Déjà Vu (17 page)

W
eeks had passed since Margo had last seen Malik. She brushed her lips with her finger as a repressed memory of the day Malik kissed her ushered forth. It was an exciting moment that ignited sparks throughout her body—something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

Weeks had passed since she and Jefferson had slept in the same room as well, although they were still under the same roof. His mood was somber as he rummaged and piddled around the house in a deep funk, knocking things over and slinging a few choice words about what he’d do to Malik.

Margo wasn’t sure what it all meant. Part of her wanted to embrace her husband and heal the wound, close the rift that had already torn them apart. However, there was the other part of her that threatened war—a battle between good and evil where she would take what belonged to one and give to another, making her ready to taste and see if life was truly greener on the other side.

Margo jumped. She wasn’t sure how long Jefferson had been watching her. She hadn’t heard him come into her bedroom—their bedroom—and then she noticed that he was standing straight without the aid of his walker. Surprise registered on her face.

“Thinking about him?” Jefferson asked as he leaned against the door frame.

“When did you stop using your walker?” Margo asked, ignoring his question.

“Living under the same roof, but you don’t have any idea what’s been going on with me.”

Margo sat down on the cedar chest in front of the bed. “Jefferson, I remember a moment when I begged and pleaded for you to love me. You had my undivided attention. I would have done anything for you because I loved you that much. Remember? But you didn’t want me.”

“Why are we rehashing this, Margo? I’ve told you over and over again how much I love you. I’ve asked for forgiveness more times than I can count. You told me that you were going to be by my side through it all, and it was that acknowledgment that gave me the strength to survive that hellhole. I’ve paid the price, but I will never forgive myself for what I’ve done to you.”

“What are you going to do with the rest of your life? I can’t stand by and watch your daily pity parties, Jefferson. They’ve gotten old. It’s time to get up off your duff and do something with yourself.”

“So, is this about my not being able to provide for you or is it an attempt to find some excuse to leave me for someone else? It’s not enough that my wife won’t sleep with me…make love to me, but humiliate my manhood? Do you think Malik can provide for you better than me?” Margo didn’t answer. “Well, maybe you should be with him. Yeah, go be with him. I can’t do anything for you. I’m a broke, jobless ex-con.”

Jefferson turned to leave. In his haste, his left foot didn’t move as fast as the rest of his body, and he fell to the floor. He grabbed his knee and began to rub it when he felt a warm pair of hands on top of his own.

“I’m not going to leave you, Jefferson. You’re my husband and will always be. Let’s get you up from the floor and get some ice on that knee. We’ll work this out somehow.”

Jefferson looked up. “Do you mean it, Margo?”

She looked past him with a vacant look on her face. “Yes, I mean it.”

S
he was a prisoner in Santiago’s sprawling mansion. It was tucked away on Long Island in the Hamptons, far enough away from the grind of the city but close enough to be there in under an hour. A tall, wrought-iron fence circled the property, and a security guard manned the gate that gave entry. The stone house was surrounded by lush greenery as well as a variety of flowers that reminded Angelica of Santiago’s place in North Carolina. A long stone pathway intersected with a circular driveway and led to the house. For some it was the breeze from the ocean, for others it was the view that made it a spectacular piece of real estate.

Thirty rooms she counted in all: nine bedrooms, nine bathrooms, a large gourmet kitchen, a formal living and dining room, an entertainment center, a movie theater with high-backed velvet seats, a workout room with every conceivable piece of gym equipment, two nine-by-ten, walk-in closets that held Santiago’s leisure and casual clothes in one and the other his suits and formal attire, an indoor basketball court with its own bathroom facilities was accessible by way of the workout room, and in the lower level of the house were two rooms for the hired help along with the washroom facility.

The house in the Hamptons was a place Angelica would have died for if her companion had been anyone other than Santiago.
It was reminiscent of the homes she saw in her daydreams, and for sure she would have been the perfect fit. But it wasn’t her home, and she wasn’t even sure why she was there or what Santiago was planning.

She was forced to quit her job at Club Platinum much to the disappointment of Gerald Lloyd. Angelica liked her freedom and the idea of making a nice sum of money for a few hours of dancing with a pole while she intoxicated her nameless admirers suited her just fine. But it was Ari she thought about all the time—his kindness and her disappointing him.

She had last seen him staring into Donna’s coffin. Angelica wondered if Ari blamed her for Donna’s demise. Her attempt to speak with him was met with contempt, but at least she tried. It was difficult getting to the funeral because Santiago refused to let her go—maybe he thought she was going to run—but he gave in in the end.

Many of Hamilton’s family members crowded the small cathedral—some she recognized and some she didn’t. It seemed as though the area’s entire gay and lesbian community was there as well as many notable celebrities that Donna had either worked with or had some ties to. The police still didn’t have a suspect in custody. It was a shameful act of cowardice, and Angelica hoped that whoever killed Donna would pay dearly.

Needing something to do, Angelica went to the exercise room. Dressed in a purple pair of spandex tights and exercise bra, she walked into the room and examined each piece of equipment until she came to the Bowflex machine. She straddled the bench and placed her arms around the metal bar, applying pressure as she lifted the twenty-pound weights.

Angelica rested as her mind raced, contemplating what she was
going to do and how she was going to get away from Santiago. He barely spoke to her, yet he was insistent that she be with him. Something was looming on the horizon; Angelica could feel it deep down. It frightened her—the not knowing, all the secrecy that seemed to surround Santiago’s daily activities—but the not knowing was the price she was paying for selling him out the last time they were together.

She did four sets of ten lifts and then she heard voices. They were coming from the basketball court. Whoever it was must have come in through a side door. Easing down the metal bar, Angelica stiffened and listened to the voices that were getting louder. She could hear Santiago’s above the others. He cursed at his companions and threatened to reduce their pay if…Someone picked up a basketball and began to bounce it hard on the floor, drowning out all conversation. Angelica wanted to get up and peek, but she remained frozen to the equipment and prayed she wouldn’t be discovered.

The ball stopped hitting the floor and the muffled voices began to fade. Angelica hadn’t seen any more than two people at any given time with Santiago—his “goons” she had called them. Operation Stingray was dead as far as she knew, but she was smart enough to know that if Santiago was purchasing and selling weapons in North Carolina, surely he was doing that or something similar to it in New York. There was no evidence of his wrongdoing in this house where she was so free to roam, but somewhere there was an answer, and her mind said the answer lay at the restaurant she had visited the first night she had laid eyes on Santiago again.

She sat for five or ten minutes before deciding to get up. Crossing her leg over the bench, Angelica was about to stand up
when Santiago appeared. He moved toward her without a word, coming to sit at the end of the bench. He lifted her leg and brought it back over so that she was straddling the bench once again, except that he now faced her.

“Looked all over the house for you,” Santiago said. “You hiding out?”

“No, I wanted to get some exercise,” Angelica assured him. “Not much else for me to do.”

“In time, my Princess. I’ve been so involved with a project I’ve been working on, and I’ve been inattentive. Forgive me.”

“Santiago, I’ve been your captive for over a month. You made it seem urgent that I come with you right away, and yet I’ve barely seen you the whole time I’ve been here. What are you up to? Why am I here? I know I don’t mean anything to you.”

Santiago gave Angelica a puzzled look. “Captive? Are you trying to say that I kidnapped you?”

“I didn’t have a choice, now did I?” Angelica roared back.

“No one held a gun to your head, Angelica.”

“It was invisible, but I felt it in my back.”

Santiago laughed. “You mean everything to me, Princess. Things will get better soon, you’ll see. How about I take you to dinner tonight at El Conuco? Uncle Jorge and Aunt Maria would love to see you again.”

Something smart wanted to come out of Angelica’s mouth, but she thought better of it. She needed some air and, maybe, she would find a clue to what Santiago was doing. “I’m overdue for some fun, although I thought we might do something else, but dinner at your family’s restaurant will be fine.”

“Well that’s settled,” Santiago said, inching his body toward Angelica’s.

Her stomach crawled up in knots as he crept toward her. He
rested his large hands on her thighs and massaged the length of them—his diamond-encrusted rings sparkling. Angelica shivered as Santiago’s hands glided from her thighs to her waist and, when he reached for her breasts, she blocked his hands with her own with such force that they hit the bench pad with a thud.

Santiago grabbed her hands and pinned them behind her. “If you won’t give it, I’ll take what’s mine.”

“That’s rape.”

“No, because you’re going to consent to every minute of it.”

“I hate you!” Angelica screamed. “Your ass should be the one in jail. I don’t know how you’ve gotten away with your mess all these years.”

“And I should have had you killed for running to the police after all I’d done for you. I let you live, and now you’re going to repay me for the ill you’ve caused me.”

Angelica sighed and relaxed. Santiago released his grip on her.

“Now, that’s better.” He pulled her to him and kissed her on the lips. Angelica did not respond, but he continued until her lips parted and she felt in the moment.

Santiago smothered her with kisses and lay her down on the bench. Heavy breathing mixed with lustful moans filled the room. Rough foreplay caused the steel bar that was suspended overhead to shift to the left, then the right, but it didn’t deter the heat of passion that had consumed the former foes.

Rough hands tore the clothes from Angelica’s body. Santiago held her breasts and sucked them like he was a baby who was taking milk from his mother. Unable to quench the fire in his groin, he pulled off his clothes and took what his body couldn’t resist. To his surprise, Angelica accepted his passion with the same intensity.

It was Ari’s face Angelica saw when Santiago entered her. She
tried to substitute the moment she had with him for the one she was presently having, but realization took over and reminded her that the thing that had set her on fire was the enemy. In an instant, survival became Angelica’s number one goal, and if it meant sleeping with the enemy, so be it until she was able to come up with a plan. She would outwit the fox before it consumed her whole.

Santiago looked like a man in a drunken stupor as he rode the last tidal wave to ecstasy. Sweat rained from his body, sending heavy droplets down on Angelica. She wiped them away in disgust, wanting it all to be over.

“Take me,” he screamed as his cell phone began to ring. He tried to ignore it, but Angelica’s body was already relaxed and thankful for the interruption. Santiago reached for his pants, retrieved his cell phone and immediately pulled himself away from her.

After missing the call, Santiago made another. Angelica watched as he listened and saw a broad smile cross his face.

“We’re done for now,” Santiago said. He picked up Angelica’s clothes and laid them next to her. “Clean up. We’re going out to dinner.”

Santiago put his clothes on and left the room. Angelica picked up her clothes from the bench and rolled them in a ball. She was angry with herself for letting Santiago have his way so easily, but the truth of the matter was that she was afraid of him.

She slid into her things and went to her room. A hot shower would erase the scum that had infiltrated her body.

The vibration of her cell phone made Angelica jump as it danced across the dresser. She picked it up and smiled when she recognized Edward’s number. There was nothing like a friendly
voice to talk to, especially since she hadn’t spoken to her brother in weeks and he had no knowledge of her predicament.

“Edward! This is a pleasant surprise.”

“The phone system works both ways, Little Sis. How have you been?”

“I can’t complain,” Angelica lied. “I’ve had better days.”

“Well, I’ve got some bad news.”

“What kind of bad news? Something happened to Michael?”

“No, thank God.”

“Well, what is it then?”

“Hamilton is dead, Angelica. He was murdered.”

“Hamilton? Dead?” Angelica dropped the phone and sank to the floor.

A
chill ran through Angelica’s body. All around her people were dying, but she hadn’t expected to hear Hamilton’s name in that context. True, she and Hamilton hadn’t been husband and wife in more than seven years, but she still felt a connection to him.

The phone call from her brother left her numb. Hamilton had been murdered. The details were sketchy, but it was believed that another inmate had done the deed. Her brother would fill her in as soon as he was able to obtain more information. There was nothing left for Angelica to do but head to North Carolina. Hamilton was her ex-husband, and she still considered herself family.

Angelica wasn’t sure how she was going to get to North Carolina. It was too expensive to catch a flight on such short notice, but she was going to find a way. Rubbing her temples, it came to her. She would drive, but she needed to get a car. She knew the person to call. Ari would get her what she needed, but it would be up to her to get beyond Santiago’s net. And she would run away for a second time from the demon that made her life a living hell. She decided to call Ari tomorrow, as soon as Santiago left the house, but now she looked for something to wear.

Going to the restaurant was the last thing she wanted to do, but she pushed her present emergency to the back burner. The one thing she didn’t want to happen was for Santiago to get wind
of her mood so that he would start asking a lot of questions. Hamilton’s death was her secret passage out of the house and away from him.

A knock on the door took her out of her reverie. She smoothed down the fabric on her black dress that hit just above the knee and then went to the door and unlocked it. Santiago stood there looking handsome in all black, setting off his fine Latin features, especially his coal-black wavy hair. Angelica pretended not to notice.

“You look amazing,” Santiago said as he stood in the hallway while his eyes roamed the length of her. “We may have to go somewhere swanky with the way you look.”

“Oh, I can change if I’m overdressed,” Angelica said, not wanting to extend her evening with Santiago beyond dinner.

“No need to change. I’ve got to tend to a little business with Uncle Jorge, and it might take awhile.”

Her ears lifted at that bit of information. Angelica wondered what type of business Santiago had with his uncle, especially since his relatives had been running a successful restaurant for over thirty years. If her heart weren’t so heavy with Hamilton’s death laying on it, she’d probably do some investigating of her own.

“Well, I’m ready whenever you are.”

A brisk wind met them as they stepped out into the late spring night. Angelica adjusted her wrap and stood quietly next to Santiago as they waited for Niko to bring the car around. He was not alone. Hamilton’s two goons were in the car—one sat in the front, the other in the back. Both were dressed in black leather jackets with turtleneck sweaters and slacks underneath. They had a sinister look about them, and they tipped their heads when Angelica got in, careful not to let their stares linger too long.

Santiago uttered something to them in Spanish and then introduced them to Angelica. “This is Sammy,” Santiago said of the man sitting next to Angelica, “and up front is Dominic. Old friends of mine.”

Angelica leaned over and whispered to Santiago, “I thought we were going to dinner alone?”

“Sammy and Dominic are catching a ride. They have other business in town,” Santiago responded. Satisfied, Angelica sat back with her hands on her lap.

Light rain began to fall. The pitter-patter of the raindrops pierced the silence in the car.

“Something on your mind?” Santiago asked Angelica a few minutes later. “You’re distant, too quiet. I like my women noisy.” Angelica remained silent while the goons laughed at Santiago’s lame joke.

The drizzle became buckets of water, and cautious drivers slowed their vehicles on the slippery asphalt. Another Spanish conversation between the three men resumed. Santiago caught Niko stealing glances at Angelica. “Keep your eyes on the damn road,” Santiago shouted at Niko as the tire hit a wet pothole and the car swerved to the left. Niko recovered and pulled it straight into the lane.

“Hell, what you trying to do, Niko? Get us killed? I’m gonna…”

“Chill out, Santiago,” Sammy said. “Give the boy a break. It’s nasty outside. We want to get to where we’re supposed to be safely. Everything’s cool, man,” he cautioned.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Santiago said, releasing a huge sigh.

Santiago looked from Sammy to Angelica. He laid his hand on Angelica’s thigh and patted it, and while she wished she had a fork to pierce his hand, she played along because plans for her
getaway were formulating in her mind. She didn’t want to give Santiago any cause not to trust her.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled up alongside El Conuco. Niko pulled the car to the curb, but left the motor running. Sammy and Dominic stayed behind while Santiago and Angelica got out of the car. Maybe Angelica was wrong about his being involved in some unscrupulous activity, but nothing explained the twelve-thousand-square-foot house Santiago lived in that sat on a few prime acres of land. She had yet to determine what his real occupation was because he never appeared to be going anywhere fast or at any given time. Whatever he was up to, she wanted no part of it.

Before they entered El Conuco, the scent of food flooded their nostrils and spicy Latin music met their ears. Angelica was suddenly hungry, and a good homegrown meal would satiate her stomach and keep it still while she internalized her grief. Regardless of what Hamilton had done to her, she was unable to imagine him lying out on a cold slab in somebody’s mortuary.

To Angelica’s amazement, the place was full. It was a Wednesday night, but it proved that people either didn’t have time to or preferred not to cook. Angelica faked a smile when Aunt Maria hugged her and Uncle Jorge showed all thirty-two pieces of porcelain in his mouth. They seemed to be a nice couple, and it was quite obvious they adored their handsome nephew.

“Whatever the lady wants,” Santiago said, placing a juicy kiss on Aunt Maria’s cheek. “She needs some cheering up…hasn’t gotten used to the Hamptons.”

“We got what she needs,” Aunt Maria said. Angelica’s eyes bulged.
Was that Aunt Maria speaking halfway decent English?

Aunt Maria continued with an accent, “Girl, what’s not to love
in the Hamptons? I go over once a week and clean the house for Roberto, and then I go out and sit on the deck, if the weather permits, and catch the sun. Sometimes I stay over if I drink too much tequila and can’t make it back to town. When Roberto is gone, Jorge and me housesit for him; and we have the run of the house. That’s the only time the oven gets turned on, except when we’ve catered a party or two.”

Angelica listened intently. It explained why she hadn’t seen any domestics at the place, although she hadn’t seen Uncle Jorge or Aunt Maria either. Santiago always brought food home or took her out. She pondered this. Santiago relied on them for a lot of things, but she’d bet her last dollar they relied on him as well. There was nothing thicker than blood.

“His place is beautiful,” Angelica said. “I love the view of the ocean and the spaciousness of it all, but lately I’ve been missing my family, and I’m feeling lonely.”

“Her cousin was murdered a month ago, and she’s been under the weather,” Santiago said, watching Angelica out of the corner of his eye. “I’m going to see to it that she gets what she needs to make her happy again.”

“Well, let me take your order,” Aunt Maria said with a wide smile. Uncle Jorge tapped his finger like Angelica had seen Santiago do earlier, and then he disappeared.

Santiago took the liberty to order their food and then excused himself. Angelica watched him go through a door off the kitchen—the same one Uncle Jorge had disappeared through. She played with a book of matches that had El Conuco written on it, tossed it in her purse, and gazed around the room.

There were two waitresses who saw to it that everyone was taken care of. People chatted around Angelica as if they had no
cares in the world. A snappy number rolled over the loudspeaker, and several couples hopped on the floor in the rear of the restaurant. Their bodies were engaged in a salsa dance that included smooth fancy footwork. Other patrons joined in, clapping their hands to the spicy Latin beat.

Angelica was sipping on a Margarita when she noticed a black man in braids dart into the restaurant and out the back where the others had gone. There was something different…strange, like he didn’t belong there, yet familiar. She sat up straight and searched her brain for why he aroused her curiosity. Sitting back in her chair, Angelica caught her breath. He wore an old Army field jacket that was too big—it was the man who got on the bus outside of Central Prison.

What would he possibly be doing at Santiago’s family’s restaurant, of all places? Was he working for Santiago? Maybe he was following her, but why?

Angelica felt sick. Her food had not come yet, but she had to get out of that place. She didn’t know what was going on at El Conuco, but she was getting the hell out of there.

She scrambled from her seat, went to the counter and asked the waitress to get Aunt Maria. Aunt Maria was flying from the kitchen uttering something in Spanish when she saw Angelica. “What is it, Angel?” Aunt Maria asked.

Angel? Did Aunt Maria know I worked in a strip joint?
Angelica dismissed it.

“Would you please let Santiago know that I’m sick and that I need to go home now, please?”

Maria looked at Angelica as if she were a nurse, trying to determine the cause of her illness. “Wait a minute, Angel. I don’t think he can come right now. Diego,” Maria called to the cook
and then uttered something in Spanish. Maria turned to Angelica, “I’ll be right back.”

Maria returned and told her the driver would meet her outside in five minutes. Angelica thanked Maria and offered her apologies about dinner. She went to the table, grabbed her things, and headed out the door.

Headlights blinded her as she stood near the curb, but the car stopped and Niko got out and opened the door for her. They road back to the Hamptons in silence. All the while, Angelica’s brain processed what she had observed. Something was not right, but her mind wouldn’t let her find any order to her mishmash of discoveries.