Candy Licker (20 page)

Sissy shook her head. “How you know all that shit is true,
Teema? If you listen to what the streets say, Cane's responsible for every fool who gets popped on a corner. I'm not saying he ain't got a filthy rep, but he ain't the only one out there filling up the morgues.”

“Well it ain't drugs,” Teema came back. “That distribution room he has at the House is just the tip of what he sells. Tonk runs the main operation through the projects, and that stash comes straight out of a warehouse downtown.”

“Y'all all wrong,” Peaches finally said. “It's guns. Glocks, AK-47s, .45s, Machs—they even got lasers now. Long Jon found a sweet connect who steals them out of some underground shipments to the Mob. Hurricane runs them in trucks across the country and then resells 'em. He's one of the biggest suppliers for the street gangs and the rest of them fools out in L.A.”

Teema's eyes got big as hell. “Peaches is lying her ass off! And if you ain't, don't be telling us all that shit. I ain't trying to know nothing I ain't supposed to know!”

“It doesn't make sense, though,” I said, ignoring Teema's scary ass. “Hurricane is Mob-favored. This I know for a fact. Why would he risk selling any hot shit that falls off the back of their trucks?”

“And how the hell do your crazy behind know anyway?” Teema hollered.

Peaches looked at us like we were the crazy ones. “Just because I act whack don't mean I am. I got that niggah Long Jon on foolish! He think he can bust my ass, bust a nut, and then handle his business all up in my face 'cause my brain supposed to be busted too, right?” She nodded and winked like she had one on him. “WHUT!”

We were all hollering laughing now, but I was only halfway
with 'em. As far as I could see Peaches mighta been slick, but she was still riding that little yellow school bus.

“Still,” I insisted while they were still laughing, “even Hurricane ain't stupid enough to fool around with Mob money like that. If he wanted to run guns for them he wouldn't have to do it behind they backs.”

Peaches got real quiet for a second, and when she opened her mouth she made me feel like I was about five. “Now, Candy. Don't you know shit about shit yet? Shit about your own nig-gah? Hurricane is one greedy bastard. Just like them gangsta-ass Italians got it figured out, he got it figured out too. Next to drugs, guns are the biggest moneymakers on the market. Hurricane's connect is sweet, and them Italians don't know every damn thing. If he can get a tiny piece of what they got going and get away with it, don't think he won't try.”

We got quiet then, 'cause she was right. The comb slipped out of Sissy's hair, and we all jumped when it hit the floor.

“Well,” Fatima said, moving out of range of Peaches's hands. Her hair was totally jacked up. Her parts were crooked and her cornrows were twisted and lopsided, thick and thin. “I'm with Sicily. Cane is smart. So don't tell me nothing else, because like I said, I really don't want to know.”

Peaches shrugged, and I watched that dumb, half-retarded look creep back into her eyes. “Don't wanna know what? Don't be listening to me. Y'all know I'm crazy.” She stared at Fatima. “Who braided your hair like that? Girl, they straight fucked you up! Y'all go find Long Jon for me. I'm hungry. Tell him to bring me something to eat.”

T
he shit hit the table about four months later at the BMI Urban Awards. Scandalous! had five number 1 singles and had just been certified 4X platinum by the RIAA after winning three nominations for the Soul Train Lady of Soul Awards in the Best R&B/Soul Group category.

We'd just recorded a cut on the soundtrack for a new movie starring Halle Berry and Mos Def and we'd been invited to do a cameo for another promising black film starring the hot NBA rapper, Thug-a-licious. It was about that time that Von-zelle started going off on her own little private missions. She was still messed up over Quadir and had started hanging out with crackheads and jetting for days at a time, and then coming back acting all nonchalant like she'd never left. Don't let us ask her where she was. She'd black out and wanna kick somebody's ass just for asking.

One time she skyed up for over a week and missed Dom's birthday party and a major press conference, and we were left
looking stupid on camera and stammering over questions about where she was.

I thought she was either smoking crack or totally dick whipped, but Dominica took it more personal. She said Von-nie was a selfish little heffah who put herself and her own ambitions over the group.

Right before we left to attend the BMI Awards, Hurricane called us into his office and said our sales were high and our records were climbing the charts like spiders. In fact, he'd already recouped a lot of what he'd spent on us. He said he wanted to pay us a little bonus and promised we'd each have a nice check in a couple of weeks.

It was the moment that we had all lived and prayed for, and finally our dreams were coming true. I was happiest because he had actually included me when he said
we
were getting checks.

“We fucking them up!” Vonnie screamed later that evening as the MC pronounced us the winners in our category. We had on dresses made from similar slinky fabric, but each one was cut in a unique pattern. Mine had a huge diamond shape cut out of the front that showed off my tight stomach, and Dominica's was styled low down her back nearly to her ass. Vonnie's was the cutest, though. It had thin straps and a V cleavage that dipped all the way below her navel. Her big, firm titties were bouncing all over the place and I laughed like hell as I followed her and Dom up to the stage. “We did it, y'all!” Vonnie kept yelling as the cameras flashed and the crowd screamed while we sashayed down the aisle. “My sistahs, we fuckin’ made it!”

I glanced at Dominica and saw she was crying. She didn't even front like she wanted to wipe those happy tears away. We were onstage waiting for the applause to die down when she
reached out and hugged me and Vonnie close, kissing both of us on our cheeks. “We came a long way,” Dom whispered. “From foster care to the Fountainebleau Hilton. Ladies, we some badass bitches!”

I can't remember everything that was said up there on that stage. I stepped back and let Vonnie and Dom go up first, and I'm sure they babbled all the usual yang, thanking their homies and giving shout-outs to our friends. But when it was my turn I took a minute to say a few words to Mama and Caramel, and just being able to stand there on that stage and speak their names in front of the world almost made me cry.

“I'd like to dedicate my little portion of this award to the memory of my mother, Lovely Bird Montana, and to my baby sister, Caramel Rose Montana.” I paused and took a second to touch the locket around my neck that held a tiny picture of the three of us. “Mama, you had the talent, but you never had a chance to use it. Stay in my heart and I'll take you all the places you never got to go. Rest in peace and sweet dreams. I miss you, your doll baby.”

The crowd went wild and Dom and Vonnie were both crying and hugging me as the three of us waved and blew kisses into the air, but just as we were stepping off the stage, Hurricane was there with his arms around us. He was laughing and grinning and pushing us back to center stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” his voice boomed as he stood up there looking like a superfine black Hercules in a tailored suit that had to have set him back at least seven grand. The audience roared and gave him much respect. Sisters were moist in the panties just looking at him, and every man out there wanted to take a walk in Hurricane's three-thousand-dollar French
leather shoes. “Let's give it up one more time for the hottest sisters to hit the stage this year, Scandalous!”

They gave it up too. For us and for Hurricane, 'cause that niggah had swole pockets and a magnetic smile. “But tonight,” Hurricane continued, “we have some extra-good news to hit y'all with. Even though Scandalous! is off the chain and dropping big nukes all over the charts, we got our eyes steady aimed on forward. We're looking at progress, ya know? Homicide Hitz is all about creating new opportunities for our artists that'll help them progress and express the range of their creativity. So tonight I got something great to lay on y'all. Tonight you're looking at the next phenomenon. Not Ciara, not Ash-anti, not Kellis, not Beyoncé … but the lead singer of the group formerly known as Scandalous! and now our newest, hottest, and sexiest soon-to-be solo artist … Candy!”

I felt the air go cold around me and the next thing I knew Hurricane had shoved the mic in my hand and the crowd of people were on their feet clapping and screaming like crazy. I didn't know what to say, and even though Hurricane was showing all his pretty white teeth, the naked truth was right there in his eyes. That niggah had set me up.

“Thank you,” I forced myself to whisper before the crowd lit up with noise again. Cameras were really snapping now, and all those flashes looked like demented strobe lights. “Thank you.”

Hurricane snatched the mic from me and I heard him tell the world to look for my first solo album to hit the stores in ninety days. I walked off that stage numb as hell and filled with guilt up to my neck. I reached out to hug Dom and Vonnie, and both of them gave me looks so full of hot hate they burned right through my heart.

They didn't even wait until we got outside. “You stupid fuckin’ sellout!” Vonnie yelled, stepping up in my face like she was gonna do a little something. “Dominica, this dirty bitch sold us out! Fuck you, Candy. You no-good traitor-ass bitch!”

“Can't you see what he's doing to you?” Dominica pleaded. “This ain't about no new challenges. He's pulling you away from us for a reason, Candy. That fool wants to keep you in a box. A box where only he has the key!”

I turned to her with my mouth open. “Dom, you know I didn't know … I would never do nothing like that to y'all—”

“Stop fuckin’ lying!” Vonnie swung on me, and with the cameras flashing we got to scuffling right there in the aisle. “You was always trying to sing in the middle! Always hogging the goddamn mic!”

I fought back, but I wasn't trying to hurt Vonzelle. I knew how hurt she already was, and I was just as hurt too. I was even more confused. I let her talk her shit and throw a few blows. She wasn't doing nothing though, and I basically just slapped her hands out the way and pushed her off of me a few times, but the way she was screaming and showing her ass you would've thought we were fighting for real.

“I'ma hit your heart where it hurts, Candy!” She screamed and kicked as three of Hurricane's boys pulled her toward the door. “You think you cute, but you ain't shit, bitch. And you can't fuckin’ sing neither! Just wait. I'ma get your ass back!” She was going wild as the dudes hauled her toward the exit, backward by her arms. One of the straps had popped off her slinky dress, and the press was snapping mad photos of her big juicy titty that made Janet Jackson's little titty look sad and saggy.

I turned to Dom, pleading. “I didn't have nothing to do
with this, Dominica. I swear on my mother. I didn't do it, and I don't want it either.”

“Yeah,” Dom said sadly with her hands on her hips and her bottom lip trembling. “But you had a chance to deny it right then and there when he said it.” Her eyes flashed. “And you didn't.”

I
cried for three days straight after Hurricane split Scandalous! up. I wouldn't talk to him, I wouldn't get up out the bed, and I wouldn't go in the studio to record. I even missed a live radio interview about my new solo career with HOT 97, but I didn't give a damn.

Hurricane wanted me to get behind this whole solo shit, but I wasn't with it. He tried to talk me up first. “C'mon, Candy. You the real talent of the group anyway. Them other two jawns can be replaced with anybody. Whose name you hear them screaming when y'all onstage? Yours! All those moves you got, that sexy red hair and that ass … Ain't nobody hollering Von-zelle or Dominica! They yelling for
you
, ma. You the star!”

On the morning of the fourth day that niggah lost his patience and made his move.

It was about six in the morning, and I had to go to the bathroom. Or rather, I was having one of them dreams where you know you gotta pee, but you don't want to wake up and go. I felt pressure in my lower body, and in my dream I was
doing like Mama used to do, walking around the house blind drunk and searching for the toilet bowl.

The pressure was getting worse on one side of me, and I forced myself to wake up. I opened my eyes and felt even more pressure. On my right leg. I glanced down, and my blood went cold.

Savage had me. The bottom half of her was wrapped around my leg from my knee to my thigh. She squeezed real hard, then flicked her cold tongue out at me.

I shrieked and tried to scoot back.

“Don't move,” Hurricane warned. I let out a moan but kept my eyes on the snake. “Or she'll think you a mouse. Just do what I tell you to do. Savage ain't gone hurt you. But she
will
get your ass up outta that bed.”

By now I knew that begging only excited Hurricane and made him meaner and more powerful. But I didn't give a fuck. I begged. Begged my ass off as that cold bitch with the beady eyes wrapped her body around my leg and lifted her top half in the air.

Then she slithered her head straight up my stomach, over my navel and between my naked titties. She was inching toward my face and licking her tongue out at my chin when I freaked straight out.

“Hurricane, NO!” I screamed, then peed. I was out of control. Hot piss gushed from me, soaking the sheets as I grabbed that fat cold snake around the back of her head and tried to fling her ass away from me. Her head smacked the bed between my legs then bounced back up and she was right in my face again. I pushed out with two hands and she dipped her head low, striking my leg. I felt a sharp pain and lost all my senses.
“HELP! HELP! HELP! MAMA! CARAMEL LORD JESUS SOMEBODY HELP ME!!” I was hysterical, my heart jumping outta my chest, and then Hurricane was there. Handling Savage like she was his woman. He started unraveling her gently, laughing the whole time.