Angel's Revenge (8 page)

He looked at her face again and recognized her under the sexy outfit and wig.

“Angel?” he asked breathlessly.

“Who else?” She smiled, flinging her arms open. “Ain’t you got a hug for an old friend, Qwan?”

He hesitated but Angel didn’t. She enveloped him in a tight embrace, making sure to press her hot body against him, sending
fire through his sanctified loins.

Angel stepped back slowly to allow Qwan a good look at her.

“How… where have you… I haven’t…”

His questions and comments stumbled over each other as he attempted to speak them all at once. Yet the main question he wanted
to ask was what she was doing there.

“Now this is what I call a nice surprise,” he said, admiring her from head to toe.

“Well, I moved out here temporarily, and you was on my mind. So, here I am,” Angel replied.

“Come on in, Angel. Come on in,” Qwan invited, stepping aside to usher her inside.

Angel brushed her breasts against him purposely as she entered a small stairway that led to a plush office. The desk was black
lacquer and the carpet was thick burgundy. A bookshelf took up three walls while the fourth held a large picture of a black
Jesus and a golden crucifix. Under the picture was a long, beige leather couch.

Angel sat in the chair in front of the desk while Qwan perched on the edge of the desk.

“So… where did you move to?” Qwan inquired, hands clasped in his lap.

“San Francisco. I met a few chicks in the pen that had a nice racket going on in the Bay, so I said what the hell, you know?”
Angel explained, only half lying.

“Yes, I heard about that. I’m sorry I didn’t write or anything, but with my duties here at the church… well, you know what
they say, the Lord’s work is never done.”

“And from the looks of it, his workers get paid well. Is that your Navigator out there?”

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,
la familia.
And family don’t turn on family for nothin’.”

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.

I hope it’s a prayer,
Angel thought.

“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
them
, seductively.

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!”

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.

“Punta!”
she hissed. “You hid behind God because you were afraid to be the devil,” she accused and spat on his convulsing body. “Your
repentance ain’t accepted, Reverend. Forgiveness denied.”

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.