by Judy Candis
Turning toward him, Jael expelled a tired sigh. “I don’t feel like one of your lectures, Virgil. All you had to do was call and remind me.”
“I did call! Twice! But I can never get that sorry excuse for a receptionist at that station to realize the importance of my calls.”
And of course Virgil assumed everything he did was important and the world should stop and take notice whenever he opened his mouth. But this time she wished Tammy would have mentioned that one of the pink slips was from her husband. Tammy knew a little of her past with Virgil, and often assumed more than she should, sticking her nose a little too much into Jael’s personal life. She’d noticed a change in Tammy’s attitude recently, that she’d become a bit more nosy than before. She would have to speak to the woman, and soon. Jael turned back to her son.
“Ramon, do you have your homework with you?”
“Oh man, Mom, I can finish my homework when I get back.” He rarely called her “Momma” when Terrell was within earshot. Jael smiled.
“Okay, this time only. But your father needs to see what you’re doing in school. A good way would be for him to help you with your homework.”
Virgil was irate. “I know what he’s doing in school! Maybe more than you do!”
Jael blew exasperated air through her lips. Patience, patience. She kissed Ramon again, then led him to the door. Virgil grabbed Ramon’s overnight case from the chair by the door and followed. It was a shame, she thought. She was rushing her only son out just to hurry and get rid of his dad. Virgil was on to her, and added a parting shot just above a whisper.
“Remember, I’m watching you. One screwup and my son comes to live with me.”
“And you keep forgetting I was adjudicated!”
She could have slapped herself. What a lame answer. Virgil always did that to her, making her guilt override her common sense. Once she’d closed the door behind them, she leaned heavily against it. The exhaustion was finally catching up with her. Suddenly she felt drained, tired and hungry. The smell of cheesy pizza pulled her into the kitchen-den, where Terrell sat on the carpet before the television. His eyes brimmed with a hopeful plea.
“Well, I guess I’d better be going,” he said lamely.
“Hey, aren’t you going to at least help me eat all this pizza? A lady in my position has got to keep her weight in check if I’m to fight all those criminals out there.”
It was almost heart-wrenching to see the grateful gleam that came into his eyes. Then he gave her one of his challenging grins. “Only if you let me whip you at Smackdown.” He was a handsome boy, well over six feet tall at sixteen and only slightly heavier than Ramon. He wore the same baggy jeans, and the Christmas gift from her and Ramon: a black T-shirt with WWJD across the front in gold tones.
“Whip me? Boy, I know you done lost your mind. I’m the WWF champ around here.” Jael moved into the kitchen and lifted the top of the Pizza Hut box and inhaled. Calories for days. Dropping the top again, she carried the box into the den and sat it on the cocktail table before the TV. “I’ll give you two chances. Who do you want to be?”
“The Rock.”
“You were The Rock last time,” Jael said, returning to the kitchen to get a couple of Pepsis from the fridge.
“And I almost beat you last time.”
Flopping on the floor beside him, Jael kicked off her shoes and lifted a sticky slice of pizza with both hands. She bit into the steamy clump of dough and let the cheese stretch into a long string as she pulled it from her lips. Virgil would have frowned on her choice of dinner, but this was as much her favorite as the boys’. She left money for times like this, and Terrell and Ramon often used the stashed cash to order out, rather than taking her hint to pop dogs in the microwave. This time she was glad. After her encounter with Virgil, anything hot, rich and fattening was just what the doctor ordered.
Popping her Pepsi lid, Jael took a deep swallow as she looked around the room, which was filled with pictures of Ramon at various ages. Right over the TV was a photo of him taken two years ago in his karate outfit. She’d had it enlarged because the pose had been so cute. He looked adorable—although she was never to say that out loud— with his foot kicked high in the air.
She would miss Ramon over the weekend. Since she often had to work with only occasional weekends off, they rarely had a chance to do things together. Virgil rubbed that in her face too whenever he got the chance, reminding her that he took more time out with their son. But Jael didn’t want to reminisce about her relationship with her ex. That delicate and hopeful dream had turned into a suffocating nightmare for both of them. Remembering only reminded Jael of the terrible role she’d played in bringing about their separation.
Taking another bite of her pizza, she picked up the control, pressed the AGGRESSION button and slugged The Rock in his jaw.
Chapter
5
Tires screeching as she raced into the First Temple Church of God in Christ parking lot, Jael leaped from the Bronco, barely making the 10 A.M. Saturday morning prayer session. Offering the ladies of her Prayer Warriors group a sheepish grin, she slipped into the second row of purple-cushioned pews beside Sister Jamerson, and was instantly enshrouded by an ambiance of White Shoulders perfume. She was just grateful to make it on time. Without Ramon around the house making his 8 A.M. noises, she’d slept like Lazarus before Jesus called him from the tomb, dead to the world.
Jael glanced at the pews to her left and spotted her friend and personal prayer-partner, Brenda, giving her “bud” a thumbs-up. Brenda’s lips indicated she was compressing a giggle. She knew Jael was always rushing somewhere.
“As I was saying,” Sister Otis continued, her smile indicating she was not put out by Jael’s tardiness either, just glad everyone was present and accounted for. “We want to add Mother Cooper to our weekly prayers. As you know, her husband was admitted into St. Joseph’s Hospital three days ago after another stroke. Right now, the doctors are not very hopeful.”
“But our Lord is Jehovah Rafa, our healer,” Sister Phillips shouted in her thick, raspy voice.
“Yes, He is, and this will be just another testimony in the days to come. Any other special prayers we need to add this week?”
Jael raised her right index finger. “Yes. We had a homicide victim yesterday. I’d like to add a special prayer for his family.”
“Yes, of course, and you’re a good soul, Sister Reynolds,” Sister Otis replied. “The Lord has put you in His perfect place.”
The women all nodded in agreement, and within minutes, hands were clasped, heads bowed, as the group began its weekly assault on the devil with powerful prayer for friends, relatives, church members, public officials and the town in general. It was a time Jael looked forward to and cherished. She received a spiritual surge each time she joined with others to combat the assaults of the adversary. She’d not missed a meeting since joining First Temple COGIC four years ago. She left each meeting with a new awareness of the power of God and the mind to do His calling with every fiber of her being.
A little past noon, Jael revved up her Bronco and headed for her cousin Rhonda’s house. She’d missed last night’s birthday party—as she intended—but knew her cuz would never forgive her if she didn’t acknowledge this momentous occasion in some manner.
Rhonda had spent weeks planning her celebration, and though Jael had stopped attending affairs long ago where lots of drinking and light drugs were the standard, Rhonda always extended her an invitation, just in case.
Passing along Durant Avenue, Jael considered the town she had resided in since high school. A smaller version of its neighboring city of Tampa, it had the usual divisions of any major city: well-to-do neighborhoods and middle-class neighborhoods, separated to some extent according to color; poor areas, definitely determined by color; and a sizable downtown area. Still, for her the pieces all fit comfortably, not as spread out as in a bigger city.
Jael pulled in front of the single-family home that was no more tha
n a clapboard box with no discernible architectural style. With gift in hand, a beautifully wrapped Victoria’s Secret “Tropical Nectar” gift basket, she stepped from the Bronco and heard a tiny, sweet voice calling her name.
“Hi, Auntie Jael.”
The singsong words rejuvenated Jael’s spirit like crystal droplets of rain on a scorching summer day. She moved across the bare lawn with a spring in her step toward the walkway and two little girls.
“Hi, sweetheart.” She stooped to plant a kiss on her niece’s brow. “I see you’re busy getting Barbie all dolled up today.”
With the fickle Florida weather flaunting its variations of temperament, LaTesha was dressed in skinny jeans, a pink short-sleeved top that tied at the waist and a pair of those little thongs from Payless.
“Is Ramon with you?”
“He’s with his father for the weekend. Who’s your friend?” Jael asked.
“This is Shenica,” her niece said proudly of the little girl dressed much the same as she and playing beside her.
“Well hi, Shenica.”
“Hi.” Shenica gave Jael only the briefest of glances, quickly returning her attention to fashioning the latest hairstyle for Barbie.
Jael shifted the package to her left arm. “Your mom inside, sweetie?”
“Uh-huh. Is that a birthday present for Momma, Auntie Jael?”
“You bet, but here’s a little something for you, too,” Jael said, passing a package to her niece. “Don’t tell anyone.”
Her niece giggled with a conspiratorial inflection as she ripped open the small box of Barbie hair accessories. “Thanks, Auntie!”
“You’re welcome, honey. See you in a few.”
Jael walked up to the front step and knocked on the door. Her cousin’s throaty voice called out from inside. “It’s open!”
“Hey, girl,” Jael replied, stepping into the room.
“Hey, yourself,” Rhonda answered as she looked up through the partition dividing the kitchen from the front room. In a voice that always seemed just on the edge of laughter, she added, “Missed you last night.”
“I had to work late. A homicide.”
As Jael stepped into the living-dining area, the air was spicy with the lingering aroma of last night’s delectables. Somewhere in the mix was a nose-wrinkling hint of stale cigarettes.
Other signs of the birthday get-together were still visible. Paper cups and stained napkins were scattered on the coffee table in front of the couch. On a table to Jael’s left was a worn pack of playing cards, several drink rings and two empty Salem cigarette packages.
Moving toward the kitchen, Jael smiled at her cousin, who was busy washing a sinkful of dishes. Rhonda was and always had been a beauty. She had rich butter-colored skin and voluptuous curves that would have made the biblical Salome seem like a boy. From head to toe, sister-girl dripped with sensuality, even dressed as she was in a faded pink terry cloth robe. Her huge brown eyes held a sassiness that captivated many a young man’s heart, and they were set above full lips that were always ready to smile. Add to this feminine drape her beautiful thick hair, which this morning was slightly pressed to one side from sleep, wrapped bouffant style with a multicolored strip hanging along the side of her face.
“You ain’t fooling me, Cuz.” Rhonda grinned. “You weren’t coming anyway.”
“Okay, I’m busted, but you know your fortieth birthday is special to me.”
“I shouldn’t, but ’cause I love ya, you’re forgiven.” Rhonda pulled her hands out of the suds and shook them over the sink. “What you got me, girl?” she added, wiping the excess dampness across her robe.
Jael raised the basket. “Your favorite.”
Rhonda squealed, hugging Jael and taking the gift at the same time. “Now this is a birthday gift. I’m so tired of those cheap ‘our version of.’ They all smell like rubbing alcohol. You’re a sweetheart, even if you are the police.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.” Jael watched her cousin set the basket on the kitchen table and slowly turn it around, peeking at the items behind the see-through wrapping. “So how does it feel being forty?”
“Ask me that when I’m not fighting a hangover,” Rhonda answered over her shoulder. “Or better yet, wait six more years and tell me yourself.” Turning around, Rhonda gave her cousin a full once-over. Though Jael was taller, standing barefoot at least five foot eight, unlike Rhonda, she’d never had a problem with weight because of what their mothers called “thin bones.”
When they were teenagers, everyone would tease Jael about her height, which instead of making her timid and withdrawn had only made her more aggressive. She had played some serious sports during academy training, but over the years had transformed into a beauty of her own. With skin the color of silky cappuccino and eyes a blend of hazelnut and gold, Jael had given Rhonda a real run for her money with the boys back in their heydays, even forcing Rhonda to use a few underhanded techniques, such as wearing skimpy, tight-fitting dresses and low-cut tops, to keep the boys’ eyes where they belonged—on her.
She never needed to worry, though—Jael was one of those sistas with natural-born beauty that could be taken for granted. Having no concept of style, she often grabbed any old worn-out thing to put on as long as it was comfortable.
Rhonda twisted her mouth, lowering her eyes to give Jael a smoldering gaze. “And when you gonna stop wearing that ugly ponytail? What happened to that great style I gave you a while back?”
Jael’s hand instantly went to her hair, loosely pulled back with a simple beige scrungy. “It’s just easier to handle this way. I never seem to have the time to maintain all those fancy dos.”
Rhonda put her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “Girl, I don’t know what to say ’bout you. I told you before, if I were blessed with all that rich auburn hair, I’d have it hanging down my back all the time, calling the brothas with each swish of my head.”
“You don’t need that to call them. They come like flies to a picnic each time you pop on the scene. Besides, Toad would have a hissy fit if someone looked at you the wrong way.”
That was the kind of stuff Rhonda liked to hear, and they both knew it. Rhonda tilted her head in a “you got that right” gesture and laughed. “Girl, you ain’t never lied.”
The drone of a TV wafted toward them from the back of the house. “Toad still sleeping it off?” Jael asked.
“Naw, he left about an hour ago to catch up with Derrick. LaTesha left the TV on again.” Rhonda finally lifted the basket and placed it on the kitchen divider. “I’m not going to open this now. The package is so pretty, I just want to look at it for a while.”
“Girl, you crazy. You get a lot of gifts?”
“You know how these folks are around here. Party means free food and liquor. You’re lucky to get a ‘Happy Birthday’ wish. Toad did give me forty dollars in a card, and a few friends brought cards and extra bottles of E&J and Seagram’s, but I wasn’t expecting nothing. It was just having the fun that made it for me.”
Rhonda loved to party, and judging from the decorations stuffed in the trash can and the few deflated OVER THE HILL balloons lying around, she had gone all out.
“There’s still lots of food left. The crab shalah was gone as soon as I took it off the stove, but you can fix a plate for you and Ramon from all the other stuff.”
“Maybe I’ll take a piece of cake home,” Jael said, pointing to the huge Kash n’ Karry pastry box on the counter beside the stove.
“You got it.”
Jael settled herself at the table, which was squeezed between the refrigerator and the broom closet.
“How’s Auntie Nadda doing?” she asked her cousin.
“Frisky as always. She sent me some money in a card, along with one I got from your momma, who sent me a fifty-dollar gift certificate to Dillards.”
“Go ’head, Cuz, money to burn.”
“Yeah, gonna get myself that Coach purse that I’ve been dying for. Give your cuz some class.�
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Rhonda’s mother, Nadine, was the older sister of Jael’s mom, Esther. About four years ago, Esther had moved back to Miami after Nadine’s husband died, to live with her older sister and sort of look out for her. Both women had deep religious ties and pretty much ran the church they belonged to. Being two bossy sisters, their antics never ceased.
Jael had received a lot of support and encouragement from her mother after the divorce, especially in regards to her returning to the church.
“Auntie Nadda wasn’t home last week when I called Momma,” Jael said.
“I think she met somebody. Aunt Esther told me a certain male member at their church had an eye for Momma and that lately she’s been spending a lot of time away from the house. When I asked her about it, she avoided the subject by going on as she does about you and how I should model myself after you. Says they won’t stop praying for my soul until I come around.”
“And of course, adding my prayers, you don’t have much of a chance of not making it into heaven.”
“Yeah, well . . .” Rhonda left the sentence unfinished, busying herself with opening the cake box and reaching for the foil before changing the subject. “That homicide you were working on last night didn’t happen to be the one they were talking about on the news this morning, was it?”
“What did the news say?”
“That a suspected drug dealer was murdered over on 29th Street. Shot five times, I think,” Rhonda said as she sliced two huge chunks of the frosted cake and placed them on a plastic plate.
“Three.”
“Oooh, sh . . . I mean shoot. So you were there? Is it related to that other drug killing over by 10th Street?”
Jael’s police antenna went up. This was the first she’d heard of another drug murder. “What other killing?”
“You know, Zap Man was shot to death too, supposedly in the middle of a drug transaction. It makes me wonder what’s going on with these dealers. They trying to keep up with New York and L.A. or something?”