Black Widow (23 page)

Chapter 29

Fit for a Princess

After several years of ups and downs, Isis had made quite a splash in her career and had been profiled by the media many times. People were intrigued by the beautiful young woman who called herself the Black Widow. Her story of heartbreak and betrayal was as fascinating as her designs. Celebrities on the red carpet often stated that they wore Black Widow originals. The highlight of her career was that she was being commissioned to design engagement rings for a lot of stars.

It had been three months since Logic’s release. Isis and Logic purchased an extravagant home in Bal Harbour. And Phoebe was even going to be coming home soon. The lawyer Lootchee had hired made a plea bargain with the prosecutor. In exchange for the several years the prosecutor was initially seeking, Phoebe was given only six months, and with good behavior she’d be out in a matter of days.

Life was beautiful. Isis felt as if the curse had finally been broken.

Isis was running late for a meeting. She was rushing around trying to get herself together when Logic stopped her in her tracks just as she was about to dart from the bedroom.

“Slow down, Princess,” he told her, smiling.

“I can’t, baby. I got a meeting that could land me a deal worth hundreds of thousands of dollars,” Isis told him as she tried to push her way past him.

“Would that meeting be with a Mr. Ural Mine, by any chance?” Logic asked, with that same knowing look on his face.

“Yes, it is, and I’m running la…” Isis’s words trailed off after she thought for a minute. “How did you know who my meeting was with? It was set up at the last minute yesterday. I didn’t even think I’d told you about it.” Isis observed the devious grin on Logic’s face. “What? What’s going on?”

“Mr. Ural Mine…Ur-al mine. You’re All Mine.” Logic smiled, waiting for Isis to catch on.

“Logic, you…” Isis play-punched her husband before he took her into his arms.

“Sorry, Princess. I had to trick you. This was the only way I could get you to take time to settle down for a minute. So today, you’re all mine.”

Isis wasn’t the least bit angry. She embraced her husband and planted a tender kiss on his lips.

“Now let’s go. You’ve got an appointment with me.”

“Logic, where are we going?” Isis asked. “Do I need to change?”

Logic faced his wife with a serious look on his face. “Princess, don’t you ever change.”

Logic had planned a day that she’d never forget. In his preparations, he had been bound and determined for the two of them to have the most romantic time that any couple could have in twenty-four hours.

He booked a private jet to fly them to the Bahamas, where they enjoyed a couple’s massage and had staff members waiting on them hand and foot. As Isis sat on the huge patio by their private pool, she smiled as she thought about how secure Logic was with their relationship as two half naked-men he’d hired, with Olympic-quality athletic bodies, were fanning her to cool her off from the hot rays of the Bahamian sun.

He had a woman massaging her feet and another woman feeding her grapes when he brought her his cell phone. “This is the only call that I’d let you take. After that, you’re all mine…remember?” Logic winked and extended the phone to her.

“Who is it? I mean, you confiscated my phone, so who could this be calling for me on your phone?”

He smiled and just pushed the phone toward her as she took it from his hand.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sister,” Phoebe said. “They just let me out. I’m in Miami. My brother-in-law got me all set up. Sly just picked me up from the airport, and now I’m getting settled in the condo. He said that I could stay there as long as I want.”

“Of course you know that.”

“And I really like Sly.”

“Don’t you? She really grew on me.”

“Yes, so once you return, I will need your help, big sister, to help me figure out what I will do with my life. I can’t live off of you and your man, you know.”

“We will work it all out. Don’t worry. I feel like Miami is a good start for you. It’s the place where anything goes.”

“I know, but I gotta figure out something. It just seems like every time I dream of something, it falls through. I’m damn near afraid to even dream anymore.”

“Girl, I was in the same boat. Don’t worry, we will figure out something together, sis.” Isis paused, and then a thought popped into her head. “Your dreams are never shattered unless you stop dreaming.”

“What are you saying?”

“Look—so what you didn’t make the squad. So what? So what you didn’t get the man of your dreams. So what? So the fuck what? We, me and you, have always made dreams happen for us.” Isis sat up and shooed everyone away so she could have a private conversation with her sister. “Listen, remember when we were thirteen and finally found out about each other? Your mother wasn’t letting you see me, or talk to me, and Samantha told me that I would have to wait to see you when we were adults?”

“Yes.”

“What did we do?”

“We cried to each other.”

“After that, what did we do?”

“We planned to go to Skateland on Williamsburg Road, and we met. And we met there every Sunday—from two to six every Sunday—for two years until Samantha found out and gave in and helped us see each other.”

“Okay, then, and you helped me with Dave’s funeral and for the wedding when you came in a matter of six hours.”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with anything else?”

“Look, we make our dreams happen! We wait on no one.”

“But I’m getting too old for the squad and can’t go back to Texas.”

“Well, how about this? You can start a cheerleading camp for little girls or teenagers. Make it like a sisterhood, and you can even make it for kids whose families have money, if you want, and you can give some scholarships away to underprivileged kids. Teach tumbling, stunts, and all that, since you know it all.”

Phoebe was quiet, but Isis knew she had her sister’s motor going.

“You could even have a store to sell cheerleading stuff—clothing, equipment. Shit, I don’t know—just an idea.”

“Sister, I love the idea, but how do I get started?” Phoebe’s excitement was coming through the phone.

“Well, we will figure it out like we always do. I can give you some money for startup, and I am sure your brother-in-law will help.”

“No, he’s done enough already.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Isis said, smiling. She paused. There was no time like the present. “Well, now since I have you back in your right state of mind, what the hell were you thinking with all that Randy shit?”

“Well, sister, I had my hopes up so high, and when I didn’t make the squad, I felt like a failure. Then I had been bragging about this fantastic guy who turned out to be a monster, and I just…” Phoebe sighed. “I just felt like I was a loser, and I didn’t want to face it. And then I turn around and you’re marrying the perfect man.” Phoebe paused for a minute. “And then with the abuse, I just felt like I couldn’t tell anyone I was getting my ass beat on a regular basis. I was the spunky sister, remember?”

“Well, if you ever feel like you can’t talk to me about anything…that’s the real problem! I’m your sister and I love you. I love you through the bad and the good; never forget that.”

“I won’t, sis,” Phoebe said in an apologetic tone.

“Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m being waited on hand and foot.”

Phoebe chuckled. “All right, sis. See you guys when you get back.”

“Ta-Ta,” Isis said as she ended the call and summoned the staff members back.

Logic had arranged for them to go on a picnic later that afternoon. Once they finished eating, he grabbed her hand and said, “Princess, you are truly my princess, and every day you learn more than you knew the day before. And though I never regret anything at all, I do know that there’s something that I need to make right.”

“What?” Isis looked at Logic, not knowing what to think.

“I feel like every girl dreams of a wedding that is fit for a princess. And I didn’t allow that before because I wanted what I wanted right then and there, but now, I want us to get married all over again. We can have a media frenzy, a mini Donald Trump and Melania wedding.”

Logic went into the picnic basket and pulled out a white box. “Isis, will you marry me for the second time?”

Isis felt tears of happiness in her eyes, tears she’d never expected to experience. After allowing a moment for everything to sink in, she shouted as loud as she could, “Yes! Yes!”

“This is a Mr. Black Widow design,” Logic said with a smile. “I went to your jewel boy in New York and had him re-create that ring that you loved so much, the one you made for that prince’s wife. I did a couple of things different so that you can stick to the Black Widow oath that everything is one of a kind.”

“Oh, I love it! And the truth of the matter is that I would marry you again with a ring that’s made out of aluminum foil.”

He laughed, loving the gesture, but knew better.

Chapter 30

That Motherfucker

Three months later, the media and paparazzi worked overtime to cover the story that was on everyone’s lips: The Black Widow weds!

Lootchee watched from the comfort of his home as
Inside Edition
gave all the inside dish about the wedding. Isis and Logic’s wedding rivaled that of a prince and princess. He had to give it to Logic because of the extravagance of everything. Lootchee wouldn’t have done it any differently. But Lootchee wanted to cry that the woman of his dreams, the woman that he felt deep down inside could possibly be his better half, was indeed with another man, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Instead of crying, he fell into laughter, knowing that it was true indeed that Lootchee always gets what he wants, and if he wanted Isis, then guess what?—he’d have her.

Chapter 31

The Curse

Thirteen days after Isis and Logic arrived back from their honeymoon, Isis was back to work. A contractor had called the house and informed Logic that workers would be by the house to install all the new ceiling fans and light fixtures that Isis wanted in place of the conservative ones that the previous owners had left. Isis was at a meeting, so Logic stayed home to wait for the workers.

The workers arrived within the two-hour time window that the contractor had told him that they would. Once all the fixtures were in, Logic decided to enjoy what his long money had paid for. After getting a cold glass of lemonade out of the refrigerator, he was ready to kick back and watch one of the games until Isis came home. Before dozing off, he cut on the ceiling fan.

Isis returned home that afternoon to discover that an electrical fire had burned down their house. The house was destroyed, as was everything in it—including Logic.

The man of her dreams was dead.

Isis

But for now, there’s no room for tears…only revenge.

Epilogue

The Veil

I was a mess at first after Logic died, but the doctors finally calmed me down and told me that I was pregnant. Little Logic is due in a few months, and my mother hopes to be home by the time my child is two years old. Aunt Samantha and Phoebe are staying with me, making sure that I don’t overdo it.

They ruled Logic’s death a freak accident, but I later found out that it was murder—and Lootchee was the one behind it. Lootchee somehow managed to get the contractors to wire the fans incorrectly. The man really will stop at nothing to get
whatever
he wants. I knew the man was persistent, but I didn’t know that he was crazy. The day I told Lootchee that
death
was the only thing that could stop Logic from being my husband was the day I sealed Logic’s fate. Although I didn’t wire anything, loving Logic as I did and rejecting Lootchee was just like signing Logic’s death warrant.

I won’t have a problem taking care of our child, because my business is booming. Everyone wanted a piece from the Black Widow after Logic’s death, but because I had cut back on working, the pieces that were out there only increased in value. Logic had a $3 million insurance policy naming me as the beneficiary, and the policy paid double because the death was ruled an accident. Remember that black Riviera that Logic entrusted to me before his arrest? That car had $5 million hidden in a stash box, and the keys Logic gave me that day were to safe-deposit boxes that contained an amount of money that I would rather not disclose at this time. Let’s just say I’m one rich beyatch! And my child and I will live life as Logic would have wanted us to.

I made a vow, and I’ve never gone back on a vow in my life—without good reason anyway—that I’m going to pay Lootchee back for what he took from me! And as calculating as he is, I’ve got one up on him. I’ve hired the best private investigator that money can buy, and with the information that I found on Lootchee, I know just the person to call to help me out…

Unique.

People say that I should probably be mourning the death of Logic. That I should be balled up somewhere in a corner, shut off from the world, crying like a baby. But I’ve witnessed my father die in my arms, seen my first love die in front of my very eyes, had my ass whipped and a baby literally beaten out of me, seen two men murdered in cold blood, and witnessed my sister go to jail at the hands of an abuser. And I myself slipped through the fingers of the feds! I came through all of that, so what makes people think things should be any different now?

Since that awful day when Logic was killed, I’ve worn only white because I won’t mourn until I avenge my husband’s death. Yes, maybe then I’ll mourn, cry, and even kick and scream like one of them women in a TV movie. But for now, there’s no room for tears…only revenge.