Teri Woods - Angel's Revenge

It was broad daylight and the streets were packed with summer activity. Jamillah decided it was best to get the confrontation over with.

She took a deep breath and kept her pace. When Jerome finally recognized her, his eyes widened in surprise.

Sonia, a Muslim? he thought to himself. Is she the same girl who always wore tight clothing that showed her frame and body parts? The last I heard she was strippin’ and trickin’ for change! Can’t be!

Jerome looked at her. She was covered properly with a niqab from head to toe, and she wore a baby-blue kemar over her head. Jerome couldn’t believe it but it didn’t make him respect her. In fact it made him even angrier, thinking the man in her life had converted her.

“Ohh, so you a Muslim now?” Jerome snickered, stepping into her path. “No more strippin’ and trickin’, huh?”

“Hello, Jerome,” Jamillah replied. “I see they let you out,” she added as if she wished otherwise.

“Damn right I’m out and back on already,” he responded, gesturing to his BMW. “I just copped the five but gimme a month and it’ll be a quarter to eight,” he boasted.

“Mm-hmm,” she said, uninterested. “Well, the kids aren’t here. They’re in Linden at my mama’s house. So come back-”

He cut her off. “Come back? Why can’t we go get ’em now? I know they wanna see Daddy. We can go shoppin’, get somethin’ to eat,” he offered, trying to get her in the car.

“No, that’s all right. I’ll pick them up tomorrow. Just give me your number and I’ll call you.”

“Why can’t I have your number? What, your man might answer the phone? Fuck dat nigga!”

“I ain’t got no man! But if you must know, I don’t want you callin’ my house,” Jamillah said, sucking her teeth. “You want to see your kids, fine. Tell me when and I’ll have them ready. Other than that, we really ain’t got nothin’ to discuss.”

Jamillah tried to turn away but Jerome grabbed her arm.

“Get off me!” she hissed, snatching her arm away.

“Oh, so it’s fuck me now, huh? You think you gonna just shit on me like that?”

“Jerome, you went to jail and I was left behind with two babies. I was livin’ in a shelter until my mama took me in. I had to work and I been trying to get myself together in school and I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks of me. You shit on me when you left me and your children alone with nothing. I’m finally here and I’m not going backward.”

“Bitch, you ain’t fuckin’ nowhere! You still here. And fuck that, bitch! I went to jail bustin’ my ass for you and my kids. Don’t fuckin’ play with me,” he said, tightening his grip. “Bitch, I fuckin’ took care of your shiesty ass. And this is what the fuck I get back?”

Jamillah saw the fire dancing in his eyes and it scared her. She knew it was time to go.

“Look, Jerome. Ain’t nobody tryin’ to shit on nobody, okay? I have a new life now and I’m tryin’ to be a better person for myself and my children.”

“So you think you better than me now? You broke, trick-ass bitch. You better than me?” he ranted.

Jamillah tried to move out of his way but she was too slow and caught a heavy backhand to the face that sent her spinning to the ground.

“Jerome, please!” she cried, balled up in a fetal position. “Leave me alone!”

“This my word, bitch! When I get back, I want to see my kids. You hearin’ me? Call the police, call bin Laden, call Allah. I don’t give a fuck! But if you ain’t here wit’ my fuckin’ kids when I get back, I’ma break yo’ muthafuckin’ jaw!” Jerome shouted, then punctuated his threat by kicking her in the back. He jumped into his BMW and pulled off.

Jamillah struggled to her feet, holding her swollen face, and headed straight for the phone.

“But how you be a Muslim?” the young boy asked Rahman.

“You don’t become a Muslim. You just recognize who you already are. We are all born pure. Ain’t no such thing as original sin. We are born in a sinless state-it’s our environment that makes us other than who we are…” His words trailed off when he saw Jamillah emerge from a cab holding a pink towel full of ice to her face. In two strides, he caught up to her.

“Jamillah, what happened?”

Jamillah sobbed, trying to speak through her fear and apprehension. She knew Jerome was coming back, and she didn’t want to get Rahman involved in her personal problems. But her mind told her there was no other way.

“Jamillah,” Rahman repeated more firmly.

“My… my… my children’s father!” she cried. “He just came home from prison and came to my house. He said he was comin’ back!”

Rahman gently removed the towel from her face, and his entire body caught fire. The right side of her beautiful face was swollen and bruised.

“What’s his name?” Rahman whispered menacingly through clenched teeth.

When Jamillah looked into his face, she saw no trace of the man she called Sugar Bear. She saw someone she had never seen before.

“Jerome. Jerome Mills,” she said, wiping her teary eyes.

He gestured to the corner boys he was talking with to come over.

“Take this sister into the store and call Khadijah to take her to the hospital.”

“Rahman, please be careful. Jerome is crazy!” Jamillah sobbed, but it was like warning a bear about a rabbit.

Rahman opened his cell and called Salahudeen.

“Sal! Who is Jerome Mills?”

“I don’t know. But if he got a name, it won’t be hard to find out,” Sal answered.

“Find out who he is and where he is then meet me at the store, aiight?” Rahman ordered.

“Insha Allah,” Salahudeen answered, grabbing his Glock 9 and tucking it in his waist. He could tell by Rahman’s voice there was a problem. The Muslims were like a ghetto Internet. Once the word went out, it crisscrossed the city like radar until Jerome’s whereabouts were pinpointed.

Rahman, Salahudeen, and six Muslim shooters converged on the small housing project like a SWAT team.

They approached the building. When Rahman was close enough to strike, he barked, “Jerome!”

Out of instinct, Jerome snapped his head out of the window and gave away both who and where he was. Rahman grabbed him by the collar and a handful of pants and dumped him face-first onto the hard concrete.

The other gamblers didn’t know what was going on so they moved for their concealed pistols. Before they knew it, however, six weapons were aimed at them. Salahudeen stepped forward and disarmed them.

Rahman snapped. “You wanna beat on a woman, nigga?” he growled, bashing Jerome’s head into the concrete repeatedly until he lost several teeth and his consciousness. He then slapped him awake.

“You touch Sonia again, and I’ll kill you. You hear me?” Rahman threatened, kicking Jerome in the ribs and groin until Jerome spat up blood.

Blood.

It was the first time in years Rahman had seen blood, and his addiction to it made him instinctively reach for his gun and aim it at Jerome’s head.

“Rah, no!” Salahudeen yelled, and grabbed Rahman’s wrist.

The jerk made the bullet strike the ground inches from Jerome’s skull.

“Ock, chill! Justice has been served, yo!” Sal urged, trying to get Rahman out of the zone he was in. “Chill, man. This is not the place for that!”

“Then call an ambulance,” Rahman spat as he walked away from the scene.

“I want the block! The whole chunk, Sal, the whole chunk!” Rahman’s voice filled Salahudeen’s martial arts school.

He and Salahudeen had just come back from Lil’ Bricks.

“Listen, Ock. Calm down. I know you’re upset, but you gotta calm down. We’ve already got Jamillah moved. She’s stayin’ with Khadijah for now.”