Black Widow (7 page)

“That was then; this is now. As I said, your services are no longer needed, and I’m going to have security escort you to your car after we check your bags.” Employees getting their bags checked was standard procedure.

Isis was pissed off and hurt and cried the entire way home, only to be greeted by an eviction notice at her front door because she had missed her housing court date. Funny how things worked. She had never missed one of Dave’s court dates, and now she had missed her very own.
When it rains, it pours
, she thought.

Bam, who was still sick and laying up at Isis’s spot, heard her in the kitchen as she was putting water in the teakettle.

“You finally off?” he called out from her bedroom. She had been sleeping on the couch so that he could rest and try to get better.

“They fired me,” she said, keeping her back to him because she didn’t want him to see her tears.

“How they gonna fire their best employee? I saw your employee-of-the-month plaques in the other room.”

“They don’t care about that. I guess they didn’t like it that I’d been out three weeks, and I was going to be working only two more weeks before my scheduled vacation.”

“Where are you going?”

“Where
was
I going, you mean?” She started to wash the glasses that sat in the sink. She really just needed an excuse to keep her back to Bam. Slowly she pulled herself together. “I was going away to a weeklong jewelry seminar to learn about becoming a professional jewelry designer. I’ve been sketching different designs for years, and I thought now was the time to finally make my dream a reality.”

“That’s what’s up!” Bam said, impressed that Isis was a chick who wanted to do something and wasn’t depending on a man to come in and take care of her.

“I know, but it seems like one thing after another keeps pulling me away from my true love. I gave so much time to Dave that I put my dreams on hold, and now…” She finally turned to face him.

“You shouldn’t let anyone get in the way of following your dream,” he said. “I wish I could do something other than sling dope.”

“You do have other options, Bam. Stop selling yourself short. You’re smart and are a natural leader.”

“Maybe you are right, but this convo isn’t about me; it’s about you. Why can’t you go to the class now?”

“Because like I said, something always comes up. Like…,” she began, but she couldn’t quite get the words out, ashamed of her reality.

“Like…?” Bam egged her on.

“Like Dave and having to plan funerals. Getting sick and losing my job. I was already late on my rent and other bills before I lost my job, but I’ve always managed to hold it together,” she confessed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now.”

“I understand more than you may think. I do have a mother and two sisters.” He paused before saying, “It’s hard out here for a woman trying to hold her own. Taking care of everyone else and putting herself last. I feel you, baby. I know times are hard.”

Isis didn’t respond, so Bam broke the silence. “Shit, the world is in a damn recession: gas high, milk high, everything. Shit, times is real fucked up for all of us—even the damn dope man.”

Isis laughed. She was grateful for Bam’s humor. Somehow he made things seem doable.

“Hard times are definitely in our city, baby. You better believe that.” He sat down at Isis’s breakfast bar.

“I know that’s right,” she agreed, joining him.

“Well, look, I know what I am about to throw at you may seem like it’s coming kinda quick, but I’m goin’ to put it out there anyway.”

She looked at him. “I’m listening.”

“I have a confession of my own to make. You know I’ve been feeling you since the first time I laid these pupils on you.”

“That’s what someone told me,” she said, “but it’s the first time that I ever heard it from you.”

“Well, it’s absolutely true. Now you’ve heard it straight from the horse’s mouth. I’ve always been in love with you.”

It hadn’t even been a month since she had put Dave in the ground, but she couldn’t deny that she had developed feelings for Bam. Isis really didn’t know how to respond, so she simply said, “Damn.”

But Bam wasn’t finished. “And being around you these past two weeks has made me want you even more.” He paused for a minute, hoping she would say something, but she didn’t. “What I’m about to say may sound fucked up, but I got to say it.”

“Just don’t say anything that you don’t mean,” she warned.

“My momma always says shit happens for a reason. Even when the shit is fucked up, it happens for a reason.” Bam looked at her. “There is always something good that comes along with the bad.”

“Bam?” she asked. “What are you getting at?”

“My aunt is always on my ass for money, acting like I’m her personal ATM, which is driving me to get a place. You getting fired is going to allow you more time to chase your dream; it’s destined that way.”

Bam saw that after all these years he finally had her ear, so he didn’t let up. Next, he wanted her heart. “I mean, let’s face it: There was a reason for Dave being in both of our lives.”

“Why you say that?” she asked, not really liking Dave’s name coming up in the conversation this way.

“Because Dave was the bridge that connected us. He was the reason we met. Him dying was the reason I’ve been able to grow on you.”

“Who said you’ve grown on me?”

“I can see it in your eyes,” Bam said, “and if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Well, I was just trying to help a person that had my back when I was down and out.”

He laughed and then took her hand. “I feel like the timing is perfect. You and Dave never had a real man-and-woman relationship.”

“That’s not true.” Isis pulled her hand away. “Don’t try to diminish what Dave and I had.”

“Hold your ponies; let me finish. Don’t cut off my head just yet.” Bam cleared his throat and continued. “No one can deny that you two had a strong bond and that you were a hell of a friend to him—probably the best friend he ever had—but you never had a real relationship because you had only known him a few months when he caught his case, and you both were so young.”

Isis had been thinking over the past few weeks about her relationship with Dave and knew that what Bam was saying was correct, but she wasn’t ready to admit it to him. “Yes, we were friends, and I loved Dave very much.”

“Yes, but he could never fully be your man from behind bars. He was distracted by his case, knowing that he was going to die, knowing that he could never truly be with you.”

“But—” She tried to defend their love, but he cut her off again.

“I just feel that you deserve a man that could give you the world and everything in it. I feel like I could be that man.”

Isis put her head down, but Bam put his hand under her chin and lifted it back up.

All she could say to that was “Really?” She was confused. She had loved Dave, but it had been a young girl’s love. She was a woman now and felt guilty about moving on.

“Really. And like I said before, there is a reason you lost your job, a reason why we connected, and a reason why they decided—today—to put that eviction notice on your door.”

“Please share that reason with me, then, because I can’t see a good reason for getting thrown out on the streets.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” A big smile took over Bam’s entire face as he began to run down his theory for her. “The reason is because I am going to get my own double-wide trailer in the country, and it would be the perfect place for you to concentrate on designing your jewelry. And we can take care of each other. We could have the best of both worlds with each other.”

The teakettle started to sing. Isis got up to cut off the burner and make them both a cup of tea. Heading over to the stove, she glanced at the eviction notice and reality hit her. Where was she really going to go? No money. No job. Where? She wouldn’t be able to get another apartment. Who would rent to her? She had no job, no money, and a bad rental history. She didn’t want to go back to Aunt Samantha’s house, because her aunt would rub it in that she had told Isis that she wasn’t ready to move out on her own when she had. Then there was her sister, who was in Texas, and when she wasn’t, Phoebe lived with her crazy mother. Brenda hated Isis with a passion.

Bam came up from behind and wrapped his arms around Isis. She wanted to resist, but it had been five years since she last had a man’s arms around her.

He pressed her. “So, is it a deal?”

“I don’t know. That’s a lot to think about.”

“Is there any way that I can persuade you?”

“No, I just need to clear my mind and think this through,” she told him.

Bam started to kiss her neck and run his fingers down her shirt. Because it had been a while since she had had sex—five years, in fact—his first touch had her soaking wet.

“Stop,” she moaned.

Instead Bam stuck his hand in her pants and began caressing her clit. He didn’t stop until she reached that point of ecstasy. He then led her over to the sofa. Isis didn’t want it to go down like this—sex this soon after Dave’s death. She had to stop Bam, regardless of how good it felt, regardless of how much she wanted it to go on forever. She thought about what Samantha had taught her:
When someone knows that you need them, they are already in control, and this puts them in the position to take your neediness as a weakness.

But Isis’s thoughts were clouded by lust, so she decided to dismiss her aunt’s advice. Bam laid her down on her back and removed her underwear, using his tongue to make her come over and over again. Dave had never pleased her like that. He never put his mouth down there. Once she had come, Bam got on top of her, putting his skinny, short dick where his tongue had been just seconds before. After four and a half strokes, he exploded.

From that day forward, Isis knew there was no turning back.

Ronald “Bam” Michaels

What you have in your possession is blood money. A lot of blood was shed in order to obtain it. I sold my soul to the game when I started hustling, and a contract comes with that…. There are consequences and repercussions that come with it.

Chapter 5

April Showers

April showers cascaded from the overcast sky, giving the newly birthed leaves of the century-old trees their first baptism of the season. Caroline County was only a hop, skip, and a jump away from Richmond, but for Isis, a person who had spent her entire life in the city, it was a world away.

Just a few days earlier, she had lost her job and had been facing eviction. Now she was starting a new life in the country with Bam. Isis still couldn’t believe how quickly things had transpired between the two of them. She was staring out the window, watching a family of squirrels hide from the spring rainfall, when her cell phone rang. “Damn,” she said to herself, upset about the interruption, before glancing around the small place she now called home, in search of her phone.

She followed the ringing down the tiny hallway and into the bedroom. The bed was a mess. Actually, the entire room was a disaster; she and Bam hadn’t unpacked completely yet. The ringing was definitely coming from underneath the comforter. She felt around the tangled bedding but came up with nothing.

Whoever it is on the other end of the phone must really want to talk
, Isis thought. The phone had been screaming with at least four or five back-to-back phone calls now.

She picked up a handful of bedspread and shook it—nothing. She shook the spreads a second time—still no luck.

Trying to find the phone was beginning to feel like trying to locate a lost ship in the Bermuda Triangle. Enough was enough; she snatched all the top covers and linen from the bed, and the cell phone fell to the floor. The caller ID read: “Sister.”

Isis was elated that it was Phoebe calling, although she was a little upset with her as well. She had left messages on Phoebe’s machine for two days but had gotten no return call. They always kept each other up on what was going on in their lives, regardless of how big or small, usually talking four or five—and sometimes ten—times a day depending on how much drama was in the air.

“Hey, sister,” Isis answered the phone. “Where have you been?” She didn’t give Phoebe a chance to answer before continuing. “I’ve been tryin’ to reach you for more than two days.”

“I’m sorry,” Phoebe apologized. “Things have just been so hectic for the past few days, and I just got a chance to check my messages a couple of minutes ago,” she said. “So first, please explain this to me, sister: You living where, and with who?”

“You heard it right, sister, I’m living with Bam in a real nice trailer in Caroline County.”

“A trailer?” Phoebe exclaimed. “Sister,
you
have never been any trailer-park type of chick. What happened while I’ve been gone? Did you fall and bump your head, or has Bam drugged you?” she joked.

“None of the above,” Isis assured her sibling. “It’s a double-wide trailer and it’s really nice. It looks just like a house, only smaller. You just have to see it.” Just as Phoebe was about to respond, Isis jumped back in. “You know when we drive down I-95 and we see those houses on eighteen-wheelers that say ‘wide load’?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, something like that.”

“Oh, okay.”

“But you’ll have to see it for yourself.”

“I know,” Phoebe agreed. “I can’t wait.” There was a small pause, and then Phoebe asked, “But are you happy?”

“Yes, very happy,” Isis declared. “I don’t have to worry about anything but creating my jewelry designs. Bam takes care of everything else. If I may say so myself, this is the life, sister.”

“Well, as long as
you’re
happy.”

“As happy as I’ve ever been…in a long time anyway,” she confessed. “But enough about me. How are things going with you in Dallas?”

“So far, so good. I made the first cut.”

“That’s great!” Isis yelled into the phone.

“I met someone too.”

“Who?” Isis wanted to know who was courting her sister.

“All I can say is that he plays for the Cowboys.”

“Really? But what do you mean all you ‘can say is that he plays for the Cowboys’? What’s up with him?”

“I‘ll have to tell you later, because we’re not supposed to talk to the players like that.”

“So you’re going to leave me in suspense?” Isis asked.

Phoebe and Isis had never kept secrets from each other, so she thought long and hard before answering her sister’s question.

“Not right now,” Phoebe said.

“Okay, sister, tell me in your own time, but don’t keep me in suspense for too long.” Then she added, “Remember, I’m the one that has your back no matter what.”

“I know.” Phoebe said, and laughed.

Although the rain showered the capital city, the streets were dry. Richmond’s cocaine trade had been suffering from a drought for more than two months. There were many theories floating around the streets as to why the drug, from the high-priced, high-quality stuff to the inferior, was so hard to find, but no one really knew the answer. New York used to be the place to go at such times, but things had changed. Cats up top were asking for ridiculous prices, just like the local jokers. Some of the younger, less-experienced hustlers liked the current market. They could sell cut-up coke—that they normally couldn’t give away—for a jacked-up price. Supply and demand is a mutha.

While the fiends were in the streets trying to figure out how they were going to come up with the extra money being charged to get them lifted, Bam was at a friend’s house on the west end bagging up a fresh shipment of work. He’d recently met a guy from North Carolina with more grade-A coke than Bam had ever thought about selling, and the new connect was playing more than fair with the prices. The south was taking over more than just the music business.

“Tameka?” Bam called. “Bring me a glass of water.” Weighing, cutting, and bagging the two and a half kilos of soft white had made him thirsty.

“Okay, give me a second.” A beat later, Tameka walked into the room wearing a powder-blue Baby Phat miniskirt and matching wife beater. She was giving Kimora Lee Simmons a run for her money, body-wise. She set a bottle of Dasani on the table where Bam was breaking the coke down. “Here you go.”

“What the fuck is this?” Bam asked. “Girl, you know I don’t drink that bourgeois-ass shit. Water is the most abundant natural resource in the world, and them crackers done tricked you mu’fuckaz into spending two-fiddy a bottle for it. I’ll take mines right out the tap.” Before he could go any further into his lecture on marketing and resources, his cell phone rang.

A familiar voice on the other end said, “What up, my nig? I’m trying to do sixty-two. You gon’ help me?”

The voice belonged to his best friend, Drop-Top. “Why wouldn’t I? It’s just like I told ya it would be,” Bam boasted. “I’m almost done with the washing and folding now; just drop by the laundry. Meet me in about ten minutes.”

Drop-Top knew that he was referring to Tameka’s house. “I got some other important business to talk to you about when I get there,” he announced. “Gone.”

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang. Drop-Top was always prompt. It was almost annoying how meticulous he was about time. Tameka opened the door. “You’re late,” she teased.

“Never that,” Drop-Top said, seriously. “Where’s B?”

“The same place he’s always at.”

Drop-Top slid into the den, or the lab, depending on the time of day and who you were. The two friends slapped hands. “What took you so long?” Bam asked.

Drop-Top smiled. “So now I know where Tameka gets the jokes from.” He took a seat on a blue leather sofa across from where Bam was sitting.

Bam asked, “What is it that you need to talk to me about?”

“Smiley.”

“What about him?”

“You went from copping from the man to fucking his girl and taking half of his clientele.”

“Tell me something that I don’t already know.” Bam stroked his mustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Smiley can put his hands on twenty bitches at any given time, so I know the nigga ain’t trippin’ off one stray ho. Besides, just like his customers, the bitch chose me,” Bam reasoned. “Smiley knows how the game goes.”

Bam had looked up to Smiley when he’d first gotten in the game and Smiley had fronted him his first package. But over the past couple of years, Bam had gone from being a little shorty on the block to a certified bigwig.

“This is true,” Drop-Top agreed, “but his ego won’t allow him to accept the loss. He put fifty G’s on your head.”

Bam’s pupils grew slightly larger after hearing the contract amount.

Drop-Top was glad to know that he finally had his friend’s attention. “I don’t have to tell you how many thirsty niggas that’ll try their hand for that type of paper. You gonna have to sleep on point.”