All Hail the Queen (23 page)

Early the next morning, Naeema stood in the doorway feeling like sleep played keep away with her all night. She looked up and then down the street and tensed when she spotted a town car double-parked outside the apartment building near the corner. There was a line of cars behind it.

The front door opened and Mya stepped out onto the porch in a pretty black dress with a white collar. A woman in her mid-thirties soon followed in a black wrap dress with her hair pulled up into a tight topknot. Her eyes were swollen and puffy, her face already streaked with tears.

Mya looked up as they came down the stairs. Like Naeema did last night she raised her hand to speak but then made a fist and lowered her arm.

Naeema shifted her eyes to Mya's mother and found the woman staring at her with a face filled with hate. She saw Mya reach over to grab her mother's arm.

Some of the people in the funeral procession lowered their windows or got out of their cars. Those neighbors already outside in their yards or on their steps looked down the street.

Not blazing and having no clue where to get some weed, Naeema already felt on edge but she forced herself to call on the good sense her grandfather fought hard to instill in her and stepped back into her house. As she closed the door she spotted the woman noticing Mya looking over at her. She roughly pulled her daughter to her side and covered her face with her hand as she rushed her down the stairs and into the back of the car.

Too bad you weren't that protective of her before
.

From her window she watched and waited until the funeral procession was gone before she left her house again and jogged down the stairs to climb into Tank's Tahoe parked at the end of her driveway. She paused and checked the rearview mirror as a blue car passed by on the street. She reversed the SUV onto the street until she was able to accelerate forward.

She was pulling off her Foxy Brown cap, retiring Queen, sending Sarge home, and just going to be Mrs. Cole at her husband's bedside. For today it was what she needed and it was more than enough.

Is someone following me?

Naeema had just gotten onto the Garden State Parkway and looked in the rearview mirror. She hadn't been able to pinpoint any one vehicle that might be on her heels but she couldn't fight the feeling she was being followed.

Is it the black sedan or that white pickup truck?
Neither? What the fuck?

At the sudden blare of a horn, Naeema quickly shifted her eyes from the rearview mirror and jerked the wheel to the left to pull the Tahoe from the right lane where she accidentally drifted. The driver of a red compact she almost hit lowered their driver's side window.

“Dumb bitch,” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

Your momma.

She didn't even feel like getting into it. She was emotionally and physically drained. The late night at the club. Getting up early to give Sarge a break at the hospital. Trying to stay on top of Tank's business through Grip. Hunting down a wannabe killer. Taking credit for a murder she didn't commit. She was being pulled every which way but loose.

Naeema accelerated ahead. She checked the rearview mirror and her hands tightened on the wheel to see a blue car quickly shift to the right into her lane.
Is that the car that went by my house?

Without using her turn signal Naeema switched lanes again, sped up, and switched to another. The blue car stayed a few cars behind but it accelerated forward as well. She still wasn't sure.

Naeema eyed the upcoming exit for Elizabeth. She bit her lip and stayed in the middle lane. Her body was tensed in her seat as she waited until just before the exit ramp to slide over between two cars. Horns blared. The car behind her swerved a bit in shock as Naeema sped up around the curve and then eyed her rearview mirror to see the blue car do the same.

As she drove onto the surrounding city streets, Naeema sped the fuck up taking last-minute turns as she tried her best to shake whomever was on her
tail. She didn't know if it was just someone following her and reporting her moves or someone out to do harm.

She made the left onto Frelinghuysen Avenue, a wide, long street that would lead her back into Newark. She was familiar with the neighboring city of Elizabeth but she knew her hometown better and right then she needed the advantage. As she pulled to a stop at a red light she checked the rearview mirror again. The blue car was speeding toward her. In the distance she could see the clock tower of the Elizabeth train station. She took the streets to reach it and drove into the small parking deck.

She quickly parked on the lowest level, reaching in the armrest for her gun before she hopped out of the car and ran away from it to duck down between two SUVs just as she heard the tires of the blue car squeal against the concrete. Her heart pounded. She was running off pure adrenaline.
Aight motherfucker. Let's play by my rules now.

With the gun in her hand and at the ready she eased up enough off her haunches to see the car stop behind Tank's SUV. Through both the rear window of the SUV to her right and then the passenger window of the blue car she could see a small man behind the wheel. She was too far to make out his features but she could tell he spoke to someone on his cell phone—it was a cheap flip phone. A throwaway.

He accelerated forward and she lowered her body as she watched him slowly drive the full length of the parking deck. He passed by the two SUVs and she moved deeper into the shadows caused by the large vehicles. Her gun was cocked and pointed to put some heat in his ass if he came
for her.

The car circled twice more and Naeema was able to get the license tag number. She was itching to jump in front of the vehicle and put a few bullets through the windshield. With one murder on her hands that the police were aware of she was wary as fuck at getting another one, regardless of the situation.
If I had a burner gun his ass would be fucked.

As soon as she spotted the car turn to go up a level, Naeema came from between the cars and raced across the short distance to climb behind the wheel of the Tahoe. With the gun still in her hand she started the car and sped out of the parking deck, going fast as fuck through the streets until she was back on the parkway.

There was one thing she was sure of. They had come to take her the fuck out because someone hired to just follow her would have never exposed that fact. Now the question was whose toes had she stepped on enough to make them come for her when she didn't fucking
send for them.

13

N
aeema had never felt so alone in her life. So unsure. So tested.

She scooted the chair by Tank's bedside closer as she lay her head atop the hand she held between both of hers. Her grandfather used to warn her that a person never misses their well until the water runs dry. She now understood that shit more than ever.

Tank was a constant and in the last week and some days since the shooting it was clear that she needed him—whether by her side or at least close enough when she called on him. First Tank was shot and now someone was on her ass.

Was it Yani?

You can believe what the fuck you want but I didn't have shit to do with this shooting, Naeema, and if you try to come at me I will stop you.

Or Willie?

You be safe out there, Naeema.

Or Murk?

What do you think Murk would do to you now—or in the future—if he knew the wife of the snitch who tried to take him down was working in his club?

She was lost more than ever.

Naeema pressed her lips to Tank's hand. Even with the saltiness of him not having a bath or shower since before the shooting, she enjoyed the feel of his skin against her mouth. A small but very necessary connection.

The bathroom door opened and Sarge stepped into the room. Thankfully his hands were still dripping wet from him—at the very least—rinsing them off. “I'm ready,” he said.

Naeema shook her head. “You can't go back to the house right now,” she said.

Sarge frowned.

“Somebody was chasing me today and they know where I live,” she said, feeling overwhelmed. “I can't let you go back there. Not yet.”

“You go too far,” he said, his fuzzy silver brows furrowed.

“Not now, Sarge,” Naeema said, turning her head down to press her lips back to Tank's hand as she closed her eyes.
What do I do now?

“But I'm ready to—”

“It's not safe,” she snapped in irritation at his insistence on ignoring that she was looking out for him.

He grunted.

“It's not safe, Sarge,” she repeated, her tone softer. More respectful.

He grunted again.

She released a heavy breath. “Fuck,” she swore.

“Not with Sarge in here.”

Naeema stiffened and raised her head to find Tank's eyes open and resting on her just as he tried to strengthen his hand around hers. She felt weak with relief but she rose to her feet, his hand tight in hers, as she smiled down at
his face. “Welcome back,” she whispered to him, bending to press kisses to his face. She even enjoyed the feel of the facial hair that grew in lightly prickling her skin.

He nodded and closed his eyes to receive them.

Naeema didn't pray often but she wore out God's ear in those moments with thanks and pleading for Tank to become one hundred percent again.

The hospital room door opened and the nurse on duty walked in with Sarge following close behind. Naeema didn't even know the old man had left the room. “Thank you,” she mouthed to him.

He nodded his head roughly and she knew he was still annoyed with her.

Sarge will be the fuck all right.

Hell, I will be the fuck all right. Tank is back.

Naeema held on to his hand as long as she could as the nurse did a quick evaluation of him and asked Tank questions to see if he was aware of the time and place. Never once did his eyes waver from Naeema's face and she didn't miss that with each passing minute his hold on her hand got stronger.

“I'll notify the doctors that he's awake,” said the nurse, a plain-looking woman with bright red hair, as she raised the head of his bed a little.

“Sarge,” Tank said still sounding tired. He gently lifted his chin toward the door. “Just for a sec.”

Sarge nodded and actually formed his usually frowning lips into a smile. “This is good,” he said, moving toward the door.

He paused with it open. “It's too soon to put too much on him, Naeema,” he said, not even looking back. Seconds later the door closed behind him.

Naeema bent again to kiss Tank's mouth.

Tank averted his head. “Breath stink like dog shit,” he said.

Naeema smiled and turned to look down at the tray of hygiene products that had been sitting on his nightstand. She held up a smaller tray with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouth sponge on a stick. She felt Tank's eyes on her as she moved to the sink. She smiled at him when she came back over to sit the tray on his chest. “This is a first,” she said. “And we have done a lot of things for each other.”

He winked as he opened his mouth.

As she cleansed his mouth, tongue, and teeth, Naeema wavered over telling Tank everything that had been going on since the shooting. But she bit her mouth and said nothing. Not yet.
Sarge is right. It's too soon.

She held a cup to his mouth for him to rinse it. “I'm a barber . . . not a nurse,” she teased.

He laughed and then winced.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Still sore.”

“I'll be glad when the doctor gets here,” she said, turning her back to him as she returned to the sink.

“Where's my phone?”

Naeema looked up at her reflection in the mirror. “I have it,” she said.
And what?

“Call Grip for me,” he said, closing his eyes.

Naeema ran a dozen different outcomes around in her mind from having Grip clue Tank in to everything going on. “Let's talk to the doctor first, Tank,” she said. “If everyone knows you're conscious they're going to flood this room with visitors and I just want the okay from the doctor first.”

He nodded with his eyes still closed.

She watched him in the mirror. Soaked him up. Reveled in him.
I love that man to death.

“Come here, Na,” he said, opening his eyes to look at her.

She turned and walked over to him, taking the hand he held open for her. “I missed you,” she admitted.

He puckered his lips and she bent down to kiss his lips softly. Once. And then again. She made to rise up from him but he shook his head and locked his eyes with hers. “
Kiss
me,” he stressed.

And she did, tracing the bottom of his mouth with her tongue before she gently sucked it as she touched the side of his face. At the first feel of Tank's tongue she circled it with her own before she deepened the kiss with a soft moan filled with just how much she ached for him. Emotionally and physically.