Hard Revenge Read online

  “Yeah, I’m serious. A lot of people would like to know what I’m about to tell you.”

  “Shit, girl, you know we’re down,” Deja said.

  Michelle sipped her drink, then set the glass back on the coffee table. “I know, but this is different. This isn’t just busting a cap in somebody’s ass. It’s not even like killing some banger in the hood who doesn’t count for shit. Other than their momma — and sometimes not even her — no one cares if they get killed.”

  Nikky and Deja caught eyes, then nodded to each other.

  “We’re in,” Nikky said.

  “Yeah, we’re in,” Deja said, and then she grinned. “Y’all know I’ve never been good with guns, so I won’t be any good for killing. Not with a gun, anyway. I don’t care if somebody’s gotta be ‘removed’” — she made finger quotes — “I’ll still shoot them if I have to, but you shouldn’t count on me for that. I might screw things up, and we’ll all get jacked.”

  “You think you’re joking, but you’re closer to the truth than you know.” Michelle laid her hands flat on the coffee table and stared at her two friends on the couch. The room grew silent.

  Without breaking eye contact, Nikky clutched Deja’s arm. “Okay, you have our attention.”

  “We grew up with a code about not talking to the police or any government people,” Michelle said. “The three of us also swore to be friends for life, no matter what.”

  “And we still mean it,” Deja said.

  “We were kids. This is grown-up serious. It’s different.”

  “You already said that, and we said we’re in.”

  “Not yet. I’ve done stuff that, if you know too much or are even too close to me, you could get hurt, possibly even killed.”

  Michelle had examined the issues from every angle. No way could she do this without putting her friends at serious risk, or herself at greater risk. She wasn’t even sure it would work; far from it. But it was the best option, and she was so bone-weary of being alone against the world.

  “Here’s the thing,” she said. “There’s something I have to do. Your help will make it easier, though honestly, I could do it on my own — you don’t need to be involved at all — but I can’t do it without coming back to the hood where I’ll see people who’ll know me.”

  “You mean us?” Nikky asked.

  “Yes. And many others.”

  “So?”

  “Like I said, if certain people find me, anyone I’m around is in danger. Other than Uncle G, you guys are the only people I really care about. I can’t put you in danger and have you not know about it.”

  “Where does all of this leave us?”

  “You have a few choices. The safe moves are: stop being friends and don’t hang out, or go to the police, who’ll take me out of the hood for good. We can just be friends like before, which will put you at risk. Or, you can learn more, and help me with this thing I have to do. Of course, that means things might get pretty dangerous.”

  “Christ, Michelle, are you in trouble now?”

  “No, not that I know about. Trouble will happen, though, and you do have to make a choice. Not today, but certainly before we go any further.”

  Deja gave a mock shiver. “You guys are so serious. Okay, I heard how important all of this is, and I know you think I’m not serious enough. Fine. In all seriousness, then, here it is: I’m in. You left in a flash, Michelle. One day, everything was normal; the next day, you disappeared. We didn’t know if we’d ever see you alive again. And I, for one, felt like shit, because there was nothing I could do to help. Now you’re back, and if I can help, you bet your ass I’m in.” She leaned back into the corner of the couch and sipped her drink.

  “Me, too,” Nikky said. “We couldn’t help back then, so we’re helping now. No matter what it is, we’re both in.”

  “I’m still no good with guns,” Deja added, squinting one eye and firing an imaginary shot across the room with her finger.

  “Don’t worry,” Michelle said. “I know you’re no good with guns. Some things never change. Ain’t no thang. I have some stuff cooking that I’ll need you for, but nothing like that. You don’t need to get a gun, except maybe for protection. I’ll try to stop problems, but you know how some fools get when they’ve been dissed.”

  “Stupid, is all,” Deja said. “They go killing each other because of something that’s been said. Better if they go home and get close to some vajayjay.”

  “We all know how stupid men can be. But that’s not what I want to tell you.”

  “Yeah, sorry. I just get so pissed at men. We hook up with some dude, and everything looks like it’ll be okay, until they get stupid, and the shit goes crazy.”

  “I know.” Michelle shook her head. “It makes you want to just shoot a fool for being so stupid. Now, back to what I asked you to meet me here for.” She took another sip, set down her glass, drew in a big breath, and let it go. She met Deja’s eyes, and then Nikky’s. “I’m a freelance assassin working for international groups. Mostly, I target political people, but also some high-end business types. And I’ve been back in L.A. for over two months.” She sat back, waiting for her friends’ reactions.

  Nikky and Deja stared at Michelle for three seconds — then all hell broke loose.

  “What the fuck!” they both yelled, and Deja jumped straight up, while Nikky jerked forward to the edge of her seat, eyes bugged out.

  “What the fuck do you mean, you’ve been here for a couple months already?”

  “I don’t believe you.” Deja glanced around the room. “Okay, buying all of this stuff took some time. But you couldn’t have been here more than a couple days, a week or two at most, and not tell us. You’re full of shit, that’s what.”

  But Nikky, always the more careful thinker, scrutinized Michelle. “No, Deja . . . she’s telling it true, saying it like it is. I can see it on her face. Homegirl’s been gone all this time, not telling us she came back months ago. And I know my girl; she’s gotta have a serious reason for something that big. Whatever it is, it’s real. She loves both of us better than if we were sisters.” Turning to Michelle, she said, “Okay, girl, I know this is some severe shit, and I’m in. What’s up? Let’s hear what you have to say.”

  Michelle fought off her tears as her heart almost burst with love for her two friends, and she couldn’t help smiling at their loyalty and bad judgment. She could almost hear her mom saying, “Swallow a camel and strain on a gnat.” They hadn’t batted an eye over her saying she was an assassin and blew up over being in town for two months.

  “Hey,” Deja said. “Get to talking.”

  “Being here these last two months and not calling you guys is the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” Michelle said. “Now, are you two ready for me to explain everything?”

  “Yeah, we’re okay. We’re listening.” Nikky gave Deja a strong look that said: Be quiet and let Michelle talk.

  Michelle knew Deja couldn’t keep from interrupting to save her life, and even though her wild emotions sometimes drove everybody crazy, her spontaneity was part of what they loved.

  “All right,” she began. “You guys probably don’t remember that Michael and Gabe Jr. were killed only a couple days after my last finals at Southwest. I was graduating with my Associates degree and had been accepted over at Northridge. We were thrilled because I was the first one in our family to go to college.”

  “I remember,” Deja said. “We were all excited and planned on throwing you a graduation party. It was supposed to happen that weekend. Then the police came to your house, Michael was dead, and you up and disappeared. We were afraid you’d been shot, maybe dying in a hospital somewhere. Goddammit, Michelle, I can’t believe you’ve been gone three whole years and didn’t tell us the day you got back!”

  “Deja, please. Let her talk.”

  “Sorry.”

  Michelle touched Deja’s arm. “That’s all right. I’d be pissed, too, if you told me some crazy shit like this.” Michelle tucked he
r feet under herself in the chair and gazed off into her memories. “Michael and Gabe Jr. were killed three years ago,” she said softly, “but in some ways, it feels like only three days. I’d stayed home that day; I was there, in the house, when they were killed . . .”

  Michelle told Deja and Nikky what happened and how she left town.

  * * *

  Michelle’s tears ran down her face as she told the last part of her story. Today was the first time in a long time she’d cried. For the first few months, she’d cried every night, and then one day, she didn’t — for almost two years.

  But the re-telling had taken her back to that horrible day, and her tears had now turned to quiet sobs. Michelle strained to pull her thoughts back to the room where her friends’ own silent tears were spilling.

  Michelle tried to wipe her nose with her overused tissue.

  “Tissues?” Nikky asked.

  “Bedroom,” Michelle said, sniffling and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

  Nikky brought out the tissue box and passed it around, while everyone caught their breath.

  Michelle sat back, deeply shaken, and took a long drink of her cognac, then another, and another. Telling them about Michael’s murder had been harder than she’d thought it would be.

  She’d told them most of the story, but not all of it. Trusting them with her life was a risk she accepted. Putting their lives in danger was also part of the deal, though she wanted to limit it as much as possible; she’d keep many of the really dangerous details from them.

  “Sweet Jesus. No wonder you disappeared,” Deja said. “I’m so, so sorry that happened. We had no idea you were there.”

  “I can’t imagine it,” Nikky said. “Seeing Michael die like that had to be the worst. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to Taye.”

  “There’s more if you want to hear it,” Michelle said.

  “Sweetie, we can stay as long as you want,” Deja said. “Hearing all of this is breaking my heart, but it’s nothing compared to what you’ve had to deal with all this time. Of course, if you’re willing to tell us, we want to hear it.”

  “Give me a minute to splash some water on my face.”

  “I’m ready for something without alcohol. Do you have anything else to drink?” Deja asked.

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Michelle said. “Dig around in the kitchen for whatever you guys want.” She handed her cognac to Deja. “Dump this and pour me a root beer with ice.”

  After returning from the bathroom, Michelle settled back into her chair to munch on a handful of Doritos, sip her root beer, and decide on how much to tell her friends. She chose to stick to her original plan: tell them about her training and her job, but not about the money.

  “Thank you, guys, for being here. This is the first time I’ve talked about any of this stuff since I left.”

  Nikky and Deja both nodded.

  There was more — a lot more — and Michelle knew the next part would be the hardest, but there was no way around it.

  .

  Five: Assassin

  MICHELLE SAT HER A&W ROOT BEER on a coaster, hugged her knees, and told them the rest of her story. A lot had happened in three years.

  “So now you know why I disappeared like that” —Michelle snapped her fingers— “and as my rowdogs, you deserved to know what happened. What you don’t know is where I’ve been, and what I’ve done since that day. All of that’s important, but not as important as what I plan to do about it.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can guess what you’re planning,” Nikky said. “But instead of guessing, I’ll ask. What is it?”

  “Revenge — pure and simple.”

  “That’s pretty much what I thought. Is that what you need our help with?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you plan on doing that?” Deja asked.

  “For that, I’ll need to explain what I’ve been doing for the past three years. What I’m about to tell you now takes your danger to the next level. You sure you want to go there?”

  “Yes, I’m in,” Deja said.

  “Me, too,” Nikky said.

  “In that case, I have another confession, something I lied about when I was gone, something I can tell you about now.”

  “Wait.” Nikky held up a hand. “Don’t even think you can slip that past us. What do you mean? If there are things you can tell us, does that mean there are other things you can’t tell us? What sort of things can’t you tell us about?”

  “Good point.” Michelle smiled. “I can’t talk about a lot of things, but not because I don’t want to or because I don’t trust you. Some things will put you in additional lines of fire, which will make sense in a few minutes. I’ve already lost too much. There’s no way I’ll lose you, too, for being stupid about what I reveal. By the time we leave today, you’ll know enough to land me in prison for the rest of my life in a couple of countries. You’ll also know enough to make a final decision on how we’re going to play my coming back into your lives.”

  “Yeah, I guess some of the people you’ve been dealing with might not be happy about having outsiders know too much.”

  “Glad you understand.”

  “So, what’s the lie?”

  “Remember those emails saying I was working in Germany, England, and Spain?”

  “Yeah. They didn’t say much,” Nikky said.

  “I didn’t live in any of those places.”

  “Girl, you better not be telling me you’ve been here all this time!” Deja said.

  “No, I was gone, all right. But not where I told you. I lived in Thailand first.”

  “Where’s that?” Nikky asked.

  “Down by Argentina and Mexico, right?” Deja said.

  “No, Thailand’s in Asia, near China, on the other side of the world.”

  “No shit, you were living with the Chinese all this time?”

  “Not the Chinese, the Thai people. They have their own country and their own language. The Thai and the Chinese can’t even talk to each other, kind of like Mexicans and Americans. They have different cultures, different languages.”

  “I can talk Mexican,” Deja said. “Taco, burrito, enchilada, chili relleno, and lots more like, umm, tequila and Kahlúa.”

  Nikky bumped fists with Deja. “Shit, girl, you’re damned near bilingual.”

  Deja grinned. “Call me bilingual, even bicultural because I eat their food, as long as you don’t call me bisexual, because I don’t . . . well, I just don’t.”

  “So, anyway,” Michelle said, “they all speak English to talk to each other, and they do a bad job of it. It’s funny as all get-out to hear them screwing it up. Most of the time I couldn’t understand what they said. I was the only one from the hood, and they couldn’t understand me at all. I had to learn to speak real correct, like some White college girl.”

  “Why the fuck would you want to do that?” Deja asked.

  “You just proved my point. After a while, I realized talking that way helps me act more like I’ve got a silver spoon up my ass. You know, real formal, quiet and ladylike. That’s why I call it ‘silver-speak.’”

  “Again, why the fuck would you want to do that?”

  “Sometimes, to keep a low profile, I need to be very forgettable. I use it when I need to blend in. I can’t hide that I’m from America, but I can sound like I’m from some Mayberry town. I’m not ashamed of where I come from. Fuck that. I’m proud I’m a Black woman from the hood.”

  “Good,” Deja said. “You were starting to scare me with all that talk like you were too good for where you came from.”

  “Not a chance. Even if I want to, it wouldn’t work. One thing this whole experience has shown me is: we are who we are. Things happen and we respond, but we respond as who we are. That’s something you can take to the bank.”

  “I’m soooo relieved!” Deja rolled her neck. “I thought you were going to tell me I had to stop being the beautiful hottie I am.”

  Michelle arc
hed an eyebrow at Nikky. “Like I said. Some things never change.”

  “Okay, what were you doing in this Thailand place?” Nikky asked.

  “When Uncle G picked me up that day, we didn’t know what I would do. There was one thing I was sure about, and still am: I knew I had to kill every one of the muthafuckas that murdered Michael and Gabe Jr. Plus, it wasn’t safe for me to be in the hood right after the shooting. Whoever set up that shit wasn’t straight. They’re a bunch of double-crossing muthafuckas. I had to be careful; still do. Besides, what did I know about killing?”

  “You grew up in the hood,” Deja said. “You should know a little something about killing. We’ve all seen enough of it.”

  “Like you? You grew up here, right next to me, and what do you know about killing? Nothing, that’s what. Look, girl, we all know a lot about shit-talking drama and too much about dying. Outside of the bangers, most of us don’t know the first thing about killing. Take you, for example. You’ve never killed anything bigger than a roach.”

  Deja gave a sad smile. “I guess big talk gets to be such a habit, it’s easy to forget what’s real and what’s not.”

  “I was worse than you. I couldn’t even step on a roach. I wanted to do something, but this wasn’t about just talking trash. It was real. I wanted to get even, but I also knew what I didn’t know, and I didn’t know shit about killing. So, Uncle G took me down to his friends in Orange County. They have the hookup in places like Vietnam and Thailand, and they sent me to assassin school.”

  “Girl, you’re shitting us, right?” Deja asked.

  Michelle smirked. “Yeah, I’m pulling your chain a little. Of course, it’s not like you walk up and apply to United Assassin University of Asia. It started out with one old guy in Thailand teaching me some basic martial arts, moves that most anyone can do. I worked my butt off and kept my focus. Every day I told him I wanted more. After about six months he got the message, or maybe he just thought I was ready. He took me to another old guy who taught me about knives and bladed weapons, and how to kill, up close and personal. Also, to be quiet doing it.”

  “You mean like those ninja, throwing things in the movies?”