Free Déjà Vu by Suzetta Perkins

Extra prayers tonight for everything to go right. I miss you.”
    “I miss you too, Margo. I don’t deserve you, but I’m thankful toGod that I still have you in my life. I love you, and I’m going to do everything in my power to prove it to you.”
    “You don’t have to prove anything to me. God has shown me through His love that we are going to be all right. I haven’t abandoned you or our marriage. You are the love of my life. I want you to wow that parole board and hurry home to me, to the family.”
    “What did I do to deserve you? I’ve got to go, baby, and I can’t wait to see you again.”
    “I can’t wait either,” Margo said, tears sliding down her face.
    “I’ll call you with the news, regardless of the outcome. I love you.”
    “Okay, Jefferson. I’ll be here waiting. And I love you, too.”
    Margo heard the phone click. She held the phone close to her bosom until the busy signal annoyed her enough to hang it up. Good news was what she needed, and although Jefferson had asked her not to say anything, the first person she thought about telling was Malik.
    The card was lying on the kitchen counter. Margo picked it up and tore it into pieces. There was no room for another person in her life, and the moment she had waited for might be only days or a few weeks away. Margo decided against telling Malik her news. She grabbed the phone again and called each of her children. God was in the motion of answering her prayer.

13
    A freak, that’s what she looked like. In another life, Angelica had worn revealing clothing or no clothing at all—depending on who was telling the story. When she pole danced and the lust-filled men were yelling for her to take it off, Angelica was in a zone. The itsy-bitsy bikini she wore was only a tease to the gyrations that caused men to pull twenty-dollar bills out of their wallets and place it in her G-string.
    The outfit she wore now didn’t feel comfortable, and it seemed tasteless for a magazine spread. Maybe it was because she expected to be wearing a glamorous gown and four-inch diamond stilettos. Something was wrong with this current picture; no, it didn’t feel right at all.
    Angelica paced as she waited to be called. It seemed odd that she was the only one left in the room. It gave her time to think, if nothing else, but her mind was clouded and no reason could get through.
    “Angelica.” It was a voice from a loudspeaker. “Please proceed to Stage II.”
    Stage II? Angelica had no idea where to find it. She opened the door and left the room to venture through the hallway. She hadn’t noticed it before, but on the wall were little hangers with the words Stage I, Stage II, and Stage III hanging from each one. She found Stage II, opened the door, and walked onto a stage that made her bottom lip drop.
    The room looked like a jungle. Fake palm trees and antelope-skin rugs were scattered throughout the room as well as light colored straw meant to resemble the brush in Africa. Black, white, brown, and cream colored material was draped on the walls of the stage. What made Angelica recoil was not the large brass bed in the middle of the room with leather bands attached to it by chains, but the real male lions that were housed in brass cages beside it. The lions looked as if they would welcome a human meal if the opportunity presented itself.
    “Take your places,” Donna spoke.
    Angelica remained still, not sure where her place was. Jazz climbed on the bed and was followed by one of the other women that came in late. Madeline and Coco moved to each post of the bed while two other women took their positions behind them.
    “Angelica, you will get on the bed with Jazz and Ciara,” Donna said, pointing the way with a long-lens camera resting on the other arm.
    Angelica looked at Donna as if she was crazy. Get on the bed with these women and do what? Angelica was thinking.
    “You need to move it, Angelica,” Donna prodded. “Time is money.”
    Angelica moved toward the