Dirty Little Angel

“Yeah, it’s time that me and her have this reunion. It’s been too long since I’ve seen the bitch.”

Crown and Harlem picked up their guns. They both looked around for a quick moment and then got out the truck. They walked coolly to the four-bedroom split colonial house with a manicured lawn and silver Benz truck parked in the driveway.

Harlem was dressed in all black, holding his gun to his side as he looked around and moved toward the backyard. Crown was right behind him.

The driveway was lined with thick bushes that restricted view from the street, and was a plus for both men. Harlem twisted on the silencer, ready to go inside. He examined the back lock when, suddenly, the motion light came on and they heard movement inside the house.

Harlem and Crown both took cover in the shadows. A clean-shaven white man left the house in a dark gray suit, carrying a black leather briefcase. They watched him lock the door behind him and walk to the Benz.

Too easy, Harlem thought. He leaped from the shadows with his gun aimed at the man’s head, startling him. A look of terror crossed his face.

“Shut the fuck up, white boy, or I’ll kill you now,” Harlem threatened. He pressed the .45 to the man’s temple and asked, “Who else inside?”

“Just me,” the man lied.

Crown appeared behind the man and said, “Why the fuck you lying for, white boy? We know about Bubbles.”

“Who?”

Harlem quickly hit him upside his head with the .380. The white

man cried out and took a few steps back, bumping into Crown.

“Get the fuck off me, cracker!” Crown said.

The man looked terrified. He didn’t know the name Bubbles.

“Bubbles, she in there?” Crown asked.

“Listen, I got money. Take whatever you want, but please, just leave my family alone. I’m not a threat,” the man pleaded.

“I know you’re not.” Harlem was insulted at the very thought.

Knowing that they had to get out of public view, Harlem and Crown forced the man to open the back door of the house. They shoved him back inside the house and closed the door behind them. The kitchen was dark and the sunrise seeped through the kitchen shades. The man watched Harlem and Crown, terrified, as he figured he would try to negotiate with them. “Look, I have $500 on me right now and you can have the truck. Just take what you want and I promise that the cops will not get involved.”

Crown chuckled. “Nigga, we ain’t here for your fuckin’ money or your truck. We here for Bubbles. Where she at?”

“I don’t know any Bubbles,” the man repeated. He was unaware of his wife’s past with Crown. He only knew her as Karen.

“Man, fuck talkin’ to this muthafucka! He ain’t no use, anyway.” Harlem pointed the gun at the man’s head and shot him. He fell to the floor and blood oozed from the back of his head.

“You a ruthless muthafucka,” Crown stated.

“I just know how to get shit done. Let’s just go talk to this bitch and see what she knows,” Harlem replied.

Crown nodded and they both moved farther into the house. They heard the shower running upstairs, indicating that Bubbles was probably in the bathroom. They assumed that she probably hadn’t heard a thing that had gone on downstairs.

Bubbles was in the shower listening to the news on the portable radio she kept on a shelf over the toilet. As she let the steaming warm water cascade off her brown skin, she listened to the reports of crime in Philly. She sighed after she heard about the killing of four people on Mantua Avenue and said to herself, “Damn, I’m so glad to be out of that city! People are so fuckin’ crazy today.”

She checked the time from behind the shower curtain and saw that it was a quarter to six. She was getting ready to start her seven-am shift at the hospital and saw that she had enough time. Her job was only fifteen minutes away and all she needed to do was change into her scrubs, make herself a cup of hot tea, and be on her way to work.

She figured that her husband would be on I-95 already, on his way to a business meeting in Baltimore. They had only been married for six months, but, for her, it felt like a lifetime. She was in love and happy and knew that Jason was the man for her. She hated keeping her past from him, especially about what she been through in Philly, but Bubbles knew that Jason loved her no matter what. She wanted to leave her past like yesterday—her past was history.

She finished showering then brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and wrapped a towel around her shapely figure. She walked toward the bedroom, leaving the radio on so she could hear the news from her bedroom.

The house was quiet and still. Bubbles loved living in Delaware and wished that she had moved there earlier. She felt that it was about time that she had something to call her own in life. Bubbles walked into her bedroom, smiling, and was devastated to see Crown lying on her bed. She immediately noticed the .380 next to him.

“You miss me, bitch?” Crown mocked.