Dutch II: Angel's Revenge by Teri Woods

Author:Teri Woods [Woods, Teri]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Urban
ISBN: 9780446567435
Google: kTCDnR0ukjkC
Amazon: 0446551554
Publisher: Teri Woods Pub
Published: 2005-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

In the next month and a half, Rahman expanded his circle of control to three more blocks, buying them to be drug free. His oil enterprise flourished and cash began to flow. The strippers had all been employed. Some had been hired to cook and care for the elderly in the neighborhood while others were hired as childcare for working mothers. The word spread about the jobs the Muslim brothers were offering, and Rahman ended up hiring fifteen more girls all out of his own pocket.

Even Miss Grownie Pants was won over by his strength and commitment to the community. He didn’t deal with the women directly, but Miss Grownie Pants always watched him, admiring the big man she had nicknamed Sugar Bear. She liked the way the Muslims carried themselves with high regard and respect for one another and their wives. She was curious about the lifestyle she had heard so much about, so she started asking questions.

One day, Rahman was walking down the street and heard a soft voice.

“As-Salaamu Alaikum.”

He turned around to find Miss Grownie Pants dressed in a loose-fitting jogging suit and kemar.

“Miss Grownie Pants?” he asked with surprise.

“My name is not Miss Grownie Pants. It’s Sonia. But you can call me Jamillah,” she said, smiling from ear to ear. It almost brought tears to his eyes. Every dime he had spent was worth that one moment.

“Al-hum-dil-li-lah,” he said to her before parting ways.

Everything was going smoothly. The money was slow but steady, and the community was thriving. It had become safe for small children to play outside. The streets were calm. Even the elderly were out on their stoops. People seemed happier. The small-time hustlers who once occupied the neighborhood’s corners weren’t making any noise. They knew who they were dealing with. The community knew him as Rahman, but the streets remembered him as Dutch’s vicious lieutenant.

But the real test lay ahead.

For now, Rahman was satisfied. He felt humble but powerful, quiet but strong. He felt like Dutch.

In an ironic way, Rahman owed his plan to Dutch. He’d never forget the day they all met to discuss the murder of Kazami. Rahman remembered his reluctance and apprehension to take such a bold step. Dutch’s words made him realize his own power.

It ain’t what can we do, it’s what can’t we do.

That was the attitude of men who made things happen instead of waiting for things to happen to them. Those words had given birth to Rahman’s plans to rid the black community of the poison that plagued it.

Poverty.

It wasn’t drugs or crime that were to blame. It was poverty and desperation. Rahman figured if Dutch could infest the city with his strategy, then he could clean it up with his own.

“There go my baby!”

He heard a female’s voice shouting as he stood on the corner talking to a few young hustlers. He turned around to find Angel.

“What’s up, boooooo?” she sang as she climbed out of the drop-top Jag. She was dressed in cuffed D&G jeans and a crisp white vee-neck T-shirt.

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