Suzetta Perkins - Déjà Vu

She froze upon seeing him. Avoiding Malik had been easy, except on Sundays while at church. They would turn away from each other, if one happened to look in the other’s direction, especially since Jefferson was attending every week.

Eyebrows arched, Malik approached and stared at Margo as if she was the goddess Venus, the one responsible for love, beauty, and sexuality, not to mention marriage, procreation, and domestic bliss. Still holding the lipstick, Margo sighed and looked away.

“You’re beautiful, Margo,” Malik said, his stare searing her flesh and going through the garments she wore.

“You shouldn’t have come here, Malik,” she whispered. “Jefferson may show up anytime, and right now I’ve got to see a client.”

“When will you be finished?” Malik asked, not willing to let go so easily.

“I don’t know. It could take a couple of hours or more. And I’ve got another client to see after that.”

“Why don’t you cancel…reschedule your late appointment? I need to see you, Margo. It’s been weeks since we’ve talked, since we…”

Margo put her fingers to Malik’s lips.

“You’ve got to forget it, Malik. I’m trying to make a life with my husband. I promised that I would stand by him.”

“Did he stand by you, Margo? Think about all the time you lost while he was sitting in prison, unable to support you because he comprised his right to be with you. Embezzling from your own company and having an affair with your married next-door neighbor shouldn’t qualify you for a second chance.”

Margo stood up. “Listen to you, Malik. The pastor spoke about forgiveness on Sunday. You’re better than Jefferson. Please, please don’t try and put me in a position to choose between you and my husband.”

“Oh, so I might stand a chance?”

“Cut it out, Malik, and leave. I’m going to be late.”

“Is something going on that I should know about?”

Margo and Malik jumped at the sound of Jefferson’s voice. “No, Jefferson,” Margo managed to say. She looked like a ghost. She wasn’t sure what he might have heard. “I’m on my way to meet a client.”

“I hope he isn’t it,” Jefferson said as he controlled the urge to do harm to Malik. “I received a call about an hour ago from my attorney.”

“What is it?” Margo asked.

Jefferson kept his eye on Malik, who had yet to move. “Hamilton was murdered today in Central Prison.”

Malik and Margo reacted at the same time.

“My God!” Margo said.

“Damn,” was all Malik could come up with, although he had relaxed a bit now that he was sure Jefferson hadn’t heard his exchange with Margo.

“Do you know who did it?” Margo asked.

“Another inmate. They believe Hamilton had a mark on him.”

Margo dropped down in her chair. “I don’t believe it. No matter how awful Hamilton was, he didn’t deserve to die that way.”

“Someone believed he did, and it has me a little worried.” Jefferson scrunched his face. “Do you mind if I speak with my wife alone?” he asked Malik.

“I was on my way out anyway,” Malik said and walked away.

“I don’t like him, Margo. I don’t like the sight of him, and I best not catch him hanging around you again. Today was his lucky day because I didn’t feel like a fight with Hamilton on my mind.”

“Jefferson, I can’t keep him away from here. This is a public place,” Margo said and sighed. “You have nothing to worry about; I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not worried about that right now. I’m afraid, Margo. I have to find out who killed Hamilton. Robert Santiago is still out there somewhere, and this sounds like him. Why now? Why today?”

“Hamilton’s death may be entirely the work of someone else. He probably pissed someone off in prison-you know he could do that well. I think you’re reading more into it, Jefferson. Try and relax. I wonder where Angelica is? Even though she and Hamilton had a rocky marriage, she loved that man.”

“She did.”

“Were you ever in love with her?” Margo asked as if it were a routine question. It was quite obvious to her that she caught Jefferson off guard.

Jefferson stared at her. “I’ve never been in love with Angelica, Margo. She used people to benefit herself, but she loved you more than you believe.”

“Well, it’s all relative now. I tried to do the Christian thing by her, love thy neighbor as thyself, but she ran off to who knows where, and I’m done being the nice person.”

“She’s probably somewhere making someone else’s life miserable. I’m glad she’s out of our lives. But I’m worried, Margo. Hamilton’s death has Santiago written all over it. Mark my words.”

Curtains closed, Angelica sat on the edge of the chaise lounge in the room Santiago had designated as hers. It was strange that he did not insist that she stay in the room with him when she had made such a big protest about not doing it. For the first time in a long time, she held onto her soul-the memory of her morning with Ari not far behind.

Two hours had passed since Santiago and his goons left the house. She had to get out now or she never would. Deep in thought, she jumped at the sound of her cell phone. She grabbed her phone and answered it, pleased it was the call she was waiting on.

Grabbing her Hobo bag, Angelica tiptoed from the room as if someone could hear her on the thick carpet. She stuck her head out into the hallway, cautiously, looking first to the left and then the right. Anyone who might have seen her would have thought it was a scene from a movie, The Great Heist , except Angelica sought to steal nothing but her way out of the house. Seeing no one, she tiptoed through the lifeless house and out onto the grounds.

Getting past the guard would be the hard part, but she had a plan. Her nerves were in a shambles, but nothing was going to keep her from going through with it.

“Damn,” Angelica said as the phone began to ring. That was her first signal. Ten minutes had passed and she had only twenty minutes left to get past the guard. It was now or never.

She walked halfway down the circular drive and pulled out the book of matches she had thrown in her purse while at El Conuco. With amazing swiftness, Angelica tore two matches from the book, lit them and threw them into a nearby bush. A flame erupted and climbed the bush, catching a whole row in one gulp. Angelica ran to the guard and pointed to the fire.

“Fire, fire,” Angelica screamed, coughing as she continued to run toward the gate. “Look over there,” she pointed.

“Yes, ma’am, I see it,” the guard said. “Move to the sidewalk while I call the fire department.”

“Maybe turning on the sprinklers will do it,” Angelica suggested, looking at her watch.

“Go to the sidewalk, ma’am. I’m calling the fire department and I’ll see what I can do.”

“All right,” Angelica said, walking through the open gate.

She watched the guard run in one direction while she ran in the other, locating Ari’s friend in a car sitting off on a side street halfway down the hill. Her lungs were full of air, and she coughed uncontrollably but found enough strength to knock on the window.

The gentleman looked over at the passenger window and unlocked the door. Within seconds, Angelica jumped in the car and put her head down for fear of being seen. This was déjà vu. There was a time five years ago when she was bent down in Jefferson’s car and bullets were raining all around them, yet she survived.

“Hello,” the gentleman said, trying to keep from laughing at the sight of her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Angelica. A little paranoid at the moment, but once we’re out of here, I’ll be all right.”