No Love for the Wicked

by Tiana Laveen

  After dancing for a while, she had a chat with her gorgeous cousin LeAnn who was holding her brand new baby boy, while Angelo was back with cousin Troy, sharing a joint. The two seemed to be really hitting it off. Andrea was surprised no one gave Angelo any problems, but then again, many knew who he was; they were probably too afraid. A few, she imagined, admired him.

  “So how long you been seein’ Casper, Andrea?” LeAnn questioned. Their eyes met and she caught her cousin’s all-knowing smile. LeAnn was more like a sister to her.

  “For a while now. We met through his grandmother.”

  “Oh, all right. Just so you know, it wasn’t me that told mama. It was Doris, with her big mouth.” The woman grimaced, showing her disapproval. “I told ’er it wasn’t none of her damn business who you’re with. She needed to mind her own beeswax. She don’t like that he’s White, either. I don’t see how that matters. Ain’t nobody ever heard of him shootin’ or hurtin’ no women no way, and besides, it’s not like there aren’t five Black guys tryna be just like him, every other block right here in Brooklyn.”

  “How do you know about him and other women?” She hated how that comment piqued her curiosity, but she simply couldn’t help herself.

  “Oh, you know how it is, people talk. Janet knows one of his ex-girlfriends. Remember my friend Janet?”

  “Yeah, I remember Janet.”

  “She said it was some lady from the Bronx.”

  “Oh really?” This was getting juicy… “Who?”

  “I don’t know her name, but she said they was together years ago, going steady. Some half Black lady with long, curly hair. I think he might have a type because she said you two are built almost the exact same way, and have similar eyes. Anyway, she said he treated her like gold. That woman had all kinds of clothes, jewelry, he even bought her a car. I don’t know why they broke up. She didn’t have that answer. Besides, that was years ago. It was kinda funny, even back then, hearing about a trained killa having a love life – a woman on his arm who was more than just a shag. I guess in our heads we kinda think of it like the movies, you know?”

  “Yeah…”

  “But, she told me the girl said he was a regular person with her. Nothin’ out of the ordinary. He didn’t do anything crazy to her, but she did state he was secretive.” LeAnn looked at her as if she was waiting for information, to be filled in on just what these secrets may entail. Instead, Andrea just smiled and nodded. LeAnn was just like her Aunt Bev when it came to gossip. If you wanted the entire planet to know your business, tell cousin LeAnn. It was guaranteed to be accomplished. “Well, other than that, he was like Prince Charming. Isn’t that wild?” LeAnn giggled.

  “It is, but stranger things have happened in life, right?”

  “Sho ’nuff.”

  “Let me hold my cousin.” Andrea grinned as she took the sleeping baby from LeAnn’s grip. He was so small and precious. A gorgeous newborn in full bloom, growing amongst wild weeds. “Well, I can assure you that Angelo treats me like royalty, too.”

  “I bet he does. I know you wouldn’t settle for less.” LeAnn rubbed her knee with her palm, as if trying to rid herself of pain. “Some people in the family say you’re uppity, but I say you just got style and class.” They both giggled at that, though deep down, Andrea didn’t find it quite funny. “I just don’t want him hitting you or fooling around on you. You’re a good woman. One thing I can’t stand is a beatin’ and cheatin’ ass man.” She rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. “That’s why I’m single again. I left Maurice, and had gone back to my ex, Kevin, for a few weeks,” She rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. “You remember Kevin Donaldson? He lives over there on 101st street.”

  “Not really.” How in the hell is anyone supposed to keep up with all of these different men you’ve dated, chile?

  LeAnn grunted and continued.

  “Well, he tried to put his hands on me one time too often. Bein’ jealous. Two weeks ago, I had a black eye. Few days after that, he choked me. That was it.”

  “Oh, LeAnn! He needs his own ass kicked! I know Aunt Bev ain’t raised none of us to take a lickin’ from no man! We ought to teach him a lesson!” Andrea was fired up, coming undone with anger. There were two things in this world that she couldn’t stand in a man: pathological lying, and lifting hands to beat on a woman.

  “Oh, you ain’t gotta worry about me, Andrea. I won’t put up with it! All of ’em can sit on it. There’s more fish in the sea.” Andrea noticed an old bruise on her cousin’s neck. She’d seen it right away, but figured LeAnn didn’t want to talk about it. She was glad she’d been wrong. Thankfully, she’d gotten rid of that jerk, too. “Anyway, girl, they say Casper has a lot of women, but I know people can change if they want to.”

  LeAnn sure seemed to hear a lot about a man she didn’t know. Andrea leaned in and kissed her cousin’s cheek.

  “We sure can if we want to, no matter what.” She winked at her cousin, then kissed the baby on the forehead.

  Angelo startled her by materializing and kissing her on the cheek, too. She had no idea he’d been standing there, and she wondered for how long?

  “Time to cut the cake!” someone screamed. It wasn’t long before everyone was gathered around the big white and pink cake on the table, and the three gold candles on top of it were lit. Pink and yellow roses trimmed the dessert in icing, with the words, ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEV’ spelled in the middle with frosting. Everyone began to sing the ‘Happy Birthday’ song at the top of their lungs, while Stevie Wonder’s, ‘Superstition’ blasted through the speakers. Aunt Bev blew out the candles and Uncle Lynell sliced the cake up while everyone started to dance, getting down to the music. Several of her cousins did the bump, making everyone laugh. Angelo disappeared to go grab a beer, then returned to claim her for a dance. They joined the crowd, blending in with everyone else. She was having such a good time, she lost track of time. The hours felt like mere minutes. Angelo was soon wolfing down his second piece of cake, licking his fingers with absolutely no shame.

  “You’re so greedy,” she teased, then kissed him on the cheek. He squeezed her ass, bringing her close, then smiled as he kissed her forehead. “You having a good time, sweetie?”

  “Yeah. This is crazy.” He laughed.

  “Crazy? Well, that’s not what I expected to hear. How so?”

  “I’m not used to seeing this… you know, how you talk with your aunt, how your family is.”

  “Oh. Well, at the funeral, your family seemed very close. In fact—”

  “Nah, we are, but that’s extended family. You grew up with a lot of these people under the same roof. Your aunt was basically your mother, your cousins, your brothers and sisters. I didn’t have this. My mother didn’t kiss me like your aunt Bev kissed you. I can’t remember my mother ever hugging me, either.” He spooned more cake into his mouth, chewing unceremoniously. “Instead, she beat me black and blue when I accidentally knocked over her glass of wine. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was playing with a toy and bumped into the table, causing the glass to tumble and spill. She started cursing at me, then picked me up by my ear and swung me around.

  “I was only six. I remember the pain, and how I thought my ear would split in half or fall off. But I was more concerned about her hatin’ me than anything else. I kept saying, ‘Mama, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!’” He paused for a moment. Andrea’s body was shaking with indignation and horror. Her mind was a whirlwind. Her heart, breaking. She imagined Angelo as a child. Thinking of how he kept begging his mother for forgiveness. So young, innocent, and fragile. The deep voice of the man she loved was replaced by a child’s cry.

  “When she put me back down – well, she actually threw me across the room like I was some rat she’d found climbin’ on the kitchen counter – she and my father got into it, and he took me to the hospital. When she chucked me, my elbow fractured, and my ear needed stitches, too.” He pointed to a small scar on the top of his ear, so casually, as if he were merely showing her
an old baseball injury. “Pops told the doctor I’d been roughhousin’ with my brothers and fell out of a tree. He had to come up with a lot of stories like that over the years. I wish instead of makin’ up stories, he woulda just given us away to someone who would’ve given a fuck about us. Boy, this cake sure is good, baby.” He slipped his finger into his mouth, sucking off a little icing. “Get the bakery name from your aunt. Maybe we can use them for our wedding…”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Protect the Women and Children

  Rule 20: Always ask questions. Just understand the answers may not be what you want to hear…

  Swirls of wispy white smoke eddied from his mouth as he caught his own reflection in the storefront. It was a little after midnight, and the streets were alive with derelicts, drug abusers, and whores. The icy air hit him while he stood in front of the apartment complex in the dark. Waiting. Finally, after about twenty more minutes, the target emerged. Some tall, skinny broad with a huge red afro, freckles about her face, and a beige trench coat; wrapped her arm around the fella’s neck, then leaned in close and gave him a kiss before she trotted back up her apartment steps and reentered the building. The man she’d left behind stuffed his hands in his dark brown coat pockets and made his way down the street in the opposite direction. Angelo dropped his cigarette to the ground, crushed it under the bottom of his shoe, and followed. One shadow trailing another.

  It was strange how sounds seemed louder when he was on the prowl. Adrenaline had a way of doing such things. The people seemed rowdier, the passing cars noisier, the whistle of the air dancing between barren tree branches more pronounced, and the sounds of his own body moving amplified. His inhales and exhales were in rhythmic stereo, his heart pumping blood. The crush of the leaves beneath his shoes sounded like thunder, and the swish of his coat had a tune of its own. The guy crossed the street, and he followed, keeping a good distance behind.

  Sparse street lights lined the thoroughfare. A couple blinked erratically, clinging to their last dying breath of light. The man with the brown coat moved slowly, yet surely, probably trying to recuperate from a vigorous romp in the hay with the chick with the red afro. He learned a lot about the man, just from the way he moved. Most importantly, he knew the fucker’s address, too. They had one more block to go. He shortened the distance between them, but not so close as to bring attention to himself. Angelo noted a few random people here and there. A bodega was all aglow. The chill of the night thinned out the usual loitering crowd in this part of Brooklyn, and it was a weeknight. Monday. He always enjoyed Mondays. They were unassuming. Unappreciated. Underestimated. Some of the world’s worst disasters happened on Mondays, and burglaries happened on a lot of Mondays, too. At least, that’s what Tony had said years ago. He’d read it in a book.

  The man he was trailing began to cough. Then he straightened up, and approached his building.

  “Hey man, do you know where I can score?” Angelo called out. The man stopped and turned, sizing him up.

  “Nah, man.” He snorted, as if the question were somehow funny. Perhaps he was high, or maybe he found Angelo’s black turtleneck, jeans, black coat and fake beard attire somehow amusing. Right now, there seemed to be no one about.

  “Ahhh! SHIT!” The man screamed when Angelo grabbed him from behind. The strong brawny man struggled with all of his might, but it was simply no use. Angelo had enough rage in him to power a train. It was the only fuel he needed. His hatred was always on F.

  “Kevin, on 101st Street… Ya like to beat up on women, huh? This is for LeAnn, ya fuckin’ loser!” He clutched the sides of the man’s head and gave a sharp jerk to the right until he heard a snap. Neck bone cracked clean. The man hit the ground with a thud, cigarette still in hand, the smolder glowing orange against the uneven concrete.

  “Now the only hittin’ you’ll be doing is when you hit the bottom of your casket to be lowered six feet under. Fuckin’ coward. Only yellowbellies beat up on broads. Good night. Sleep tight.”

  He lit a cigarette and coolly walked back to his car, whistling all the way…

  Dazzling light turned to blood red sirens, as trails of tears raced down the crimson walls. Water dripped in a micro-sized pink bathtub, yet the tub was empty. The thing moved as if an invisible mermaid was doing vigorous laps. Who was doing the splashing? The pitched ceiling of the room looked like the top of a tent, and was filled with the echoes of a tearful child, its screams overlapping like an earsplitting choir of desperation. Andrea fell to her knees in the misshapen doll house she was trapped within, surrounded by little blue tea cups, tiny fuzzy teddy bears with glassy eyes, and silky blond-haired Barbie dolls with rosy cheeks and chipped painted grins. Just like the ones from her youth.

  The walls were caving in on her in that dollhouse. Shrinking… shrinking… shrinking. She had trouble breathing, as if her air supply was being cut off. Snuffed as soon as she took a breath. She rocked back and forth, her hands cradling her head, and soon, her screams competed with the indiscernible child’s, whose pain knew no way out.

  “AHHHH!!!”

  “Andrea. Andrea! Wake up.” Her eyes flashed open, startled to see Angelo there in the semi-darkness. Moonlight chased the blackness, glowing as it tiptoed beyond her curtains, allowing her to see his silhouette. The black velvet cape removed. “You had a bad dream.” She soon felt his fingertips stroking her face. The comfort of his scent, his deep voice and presence helped her catch her breath. “I’ll be right back.” He flipped the covers back, exposing his naked form, then slid out of bed. “I’m going to get you some water.”

  She mustered a nod, and sat up, clutching the sheets like a lifeline. Moments later, he returned with a glass. She clasped it with both hands and drank, needing every drop. Angelo settled in bed beside her, plumping his pillow. He lit a cigarette.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yeah. Yes. I think.”

  “That doesn’t sound convincing. You’ve been having bad dreams for a while now. They happen at my house, and at yours. You always brush it off when I ask you about it.”

  She set the glass down.

  “I keep… I keep hearing this crying baby. It’s a shrill scream. The child can’t be more than a year old. I could hear her, but not see her. She’s in distress. Terrible anguish, but I get the sense that her pain isn’t her own.”

  “Have you ever seen the baby in any of the dreams? Or do you just hear it?”

  “Just hear her.”

  “Then how do you know it’s a girl?”

  “I can feel it. Hard to explain, but I just know it.” They sat quietly for a while, the only sound that of traffic outside her window.

  She headed to the restroom to relieve herself. While washing her hands, she stared at her face in the mirror. Eyes slightly swollen, and a yellow and green polka dot scarf wrapped around her head, securing a head full of pink sponge rollers. She splashed her face, then returned to the bedroom. Angelo had turned on the radio and she could hear Cheryl Lynn’s, ‘Got To Be Real.’ The song put a smile on her face. She danced to the beat, her light pink gown with spaghetti straps comfortably melding to her body as she moved and grooved, snapping her fingers.

  “Dance with me, Angelo.”

  Setting his cigarette in the ashtray, he joined her in cutting a rug to the fantastic dance tune, with her belting out the lyrics. Earth, Wind & Fire’s, ‘Fantasy’ started to play soon thereafter. They drew closer together, rocking back and forth, laughing and messing with each other like silly children at some slumber party. She giggled as he squeezed her hard, depositing playful pecks up and down her neck. ‘Do Your Thing,’ by Isaac Hayes, came on right after… and their eyes hooked.

  His succulent lips parted as they dared one another to make the next move. And then, the pressure of his passion was upon her, wrapped in a deep, needy, wet kiss, swathed in guitar riffs. Limbs glided along one another, flesh on flesh, his downy hair and the cool gold chain pressing against her skin. She moaned as he kissed all along her
shoulder, while roughly sliding her gown up her thighs until it was hiked around her waist. He picked her up with the greatest of ease. His strength astounded her, but his inner strength often surprised her even more. It was so dark in the room, yet light enough to see his expression change to one of intensity.

  “Angelo! Ohhh!” The abrupt intrusion of his dick inside her awakened her senses, the hard flesh invading her like a freight train and coaxing her to move as if his dick were a pole to glide on. He groaned, keeping her steady by holding her ass with a hard double grasp. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned flush to him, in desperate need of his hot mouth. Their tongues danced with one another as he tormented her pussy with deep penetration.

  “You love it, baby? You love how it feels when I’m inside ya, don’t you?”

  “Yes!”

  He roughly grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her hard, robbing her of her senses. His thrusts were now faster, deeper, stealing her breath away. He made love to her like no other man could.

  “I love you, Angelo.”

  “I love you, too. How could I not? You’re my best friend.” She fought back the emotions those words brought, for she knew he meant it, that he was sincere.

  “You’re mine, too.” She caught a glimpse of her engagement ring shining in the darkness, catching the illumination of the streaming moonlight just right. He rested his head against her breasts, jerking her up and down his ravenous, pumping shaft. With a scream, she climaxed, multiple orgasms taking her asunder.

  “Ahhh…” He moaned and grunted. His muscles stiffened, and the subterranean drives soon turned to rapid fire plunges as he came hard, his seed filling her. “Andrea… fuck…”