Angel groaned so sweetly it played up and down Qwan’s spine like a chill.
“We’ll see,” was all she replied as she slowly shook the spaghetti straps off her shoulders. Her dress fell to the floor, and she stood there, her pecan nakedness exposed to him.
Qwan gulped audibly. He feasted his eyes on her heavy, round breasts and tight stomach that vee’d to her shaved pussy.
“Now, how can you throw me out of a church like this?” Angel smiled.
“P-p-please, Angel, please put your clothes back on,” Qwan begged, trying to tear his eyes away from her thighs.
“You’ve waited fifteen years to see this. Well, here it is, baby, and it’s all yours.”
Angel took him by the hand.
“Don’t,” he whimpered, attempting no resistance as she placed his hands on her breasts. It was the closest Qwan had ever been to heaven. Dreams of Angel had defined his young adulthood. His every boyhood fantasy was made of what his nerve endings were feeling now.
“Please…”
“Exactly. Let me please you.”
Qwan pulled his hand away. “No, I can’t do this.”
“No? Well can you do this?” Angel folded her body into his and kissed him, sucking in his breath and giving him her succulent tongue to taste. To him, it was like strawberry cream, and he sucked her tongue like a lollipop. Angel led him over to the couch and laid him down. She positioned herself on top of him, gyrating her hips, bringing him to the verge of wettin’ all over himself.
“What do you want, Qwan?” Angel whispered in his ear.
“I… I want…” Qwan lay with his eyes closed, torn between spirit and flesh, unable to answer.
“Tell me, baby. Tell me how much you want me, how much you’ve always wanted me,” she urged, darting her tongue in and out his ear, all the while squeezing his manhood through his trousers. Qwan groaned with desire.
“Tell me,” she demanded through clenched teeth.
The dam of his righteous resistance broke and flooded him with desire.
“Yes,” he admitted, looking her in the face, eyes full of lust, “I’ve always wanted you, Angel. Stay with me. I’ll make you godly if you make me whole.”
Qwan knew this was a test of faith, and he knew he had failed. He just didn’t know that his failure would cost him his life. He was too far gone to see the ice form in Angel’s eyes, frozen rigid marbles that tensed her body.
“Are you ready to give yourself to me?” he asked lustfully, taking her breast in his mouth.
She watched him sucking on her breast for a moment, totally detached, numb to any thought except murder. She lifted his head with her hand and bent to lick him from his ear to his neck and around to the other side. He never saw the thin steel razor she flipped from her tongue and into her clenched teeth. He was too busy trying to palm her ass.
The razor slit his throat from ear to ear. He felt no pain but heard the gurgling sound of his blood spewing from his body.
He grabbed for his throat, eyes wide with frantic fear and amazement. He had cum in his pants the very instant his life began to leak all over the burgundy carpet. Angel slowly rose and watched him suffer.
He tried to get up but was too weak. All he could do was fall facedown in a pool of his own blood at Angel’s red stiletto heels.
“Judas,” was her single-word eulogy.
Angel slid her dress back on, not stopping to wipe the splattered blood from her body. She wore it like a badge of honor.
She walked out of the office and down the stairs, using the ends of her dress to open and close the door. She crossed the parking lot to Goldilocks, who was waiting patiently in a Jag.
As she got in the driver’s side, she removed the blonde wig, unpinned her hair, and shook it out to its full length. Goldilocks studied her. She had never seen this side of Angel before. Goldilocks wiped the small spots of blood from her lover’s face with a napkin.
“Death before dishonor?” Goldilocks inquired directly.
“Amen,” replied Angel.
They pulled off, girlish giggles floating in the air in their wake.
“We fucked up, yo. He got away.”
Duke couldn’t believe the words he was hearing on the other end of the phone.
“Fuck you mean ‘got away’?” he barked back.
Ty was on the other end, too shaken to speak. He looked in the rearview mirror as he hit the turnpike, heading south.
“Roll, yo, he…”
Duke jumped up from his couch and shouted into the phone. “I know who, muthafucka! Tell me how!”
The word “how” scrambled his brain like a bad hit of EX. He had formulated the perfect plan. He had organized it meticulously, down to the last detail. It was simple, a piece of cake, but somehow, it had blown up in his face.
The plan was to use Ty and three others. They were supposed to meet Roll’s people, which they did, in Branch Brook Park. Roll had three cats with him. Duke knew that they’d be frisked, so the plan was to make the deal, then have two shooters in a stolen car positioned outside the park tail Roll, nod him at a stop light, then take back the money and merchandise.
The deal went down as planned. Roll took the duffel-bagged million, and Ty took the weight. Then Ty made the call to the shooters.
“He out.”
The shooters readied themselves. When they spotted Roll’s BMW, they followed him, swerved up beside him at the red light, and opened fire.
They didn’t count on the BMW being bulletproof, but it was. They could’ve been tossing grenades at the car and still not cracked the windshield. The talons bounced off the car like it was Superman’s chest.
Roll ducked out of pure instinct but came up laughing at the feeble assassination attempt. The shooters did manage to damage the tires, but even they were designed to roll in the event of a blowout. The shooters attempted to give chase, but the blare of approaching sirens made them quickly detour.
When Ty got the word, he jumped dead in his rental and aimed it for the turnpike. He knew he had fucked up. He knew there would be retaliation. He now had two of New Jersey’s biggest drug lords on his ass, and he wasn’t about to stick around for the fireworks.
“Where you at?” Duke asked, head spinning.
“On my way out to your spot,” Ty lied, already heading in the opposite direction.
“Naw, naw. Meet me in Elizabeth. You know the spot,” Duke ordered, already trying to figure out where he was gonna dump Ty’s body.
“No doubt. One.”
Ty hung up and tossed the cell onto the empty passenger seat. Wasn’t no way he was gonna meet Duke anywhere, especially since Duke had found out that Roll got away with his paper. It was a total failure, but for Duke it loomed even larger.
Once Roll found out who was behind the assassination attempt, war was inevitable. Young World had warned Duke from sparking, and Duke had violated. He knew World wouldn’t like it and knew he had to prepare for two wars. One with Roll and the other with Young World. Either way, it was on, and Duke couldn’t turn back the clock.
Roll was a big, fat, black, Biggie Smalls-type nigga, whose belly shook when he laughed. As he and his main man, Nitti, walked into his wife’s hair salon, his belly bounced with hilarious cackles.
“What’s so funny, Roland?” his wife, Renee, asked as she prepared to open the shop.
Roll took the duffel bag from Nitti and kissed Renee on the cheek.
