Sister's Revenge: Action Adventure Assassin Pulp Thriller Book #1 (Michelle Angelique Avenging Angel Assassin) (13 page)

“Fuck!”

Only cops treated a door like that. She didn’t need a second warning.

Michelle sprinted across the rooftop, jumped up over a rail, landing on the adjacent building. She ran across that rooftop and down a fire escape on the other side. Down a few floors, she climbed up onto the steel rail of a landing’s safety fence, squatted, tensed, and leapt across to catch the wrought iron fence of an open hall, transferring to an office building facing away from the hotel. Six minutes later, a calm, relaxed young woman strolled out onto a busy street with no police.

“Taxi!”

“Where to, miss?”

“Starbucks on NYU campus.” Thursday afternoon. Time to buy Eban that promised coffee and dessert, and one for herself. A well-earned break she’d paid for in adrenaline and discipline.

“C
OME ON GIRL,
” Michelle said. “Get out of that bathroom. You’re already the prettiest one of us.”

After the tension of New York a few days earlier, Michelle looked forward to a day with her friends.

Michelle looked at Nikky. “I’m going to start doing what they do in Vietnam.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” Nikky asked.

“On the wedding invitations where they invite foreigners, it actually says, Vietnamese six p.m. Foreigners: seven p.m. They plan for people being late.”

Deja moved to catch Michelle’s reflection in the mirror. “What’re you saying? You think I’m more late than anyone else in this camp?”

“I’m saying, I was ready to go an hour ago when I got here.”

“Your hair doesn’t need to be perfect to go to the shop,” Nikky said.

“Maybe your hair doesn’t,” Deja replied, “but I need to look fly today. My face is finally back to its real color and I need to represent when we’re out. That, and we’re not going straight to the shop—we’re stopping to eat, shopping at the beauty supply, and we’ll checkout some wigs at His N Her Hair on Wilshire. Lots of people will see us, and I don’t want to look like no skank.”

“You’re always as slow as molasses,” Michelle said, “but I have to give you your props. You’re always fine when you finally do step out. Jesus girl, will you ever be ready? I’m so hungry I’m about to eat my own hand.”

“I’m ready already. And don’t you take the Lord’s name in vain. You need help; you need Jesus. Come on, let’s go before you waste away.” Deja flounced into the living room. “Ta-dah! Are you guys ready?”

Both Michelle and Nikky gave her a flat-eyed stare.

“What?”

“You know what. We’ve been ready since the dawn of the new age,” Michelle said. “Now let’s go.”

Deja grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter. “What new age?”

“The age where we kick your butt and turn cannibal if we don’t get out of here now.”

The three climbed into Nikky’s Acura, because of its bigger backseat than Deja’s Nissan, then Nikky pulled away from Deja’s apartment. “This is your deal, girl,” she said to Michelle, “I’m only driving. Where to?”

“There’s a lot of fancy restaurants over by where I live, and they’re real good, too. But today I want something I can recognize. I want to get breakfast at Denny’s. Over in Thailand, I missed things like pancakes and sausage. It’s even worse in Vietnam—don’t even get me started on their eggs. Damn, it’s good to be home and with my rows!”

Nikky gave Michelle the squinty eye. “What’s wrong with their eggs? They have chickens, right?”

“Oh, you two won’t believe this. First off, nobody in the whole lousy country knows how to fry an egg. Every time they cook them, the eggs are burnt horrible and smell like shit. Lord, I couldn't stand it.”

“Burnt eggs are terrible,” Deja said. “I hate that smell.”

“And I swear, they eat some crazy shit. One time, at a little street café, I saw they had a pot full of boiled eggs, and I figured, hey, it’s a boiled egg, how bad can it be? So this little old lady set up the egg on a small glass stand. The egg sat tall, with the pointy end up, like it was all proud to be right there on my table. Then the lady gave me a little spoon, smiled, and nodded, and I sat there not knowing what to do. She took the spoon, and cracked the shell all around the top, and lifted the end off. It looked like a little eggshell hat.”

“So . . . what’s wrong with a boiled egg?” Nikky asked.

“It wasn’t a regular boiled egg, that’s what,” Michelle said. “Inside were some long, black, stringy things. I didn’t know what they were. I picked at one and kind of lifted it up. It was—and I shit you not—a motherfucking feather. That sweet-looking old woman gave me a little dead chicken still inside the egg!”

“Come on, girlfriend, you’re talking outta your ass,” Nikky said. “Nobody eats a dead baby chicken in the shell.”

“I’m telling y’all it’s true. If I’m lying, I’m flying. Swear on the set. I looked around, and people were digging in the shell, eating the whole thing.”

Deja pulled up on the back of the passenger seat to get into the conversation. “What do they do with the bones and feet?”

“Eat them. Everything’s soft-like, because it’s not yet grown. They eat it all but the beak. The beak’s too hard so they spit it out.”

“You mean they eat the head?” Nikky asked.

“Yeah, before they spit out the beak, they suck on it to get out the rest of the inside of the head. Oh, Lord. I almost got sick to my stomach.”

“No way. I’m not ever eating the head off a dead baby chicken. No wonder you want some food you recognize.” Nikky pulled into the Denny’s parking lot. “You’ve sure done some weird shit. I don’t think I could’ve made it over there.”

Thinking about her years in Southeast Asia and then about peeing on her hoodie behind a dumpster in New York City a few days ago . . .

Michelle had to agree. She’d sure done some weird shit.

“W
OW . . .” DEJA SAID.
“Look at that line!”

From the front of the club to the corner and down the side street, expensive cars and limos waited for the valet service.

Michelle checked her rearview mirror. Nikky followed in her Acura and together they parked side by side. Getting out of their cars, the three friends made a last check to see the perfection of their day-long effort. New dresses, matching heels, fresh hairdo—all perfect.

Happy with their inspection, the three friends headed to the club where Lewis’s big party was in full swing. When they approached the door, the line of limos remained backed up around the far corner.

“Guess some people think making an entrance at the entrance is more important than getting inside,” Michelle said. “I’m more interested in the party.”

“Me, too,” Nikky said. “You have to admit though, it would be fun to pull up and have people you don’t even know take your picture like you’re one of the celebrities.”

“It’d also be about as wrong as possible. With all of that glam, it’d be easy to forget we’re here to do a job to find out who can confirm Lewis killed my brother, and who was with him.”

“I didn’t forget. I’m just saying it’d be fun to do someday.”

“Mmm, mmm, mmm, we are
fine
tonight!” Deja said, and as they stepped through the entrance, she poked Michelle in the arm. “Did you see who came through right in front of us?”

“The Jolly Green Giant?”

“Those guys play for the Lakers. Damn they’re fine!”

“Remember what we talked about in the car,” Michelle said.

“What was that?” Nikky asked.

“Not to let the bling override our reason for being here.”

For some it was time to party. For Michelle, Nikky, and Deja, however, it was time to begin a job of revenge, and connecting with the right guy could help them find the information they wanted.

“First things first,” Deja said. “Let’s check out the competition. They need to see right off the bat we’re the hottest shorties in this place. I’m headed straight down the middle of everything. Let them eat their hearts out.”

“Okay, you guys do a lap and check everything out,” Michelle said. “I’ll see if I can find us a table over by the dance floor. If nothing’s open, I’ll be over at the bar. Men will always give a lady some room there, especially if they look as fine as we do.”

“You sure you don’t want to do a lap first?” Nikky asked Michelle.

“No, I want to get a feel for the room before I walk around too much. This is a big party for the top guy, and lots could kick off here tonight.

Michelle watched her friends take off in different directions.

Deja: tall and beautiful, the essence of wide-eyed sexuality. She strolled toward the center dance floor area.

Damn, that girl’s like a walking advertisement for outrageous sex.

Nikky: small, compact, powerful; as hot as a sleek panther in milk chocolate skin. She prowled in slow, liquid motion, sizing up the men for their potential and the women as competition. One look at her and any man knew she was the hottest woman he could ever hope to be with, but only a few would prove strong enough to do right by her.

Nikky owns every room she walks into. It’s shaping up to be an interesting night.

Already the place was packed. Perfect time to make an entrance. Lousy time to find a good seat. But Lady Luck smiled on Michelle as she spotted a woman rising from a table by the dance floor. She headed her way.

“Hey, girlfriend, y’all leaving this table?”

“Yeah, we’re moving over with those guys,” said the pretty woman in tight pants that showed off her figure, as she nodded at a booth across the room.

“Mind if me and my friends sit here?”

“Help yourself,” she replied, moving off.

Michelle wiped the water rings from the tabletop and set her purse down to claim her territory.

“Did you just get here?” a man asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“Mind if I sit with you a minute?”

“Actually, I do mind,” she said. “My girls’ll be here soon. We’ll need some time to get set.”

“That’s cool. Get back at you later.”

“All right, that’ll work.”

He hadn’t even taken a full step away, when a woman put her hand on the back of a stool at Michelle’s table. “Hey, girl, mind if I take this?”

“Sorry, it’s for my friend. She’ll be here soon,” Michelle replied, right as Deja strolled up with the gaze of every man close by glued to her ass. A few even looked at her pretty face.

“
Gurl
, this party is jamming!” Deja said. “Hey, I saw that guy over here when you first got the table. He’s right to make a move fast; the rest of them will be like dogs sniffing around real soon, too.”

Nikky joined them. “Did you see that skank with the huge ass trying to give me the stank eye? She’s acting like I want her no-count man.”

“No, who’s that?” Deja asked.

“Over by the end of the bar, at that tall table. She’s in that gold dress I saw at the swap meet two years ago. As if I’d even consider opening my legs for a loser like him.”

“Yeah, I know her.” Deja nodded. “Well, actually, I’ve only seen her around. She’s always with some serious loser with no money and acts like he’s all that.”

“Say,” Michelle said, looking around, “who’s the tall, pretty woman with ‘bitch’ written all over her. The one coming from the back?”

“That’s Monique,” Nikky replied. “She’s been with Lewis the last couple years since Baby-Sister split with him. She’s fly, but I also hear she’s as mean as snake shit. Nobody messes with her.”

Deja snorted. “Snake shit? What’s that? Who talks like that? Have you been hanging with some cowboy and holding out on us? Snake shit. I’m definitely using that. I like the sound of ‘she’s meaner than snake shit.’”

“I’m solid here for a minute,” Nikky said to Michelle, “if you want to make a lap and check out what’s up?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll get us some drinks while I’m up. It looks like the waitress won’t get here anytime soon.”

“I’ll hold the table until you get back.”

While Deja bounced to the beat of the music, a very tall man approached, asking, “Say, ma, you ready to get your groove on?”

Deja winked at Nikky, hopped off her stool, and said, “I can do that.”

Michelle cruised the club. She passed by a massive man posted at the bottom of stairs leading up to what she suspected was the VIP balcony. She’d seen his type before—a big jock in high school, where it was easy; good, but not good enough for first-string college ball, and too lazy, or too stupid, to do serious security, so they turned to street muscle. They relied on intimidation first, brute force after that. A pro could take him out in a heartbeat, but no pro would bother. None here, anyway.

Michelle waited at the bar for their drinks, noting two entrance bouncers who wore black shirts with the club insignia embroidered on the chest. Another two private security men stood at the bar, while two more held positions against a wall. All individuals, so not part of a team. Bodyguards, probably for some of the celebrities, pro basketball or baseball players. The man at the stairs was the only muscle who belonged to Lewis, and there’d be at least one, likely two, upstairs in the VIP area. She grabbed their drinks, then returned to the table.

“Hey,” she said, sitting down with Nikky, “isn’t that Danny somebody, the pro basketball player, dancing with Deja?”

“Umm, yeah, I think so,” Nikky said. “I don’t pay a lot of attention about who’s who in sports. If you look around, though, a lot of those big-name guys are here tonight. You were gone for a while. Did you learn anything?”

“Not much. Those stairs over there probably go up to the VIP balcony, where I expect Lewis is hanging.”

“I think you’re right. Monique went up there right after you left and she hasn’t come back down. See those guys at the bottom of the stairs?” Nikky pointed. “The shorter one’s Quincy. I’ve seen him around the hood, but I don’t really know him. He’s Lewis’s little cousin. Word is, these last couple of years, while you were gone, he’s been coming up in the organization. If he’s been with Lewis that long, he should have the four-one-one on the deal Michael was killed in.”

“Good news.” Michelle slid off her stool. “I’ll go introduce myself.”

“Hold up. You don’t need to do that.”

“Why?”

“I had a visitor,” Nikky said. “He’s been hanging with me here while you were at the bar. He’s waiting for me now. I’ll spend some time with him, see what I can find out.”

Michelle bumped fists with Nikky. “You go girl. It’s probably better you hook up with him than me. I’d have a hard time staying cool.”

The party stayed bumping until late, and for several hours, Nikky and Quincy had gone back and forth between the dance floor and the balcony. Clearly, they were hooking up for the night. Michelle and Deja danced and met people all evening, but they kept it loose, and neither one of them had managed to connect with anyone who could help.

Until Nikky rushed over to the table where Michelle and Deja were each just catching their breath. “We have to go,” she said. “I found out some real important shit.”

“What, about Quincy?” Deja asked. “I thought you were going home with him tonight.”

“That’s what I found out about. I can’t talk here. We have to go—
now
!”

Just as she said the words, Quincy walked up and, wrapping his arms around Nikky from behind, grabbed a handful of her tit, right there in front of God and everyone.

Nikky spun around, slapping his hand away. “Stop that shit, Quincy. I’m not some cheap ho you can squeeze my tit in public like that.”

“Oh come on, girl, we both know we’re gonna fuck when we get to my place. What’s up with that ‘don’t touch me’ shit like you’re some cherry girl?”

“Doesn’t matter if we fuck or not. You still have to show some respect.”

“Sure, I respect you. I respect you got some fly-looking tits.” He grabbed her tit again.

Whap!—
she slapped him hard across the face.

“No, you didn’t just slap me, bitch.”

Quincy swung a fist at her, and Michelle’s right fist slammed straight into Quincy’s jaw.

Immediately, he spun around to get it on with whoever had hit him, swinging wide.

Michelle saw the wild swing long before it came half-way around and danced back. When her weight shifted, her spike heel snapped off, throwing her off balance.

Deja jumped up off her stool propelling her forward.

“No—”

In that moment, with her momentum going away from Quincy’s wide-swinging fist, and her breaking heel causing her to stumble, Michelle couldn’t switch her weight fast enough to reach Deja, who’d jumped in the way.

With a sickening crunch, he bashed in Deja’s face. She went down.

Her balance recovered, Michelle snapped a left jab into Quincy’s face—it was combined with a right, open, slightly cupped hand: slap on his left ear compressing his ear drum.

Quincy yelled, hand to his ear, and fell back.

Michelle kicked off her heels and stepped over Deja protecting her.

Several men close by jumped in to move Quincy off. Unknowingly, they saved Quincy from having his ass horribly kicked.

The fight was over.

Deja lay on the floor, knocked out cold, blood gushing from her nose. She came to a few seconds later. “Oh, oh, oh, my nose is broken, oh goddamn. Oh shit. I’m going to kill that sonuvabitch.”

Catching Nikky’s stare, Michelle said, “We need to take her to the hospital. Go get your car, I’ll get her up.”

* * *

D
eja lay on a gurney in the emergency room, waiting for her nose to be set.

“How’re you doing, sweetie?” Michelle asked.

“Groggy from whatever they gave me, but I’m okay now,” she said.

Michelle patted Deja’s arm, then pulled Nikky aside.

“Damn, I hate it that Deja got hurt,” she whispered.

“Yeah, me too. But listen, I’ve got something important I found out about Quincy. That party was more than just Lewis’s birthday party; it was partly Quincy’s promotion party because he’s taking over Southside drugs.”