Stealing Candy (13 page)

Brielle’s mouth was open, speechless.

Gianna took the pack of wipes out of the diaper bag. “You look gross. Get yourself cleaned up before Bullet comes back.”

When Bullet reentered the unit, he was sniffling from his allergies, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and looking fiercely angry, like he was eager to hurt somebody.

“Is Samantha okay?” Brielle said in a pitifully squeaky voice.

“What the fuck is up with this bitch?” Bullet exploded.

Gianna elbowed Brielle. “Do what I said!”

“Hi. You want me to make you feel good?” Brielle said, without emotion, and walked woodenly over to Bullet. She knelt in front of him and tugged on the waistband of his shorts.

“Stand up.” Bullet grabbed a handful of Brielle’s hair.

She rose.

“Turn around. I ain’t really get a chance to see whatchu workin’ with.”

She turned slowly, allowing Bullet to critique her.

“Damn, you got a flat ass. You built like a white girl. I can’t have a bitch representing me with a flat ass.”

He smacked her rear end. “This here is presenting a problem. And I’ma have to fix it.”

Blinking in confusion, Brielle darted a glance at Gianna.

Gianna gave a tiny shrug. She had no idea what Bullet was talking about.

Bullet pulled down his shorts and sank into the green chair. He stroked his dick.

“Get over here, Lollipop, and get me ready. It’s a good thing I don’t mind a lil’ peanut butter, cuz I’ma be spending a lot of time plumping up that bitch’s pancake ass.”

Gianna moistened her lips and squatted between Bullet’s legs.

Twenty minutes later, Brielle was on her knees, her torso and face pressed against the lumpy mattress. Behind her, Bullet tried to insert himself inside her tight anus.

“Stop clenching up on me, bitch. I told you to relax. Lemme do this.” He maneuvered her body, pulling her buttocks closer.

“I can’t. It hurts. Stop. Please stop.” Brielle stiffened her body, moaning as Bullet struggled to get inside.

“You want that lil’ brat back, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said in a painful moan.

“Then act like it. I’m starting to think you don’t give a shit about your youngin’.”

“That’s not true. I love my daughter.”

“Show me. If you wanna get that money up quick, you gon’ have to get used to dealing with this back door action.”

Gianna sat in the green chair, relieved that she wasn’t involved in the disaster on the other side of the room. Her stomach growled, a reminder that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. She was starving. Her thoughts turned to McDonald’s fries. Bullet had promised to take her to McDonald’s when he finished with Brielle.

Bullet picked up a small container of lubricant and squeezed a generous amount onto four fingers. He swiped the gooey substance inside the crease of Brielle’s buttocks. Angrily, he resumed thrusting.

Moaning, Brielle clutched the stained mattress.

Bullet stopped moving. Frustrated, he released his grip on Brielle’s hips. He smacked her backside harder than before.

He yanked his sweaty face in Gianna’s direction. “How long I been trying to get up in this ass?”

“A long time,” Gianna replied flatly, shaking her head. Gianna sighed inwardly. Nothing was being accomplished, and she found herself resenting Brielle.

“This ain’t working,” Bullet complained as he mopped sweat from his face.

“I tried,” Brielle sobbed.

“How you trying with your flat-ass cheeks all clenched up?”

He flopped down on the bed, lay flat on his back, panting. “Lollipop,” he bellowed.

“Whatchu want me to do, Daddy?” Gianna asked eagerly.

He shot a look of contempt at Brielle. “She ain’t loosening up for me, so bring me my shank. After I catch my breath, I’ma have to cut my way up in that ass.”

Brielle scrambled to an upright position. Her eyes were wild with disbelief as she watched Gianna stride over with the knife in her hand.

Brielle gasped. “No! Please don’t cut me! I’ll loosen up!”

Gianna handed the knife to Bullet. He placed it on the mattress.

“Aiight then, we gon’ try this shit again. You ready?”

Brielle flinched. “Yes,” she said in a choked whisper.

He mounted the girl. “You gon’ loosen up for me?”

“Yes,” she promised and then closed her eyes tight and gritted her teeth.

But instead of penetrating with his dick, he rammed the handle of the knife inside Brielle.

Her scream was long and anguished.

“Bet I’ll get up in there now!” Bullet boasted.

Gianna covered her mouth in shock when Bullet withdrew the bloody end of the knife.

The night was hot. The asphalt was dry, without even a drop of moisture left from the downpour earlier that day.

Bullet was at the wheel. In the passenger seat, Gianna, changed from her wet clothing, was dressed for work in a short pleated skirt and a white blouse knotted in the front.

Incapacitated, Brielle was left locked inside the storage unit.

Using her daughter’s life as leverage, Bullet told her to rest up and not to make a sound.

They cruised through the drive-through. Bullet placed the order.

He reached a hand out of the window and accepted the large-size bag filled with twenty-two dollars’ worth of burgers and fries. “You my bottom bitch now,” Bullet informed Gianna.

“Wow!”

“That’s all you got to say?” He took a large container of fries from the bag and handed it to Gianna.

“Thank you, Daddy.” Calling Bullet “Daddy” used to conjure up images of her father and it was hard to say, but the word rolled off her tongue with ease now.

“I like the way you handled that bitch for me. You came a long way. I’m putting my trust in you,” he said, his eyes filled with sincerity.

“I got your back.” She unwrapped a cheeseburger and sank her teeth into it.

“Yeah, baby. Me and you gon’ conquer the world. And you gon’ help me snatch up some more young hoes. I can see it now…me pimpin’ a whole stable fulla hoes. All of ’em young and dumb with lil’ pussies, sweet as candy.”

She swallowed. “You said you were gonna let Brielle go after she pays you the money she owes.”

As if the very thought was hilarious, Bullet guffawed, coughing and choking on French fries. “Hell, no. Her narrow ass gon’ make me a fortune. That shit I kicked back in that storage unit wasn’t nothing but game. That hooker ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“What about her baby?”

“Fuck that baby.” Bullet glared at Gianna. “You turning on me?”

“No, I just thought—”

“Let me do the thinking, bitch.” He pointed a finger at Gianna. “You know what tomorrow is?”

“Yes.” She bit into a cheeseburger, but it suddenly lost its flavor.

“Tell me.” There was a cruel glint in his eyes.

“It’s target practice.”

Bullet smiled. “That’s right. Who should I practice on—you or Brielle?”

“Brielle,” Gianna blurted without hesitation. “That ho ain’t nothing but trouble,” Gianna reminded him, speaking the street language he preferred.

“Yeah. I gotta practice on Brielle. Let her know what’s really good. Feel me?”

“Yeah.” Gianna smiled broadly. The next bite of the cheeseburger tasted much better.

“I don’t like the name, Brielle. I gotta call her something else.”

“Passion?” Gianna suggested.

“Nah. Y’all young girls are like candy. She needs a name that’s sweet, and that suits the kind of work she specializes in.”

“Oh, yeah,” Gianna said absently as she began gobbling up fries.

“Help me come up with a name. I might take her to Ridley Park tonight. Use her new talent for some extra dough. Them crackers you been sucking off would probably love to switch it up and dip they dicks into some peanut butter.”

Now deep in thought, Gianna was struggling to help Bullet come up with a name for Brielle. The fries tasted so heavenly, her mind went blank.

“Peanut Butter might work,” Bullet mused. “But that name ain’t sexy enough.”

“How about Reese’s Cup?” Gianna suggested.

“Nah, that don’t have a good ring to it, either.” He shook his head.

“You’re right.” Hungrily, she resumed munching on the fries.

“You killin’ them fries,” he said, laughing at the way Gianna was shoveling them in.

Gianna laughed as she was expected to do. “I know. Dey so good,” she said in dialect.

Hoping to stay on Bullet’s good side, she refrained from using the standard English that tended to rile him. He claimed her proper way of talking drew undesired attention. People knew the missing girl from New Jersey went to private schools and talked like a white girl.

Bullet smacked the dashboard. “I got it! I got a good name for that ho.”

“What?”

“Tootsie Roll! That’s a good name for a hooker who specializes in Greek.”

“That’s perfect,” Gianna agreed, careful to not add anything that might piss Bullet off. Being in his company when he was relaxed and in a cheerful mood made her existence easier to bear.

“After she stops worrying about her youngin’, Tootsie Roll gon’ thank me for bringing her into the life. She gon’ be happy she got a good man like me to look out for her and whatnot.”

“You right. She gon’ be so happy once she gets the hang of it.”

Poor Brielle.
Gianna gave a regretful sigh. Like her, Brielle was trapped in “the life” forever. She wondered who was taking care of Samantha. She hoped the person loved babies as much as she did.

 
 CHAPTER 14

Where would a pair of fifteen-year-old runaways hide out? The location of the detention center was not familiar territory to either girl, so it wasn’t likely that they’d stick around that area for very long.

They had probably flagged down a ride minutes after they escaped. It was easy for teenage girls to hitch a ride. Men pulled over for young girls, and most often the offer of a ride was not an act of chivalry.

Saleema hated the thought of some perverted creep picking up Portia and her partner-in-crime and then taking them to God knows where.

Where would Portia go? Home? She’d want to slip in and get some of her things, but common sense would tell Portia that it was too risky to go anywhere near her home.

Fortieth Street? Possibly. The vicinity of the University of Pennsylvania campus was a shopping and entertainment hub. Teens flocked to the arcades, movie theaters, and the fast-food joints.

She made a quick left on Market Street and accelerated toward Penn’s campus. Maybe she’d spot Portia if she cruised around that vicinity. Driving slowly, she circled the area twice, squinting at the swarm of young people, hoping to spot Portia. No luck.

South Street, with its touristy atmosphere, was another teen magnet; an area where Portia could easily blend in. Tall and chunky, with overly large breasts, Portia looked older than her age. She
could easily pass for eighteen or nineteen. No one would think it odd for her to be hanging out past curfew.