stopped going to Sunday school and Youth Meetings because she was betrayed by those supposed men of God, who orated piously from the pulpits.
By the time she was in her late teens, Ima both hated and loved men, but she never trusted them. When she fully discovered what they really wanted from her, despite her need for their full love and affection, she was on the defense, repaying them with treachery and false promises of her own. Ima purposed that never in her life would she give a man the chance to hurt her first.
Standing in front of a long mirror she carefully scanned the outfit she held in her hand. This purple two-piece Donna Karan with the plunging neck and back should do the trick, Ima thought.
She grinned at the flimsy purple outfit consisting of a top so tiny that it could barely cover the N in “nipple.” The skirt was form-fitting and was so short that it only came to her mid-thigh. If she dropped anything she’d have to depend on the kindness of others to pick it up, or risk landing in jail for indecent exposure.
Ima spent a lot of time locked up because people weren’t always kind and that’s the way she loved to dress.
After taking Needy’s call and listening to the singles group’s dilemma, it didn’t take but a second for Ima to decide that she’d take the job dismantling Lyon Lipps. She loved being able to take a credit card for payment. It made getting undercover jobs using her unique “revenge” skills a lot easier than she’d imagined. Ima could make Steadman forget about Oprah. It also increased her frequent jail time points. However, at the rate she was racking up the jail mileage, she hoped a long stretch in the penitentiary wasn’t in her future. Her nasty mouth and spiteful attitude had long ago voided her “stay out of jail” card with the local police department. Until recently, just flaunting her sexuality was enough to keep her out of a line-up.
Ima hurried with the finishing touches to her man-killer look. She sprayed some cologne called “Pain” around her neck and shoulders and inside her belly button.
Evilene’s short memory had caused her to creep back into the bedroom and jump onto the bed. Unfortunately, she was in the line of fire again, and Ima accidentally—or purposely—doused her, too.
Of course Evilene didn’t like it and sprinted from the bed again, this time tearing the bedspread in the process. It was the fourth time the cat had torn a bedspread.
If Ima saw it, she didn’t show it.
Evilene’s back hunched with fear. Understanding and forgiveness were not a part of Ima’s persona. Evilene’s bright green eyes turned red as she went, just that quick, from having nine lives to having five.
Ima applied several layers of shea butter lotion to her body, on top of the cologne, and then slid into the purple outfit. She chose a dirty-blond colored, short and sassy wig to complement her mission.
Short and sassy was perfect for getting down and nasty, she thought as she surveyed her body from all angles.
Pleased with her first line of combat wear she then went into the bathroom. Ima carefully put on a pair of lavender-tinged contact lenses, which gave her a more exotic look and took the edge off her otherwise hypnotizing hazel eyes.
While Ima lay the finishing touches to her makeup she went over the plan in her mind. Needy was very specific in the outcome she wanted. According to Needy, the women wanted the victim, Lyon Lipps, to lose not only his mind and finances, if he had any, but to lose every shred of dignity.
The ladies wanted his “Y” chromosome whittled down to a “V.” With that last thought in mind, Ima grabbed a small pair of scissors from her vanity drawer and secreted them in a hidden lining inside her purse.
A lady always needs a little extra protection.
Ima went towards her living room still checking out her every angle in the mirrors that lined the walls of the hallway. “Perfect,” she purred.
A few moments later and Ima was in full combat mode. She turned on her radio just in time to hear the late Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On.” She gyrated and strutted around the room as though Marvin was right there with her.
Marvin was better off wherever he was.
When the song ended, Ima checked her watch and at the same time, the doorbell rang. She tiptoed over to the window and peeped outside at her porch. As brave as she liked to think she was, she unconsciously released an audible sigh when she saw that it wasn’t the police again, or an irate wife or girlfriend with a weapon.
Ima opened her door grinning like she didn’t have a care in the world.
“Needy and my new friend, Birdie. You ladies come on in.”
Both Needy and Birdie looked at Ima Hellraiser in awe. Birdie loved and admired the outfit. Needy gawked because Ima suddenly acted, now that there was a white woman in the room, like she’d had some type of polished upbringing. Needy then remembered that Ima was getting paid and she was probably just being nice because of that.
Needy was right. If the credit card had been denied Ima would’ve ripped those women asunder—and then asunder again. Whatever was left she’d have torn apart.
“It’s sort of hot in here.” Needy said as she noticed the fire in the fireplace. It was hot enough to melt the wax that was holding the last bit of her weave in place.
“No it’s not.” Ima quipped, “You must be flashing. You did just have a birthday and I bet that you got menopause as a gift and nothing else.” Ima started laughing at her joke.
Two minutes haven’t passed since we entered this she-demon’s lair and already she’s started with the insults, Needy thought as she struggled not to take the fireplace’s poker and beat Ima with it.
Birdie didn’t want their plans to go awry and when she saw the look on Needy’s face her mind raced to find a way to cool things down, but she was too late.
“I guess you’re probably used to living in an Easy Bake oven,” Needy shot back as she struggled to decide which she wanted more—Ima poked with a poker or Lyon Lipps destroyed.
Needy shot another nasty look at Ima and Ima did the same in return. Then both women came together and gave each an air-kiss on each cheek, followed by a hug.
“Girl, you are so crazy,” Ima said, with a false lilt in her voice.
“You’re a nut case, too,” Needy shot back, honestly. “And you ain’t ever gonna change until you die.” Needy stopped and gave a conspiring smile before adding, “And we know evil don’t die.”
“You know it!” Ima exclaimed. “I’m so glad to hear from you.”
“Birdie, just in case you standing over there wondering what is going on, don’t panic. This is how we do it. Ain’t that right, Ima?” She didn’t want to take a chance on Ima being too honest, which was a rarity, so she quickly added, “And, when she said that she was glad to hear from us, that only meant that your credit card payment went through.”
“Break it down for that white girl, Needy.” Ima laughed so hard one of her contacts threatened to fall out. She stopped only long enough to grab a tissue and extend a well-manicured hand to Birdie. “Don’t take offense. I’ve known Needy for years and we just tolerate each other.”
“She’s
