Stealing Candy (17 page)

“Yeah, whatever, bitch.” Lips drawn tight, Bubbles gave Gianna her middle finger.

“Ugh, you’re such an ignorant low-life. I wish Bullet would have left you in the parking lot, begging for handouts.”

“You better watch your mouth, hooker!” Bubbles exploded.

“Takes one to know one.”

Bullet opened the trunk of the Cadillac and then slammed it. Holding Gianna’s work pouch, he motioned for her to get out of the car.

Standing outside the car, Bullet gave Gianna the key to the storage unit, along with the plastic pouch that contained the essentials for working her trade.

“They brought a new dude along, so treat him extra special. We need all the repeat customers and extra business we can get,” Bullet said in a low tone.

“Okay.”

“Now that I gotchu some extra help, I should be getting rid of that old Caddy and pushing a new Escalade in a coupla weeks.”

“Or sooner, if they work as hard as I do.”

“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully.

“Bubbles and Tootsie Roll gon’ have to step it up real quick so you can be driving the whip you deserve.” Gianna was kissing up, staying on Bullet’s good side.

“You right. I ain’t got time to be babying those bitches. Aiight, handle those tricks while I go handle Bubbles. Be back in forty-five minutes. No more than an hour. You know the drill.”

“Okay. I love you,” Gianna said.

Bullet frowned, grunted an unintelligible response, and then turned toward his car.

Bubbles scooted over to the driver’s seat. Taking a liberty, she honked the horn and then shouted out the window, “What they say? They gon’ let me audition or not?”

“Yeah, it’s all good,” Bullet said, manufacturing a smile.

“Well…hurry up. Let’s get it poppin’. I can’t be fucking around in Philly all night.”

He regarded Bubbles with disdain. “Yo, the audition is private. Don’t be putting my man’s business on blast.”

“My bad,” she said resentfully.

Through clenched teeth, Bullet cautioned, “Lay off the horn and calm yourself down before yo’ loud ass fucks up my chances to make us some real paper.”

Lips poked out, Bubbles surveyed the trio of vehicles and then grudgingly slid over to the passenger seat.

Dutifully, Gianna unlocked the unit. She looked over her shoulder and watched as Bullet pulled the car door open. He said something to Bubbles that caused her shoulders to shake with laughter.

Bullet sped off into the night with Bubbles riding shotgun. Like Gianna had been, Bubbles was lured by the hopes of rubbing shoulders with a celebrity.

Gianna wondered where Bullet was taking the coarse girl. Her dislike for Bubbles was so intense, she could only hope that Bullet was en route to the nearby woods…an area that Gianna was all too familiar with.

It would be a humbling experience for Bubbles to be tied to a tree. Absolutely horrifying to be used for target practice…in the dark.

Moments later, as Gianna was smearing on lip gloss, the first bowler entered the storage unit. His eyes roamed her long brown legs and then cruised up to her chest.

“Can you undo your blouse…let me see some tits while you blow me?”

“Sure.” Obligingly, she unbuttoned her blouse and then undid the knot.

There was no bed inside this unit. Just a doormat for Gianna to kneel upon.

After the ninth and final bowler had been serviced, Gianna gargled, using a container of travel-sized mouthwash. She spat the acidic liquid into a drain that was centered in the middle of the concrete floor. Then, following Bullet’s instructions, she locked herself inside.

Waiting for Bullet to return, she sat on the mat, her back resting against the wall, her mind occupied with anxious thoughts. During free time, she often reminisced about fun times with the friends in her New Jersey social circle.

But not tonight. Gianna’s mind was busy scheming up a plan that would keep her in Bullet’s favor. She figured that since she’d experienced more fear than anyone deserved in a lifetime, she needed a break. A permanent break from the paralyzing terror.

If she played her cards right, perhaps she’d be taken out of the equation. Bubbles and Tootsie Roll…both stubborn and defiant, could alternate as human sacrifices for Bullet’s target practice.

Two hours after he’d left, Bullet opened the steel door with the spare key. Bubbles wasn’t with him. He was alone.

“Hi,” Gianna greeted, wondering where he’d left Bubbles. Then she noticed the long, angry scratch that circled his right eye and then zigzagged down the bridge of his nose and across his cheek.

Bubbles had probably tried to fight Bullet off, refusing his training. Gianna imagined that the thug chick was lying in the gutter somewhere with a bullet hole in her head.

“What happened?”

“Mind ya damn business!”

“Here’s your key,” she said sweetly, somewhat relieved that Bubbles was history.

She stuck a hand inside her blouse and pulled a twenty out of the B-cup of her bra. “The new guy tipped me,” she said with pride.

“That’s all he gave you?”

“Yes.” Her joyful mood vanished. Suddenly ashamed and guilt-ridden, her gaze shifted downward.

“That cheap mufucka only gave you a twenty-dollar tip?” With a fire blazing in his eyes, Bullet stared at Gianna.

Her breath caught in her throat. Slightly hunched, one had gripped her forehead while the other protectively covered her abdomen as she steeled herself for a head blow or a hard gut shot.

Surprisingly, he paced a few steps in the tight quarters. “Twenty dollars is a fuckin’ insult!” Bullet shouted, and smacked the crinkled bill out of her hand. “What about the rest of those tricks? How much they tip you?”

Guiltily, she swallowed. “Nothing. They said they already paid you.”

“Yeah, but you supposed to work your lips and make those mufuckas happy to empty out the rest of the dough in their pockets.”

“You didn’t tell me to get tips,” she said gently. “I thought you handled all the money transactions.”

“Why I gotta tell you everything? Ain’t you got a brain?”

Did she have a brain? Gianna gnawed at the corner of her lower lip, unsure of what she should say.

He sighed. “Yeah, I get the money off the top, but you ’spose to get the rest. If you wasn’t a snotty, suburban bitch, you’d know that getting tips goes without saying. Damn! You ain’t got no kind of hustle in you.”

“I’ll get some hustle,” she promised, her voice a desperate plea.

“Shut the fuck up. Let’s go.” Bullet yanked her by her collar and then pushed her out of the storage unit. “How the fuck I get saddled with three green-ass bitches?”

Gianna pondered the question, but remained mute, realizing that Bullet didn’t expect an answer.

Inside the car, in the passenger seat that had been occupied by Bubbles, Gianna was dying to know what had become of the wannabe video star. By the looks of Bullet’s face, Bubbles had not taken well to the idea of following his orders.

If Bullet’s face looked like this, how did Bubbles look? she wondered. Probably a whole lot worse. It was highly likely that Bubbles was somewhere shot in the head and left for dead.

“It’s bad enough that I can’t put y’all young asses out on the ho stroll,” Bullet continued ranting. “I’d make so much more dough if y’all wasn’t on that missing kids list. Shit!”

“Brielle…I mean, Tootsie Roll is seventeen. I think she’s too old for the police to have her name on an Amber Alert.”

“Amber what?” He grimaced, uncomprehending.

“An Amber Alert. You know…it’s a bulletin that law enforcement issues when a child has been abducted.”

“Oh, yeah. I heard of that. Shit. I ain’t abduct nobody. You came with me on your own free will.”

That wasn’t true. Gianna had been conned and held hostage, but she’d never contradict Bullet.

“Ain’t nobody tell that bitch, Tootsie Roll, to hop in my ride. The same thing goes for Bubbles. Bubbles wiggled her fat hips into my whip cuz she wanted to be with me. I ain’t abduct those bitches.”

“I know. I was just telling you what an Amber Alert means.”

“You schoolin’ me now?” He furrowed his brows threateningly.

“No.”

“Then keep your mouth shut unless I ask you something. I hate when you start talking like a know-it-all. You think you be sounding all intelligent and shit, but on the real, you be sounding like a stupid, stuck-up bitch.”

“I’m sorry. I was just trying to be helpful.”

“It’s not helpful to hear you sounding like a spoiled rich girl. That crap you was just talking is starting to give me a migraine.”

“You want some of your medicine?” She reached inside the pocket of the passenger door.

“Did I say my allergies was kicking up? No! I said that all that proper talking you be slipping into is giving me a fucking migraine.”

Gianna dropped the Sudafed back in the door pocket.

“Why can’t I get me a ho who know what the fuck she’s doing? Y’all green-ass bitches ain’t nothing but a liability. I’m wasting all my pimpin’ skills and wisdom trying to school a bunch of under-age hoes. I could do a twenty-year bid from fucking with y’all.”

“You ain’t gon’ catch no case off me.” Gianna shook her head emphatically. “I always be listening to all your pimp wisdom.” She sucked in a deep breath, needing more air to plead her absurd case further. “Plus—”

“Plus what?” he snarled. “What else you do for me? Not one of y’all hoes is worth the trouble y’all causing me. I need to cut my losses, line all three of y’all up and…Pow! Pow! Pow!” His weapon was tucked in his waistband, but he used his finger as if he were pointing the gun.

Gianna flinched. “Plus, um…” She had no idea what she was going to say, but Bullet, a man who giggled at her facial contortions every time one of his bullets whizzed over her head during target practice, wanted to hear why she deserved to live. She had to come up with something.

“Well…when I’m by myself…you know, when you don’t be with me, I make sure my ass be on the low,” she said, using atrocious grammar, trying not to rile Bullet into accusing her of trying to be an uppity, proper-talking ho.

“I got your back, Bullet. I’ma get big tips so you can hurry up and get that brand-new Escalade.”

Her promise put a faint smile on his lips. “Come here, bitch,” he said softly. His voice held a tenderness Gianna had never heard.

One hand released the steering wheel. He reached for her.

Accustomed only to Bullet’s savagery, never gentleness, Gianna froze with fear.

“I ain’t gon’ hurt you. You my bottom bitch now.”

Gianna inched close enough for Bullet to drape an arm over her shoulder. Her body tensed. His one-arm embrace was oppressive. Like bondage.

Bullet steered the car. “Relax.”

Uneasily, she rested her head on his shoulder.

He stroked her hair.

Her guard up, she bristled, expecting at any moment his tender touch would turn into a violent clawing. Facial pinching. Or eye gouging with a strong and determined finger.

When his gentle caresses did not switch to a vicious mauling, Gianna finally relaxed. Despite herself, she purred like a kitten, enjoying her captor’s touch. Confidence restored, she possessed a sense of peace, knowing that she’d dodged another day of being used as a human target.

 
 CHAPTER 19