“Hold on! What are you saying about Miss Betty’s husband, Big John, and payback?”
“You didn’t know Big John was Miss Betty’s husband?”
“Of course I knew. I told you I grew up around the corner, remember? And I’ve known Miss Betty since I was a little girl. So sure, I knew Big John. But I was only a sophomore in high school when my folks died in a car wreck, and I didn’t see much of Miss Betty or Big John after the funeral.”
“You’re telling me you didn’t know Big John ran the corners here?” Trevon asked.
“No, I didn’t know. My brother kept me out of the mix, wanted me to go away to college and get out of the hood. He made sure I wasn’t anywhere close to the life.”
“Where’s your brother now?”
“Dead. Killed a few years back by that sonuvabitch Lewis. The one D’andre worked for.”
“Slow down,” Trevon said. “Michael, that smart guy who was moving up in Big John’s organization? He was your brother? Weren’t he and his cousin killed at the same time Big John was killed?”
“I didn’t hear when Big John was killed. I wasn’t around to get much news back then. Michael and my cousin, Gabe Jr., were killed in our house a little over three years ago. I was in a front bedroom when a war exploded in the back den. Then the shooting stopped, and a man, shot and bleeding, staggered out. I only saw his back so I didn’t know it was Lewis at the time. I found my brother in his den, lying on the floor. He died in my arms.” Michelle’s eyes brimmed with tears.
Trevon sat, quietly listening.
“Michael never hid his business from me,” Michelle went on. “I knew it involved drugs, but not who he worked for. He always said he’d kick my ass to keep me out of the life. No problem, because I didn’t want any part of it, so I never asked any questions.”
“Sounds like he was a good brother,” Trevon said.
“The best,” she agreed, wiping at her eyes.
“Here we are, you two.” Miss Betty brought in a tray with iced tea and glasses. She placed the drinks on the coffee table and sat in her upholstered platform rocker. After pouring herself some tea, she said, “Help yourself. I did my part making it. You two can pour your own.” She leaned back, smiling.
“Miss Betty, is that right? Michael worked for Big John?” Michelle asked.
“Uh‑huh.”
“And all those years, you and Big John were in the life, but my momma didn’t know?”
“Yes and no. Big John ran the streets, all right. No doubt about it. Your momma and them all knew exactly what he did. But before you ask—no, Michael didn’t work for Big John back then. Gabe Jr. did, but not Michael. He came to Big John when you lost your folks in that accident, and Big John gave him a job. Turned out he had a good sense of how to make things happen.”
“So you knew maybe it was me when Lil Rich was shot?” Michelle asked.
“No,” Miss Betty replied. “When I saw you back here after being gone those three years, I felt bad for you. It was wrong what happened to your folks, then later to Michael, but I didn’t think anything about who killed Lil Rich. Then I heard somebody did me a huge favor by taking out Lewis. Next, I hear the man they worked for, that piece of shit Jackson, up and got killed. The pieces eventually clicked, and that’s when I saw how they were all connected. I don’t know, and I don’t care, how Lil Rich was connected. It’s obvious he was involved in Michael and Gabe Jr.’s murders and that’s enough for me.”
Michelle cocked her head. “Now that things, as you say, have clicked?”
“I owe two big debts to someone. I’m not saying I know who did me those favors”—she held up her hands—“and I’m not saying they understand how big of a favor it was. I’m just saying I’m in their debt.”
“What about you?” Michelle asked. “Where do things stand with you now?”
“As you now know, Trevon’s more than just a pretty‑boy lawyer from Long Beach. He worked for Big John for a long time, and in many ways he’s family to me. His business is up here now, so that means he’s up here. I’m not interested in being a part of his business; I’m just a busybody old woman who knows people in the hood.”
“Okay, so that’s it?”
“Mostly.” Miss Betty looked at Michelle with misty eyes. “Also, whoever did those things, taking out that trash, has my support for the rest of my life. I’ll make sure she’s always taken care of.”
*
Glistening in sweat, Michelle looked over at Trevon lounging on his satin sheets, and another satisfied smile lit up her eyes.
“Goddamn you, Trevon. You’re nothing but a big bunch of problems.”
With mock‑innocence plastered on his face, he asked, “Please, do tell.”
“I’m serious, goddammit.”
“All right, I’m listening,” he said.
“You know what I am and why I can’t be with no citizen, so Mr. Lawyer Man doesn’t cut it. I like him more than I should, so I’ve been guarding my emotions. You know, not letting him in too much, then—bam!—out of nowhere, Mr. Thug, Big‑Man‑On‑Campus shows up.”
“I never said I was BMOC.”
“You’re BMOC and more. Drugs? Goddamn. Drugs are what dragged me into this whole miserable situation to begin with. How in the hell am I supposed to make that shit work? I can’t be with no drug man. Christ, you even took over the show of the men who killed my brother.”
“And I sincerely appreciate you removing that bit of detritus.”
“See, right there, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re smart and funny and a fucking drug man.” She punched him in the side. “Who talks like that? What is ‘detritus,’ Mr. Lawyer Man?”
“Trash, something like a piece of shit, to be disposed of.”
“Why didn’t you say that? Just say they were all pieces of shit.”
“I did,” he said.
“Fuck you.”
“Again? So soon?”
Another smile crossed her lips. Her conflict over hating drugs and loving what he did to her would have to wait. Besides, why in the world wasn’t he arrested for the shoot‑out? At the moment, though, she was much more interested in what he did between the sheets than on the streets. And that was nothing short of magic!
Twenty‑Four: Free Air
DEJA HELD HER MOMMA in a long bear hug while the two women quietly swayed from side to side. Finally they withdrew, looking at each other, but still holding on.
“My sweet baby. I thank God you’re out,” Mrs. Washington said, and she hugged her daughter again.
“I’m okay. Honest. I’m sure as hell glad to be out, though.” She hugged her mom a third time. “Thanks for not bringing Nessy. I didn’t want her to see me coming out of jail.
Deja held her arms wide for both Michelle and Nikky, who stood just a short step away and for several minutes, the three friends hugged, and danced, and whooped.
“Stop! I’m out of breath,” Deja cried.
“Don’t you do it!” Nikky said. “Don’t you start that crying stuff. I refuse to let you make us all cry just because we’re happy to see you.”
“Oh, shut up and hug me. All of you. Momma, you too.” The four women all hugged and cried.
When they pulled away, Mrs. Washington dug out a small pack of tissues from her purse. “Church supplies,” she said, passing around the pack.
“Where is everybody parked?” Deja asked.
“Not far; a few minutes walk. Shall we?” Mrs. Washington took Deja’s arm and led her away from the jail building, Michelle and Nikky falling in behind.
“Baby,” Mrs. Washington went on as they walked toward the parking lot, “you asked about Nessy. She’s at school. I agree; she shouldn’t think anything about jail is okay. And your dad’s at work. He said he’d take off to be here, but I told him not to because I knew you wouldn’t want him to see you here like this. They both made me promise you’d come by the house later, though.”
Deja nodded. “You bet. I’ll come by early enough to fix dinner for when you get off work. That good?”
“Oh, you don’t need to, but yes, I’d love to come home to your cooking.”
“Did everyone come in one car, Momma?”
“No. I came in my car, but we’re not leaving in it. I can still make my shift if I leave from here, and I’m sure you and your friends will want to catch up.”
“Yes, we do.” Deja said, then inhaled deeply. “Oh God! Smell that fresh, free air!”
“Yes, you’re free, and this whole lousy mess is behind you because Jerome’s gone,” Mrs. Washington said. “I don’t know what happened and I’m sorry for his momma that the bastard’s dead, but I’m so glad this mess has all worked out.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry for his momma, too, but I’m not sorry for his ass. Everything that happened he had coming. The lying prick going along with the DA, saying I tried to kill him. He would’ve put me in prison for a long time. Thank God I’m rid of him, permanent.”
“I was so scared you’d go to prison. You’d come out a different woman with tattoos and stuff.”
“Momma, you know I already have a couple tattoos.”
“Yes, you showed them to me, and they’re real pretty. But those aren’t the kind of tattoos I’m talking about and you know it.”
“I know.” Deja grinned. “I’m only having fun fooling with you. It sure feels good to be out and in a mood to fool with you.”
“And I’m happy to see you feeling so good you’re up to fooling around. Well”—she patted Deja’s hand—“I need to get going so’s not be late too work. I love you, my sweet baby. I’ll see you back at the house this evening.”
“I love you, too, Momma. Your being here means a lot to me.” Deja walked her mother, arm in arm, back to her car.
On the way, Mrs. Washington glanced back at Michelle and Nikky. “They’re some good friends aren’t they?” she said to Deja.
“Yes, Momma, they are.”
Together the three friends watched Mrs. Washington drive out of the parking lot.
“Oh sweet Jesus. . . smell that fresh air!” was all Deja had time to say before Michelle and Nikky once again covered her with hugs.
Teary‑eyed, Deja held her friends’ hands. “You’re the best thing I’ve seen in a while. I don’t know what happened, but I’m so grateful for all you’ve done to make everything work out. How can I ever pay you back?”
“There isn’t any payback when nothing’s owed,” Michelle said. “You borrow some money, you owe me. You wreck my car, you sure as hell owe me. Those things are something you owe. Your ass is thrown in jail, that’s different. We’ll do whatever it takes to get you out. There’s no debt for that.”
“But when we tell you what all happened,” Nikky added, “you’ll be pissed you missed everything. You might even think we owe you a little something for having too much excitement.”
“You guys are so wonderful,” Deja said. “You ever need anything, anywhere, anytime, it’s yours.”
“Since you’re all jacked with no makeup and your hair’s totally cray cray, how about we roll by Omar’s? Standing next to you like this, I can look real fine,” Nikky teased.
“Like that’ll work. No way! I’ll march my ass right back into that miserable, stench‑filled shithole before I go parading anywhere like this. My hair and nails are totally screwed. First thing I did was chew them off in case I had to fight.”
“Let me see them,” Nikky said.
Deja held up her hands, showing nothing more but bare, short nails. “Some of them say they keep their nails long to scratch with. Not me. I need to make a strong fist so I can knock a bitch’s head back real good. We get to scratching, short nails can do all the damage you need. Out here, long, pretty nails will get you laid. Inside, they’ll get you laid out.”
“Any problems that way?” Michelle asked.
“You don’t see any scratches or bruises on me, do you?”
“Nope, not a one.”
“Whoop! There it is!” Deja gave a neck roll. “I sure as hell didn’t like being in that stink‑hole, and I never want to go back. But I’m not afraid of it, either. That’s behind me. Now for what’s coming. You heard me promise Momma I’d stop by the house this evening. So the whole rest of my day is free. Free like a bird!”
“All right, what’s on your mind?” Michelle asked.
“Three things. First, we get the hell away from this jailhouse parking lot and out of this blazing sun. You guys take me to eat. Someplace where no one I know can see me looking like some kind of busted‑out jail momma. Somewhere with good food, where we can catch up on everything. Second, I’m eating dinner with my family. Third, I plan on getting down with some outstanding, all‑night sex.”
*
Nikky pointed at a Denny’s sign. “Denny’s okay?”
“Ab‑fab perfect,” Deja said. “Breakfast all day; what could be better?”
“You sure gotta hand it to the people over at county,” Nikky said. “Their timing’s good; they got us here right between breakfast and lunch. Place is almost empty.”
“Who said county employees were good for nothing?” Deja mugged, and everybody laughed. “Oh, and that, to be able to laugh, is so good.” She rubbed the back of the round booth, then patted the seat beside her and did a little drum roll on the table with her fingers. “Soft seats, a real wooden table, and that aroma.” Deja leaned her head back and, closing her eyes, deeply inhaled. “Mmm, mmm, mmm, not much comes close. You know that Denny’s ‘eggs, bacon, sausage, waffles, and fresh coffee, breakfast, everything’s good with the world’ smell? It smells like serious, honest‑to‑good food and happiness. I can’t tell you how good just being here with you two is. Truth is, for a hot minute, I was scared shitless about doing prison time.”
“We weren’t about to let that happen,” Michelle said. Before she could say more, their breakfasts came.
“OMG, that looks even better than it smelled.” Deja grinned. “Nikky, pass the syrup.”
The conversation changed to small comments about pass this or that and how good things tasted.
After a while the waitress walked up collecting empty plates. “Would you like refills on those drinks?”
“Please,” Michelle replied, “three more would be good. You guys want some dessert or anything else?”
“Pie. Do you have any apple pie?” Deja asked.
“We sure do. Would you like it heated?”
Grinning, Deja rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m in heaven. Yes, hot, and with vanilla ice cream on the side. Pie, ice cream, best friends in the whole world—what could be better? Nothing, that’s what. Give me a good man tonight and this miserable episode can kiss my ass goodbye. Whooee!”
“Don’t hold back girl,” Michelle said. “Tell us how you really feel.”
“Look around. That nice lady is bringing me pie and ice cream, and she’s happy about it. Not a single soul in here wants to kick my ass, or anybody else’s ass. When you walk into the dining hall in jail, you can taste the anger in the air. Going in to eat was like being jammed into a dark, dank, miserable cave with a hundred pissed off she‑apes. It’s nothing like that here. This place is full of windows, sunlight, and feel‑good vibes. I’m telling you, you don’t want me to let go—not in here. If I get to whooping about how I honestly feel, we could all wind up back inside.”
“Well then, for goodness sake, hang tight, Nikky said. “On that other thing, about getting laid tonight: damn skippy. After being around all those women, you need to get your swerve on. Omar should know someone he can hook you up with.”
“You think?” Deja asked.
“I’ll call him now.” Nikky pulled her cell out of her purse. “You want to go clubbing together?”
“You bet your ass I do! How about you?” Deja asked Michelle. “You coming?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
�
��It’s settled then; we’re all going.” Deja, looking around, took a deep breath, then changed the subject. “Scooter told you Blondell and Dontrice backstabbed us by setting up Willie and Terrance to throw in with Jerome. But you don’t know where they are. Is that right?”
“Yeah, that’s about it,” Michelle said. “We found out where Blondell’s sister lives, but they haven’t been there this past week. They’ve been working the streets for Sugar, so they’re basically broke and they know we’re after them, so they won’t go home. If they do, it’ll only be for a quick minute. But since they can’t stay at their place, sooner or later they’ll probably try hiding at Blondell’s sister’s. Either way, if they’re still in the hood, we’ll catch up with them soon enough.”
“What about Sugar?” Deja asked. “You said, when she saw D’andre dead, she ran like the police set their dogs on her ass. Any idea where she is?”
“No. Over the last few days I talked face to face with most of the girls in her crew, and none of them know anything. They might be lying, but I don’t think so. They’re all worried about their shit being in the wind with D’andre dead and Sugar gone. They’re street girls, so they have a lot of bravado, but they’re scared about working without backup.”
“I think Blondell’s the one who might know,” Nikky chimed in. “She and Sugar go way back. When we find Blondell, we should be able to find Sugar.”
Michelle and Deja both nodded.
The waitress returned with Deja’s pie and ice cream. “Can I bring you girls anything else?” she asked.
“Just the check please,” Michelle said.
Nikky’s phone rang. “Sup? . . . Yeah? Good, what time? . . . All right. Pick us up at my place. Bye.” She smiled at Deja. “We’re good to go. They’re picking us up at ten.”
Twenty‑Five: Blondell and Dontrice
“SUP, DEJA?” Michelle answered her cell.
“Me and Nikky are on our way to those Aloha Palms Section Eight apartments where Blondell’s sister lives. Blondell and Dontrice are there, and we’re kicking those backstabbing bitches’ asses.”
Get Even: A Michelle Angelique Urban Action Adventure Thriller Series Book #2 (Michelle Angelique Avenging Angel Assassin) Page 18