until Ayesha shook her head.
“And you said it was over. You said it was over, and I believed you. Just like before.”
“I ain’t gonna be doin’ this forever. Just a few million and I’ma get out of the game.”
“You got out of the game the last time, all right? You went to prison!” Her voice quivered and tears of frustration welled in her eyes.
“What do you want me to do, huh? What? Just sit by and watch my people die in the streets?” he stressed.
“I guess killing them yourself is better?” Ayesha shot right back.
“Pimps and pushers! Pimps and pushers, Ayesha. They live off our blood like leeches…”
“You used to be one,” Ayesha challenged. “Right? Don’t use Islam for an excuse to be a gangsta, Rahman.”
He paced the floor, agitated by his wife’s accusations.
“Is that what you think I’m doing? Okay, since you’re the expert on Islam, tell me, what do I need to do?”
“Be a father to your children and a husband to your wife,” Ayesha said, folding her arms across her chest, giving him the simplest of answers.
“And I haven’t?”
“When you’re here! Which is becoming more and more infrequent. I’m tired of being the woman you come home to instead of the woman you share your life with!” Ayesha sobbed. “I know you’re doing a lot for the community. In those neighborhoods, children are safe, women are respected, and bills are paid. It’s beautiful. But I need you home. We need you home.”
Rahman knew she was right. He had not been coming home on purpose, trying to protect his family from his actions on the streets. He knew he hadn’t been fair to his family, but he had to put the cause first.
“Listen, Ayesha. I’m fighting a war out there and I’ll be damned if I’ma fight one in my own house!”
“Then go fight,” she heaved. “Go fight your war. That’s what you want to do anyway!”
She started for the door but Rahman grabbed her and pulled her to his chest. “Listen… I know it’s hard, but I told you. Freedom comes with a price, and this is it. I need you to be with me right now. Okay?”
Ayesha didn’t respond. He gently lifted her chin with his palm.
“Okay?”
“I am with you, Rahman. But I need you to be with me,” she pleaded, pulling at his heartstrings.
“I am, baby girl… I am.”
“That was a lame-ass move you made,” Angel said, laughing through the phone at Roll as she pushed the Viper ninety- plus across Highway 1 &9. Goldilocks lay back in the passenger seat with closed eyes behind Chanel shades, chilling to the sounds of La Belle Mafia.
“Them niggas seen you comin’ a mile away,” Angel added.
Roll was also on the road on his way back from Plainfield.
“I know one place I won’t miss. Branford Place,” Roll threatened, referring to the masjid where the Muslims congregated. “I’ll really give them muthafuckas something to pray for!”
“Don’t be a fool, Roll,” Angel casually warned. “There’s too many Muslims in Jersey in the game, too. Right now, they don’t give a fuck about Roc and his cause. But if you shoot up a masjid, you’ll give Roc an army that’ll come from everywhere. Keep it in the streets and we’ll break ’em.”
Roll nodded to himself. If the Muslims got involved, it could get ugly.
“Besides, I know Roc, and if everything goes as planned, I’ll kill the muthafucka myself,” she lied, trying to put Roll’s mind at ease. “Family or no family, this is my paper, too.”
Roll smiled.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about. What’s the plan?” he agreed, foolishly thinking he had a monopoly on her loyalties.
“We’ll holla at you after your birthday party tonight. I say after because tonight, we party. We worked too hard for this paper not to enjoy it, no?” She grinned like a black widow spider before a manly meal.
“No doubt, no doubt. I definitely need a party,” Roll answered.
“Happy birthday, baby boy! Relax! You got an Angel on your shoulder.” She smiled.
Roll laughed.
“I wish I had an Angel on me,” he flirted.
“Be careful what you wish for,” she responded.
“One.”
“
The Noise Factory, Roll’s multilevel club on the outskirts of East Orange, was packed to capacity. Everybody knew Roll’s birthday party would rock, but the only heads being admitted were members of Roll’s clique around New Jersey, as ordered by Angel, who had put herself on security. She used her team of young wolves to secure the perimeter just in case Roc showed up. She wanted to make sure that no one got out as well.
Angel watched whip after whip pull into the parking lot, flossing to see who had the sickest ride. Gators mixed with Air Ones, platinum with white gold, Bentleys with baby BMWs, and money filled the air. It was going to be a night no one wanted to miss.
Inside, the party cranked. The music was live, and Roll’s team was out in full force. Attached to their arms were the women whom Angel had recruited to carry out her plan. Smiles and winks were exchanged between Angel and her coconspirators as she passed through the crowd. She found Goldilocks by the door.
“Everything good?” she asked, giving Goldi a kiss.
“Couldn’t be better.” Goldilocks smirked. “Roll and Nitti are in the VIP room.”
“What about the champagne?” Angel questioned.
“Ready when you are, baby,” Goldilocks answered, brushing a lock of Angel’s hair out of her face.
Angel surveyed the scene.
“Look at these cats, boo. They make it easy, don’t they?” Angel was feeling good because her plan was on the verge of completion. “Go get Capo and tell him I’m ready.”
She smacked Goldilocks on the ass as she sashayed off to get Capo. Angel made her way to the stage and signaled the deejay to lower the volume.
She took the mic in her hand. “Can I have your attention for a second, please.”
The crowd buzzed, then silenced, turning their attention to her. She looked into all the unaware faces and felt a twinge of regret.
“Y’all havin’ a good time?” she yelled to the crowd.
“Hell yeah!”
“No doubt!”
“It’d be better if I was havin’ it with you!”
Angel looked for the face in the crowd and laughed at the comment.
“Yeah, aiight. Better not let your baby mama hear you say that!” she hollered back. The crowd laughed.
“On the real, though. Y’all know why we’re here. To make sure Roll’s thirty-fifth is a night to remember, right?”
“Fo’ sho!” the crowd agreed.
“Yo, Roll! Roll! Get yo’ old ass out here and holla at your peoples!”
The crowd shouted for Roll, and a few moments later, he was onstage with Leslie, dressed in an Armani suit, black silk shirt, derby gators, and Dutch’s dragon chain. Leslie was at his left in a tight-fitting purple Prada dress. Nitti stood to his right. Angel’s eyes fell on the chain.
“Aiight, aiight. Y’all know the routine! Y’all ain’t too big to sing my man happy birthday, are you?”
Angel started singing and the crowd joined in.
Roll was feeling himself as he surveyed the crowd, like a politician before his supporters. The world was his. Every nigga in front of him would kill for him, and there wasn’t a bitch in the house whom he couldn’t fuck. Except for Angel. He couldn’t even fuck with her, as he would soon find out.
The song ended with cheers. Goldilocks, Capo, and the wolves passed out bottle after bottle of Cristal.
“Yo, we gonna pass these bottles out for you to drink. I want you to share ’em with your friends. There’s enough for everybody,” Angel said into the mic. “Yeah, everybody make sure you got a bottle because we gonna toast my man!”
