Teri Woods - Angel's Revenge

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…”