Qwan cleared his throat nervously. “Yes. Well, I try to maintain a respectable persona. It’s important that the congregation see the blessing God gives the faithful.”
Angel nodded and looked around. An eerie pause played with the rhythm of the moment. Qwan broke the awkward silence.
“San Francisco’s kinda far, but I know a few good churches I can recommend if you’d like.”
Angel brushed blonde hair off her face. “You know me, Qwan. Ain’t much changed. I’m still the same ol’ Angel. Church is the last thing on my mind.”
“Well, God is the changer of hearts.”
“So I’ve heard,” she sighed, tired of the small talk. “Listen, Qwan, I think you know why I’m here.”
“I have some idea.”
“So why don’t we talk about it, then? Why did you do it, Qwan? We was a family,
Her eyes narrowed, but Qwan averted his gaze. He stood up and walked around the desk pensively. He sat down then and looked at Angel above tented hands.
“If I told you it was hard to do, Angel, I’d be lying. I don’t feel any remorse. Maybe that’s hard for you to understand but I pray I can make you. Do you remember the port?”
“Of course.”
Qwan leaned forward in his chair.
“When I went to prison for that year, I took a long hard look at my life. I saw myself starting a vicious cycle that could only end in one of two places. Prison again and again or the graveyard, and I didn’t want either. One night, I prayed. I prayed like never before and I asked God to show me the way, to guide me, and he did. He guided me to His Son, my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.”
Angel got the feeling he had recited this speech before, probably to wayward youth, but she let the record play out.
“When I came home, it was like I forgot Him, forgot His Son, and I fell right back into Satan’s trap. Dutch. You may not like what I’m about to say, but Dutch was a devil. He was evil. I just didn’t know how evil until the night he and Chris murdered that girl’s father in cold blood. Cold blood, Angel. We walked right into his home and took his life. For what? Because Dutch wanted to send a message?”
Qwan dropped his head, mumbling something inaudible.
“You mean Simone’s father?”
Qwan nodded with watery eyes. In his mind, he relived the moment.
“After that, I tried to get out, but I couldn’t. I can’t tell you why, but Satan had me. I… I was scared that Dutch would kill me, so I stayed. I stayed and I watched people die at his hands. I spent the blood money. I luxuriated in it. Until one night, one night I had a dream.”
Qwan’s eyes glazed over and his voice boomed like he was giving a sermon.
“I dreamt I was standing on the brink of fire. All I could hear were screams, agonizing screams, and I smelled burnt flesh. I saw myself standing over the pit. Then someone called my name. I turned around and it was Dutch. He said my soul was wanted in hell, and then an unseen force flung me into the pit. I woke up sweating and crying and I knew then, even if he killed me, I had to get out. I had to,” Qwan said as he lowered his head.
Angel sat unmoved by Qwan’s story. She had no pity and no sympathy for what Qwan had done, no matter what he said. She stared at the top of his head until he raised it.
“But he didn’t kill you, did he, Qwan? He let you walk away clean,” Angel said, still not understanding why he had turned state and testified.
“But I couldn’t be clean, not as long as I carried the burden I carried, and the trial was my only chance to unload it.”
Qwan stood and walked around the desk.
“When the DA first contacted me to testify against Dutch, I said no. I didn’t want no part of it. But the more I thought, the more I knew it was my only chance to purge myself. How could a man of God refuse to denounce the devil to his face? How?” Qwan emphasized with his open palms.
“He wasn’t a devil, Qwan, and you know it! Your fuckin’ conscience just wants to make him your scapegoat! Dutch was your friend and you sold him out!” Angel spat.
“Friend? He was a conniving manipulator! A… a… deceiver and a cold-blooded murderer and a bastard who didn’t deserve to live! If you want to know the truth, I’m glad he’s dead! I’m glad to be rid of him. Friend! He was never my friend,” Qwan spewed before collapsing on the couch.
His spirit felt much lighter, having finally spoken his true feelings.
Angel didn’t speak for a moment, and when she did, she began calmly.
“Do you think I’m a devil too, Qwan?”
“God is the best of judges.”
“How about a friend? Are we still friends?”
Angel’s tone made Qwan open his eyes and look at her.
“I don’t have anything against you, Angel.”
“Liar.” She playfully giggled. “I think you do, Qwan, because, after all you said, you left out one thing.”
“What’s that?”
A smirk played on Angel’s lips. “I think you were jealous,” she stated simply.
Qwan eyed her incredulously. “Jealous of who, him?”
“It’s okay to say his name, honey. He’s gone, remember? Yes him. Dutch. You were jealous of my devotion to Dutch.”
Qwan quivered with laughter, shaking his head, “That’s absurd.”
“Is it? I remember when you first saw the BMW I saved for Dutch. The hate in your eyes, wondering why I didn’t save one for you, too.”
Qwan didn’t speak. He also remembered the BMW and the envy he had felt, wishing he had one as well.
“And I remember how you used to watch me when you thought I wasn’t looking. Do you remember that, Qwan?”
She was initiating the cat-and-mouse, a game she had mastered. Qwan looked at her curiously.
“I was young. We were young and of course I looked at you, you were pretty and…”
“Am I still?”
“Still what?”
“Pretty?” Angel asked provocatively, standing up and crossing the room to sit on the couch next to him. Qwan watched her, growing more nervous by the moment.
“Why does that matter now?” he asked, but Angel ignored the question.
“I remember how you used to be around me. I could tell you wanted to say things then that you were afraid to say. Do you still want to say them?” Her tongue tickled the “th” in
Qwan stood up quickly, knees trembling. “That was a long time ago.”
“And I was a little girl then, but…” she said as she purposely uncrossed her legs so Qwan could see what was between them. “I’m a woman now, and I’m all alone in this cold world,” she said as she got up and moved closer to him.
“Wh… what are you doing?” Qwan asked, wide-eyed.
“Whatever you want me to.” She smiled as she caressed his face.
Qwan jerked away from her. “No! I… I don’t want you to do anything besides leave,” he retorted, attempting to sound firm, but his tremor gave him away.
“Really?” Angel giggled. “Your spirit is willing but your flesh is weak?” she remarked, referring to his tented trousers.
Qwan swallowed hard and adjusted his crotch. “Get out!” he yelled out of embarrassment that she could so easily arouse his weakness.
“Get out or… or…”
“Or what?” Angel taunted. “What will you do if I don’t?”
He stormed over to the door and threw it open with a bang. “I’ll throw you out myself!”
