Teri Woods - Angel's Revenge

“Some foot massage,” Nina quipped.

Dwight laughed. “Hey, I’m a mechanic. All we do is body work, baby.”

For the rest of the day, Nina floated on cloud nine, beaming with happiness. The meeting was stress-free, and before she knew it, it was time to go home. She parked her burgundy BMW in front of her newly purchased home in the Jefferson Park section of Elizabeth. It was a modest-sized house that was just the right size for her needs.

She got out of the car just as two young children rode their bikes down the street. She could imagine herself coming home to her own children. Her blossoming emotions could easily place Dwight in the role of the man waiting for her.

She unlocked the door and let her keys fall into her purse. Her future family thoughts were interrupted when she opened the door and heard music playing. She stopped dead in her tracks and listened carefully. Music was coming from the living room. It wasn’t loud, but it could be heard from the doorway. She entered the living room, realizing the song was Rolls Royce’s “I’m Going Down.”

Time on my hands, since you been away boy, I ain’t got no plans…

Nina mentally reviewed her morning. She was sure she hadn’t left the stereo on because she never played it in the morning. She liked her mornings quiet to help her prepare for the day. She did turn on the television but only to listen to the news and weather as she dressed.

No, she was sure she hadn’t left the stereo on. But if she hadn’t, who had? She lived alone. Despite the mystery, it was a nice surprise to come home to her favorite song. She caught herself singing along.

Sleep don’t come easy… please believe me. Since you’ve been gone, everything’s gone wrong.

The song brought back memories as she traveled back in time to the last time she heard it.

She had been with Dutch.

Nina would never forget the night they stopped at a light in downtown Newark. Dutch had a Cut Master Cee slow jams mix CD playing and Rolls Royce came on.

Nina reached over and turned it up.

“Damn, I haven’t heard this in years!” she exclaimed.

“What you know about Rolls Royce, little girl?” Dutch teased.

“Little girl? Please!”

Then she went into her diva routine, singing the first verse word for word.

That’s when they stopped at the red light. Dutch got out without a word and walked around to the passenger door. He opened it and extended his hand to her.

“Show me how much you like it then.”

“What, dance? In the middle of the street? Dutch, the light just turned green,” Nina protested, feeling self-conscious about holding up traffic. But Dutch was persistent and wouldn’t let her get away that easily.

“Fuck a light. These my streets, and I wanna see you dance in ’em,” he replied, pulling her from the car.

He slid her arms around his neck, and they danced right then and there in the middle of the street.

The memory warmed her and depressed her all at the same time. She still missed him and the feelings Rolls Royce unearthed proved it.

What did I do wrong? What did I do wrong? Please forgive me baby… and come on home.

Nina sighed deeply and told herself, Girl, we’ve been there before. Let’s not go there again. She knew that her inner voice was right. The song ended and she waited for the deejay to say HOT 97 or WBLS, but when another slow song came on, she frowned and approached the stereo.

Her heart froze in her chest after it skipped a beat.

A CD was playing. She looked closer and it was the same Cut Master Cee CD she once listened to with Dutch. Where in the hell did this come from? she wondered. Dutch had owned that CD, not her.

An eerie feeling overcame her. She felt like she wasn’t alone. Nina shut off the music and listened to the silence of the house.

Girl, you trippin’, she told herself. Did I have that CD in my collection and just forgot? Maybe I was playing the CD this morning.

Nina shook off her thoughts and attributed the oversight to her hectic schedule. There were times she didn’t know if she was coming or going. This must be one of them. She went to the phone and called Dwight, but got the answering machine.

“You so nasty,” was the simple message she left, giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush. Nina decided to call Tamika, because she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts. The phone rang twice before Tamika picked up.

“Who dis?”

“Who dis? Must you be so ghetto?”

Tamika sucked her teeth, “Like yo ass ain’t from Pioneer Homes, bitch,” Tamika shot back.

“What’s up, Mika? What you doin’ tonight?” Nina asked.

Tamika was curled up on her couch watching Jerry Springer. “Why, what’s up?”

“I want you to go somewhere with me.”

“Where?”

“A poetry reading at the Club Paradise.”

“A poetry reading? You really on that boo-gee shit now, huh?” said Tamika, hoping Nina wasn’t serious.

“Fuck you, Mika. Poetry readings ain’t hardly boo-gee.”

“Well, where’s your broke-ass man? Why he don’t take you?” Tamika quipped, referring to Dwight. She couldn’t understand why Nina insisted on dating a mechanic. Dick was one thing, but Nina appeared to be getting caught up.

“My man ain’t broke, okay? He has a job. What about yours? Oh, I forgot. You don’t have one!” Nina teased as she squawked like Morris Day.

“No, dahlin’. I don’t have one. I have many.”

“Slut.”

“Hater.”

The two friends laughed.

“For real, Mika. It’ll be fun. There’ll be a lot of cute guys there,” Nina baited.

“Cute and broke, on some back-to-Africa shit. Give us free!” she said, mocking the brother from Amistad .

“Okay, okay. I got a deal. If you go with me, we’ll go to the club, too.”

“Now you talkin’. Gimme about an hour.”

Nina hung up the phone and looked at her watch. The truth was she’d rather go with Dwight, but he didn’t like poetry readings either. Nina really wanted to go and hear Monte Smith, an acclaimed spoken-word lyricist. Even though she hated clubbin’, she was willing to compromise.

Nina showered and changed into a wool cardigan and a pair of boot-cut jeans, opting for the casual look so she wouldn’t be mistaken for a hoochie once they got to the club.

She drove for five minutes to the South Park section of Elizabeth. Despite the proximity of the two neighborhoods, they were like night and day. The houses were two-, three-, and four-family homes, dilapidated and neglected, not quite the Projects but close. Nina always wondered why Tamika chose to live surrounded by violence, drugs, and despair.

Wearing her man-eating red Gucci tube-dress and black faux fur, Tamika sashayed up to the car and got in. Nina loved Tamika like a sister but sometimes felt that it was women like Tamika who gave sisters a bad name and left brothers with a bad taste in their mouth.

“Let’s get this boo-gee shit over wit’. The rent’s due, and I ain’t wear this dress for nothing,” Tamika huffed.

Nina shook her head.

“Instead of that rose you got, you shoulda got a ‘for sale’ sign tattooed on your ass,” Nina commented, half-jokingly.

“I would have, but your mama beat me to it wit’ her old ass. Drive, ho, and don’t worry about my ass, okay?”

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you,” said the emcee of Club Paradise over the soft applause of the small crowd. “That was my man, Slim Direction, deep brother. You can catch him Saturday at the Black Moon Café. Now this next brother, what can I say? You know him from Def Poetry Slam, but he was gracious enough not to forget us little people. Seriously though, the brother is an experience. I bring to the stage Monte Smith. Show some love, people, show some love,” chimed the emcee to the small cheering crowd.