Jefferson miraculously survived the hit, although Jefferson was partially paralyzed from the waist down and was now spending time in jail for his part in Operation Stingray. Angelica had no idea where Santiago was and she didn’t want to know. Simplicity was what she craved, and anonymity is what she prayed for.
An old-gray bus approached and stopped directly in front of her.
“Going to Fayetteville?”
“Yes,” Angelica half whispered.
“Well, get on. I have another stop to make and we’ll be on our way.”
Angelica stepped onto the bus and ignored the bus driver’s stare. The bus was nearly empty save for two other gentlemen who were asleep in the front of the bus. Angelica moved to the back and didn’t respond to the bus driver’s attempt at conversation.
Sleep tried to overtake Angelica, but the noonday sun, familiar streets, and the roads she once traveled beckoned her to stay awake. It was a perfect March day, although she was certain that March winds had visited earlier in the week, with all the broken branches scattered across lawns. The bus stopped outside of Central Prison. A lone black male with braids got on the bus. He noticed Angelica sitting in the back, but when it was obvious that Angelica wasn’t interested in sharing prison stories, the gentleman took a seat near the front, looking out the window as the bus started to take off.
A sigh escaped from Angelica’s mouth. Her heart began to palpitate. Thoughts of the forbidden were choking her mind. She was back in the car with Jefferson as the bullets rained down on them and she had left him to die. Angelica wondered what Jefferson was doing behind the walls of Central Prison and if he thought of her at all. She knew it would be suicide to try and contact him, but she couldn’t release the feeling that gripped her heart.
What was it with her and Jefferson? Did she have feelings for him or was it the high she got whenever she and Jefferson came together in the heat of a moment? Margo would never trust her again. After all, Angelica had betrayed Margo-the one person who loved her unconditionally and treated her with decency and respect. Why couldn’t she leave alone the one thing Margo loved dearly-Jefferson? It made no difference that she and Jefferson were never in a real relationship. Angelica was lost in her thoughts.
She jumped. She must have dozed off. She sat up straight and stared up at the man who had moved into her space. His braids were natty and his face unshaven. He wore an old Army field jacket that was two sizes too big.
“Hey, Miss, you going to Fayetteville?” the man with the braids asked.
“Ain’t none of your business, and I don’t feel like talking.”
“You ain’t got to be like that. Look, you don’t have to say a word; I’ll do the talking,” he said.
“Suit yourself.”
“What’s your name?”
Angelica got up in the man’s face. She wrinkled her nose and moved back quickly. His breath was stale. “I said, I don’t feel like talking.” Angelica closed her eyes.
“All right then. My name is Walter Hopkins. I did time for armed robbery and attempted murder.”
One eye flew open, and Angelica took a good look at the man who wouldn’t shut up.
“Yeah, I killed a man once, but never was convicted of the crime. I was a hired gun-got paid real good, too. Tried to get me to kill a cop.”
Angelica sat up straight, measuring every word her seatmate uttered. Walter had taken the liberty of sitting in the seat in front of her while he entertained her with sordid details of his destructive life.
“Bad cop. Killed a sistah because he claimed she saw some mess he was involved in. Killed a white man too. He was tough on the outside, but that fine brotha ain’t nothin’ up against the real hoods in Central.”
“Wha…what is the cop’s name?”
“Oh, you want to talk now?”
“No, I remember a cop in Fayetteville who was put away about four or five years ago for murder and accessory to an arms deal scheme.” Angelica leaned back in her seat.
“Yep, that’s him. Hamilton Barnes. That pretty boy got it hard. The boys are spanking that behind. Bee-sides, nobody like a cop that ain’t got no respect for anutha brother. So, pretty thang, did you say you were going to Fayetteville?”
“I didn’t say.”
“What were you in for?”
“Walter, I don’t feel very hospitable right now. I should be happy, but I’m not. And I don’t feel like talking.”
“I was thinking that maybe you and me could hook up.”
“When I get off of this bus, Walter, it’s just me and me-no you.”
“Umm, had you pegged wrong. Ain’t you one of Macy’s girls from the women’s prison?”
Angelica sat bolt upright and looked straight into Walter’s eyes. She bore a hole deep into his soul.
“Who are you, and what do you know about Ms. Macy?”
“Sgt. Macy, ahhh, she comes by the prison on occasion.”
“To do what?”
“How do you expect me to know? I was locked up like you.”
“Funny, you were offering her up like you were handing out government cheese.”
Angelica looked at the braid-wearing brotha in the wrinkled T-shirt, Army field jacket, and tattered blue jeans with renewed interest. He knew something that he failed to share-something that had to do with Ms. Macy, Central Prison, perhaps her ex-husband or maybe Jefferson. Angelica wasn’t sure, but there was one thing she was sure of-Walter struck a nerve with her. She would have to extract as much information as she could before the bus arrived in Fayetteville because entertaining the likes of Walter Whatever-his-last-name was strictly out of the question whether she had a place to stay or not.
Angelica sat back and crossed her legs as Walter fidgeted and searched for what he was going to say next.
“Look, ahh…I never caught your name.”
“Don’t have one. My number is 656933.”
“Cute. Well, I think I’ll go back up front and sit.”
“No need to go. I’m interested in talking about Ms. Macy.”
A frown crossed Walter’s face. Angelica watched as Walter sized her up, his eyes lingering too long on her breasts that filled out the pink cotton stretch blouse she wore. He didn’t look half bad. A good washing and scrubbing would probably make him presentable.
“Look, I figured a good-looking woman like yourself had to be one of Sgt. Macy’s girls. See, Sgt. Macy is well known in these parts. It’s no secret that she likes the little girls and the grown ones, too. No big deal. That’s prison life.”
“Walter, what are you trying to tell me? I was never good at riddle games.”
“Ain’t trying to tell you nothin’, sugar. Just makin’ conversation to pass the time.” Walter stood up and bowed. “Excuse me if I interrupted your…sleep. I’ll let you get back to it.”
Angelica sat staring at Walter as he walked to the front of the bus. The last twenty minutes were bizarre, and no further information would be forthcoming. She wracked her brain for the meaning, but nothing came and she fell asleep.
“FAYETTEVILLE,” shouted the bus driver an hour later.
Angelica wiped her mouth and collected herself. She stood up and looked toward the front of the bus, but the man in braids had disappeared into the brightness of the day. She got off the bus and looked around at the few patrons who waited for buses to take them as far away as New York. Angelica hugged her few belongings and sat on a bench, wondering how far the money she had in her pocket would take her and who the man in braids was.
3
