Black Widow by Nikki Turner Read Free Book Online

are you still there?” she asked.
    “I’m here,” Phoebe said. “I can’t believe her.”
    “I can,” Isis replied, and just then her other line beeped. She looked down at the caller ID screen on her phone. “Hold on; this is her calling back.” Isis clicked over to answer the incoming call. “Hello?”
    “Did you hang up on me?” Ms. Davis snapped.
    “Well, honestly, the conversation was over.”
    I can’t believe this lady. I swear I wish she was his sister and not his momma. I would pull a Freddy Krueger and go through this phone receiver and get that ass!
    “Look, you little bitch, I didn’t say ’bye yet. And was it something that you needed to say to me, because you sound like you was rushing off the phone and biting your tongue.”
    “Ms. Davis, trust me,” Isis cackled. “You don’t even want to know.”
    “Look, bitch, you ain’t Jack Nicholson; I can handle the truth. Spit it out.”
    “Well, since you want to know what I think—”
    “Ain’t shit your little young ass can tell me, because I done been through hell and back.”
    “Look, Ms. Davis, I’m trying not to go there with you because sad to say, I know you are his mother.”
    “No, let’s go there,” Ms. Davis said.
    “Like I said—trust me, Ms. Davis, you don’t want me to take you there in the emotional state I’m in right now.”
    “Oh, take me there, suga. Take me there.” Isis could feel Ms. Davis rolling her neck around through the phone. “But I’ll warn you, you might not be able to find your way back by the time I get done with you.”
    Isis chuckled at Ms. Davis’s threat. “All I’m going to say is that one day when all the money, cars, and diamonds are long gone and you are old and sick with no one around to love or take care of your shitty butt, and the nursing assistant is being mean to your hateful self and not changing your Depend undergarments and she is the only familiar face you ever see, then maybe you’ll think about your son and all of the good things he
did
do and all the things he did risk for you. And when that time comes…and you’re at your worst hour…this is what I want you to do:
kill yourself!
”
    Isis hit the flash button on the phone and began to laugh. For that brief moment, she felt good.
    Isis returned to the line when her laughing fit was done. “Phoebe, are you still there?”
    “I’m here,” Phoebe said.
    “Hold on,” Isis said. “Give me another minute with that no-good so-called mother—she needs to know one more thing.” Isis clicked over and dialed Ms. Davis’s number again. When Ms. Davis picked up the phone, Isis clicked back over so Phoebe could get an earful.
    “I thought you’d call back and apologize,” Ms. Davis said.
    “You’d better think again. I called to tell you that there will be a funeral—and don’t bother showing your face.” This time when she hung up, she heard someone putting a key in the front door. Isis at first wondered if Ms. Davis had made her way over quick, in a hurry to make good on her threat, but shook off the thought. “Phoebe, is that you?”
    “Yeah, I had got in the car and started on my way over here a little after I called you and you told me about the body and all. Somebody has to get you around. You are in no shape to be driving.”
    As she entered the house, Phoebe bent down to pick up the mail that had been dropped through the mail slot. She thumbed through it, being nosey, before she stopped at one of the envelopes. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but you got a letter here from Dave. He must have written it the day before he died.” Phoebe handed the letter to her older sister.
    Isis stared at the letter, shaking her head. This was all too much.
    Phoebe took the letter back from her and put it down. “Look, sis, you don’t have to read it now.” There was a brief moment of silence before Phoebe spoke again. “You know what I was thinking? We don’t need that bitch’s truck anyway. We