Free Black Widow by Nikki Turner Page B

up with nothing.
    Whoever it is on the other end of the phone must really want to talk
, Isis thought. The phone had been screaming with at least four or five back-to-back phone calls now.
    She picked up a handful of bedspread and shook it—nothing. She shook the spreads a second time—still no luck.
    Trying to find the phone was beginning to feel like trying to locate a lost ship in the Bermuda Triangle. Enough was enough; she snatched all the top covers and linen from the bed, and the cell phone fell to the floor. The caller ID read: “Sister.”
    Isis was elated that it was Phoebe calling, although she was a little upset with her as well. She had left messages on Phoebe’s machine for two days but had gotten no return call. They always kept each other up on what was going on in their lives, regardless of how big or small, usually talking four or five—and sometimes ten—times a day depending on how much drama was in the air.
    “Hey, sister,” Isis answered the phone. “Where have you been?” She didn’t give Phoebe a chance to answer before continuing. “I’ve been tryin’ to reach you for more than two days.”
    “I’m sorry,” Phoebe apologized. “Things have just been so hectic for the past few days, and I just got a chance to check my messages a couple of minutes ago,” she said. “So first, please explain this to me, sister: You living where, and with who?”
    “You heard it right, sister, I’m living with Bam in a real nice trailer in Caroline County.”
    “A trailer?” Phoebe exclaimed. “Sister,
you
have never been any trailer-park type of chick. What happened while I’ve been gone? Did you fall and bump your head, or has Bam drugged you?” she joked.
    “None of the above,” Isis assured her sibling. “It’s a double-wide trailer and it’s really nice. It looks just like a house, only smaller. You just have to see it.” Just as Phoebe was about to respond, Isis jumped back in. “You know when we drive down I-95 and we see those houses on eighteen-wheelers that say ‘wide load’?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Well, something like that.”
    “Oh, okay.”
    “But you’ll have to see it for yourself.”
    “I know,” Phoebe agreed. “I can’t wait.” There was a small pause, and then Phoebe asked, “But are you happy?”
    “Yes, very happy,” Isis declared. “I don’t have to worry about anything but creating my jewelry designs. Bam takes care of everything else. If I may say so myself, this is the life, sister.”
    “Well, as long as
you’re
happy.”
    “As happy as I’ve ever been…in a long time anyway,” she confessed. “But enough about me. How are things going with you in Dallas?”
    “So far, so good. I made the first cut.”
    “That’s great!” Isis yelled into the phone.
    “I met someone too.”
    “Who?” Isis wanted to know who was courting her sister.
    “All I can say is that he plays for the Cowboys.”
    “Really? But what do you mean all you ‘can say is that he plays for the Cowboys’? What’s up with him?”
    “I‘ll have to tell you later, because we’re not supposed to talk to the players like that.”
    “So you’re going to leave me in suspense?” Isis asked.
    Phoebe and Isis had never kept secrets from each other, so she thought long and hard before answering her sister’s question.
    “Not right now,” Phoebe said.
    “Okay, sister, tell me in your own time, but don’t keep me in suspense for too long.” Then she added, “Remember, I’m the one that has your back no matter what.”
    “I know.” Phoebe said, and laughed.

    Although the rain showered the capital city, the streets were dry. Richmond’s cocaine trade had been suffering from a drought for more than two months. There were many theories floating around the streets as to why the drug, from the high-priced, high-quality stuff to the inferior, was so hard to find, but no one really knew the answer. New York used to be the place to go at such times, but things had changed.