I could still feel the sense of liberation I had after I set my sight on a desired result and got it done. Me. It was me. I ordered the hit on Steele. I think it had a lot to do with taking over a man’s job when my man was shot and out of commission. Although he was furious, and acted as if I’d taken over his manhood, I saw it as being his partner. I think that’s why I’d been going to the gun range. I was empowered by that project so the next time, if necessary, I would do the deed myself.

* * *

“Good luck, Ms. Jaz.”

“Ms. Jaz? How old do you think I am?” I asked my new friend, Anderson, a nerdy white guy, who wore large bifocals and had braces on his teeth. We were both applying for an internship at Robert Wood Johnson. “Don’t answer that. But it’s Doctor Jaz to you.”

He thought that was funny.

I was finally enrolled back in school, in spite of what Faheem had said a few days ago.

“Jaz, maybe you should wait and start school next semester.”

I was upset about what had happened at Angel and Kay’s house, too, but I wanted to get on with my life. Isn’t that why we left Atlanta? Besides, that was in New York. We were in Jersey.

I clicked my automatic door opener on my car keys as I walked to the parking lot. I checked over my shoulder as I always did these days. Something made me reach into my purse for my burner. I made it to my BMW, checked the backseat to make sure no one was in it, then jumped in and locked the doors. I put my glock on the passenger’s seat, but kept one hand on it, just in case.

As I drove out the garage and onto the streets, from habit, I glanced in my rearview mirror. A black car with tinted windows was driving on my ass. When I turned right at the light, it turned. When I made a left, it made a left. The car tailgated me for a few miles. I was getting nervous, or was it paranoia? I really needed to get checked out. My left hand started sweating as I gripped the steering wheel. I sped up and swerved in and out of traffic, trying to lose the car. The car was keeping up with me though. I saw the upcoming freeway and I jumped on it, flooring the pedal. The car followed me on the freeway. It fell back a little, remaining about three cars behind me and would change lanes whenever I did. It wasn’t paranoia. I was being followed.