Angel's Revenge

she had never said a word to anyone about him, and she wasn’t about to start now.

“Go on with my life? How? I can’t. I’m at a crossroad, a major crossroad, and I can’t cross,” she pleaded with Delores not to end their conversation. But she knew it was already over. “What about all these unexplainable events?”

“He’s dead, Ms. Martin. Please let yourself out.”

Their eyes met for a split second before Delores turned and left the kitchen. Nina was trembling so violently, she had to brace herself against the table. She began to sob. Her tears splattered onto the table as they rolled off her cheeks.

She had come to learn the truth and in a way she had. Delores was hiding something. Nina could feel it. It was in the woman’s eyes, and Nina saw right through her. What was she trying to hide? She could hardly look at me when she spoke to me. Yes, his mother is definitely hiding something. But what? Maybe he is alive, maybe.

Nina felt it, and deep down, she believed.

PUSSY CONTROL CHAPTER SEVEN

It’s time to get money,” Dutch told his crew one night, signaling the end of the Month of Murder.

He, along with Craze, Angel, Roc, and Zoom, met in Dutch’s loft apartment on the outskirts of Newark.

“Everybody remotely close to Kazami is dead, thanks to Roc and Zoom.” Dutch laughed, Kazami’s chain swinging from his neck. “The rest of these niggas, we don’t even need a murder game for.”

“Don’t need it?” Zoom questioned. “Fuck you think, nigga’s just gonna bow down?”

“Word up,” Craze agreed. “I say we keep these niggas duckin’ and runnin’ until they bow down.”

Dutch shook his head. “We ain’t gotta gun ’em, just outthink ’em. And since most niggas think wit’ their dicks, we control that, we control them.” Dutch turned to Angel. “It’s your turn, baby girl. Whoever these niggas wanna fuck or bein’ fucked by, I want you to tuck them under your wing. Use what you are to get us what we want. Lick ’em, trick ’em, spend cheese on ’em. Whatever you gotta do to get ’em on our team, do it,” he explained.

“Then what?” Angel asked.

“Then we lay on ’em to slip because they all do. If they movin’ against us, we’ll know because their bitches will tell us. Niggas won’t even know they sleepin’ with the enemy. Control the pussy and you control the game.”

Angel understood and set out to master her craft.

“Look at this nigga,” Angel giggled, referring to the driver of the Pepsi-blue Escalade sitting on twenty-four-inch spinners.

He was smiling down at them in Angel’s new cherry-red Viper drop-top with black interior and red piping.

“Damn you doin’ it, papi,” Angel flirted, emphasizing the Spanish in her accent.

The nigga’s chest swelled, and he hung his wrist out the window flashing a platinum Piaget skeleton watch.

“Not as hard as you in them shorts. You doin’ it,” he said as he eyed Angel’s thighs and fat pussy through her daisy dukes.

“Watch this,” Angel whispered to Goldilocks. She bent over, kissed Goldi on the mouth, and played with her pussy.

Angel looked up. “I’d rather be doin’ you, papi. Me and my boo here. What you think, huh? Can you handle two bad bitches?” Angel teased as Goldilocks rolled her tongue like a snake’s. The driver boned instantly.

The light turned green but neither car moved.

“Damn, ma! Slow down! You don’t bullshit, do you?”

“There ain’t nothing slow about me. Follow me if you can,” Angel said with a smile, then darted off down the street.

“Pussy runs the game, Goldi. Don’t ever forget that,” she said, laughing at the Escalade in her rearview mirror. “This dude don’t know us from jack, but look at him, followin’ us like a little lost puppy.”

Angel made a left and the Escalade followed, continuing the pursuit.

“Ask a broke nigga who took him out the game. Ask a crackhead cat who turned him out. Ask a nigga in any prison in America who half the time ain’t worried about his spot or who’s gettin’ his cake. You know what he’s worried about? He’s worried about who’s fuckin’ his baby mama!”

Angel and Goldilocks laughed as Angel switched lanes.

“Is that what that thing with Leslie is all about?” Goldilocks questioned.

“Exactly. I remember the night Dutch broke it down to me. But the difference with us is we gonna take it to the next level. We ain’t goin’ after these niggas ’cause that’s what they expect. We goin’ after their bitches. Trust me, we’re about to lock this shit down, boo. Lock this shit down, and Roll gonna give it to us!” Angel said, laughing.

“What about him?” Goldilocks asked as she gestured to the Escalade.

“Man, when we finished toyin’ with this weak-ass nigga, we’ll be sittin’ right where we wanna be,” Angel replied, taking a quick right, using the skills she had mastered as a car thief. She swung a left and timed the next light on the yellow. Safely, she made it through but the Escalade wasn’t as fortunate. A cab rammed into the driver’s side in the middle of the intersection.

Angel glanced at Goldilocks, “Any questions?”

Angel wasted no time putting her game down. She concentrated on Leslie, and it wasn’t long before Leslie had a secret fetish and her name was Angel. It was so bad, it got to the point that Leslie couldn’t get through the day without calling Angel, and if Angel didn’t answer, oh boy! Leslie called and called until she heard Angel’s voice. The promise of a rendezvous, the promise of her between her legs licking and sucking her pussy, completely opened her up. Leslie couldn’t handle the sex. But not only did Angel get in her panties, she got in her head and meticulously picked at her brain.

Leslie owned four hair salons. Roc had sponsored them and all catered to the Who’s Who of the upper hustling class. Leslie knew everybody’s business. She knew who was fucking who, who was creeping with who, and who wanted to get crept on. She knew which chicks liked men, who went both ways, and who vacillated. Baby mamas, wives, and mistresses confided all to Leslie, and Leslie told all to Angel during the quiet of their intimacy. Thanks to Leslie, everyone became pawns in Angel’s plans.

Angel was a hustler, a real hustler, and if she couldn’t fuck you and suck you to get what she wanted then she’d break the fuckin’ bank. She would always find a way to get at you.

“Damn, Angel! You know I don’t get down like you, but, damn! If I ever do, you gonna be the first bitch I call,” Jackie said. She was a fine red bone Angel wanted to fuck real bad. So bad, she bought her the Jacob heart.

“Thank you!” Jackie exclaimed, holding the heart in her hand.

“That’s for you, baby. It’s just between us, for our friendship. When you’re ready, you know what to do,” Angel said. “And if you need me, I’m here for you. Just call me.”

It wasn’t long before Angel’s investment paid off. Jackie called her one day, half hysterical.

“Calm down, baby. What is it?” Angel asked tenderly, reaching for her Sean John boxers as she put her finger up to her lip and gestured to Goldi to be quiet.

“It’s Devon,” Jackie hissed under her breath. “He got popped.”

“Whaaat?! When?”

“About a week ago. Now he wants me to help him set some nigga up so he ain’t gotta do no time. And he wants me to join the Help Yourself program. Angel, what am I going to do?”