time we realized that this was not true, it was too late to terminate the pregnancy, given that you were in a coma and were still healing.”

  The pain that shot throughout my whole body was unbearable as I sat up in my bed, trying to comprehend what the doctor had just said. “Are . . . are you trying to tell me that I’m pregnant and carrying the baby of the man . . . the man who attacked me?”

  I saw the doctor slowly nod his head, but I didn’t see or hear anything else after that, because everything around me went black.

  Fiona

  I sat in the hospital cafeteria, sipping on my cup of coffee, nibbling a cream-cheese Danish, and watching the news. Although Melonee’s attack had happened three months ago, they were still reporting on it because of who her attacker was.

  “Representatives from the Black family’s legal team declined to answer any questions pertaining to the case being built against Mr. Roman Black when asked this morning,” said the reporter. “However, a close source to the family has informed us that Mr. Black is still out of the country and will not be back in the States until he is subpoenaed or officially arrested for the assault and brutal rape of twenty-six-year-old Melonee Reid. Sources close to the billionaire bachelor says that Mr. Black still denies these allegations while in Russia and will continue to deny them until his name is cleared. This is Anna Brinks reporting live for KCAL Nine News at noon.”

  As the reporter started on another story, I took one last bite of my cream-cheese Danish and threw the rest away. Just thinking about one of the biggest paydays since we started the BWC going down the drain had suddenly made me lose my appetite. The doctors weren’t sure if Melonee would remember anything once she woke up, but I was planning on making sure I helped her out with that. If we couldn’t get to Roman Black’s money through his heart, we’d for sure get to it through a rape and attempted murder charge. I just needed to make sure Melonee at least remembered something about her attack that would point fingers at Roman.

  I was still sitting in the cafeteria, with thoughts about this money rolling around in my head, when Proof walked in and sat down on the empty seat in front of me.

  * * *

  He wiped his hand down his handsome face and blew out a frustrated breath. I could tell by his red eyes that he had not been sleeping too well. If he wasn’t at home taking care of Madison, he was at the hospital, waiting for Melonee to open her eyes.

  “You look like shit,” I said and laughed. Proof and I had always had this love- hate relationship, but he knew that he was my boy.

  “I feel like shit, s
is. Between being at the hospital the majority of the day, then going home and taking care of Madison at night, I don’t know which way is up.”

  “What about Granny? Why don’t you have her watch Madison for a couple of days?”

  He shook his head, then picked up my semi-warm cup of coffee and took a sip. The way his face scrunched up after that first taste, I could tell he wasn’t ready for the shitload of sugar I needed to drink this bitter shit.

  “Man, Fee, your ass is going to be up in one of these hospital rooms in a minute with diabetes if you keep drinking your coffee like this.”

  I waved him off, then let my head fall back so that I could gather up my auburn strands into a messy bun on the top of my head. When I brought my face back into Proof’s view, I couldn’t help but notice the spaced-out look on Proof’s face. Although the redness in his tired eyes stood out, you could not miss those hypnotizing green irises of his. For a second, my mind almost went to a place where it shouldn’t go while I sat in front of my best friend’s baby daddy, but when I saw small tears start to build up in the corners of his eyes, I knew my lustful thoughts needed to be changed to ones of concern.

  “What’s wrong, Proof?”

  I watched as he willed the tears not to fall, but he lost the battle once his eyes connected with mine. “I should’ve been there, Fee. I’m always there when Mel needs me. And not because I still have love for her, but because she’s my daughter’s mother. It would kill me if I ever had to tell Madison that her mother was gone and was never coming back. Do you know how bad I felt the night she was brought here, all fucked up and unresponsive? I’m still trying to figure out how she ended up at this fool’s loft that night. How did she even run into him? EB, Mouse, and Wiz said that she was in the ballroom with you but left a little after that. She didn’t tell you where she was going?” He looked at me, and I could tell that he was expecting an answer.

  “She said something about leaving her purse in the car we rode in, and she said she needed it for something. I told her to leave it, but she insisted on retrieving it.”

  “I should’ve been there that night. But I just had to take out this new chick I met, trying to convince myself that I was really over Mel.” He shook his head as the tears continued to fall. “Three months, Fee! For three months, I have had to keep telling Madison that her mother was just sleeping because she needed some rest.” He held the bridge of his nose, then used those same fingers to wipe away the couple of tears that had just run down cheeks. He cleared his throat. “I don’t know how you’re going to take this, but fuck it. This is something that has been on my mind ever since Mel said it.”

  He hesitated for a minute, then spoke. “I think we should shut down the BWC or at least give it a rest for a few years. Shit is starting to go left, and it’s only a matter of time before some other shit happens that has all of us either in jail or in the hospital, fighting for our lives. If this wasn’t a wake-up call for that ass, I don’t know what would be.”

  I nodded my head, then looked down at the red leggings I had on. My feet, which were in a pair of all-white Ones, began to tap the shiny tiled floor. I pulled at the hoodie strings hanging off my shoulders and started making loose loops. A few times I had thought about the BWC shutting down, but I had changed my mind each time, as Cowboy would show me pictures of potential clients and tell me their estimated net worth. I also thought about all the stuff Mel had said that day I went to her apartment about finding real love and being married for real. Yet again, that money had your girl saying, “Fuck love.” Looking at the situation my best friend was in, and recognizing all the hurt that it had caused her and everyone close to her, you would think that my mind would be made up. However, maybe this was the wake-up call she needed to actually disengage from the clique. I mean, we would no doubt always be best friends, but she could easily be replaced, along with his ass and anyone else.

  “I hear everything you’re saying, bruh, and please believe me when I say that thoughts of shutting down the BWC have crossed my mind on more than one occasion.” I was lying, but he didn’t have to know that. I grabbed my coffee from him and took a sip. “Everything you just said is the same thing I was just telling Cowboy. Maybe it is time to change up some things. Had Roman Black actually responded to any of my advances, that could easily be me up there in Melonee’s hospital room, trying to wake up.”

  I dropped my head, and the tears I didn’t even know were there began to fall. “As far as how she ended up running into him, your guess is as good as mine. We were waiting for his ass to show up all night, but he never did.”

  “And at Melonee’s expense, we know why now.” Proof placed his hands in the pockets of the hoodie he had on, then leaned back in the seat. “You don’t think somebody has the drop on us and knows what it is the Black Widow Clique does, do you?”

  I shook my head. “Naw, I don’t think so. Besides, Cowboy makes sure to erase unnecessary shit from our records that could get us caught up.”

  “That may be true, but there are always ways to find out certain information about people and who they are associated with and what they do. Something just ain’t right about this. I’m not a big fan of that muthafucka Roman Black, but I doubt he would need to drug a girl and take advantage of her, damn near risk his whole career and freedom, just to take some pussy, which I’m sure he can get at the drop of a dime.”

  I looked at him like he was crazy. Whose fucking side was this nigga really on? The only thing that needed to make sense to him was that his baby mama was laid up in the hospital, almost dead, because of Roman Black.

  “I don’t put nothing past anybody. We weren’t in the car that night when he and Mel got together, so we don’t know what went on. One thing I do know is that white people are crazy, especially those Russians,” I said.

  Proof looked at me for a long minute, then looked down at his watch. “All right, Fee. I’m about to be out. I have to go pick up Madison so I can bring her back up here to see her mom. Madison was the first person Mel asked for when she woke up.”

  I hopped out of my seat, damn near knocking over the table. “Mel is up!”

  For the first time in three months, Proof finally smiled. “Yeah, she’s been up for a little over twenty minutes. Granny wanted the doctor to tell her about everything that happened to her, including the baby, so I stepped out to give them a minute. They should be finished explaining things to her by now. You need to get your ass on up there. I know she might need her best friend right about now, I mean, that is, until me and Madison get back.”

  I playfully punched Proof on the arm, then gave him a sideways hug. I didn’t even say good-bye or attempt to wait on the slow-ass elevator. I raced up those eight flights of stairs. I wanted to see if any of Melonee’s memory was back. If not, I had to make sure she remembered everything I needed her to. Starting with Roman Black’s face.

  Roman

  I stood at the large bay window overlooking the picturesque scene of my uncle’s backyard. For a man so deadly and deep rooted in the Russian mafia, you’d never take him to be the landscaping, green-thumb type.

  The plate of freshly made zapekanka, a breakfast cake, that the maid, Alyona, had just brought into the den filled the air with a tantalizing aroma. My stomach yearned for it, but I hadn’t eaten a thing since I made it to Russia, besides a bottle of water and an energy bar every now and then. I hadn’t indulged in any of Alyona’s homemade dishes that she had brought to me during my stay.

  So lost in thought, trying to remember what had happened three months ago, I didn’t hear my uncle come in until he spoke to me in his deep Russian voice.

  “You not eating isn’t a good thing.”

  I turned at the sound of his voice and looked down at the plate full of breakfast goodies behind me.

  “I don’t have an appetite, Uncle.”

  He smacked his lips and continued to look down at the envelopes he was shuffling through. “Your stomach tells a different story, no?”

&nbs
p; Without responding, I turned my gaze back to the backyard and smiled. Ever since I was a little boy, my uncle Kazimir had always been able to tell what was bothering me before I said a word. He had said he was always able to do that with my mother, and now that she was gone, he exercised that skill with me.

  Memories of the summers I would spend out here while growing up filled my mind, and I couldn’t think of a day when my uncle was never there for me. Even when he would leave, unannounced, for a week or two during my summer vacations, when he came back, it was as if he had never left in the first place. Anything I had done in those days when he was gone, he knew about, and he would handle any situation that came up accordingly. I mean, I wasn’t an unruly teen who did crazy and dumb things, but with Marques and a few of my Russian cousins egging me on, I did get into a little trouble.

  “Every time I see you, you remind me more and more of your mother,” Uncle Kazi said as he came and stood next to me at the window. He’d put down the envelopes, and now a crystal glass of chilled vodka was in his hand. He took a sip.

  With us standing next to each other, you’d never think that we were related. My uncle didn’t share the same blond hair and green eyes I’d inherited from my mother. His dark hair, dark eyes, and statuesque frame were all thanks to my dedushka, or grandfather, Vlad. Although twenty years older than me, my uncle Kazi didn’t look a day over thirty. Didn’t act like it, either. His gym workouts paled in comparison to mine. Whereas I went three times a week to the gym, he worked out twice every day. Russian mafia tattoos decorated both of his arms, and my mother’s and grandmother’s faces were the centerpiece for the mural on his back.

  NO HONOR AMONG THIEVES was written in Russian across the front of his chest, and my mother’s and grandmother’s middle names were on his rib cage.

  With him being the type of guy who wore a three-piece suit, you’d never know he had all that ink on him. Unless, of course, you were in the confines of his home, like I was now, and he was shirtless, which he was as he stood next to me, his colorful body artwork on full display.