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She put her feet on my thighs and proceeded to ram her body into mine. After that, Angel got up and began to get dressed. "Get up, Devin, I gotta go."
I looked at the clock: 12:45 am. I shrugged my shoulders and got up. I got dressed and we left the room. Angel told me where she wanted to be dropped off, and we drove there in silence.
We arrived at her spot. As soon as I put the car in park, Angel leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Good night, Devin. I had a good time tonight." She kissed me on the cheek again, and practically jumped out the car.
"Angel," I said, and she stuck her head back in the car. "Can I see you again?"
"I’ll call you." Then Angel closed the car door and walked quickly toward the building. I knew then that she was just grudge fuckin’ to get back at her girlfriend. But the pussy was good, so I ain’t sayin’ nothing.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-seven
Avonte
If there is one constant in the world, it’s that nothing lasts forever. After melting down with Qianna, and spending the night on the phone crying with my parent’s, I came to one very important conclusion. I refuse to let this keep me down.
I got up early that next morning and began the process of planning the rest of my life. I logged on to my bank’s Web site, and checked the balances on my accounts. Once I had an idea of where I stood financially, I did a budget. As much as I didn’t want to, I knew that I would have to move to something a little less pricey, if I was going to make that money last.
The first thing on my agenda was to find a job. Something I had never done before. Not even as a teenager. There was no after-school job at a fast food joint for me. I thought I was too cute for the burger girl uniform.
The only work I had actually done was volunteer work for the charitable organizations that Tyrone and I gave money to.
Thinking that they would be a good place to start, I decided to make a few calls and do a little networking.
What I found brought the reality of my situation clearly into focus, but was not entirely surprising. Each of the people I called, people that I once considered friends, none of them offered any help. In fact, their tone was decidedly cold toward me. It made me realize that the only reason that I was accepted in those circles was because I was Tyrone’s wife. Now I had reverted back to what I always was in their eyes.
The nigger-bitch Tyrone married.
Determined not to let any of that get the best of me, my next stop on-line was monster.com. Since I never had a job, there was nothing to put on a resume. I decided that I would do some research on the site to see if they had any advise to offer.
I read articles on turning your job interviews into job offers. Opening doors with a high-impact resume. There was one on using a resume writing services to give me the resume that promised to get me the job at every level of my career. I read about how to determine my value, how to protect myself from being underpaid. I laughed when I came upon an article called "Networking 101" that told me that it’ll take more than small talk and business cards to connect with others. I had already tried networking with the people I knew, and that got me nowhere.
I had just finished reading an article titled "Is Now the Time to Get into Real Estate Sales", when the doorbell rang. I checked the time; it was just after three in the afternoon. I went to answer the door thinking that it was too early for Qianna to show up here, and wondering who else it could be. There weren’t a lot of people that knew where I lived.
When they pressed the bell again, I asked, "Who is it?" I peeked out the hole and saw
two cops standing there.
"Police, ma’am. We’re looking for Avonte Petrocelli."
I opened the door. "I’m Avonte Petrocelli. Is their some problem?"
"Mrs. Petrocelli, I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but your husband Tyrone Petrocelli is dead."
"What?"
"You have our deepest sympathy," the other said.
Tears began to roll from my eyes. "Oh my God, how? When?"
"His body was discovered this morning by the housekeeper."
"Did Carmen say what happened? Was there some type of accident?"
"No, ma’am; there was no accident. Your husband was murdered. Would you mind coming with us to identify the body?"
"No, no, of course not. Just give me a minute to change."