Dirty Little Angel

“Ah shit!” Harlem screamed in surprise.

Monica raced out of bed, knowing he was momentarily in shock. She aimed the .22 at Harlem, going for the kill, but Harlem spun around and, with pure accuracy, shot her point blank between the eyes before her gun went off a second time.

Monica collapsed and her blood spilled out onto the plush carpet in a thick, red puddle.

Harlem was furious. It was the first time that anyone had ever caught him off guard like that. He was even more furious that it was a bitch in her forties who nicked him in the shoulder with a bullshit .22.

He took a deep breath and went over to the body. He glared down at Monica’s lifeless expression.

“You lucky bitch!” he cursed.

He crouched down beside her, placed his gun to her head and unloaded his clip into her skull. Her being dead didn’t just do it for him; he had to disfigure the bitch also, ensuring a closed-casket funeral.

He left the body there and went through all her personal items, searching for any information that would help locate her son. He dumped out her purse, found her cell phone, and then went through all the numbers in her phone. In the phone history, he found a few incoming numbers that started with the 718 area code. Harlem knew that was the area code for New York and he knew that he finally had a good lead on YB’s location.

Harlem searched through the whole house, wrecking it as he went. He nursed his wound in the bathroom by cleaning it with alcohol and bandaging it the best he could. Harlem also wiped down the crime scene of any evidence that would implicate him. He quickly got back to his ride and made a phone call to a doctor he knew he could trust. They set up a meeting place where the doctor could look at his wound in private.

Harlem sighed and then cursed the bitch one more time for causing his injuries. He crossed victim number two off his list. Next was Rufus. Rufus would be a challenge and was the one man he had a hard-on for.

36

Thanks to Harlem, the streets of Philly ran red with blood of revenge and disorder.

Meanwhile, YB and Danielle were making do in the Bronx with a new way of living. Every day, Danielle’s belly grew and she was excited about becoming a mother. She often went shopping on Fordham Road for baby clothes. She made some friends from her job and had a few from the school.

YB was cool with the BX, but he couldn’t stop thinking about his family and Magic. He tried calling his mother but there was no answer. He tried Magic and it was the same thing. He began to worry. He knew something was wrong, and he knew that something was probably Harlem.

He needed to get in contact with his cousin but Rufus’s number had changed. YB only had one resort and that was to drive to Philly to see what was going on. He knew Danielle would be against it, but he wasn’t going to tell her directly. His plan was to skip out when she wasn’t around, leaving her a note to explain his whereabouts. He wanted to do it that way because he couldn’t stand seeing her upset, and he couldn’t take the chance that she would talk him out of the trip back to his hometown.

While Danielle was at work, he packed a few things into a duffel bag. He left her some cash, a note, and the keys to the truck. He felt wrong about leaving her a note on the kitchen table but knew she wouldn’t understand his predicament.

He caught a cab to the Port Authority bus station in midtown Manhattan for the next available bus to Philly. When YB reached the bus station, he felt guilty about leaving Danielle alone in the Bronx while she was pregnant. But she was only six months, and he’d be back in plenty of time for her to give birth. YB knew he had time to handle his business two hours away.

Or so he told himself.

He got the evening bus into Philly that would arrive around nine that night. He tossed his duffel bag in the overhead storage above and then took a seat. The bus wasn’t crowded so YB had two seats to himself. He leaned against the window, propped his legs up in the second chair, and took a quick nap as the bus drove through the streets of New York and onto the New Jersey Turnpike.

****

It was after seven pm when Danielle made it home, expecting to see her man there chilling. She walked into the apartment with a smile on her face, ready to tell YB about her day.

“Baby, you home?” Danielle called out.

She moved throughout the apartment and saw that he wasn’t home. She went into the bedroom to change clothes and then into the kitchen to get dinner started. Before she stepped completely into the room, she saw the note on the kitchen table.

She picked it up and read it. Her jaw dropped in shock. A few tears streamed down her face as she began to worry. Her boo went to Philly regardless of how she felt about it. Her first instinct was to pack a bag herself and go to Philly too, but in her condition, she wouldn’t get far alone.

Danielle didn’t know what to do. She called YB’s cell phone several times but it only went straight to voicemail. She left him a few upset messages. She looked at the time and thought that he was probably in Philly already. There was a chance that he could lose his life there and it pained her that the father of her unborn daughter might not be around for their daughter’s birth.

Trying not to become frantic, Danielle didn’t know who to call or what to do. Her eyes were red from crying and her body was tense with worry. She reached for her phone and decided to call a friend whom she knew she could trust and would probably help out. Wendy picked up after the third ring.

“Hello?” Wendy answered.

“He’s gone, Wendy! He’s gonna get himself killed out there. He left me and he’s gonna get himself killed,” Danielle cried into the phone.

“Danielle, calm down. What’s goin’ on?” Wendy asked. “Talk to me, slowly.”

“YB left for Philly sometime today. He left me a note on the table. I told him not to go! I got a bad feeling,” Danielle answered.