Stealing Candy (6 page)

Manny frowned. “I thought you were charging us sixty apiece.”

“That’s when I thought y’all had some protection. Right now,
her twat is fresh and clean, but one y’all might give her something.”

Manny, Moe, and Jack all frowned, indignant.

“Look, I need some extra medical coverage for that bitch. Just in case.”

As the obscene transaction took place, Gianna tensed, ready to spring back out of the bed that she had just lay down in. She met Bullet’s menacing gaze and closed her eyes in defeat.

Someone crawled into bed with her. He pulled the motel’s threadbare bedspread over their heads, using it as a makeshift privacy wall. Groping hands and heavy breathing came from Jack or Manny. Or was it Moe? She had no idea.

Her anonymous bed partner climbed on top of her and spread her legs. She wanted to shriek in agony when he forcibly entered her. Instead, she clamped her mouth shut and lay motionless. Afraid of losing an eye…of losing her very life, Gianna endured the pain without emitting so much as a whimper.

It had all started with a pair of curtains.

Gianna and her mother had arrived at the family beach house the first weekend after school had let out for summer break. The drive to Ocean City was weird. Their first summer vacation without her father.

Her parents were legally separated, and her father had spent the Memorial Day weekend at the beach house. With his mistress.

Gianna and her mother noticed the flag-emblazoned curtains the moment they pulled into the driveway.

“The audacity of that bitch!” her mother shouted, parking the Trailblazer haphazardly. “Who gave her permission to remove my
Roman shades and put up that crap?” She ran inside the house and immediately ripped down the offensive curtains that the mistress had hung.

She’d also had the kitchen repainted…bright blue. In fact, everything inside the kitchen was different. New kitchen set. Pictures on the wall. Everything. Even the salt and pepper shakers.

“This is my goddamn house. How dare that bitch come in here, changing my fucking décor?” Gianna’s mother, once dignified and soft spoken, went on a wild rampage. She broke powder blue dishes, and then hurled a microwave and ceramic canisters against the kitchen walls.

After her mother finished demolishing the kitchen, she tore through the living room.

Frantic, Gianna ran behind her, pleading for her mother to try to calm down. Thankfully, the living room was unsullied by any of the mistress’s decorative touches, but her mother wasn’t satisfied.

She sped to the master bedroom and began tearing the linen off the bed. Shrieking, spewing profanity so vile Gianna couldn’t believe her ears.

“Stop it, Mommy. Please stop. We came here to relax and have a good time.”

“How can I have a good time, Gigi? Your father has allowed that home wrecker to mark her territory…he’s allowed her to piss all over the place.”

Gianna grimaced. “Ew. That’s nasty. He wouldn’t let her do anything like that.”

“That’s an expression, Gigi. Listen, honey… Your father is no saint. It’s time you got that through your head. Together, he and his whore have fucked up over sixteen years of a good and stable marriage. It’s so goddamned humiliating.”

Gianna cringed. It was out of character for her mother to curse.

“I’m not sleeping in this bed. I can smell her in here.”

Gianna looked at her mother curiously, and then sniffed the air. “I don’t smell anything.” Maybe her father was right. Maybe her mother was becoming mentally imbalanced.

“He slept in our bed with that motherfucking whore—”

Gianna gasped. She wished her mother would stop using gutter language. Hearing her mother speak so harshly was traumatizing.

“I swear to God, I can smell her. Her stench is in the mattress… it’s in the walls.” Her mother shook her head furiously. “I can’t do it. I can’t sleep in here.”

Sobbing a mournful sound, her mother collapsed to the floor. Gianna joined her, soothing her as best she could. “You can sleep in my room. Okay, Mommy?” Providing comfort to an adult… her mother nonetheless…felt foreign and very awkward.

“Where’s my purse? Did I leave it in the truck?”

“It’s in the kitchen.”

Happy to do something helpful, Gianna trotted to the war-torn kitchen and retrieved her mother’s purse from beneath the wreckage. Inside the purse was an assortment of medication, prescribed when she’d first found out about her husband’s illicit affair. The dosages had been increased after he’d demanded a divorce.

With her mother sleeping peacefully in Gianna’s bedroom, Gianna changed from her jeans and T-shirt to a super short and very tight skirt that she’d purchased from Forever 21. A brand-new pair of four-inch wedge sandals completed her hot, naughty look. Her best friend, Taylor, had bought a matching outfit.

Her mother would be conked out for the rest of the afternoon and throughout the night. There was nothing to do in this quiet
beach town, but she’d heard there was lots of fun in Atlantic City.

After a forty-minute bus ride, Gianna arrived in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Her girlfriend, Taylor, was staying at Bally’s with her parents and was supposed to slip out and meet Gianna on the boardwalk after her parents started their gambling marathon.

Phone calls to Taylor’s cell went straight to voice mail. Taylor was a no-show, which should have made Gianna check the bus schedule and get on the first thing smoking.

Fascinated by the bright lights of Atlantic City and dreading having to hear more of her mother’s ravings, she moseyed along the boardwalk, lingering in front of attractions, browsing inside arcades and cheesy souvenir shops.

Young. Alone. Dressed in skimpy clothing. Gianna was a target.

Inside an arcade, he eased up behind her and watched her shoot down zombies and other monsters. She caught him watching her. Flattered by his attention, she smiled.

He looked to be around nineteen or twenty. Much too old for her. But her parents weren’t around to monitor her. And he was awfully cute with his curly hair that hung past his ears.

“Whassup, yo? You by yourself?” he inquired. His street jargon and improper English sent a wave of excitement through her.

“Yeah. For the moment. I’m waiting for my best friend to meet me, but she hasn’t returned my calls.”

“She left you hangin’, ma?”

“I don’t’ think she’s deliberately avoiding me. Her parents may have caught her while she was getting dressed.” Gianna looked down at her outfit and wrinkled her nose. “We’re not allowed to dress like this.”

“Looks good to me.”

She beamed up at the cute boy. He had on gray nylon shorts. A wife beater. A beat-up pair of Nike slide sandals. His clothing
looked a tad shabby, but he was probably just bumming around on the boardwalk. On chill mode, she told herself. Besides, he was so fine, his clothing didn’t matter.

He smiled at Gianna. “Ya girl did the right thing by staying home.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Hot as you is…” He frowned as though he could feel her heat. “Two hot honeys would have these wooden planks on the boardwalk going up in flames.”

Gianna blushed and laughed appreciatively.

“Anyway, two of y’all would be too much eye candy for this lame boardwalk.”

“I don’t think it’s lame.” She looked around at the glowing, brightly colored signs. “I think it’s exciting!”

“Man, this ain’t about nothin’. By the way, my name is Bullet.”

“How’d you get a name like that?”

A shadow fell over his face. “Rough life. Grew up having to dodge a lot of bullets.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. She felt instant sympathy for Bullet.

Her life had been so easy…so privileged. At least it had been, up until now. Her parents were at war with each other. Her father constantly accused her mother of being crazy and an unfit parent. Her mother claimed her father and his mistress were deliberately trying to drive her insane.

Gianna didn’t know who or what to believe. Her home life was out of order and chaotic. Despite her family’s comfortable financial status—her father with a powerful Wall Street position, and her mother, a university professor—Gianna no longer felt like a privileged child.

“My name is Gianna.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

“Thank you.” She felt all tingly inside and out.

“If you want to really party, I can take you to a club that’s poppin’. I heard that Omarion is coming through around eleven o’clock. Paid appearance. You know how that goes.”

“Omarion! Oh, my God. For real?” Gianna jumped up and down. She took out her cell again. “I have to tell Taylor.”

“Nah, I got VIP passes waiting for me. Only two. Your girlfriend left you hangin’, so why you worrying about her?”

He arched a brow and then gave Gianna the kind of smile she’d only seen on the lips of hot celebrities. His smile radiated sex appeal…the kind she’d only viewed from her TV screen. None of the corny boys from her private school had ever smiled at her like that.

“But I don’t think I’ll be allowed inside the club,” she said apprehensively. “I’m only…uh…sixteen,” she lied, adding a year to her actual age.

He winked at her. “I gotchu, ma. I got VIP status. Ain’t nobody gon’ bother you about no ID.”

He walked her down wooden steps, leaving the glitz and glitter of the boardwalk behind. On foot, they traveled well-lit streets and then meandered to darker, less inhabited streets.

“Where’s the club? I’m surprised Omarion would make an appearance in this kind of neighborhood.”

“The casinos, the boardwalk, and all that other shit is for crackers and tourists. The real shit be poppin’ off behind the scenes. Omarion be doing a lot of PR shit for the cameras. But behind the scenes…he be gettin’ down like a real nigga should.”

“Oh,” she said, though warning bells had begun ringing softly inside her head. By the time the bell had escalated to a blaring alarm, it would be too late.

“Anyway, I gotta change my clothes. I know you don’t think I’m going to the club dressed like this?” Bullet said with a chuckle.

It made sense that he’d want to change out of those shorts. She hoped the club was closer to the well-lit streets they’d bypassed. This neighborhood was depressing. There was a queasy feeling in her stomach. Something wasn’t quite right.

 
 CHAPTER 7

Bullet knocked on the door of a sad-looking house on a dark street.

“Who lives here?”

“Friend of mine. I been staying with him off and on since I got out.”

“Out of where?”

“Uh…college,” he said with a chuckle. “Summer break, y’ah mean? I gotta change of clothes here at my man’s crib. It won’t take me long to change.” Smiling, he traced his finger across her cheek. “Is that okay with you, sweet thing?” he asked, melting her apprehension with his smile.

Sounds of coughing were heard and then a much older man opened the door, and ushered them in.

“Hey, how you doin’, Bullet?” the man said between coughs.

“’Sup, Celly?”

The house stank of cigarettes and male body odor. She held her breath for a few seconds, and then had no choice but to inhale another whiff of funkiness. She hoped Bullet changed clothes quickly.

The older man yielded a soft smile toward Gianna, his eyes appraising her. “You got good taste, Bullet.”