Stealing Candy (16 page)

Bouncing to the music, Bubbles stared out the window. “Seems like we going in the opposite direction from the King of Prussia mall.”

“That VIP party was on some other shit. Soulja Boy wasn’t even gon’ be there,” Bullet explained. “We headed to the private audition. Out of the way spot…in the sticks. Everything ain’t for everybody. Feel me?”

“Oh. Okay.” Bubbles pulled down the visor and checked out her reflection in the mirror. “You got any lip gloss?” she asked Gianna.

“No,” Gianna said with an edge to her voice.

“Can I hold a comb or brush or something?”

“No!” Gianna spat. She wasn’t allowed to carry a purse. Bullet kept all her personal items. Unless she was working. When she was working, she kept a work kit…a plastic pouch filled with condoms and packets of moisturizer. Lip gloss was included but not to enhance her beauty. Lip gloss was used as a sex tool to allow customers more glide.

“Yo, Bubbles. Stop worrying about your appearance. You look sexy without makeup. They looking for fresh faces, anyway. You know…a schoolgirl look,” he explained, seeming to forget it was he who had earlier brought up the topics of hair and makeup.

Bubbles tried to finger comb her hair into a different style. “I need a perm,” she complained, frowning at her reflection.

His cell buzzed. “I’m on my way,” Bullet grumbled. He ended the call with a click of a button.

“Why you bang on Soulja Boy’s main man? S’pose they already finished with the auditions?” Bubbles shook her head in disgust.

“Ain’t nothing popping off ’til we get there,” he hissed. His hands tightened around the steering wheel as he regarded Bubbles contemptuously from the corner of his eye.

Gianna could tell that Bullet was doing everything in his power
not to pull over on the shoulder and beat the crap out of Bubbles for shooting off her mouth.

Jaws tight and uttering agitated sounds, Bullet went from cruising mode to speeding onto the ramp that led to Ridley Park, Pennsylvania.

Bullet rented storage areas all over the tri-state area. The space he used in Ridley Park was near a bar where a special clientele waited impatiently, watching the clock and waiting for Bullet to let them know that he and the girl named Lollipop were in town.

The Ridley Park crowd would be waiting at the usual place. Eager to have their desires satisfied as quickly as possible so they could get home to their families at a reasonable hour.

It was bowling night for that group of husbands and fathers. A few drinks with the boys before they headed home. And then a pit stop at the remote area where they leased Gianna’s glossy lips.

Gianna sat back and relaxed, knowing that the Ridley Park team of creeps would be easy to please.

Bullet’s training had been so rigorous, he’d often leave Gianna’s lips swollen and numb. But the harsh training worked. Gianna always got each customer off in less than five minutes. Her head game was tight.

She wondered if Bullet would put the new girl to work tonight. Probably not. Bubbles seemed hard-headed and stubborn, with entirely too much mouth. She didn’t impress Gianna as the type who would take orders easily. She’d probably need three or four days of Bullet’s personalized training before she was ready to start making money.

With a smirk on her face, Gianna tried to imagine which sex act Bubbles would be trained to specialize in.

 
 CHAPTER 17

As if she’d been injected with a truth serum, Saleema had poured out her heart to Khalil, revealing so much of her painful past she had lost her breath and collapsed into his open arms.

Khalil had held Saleema while she cried a river of tears.

She was all cried out, but instead of feeling purged, Saleema was horrified that she’d let down her defenses and had blurted out her sordid history during a moment of extreme weakness.

She stiffened in his arms, dreading to hear his comments.

He didn’t say a word. With feelings so close to the surface, Saleema felt that Khalil’s contemplative silence was proof that she’d said too much. She should never have bared her soul and admitted that she’d been a prostitute and a madam.

Thankfully, she hadn’t mentioned a word about that night in the murky swamp in South Carolina. Somehow she’d managed to restrain herself from confessing that horror event. The brutal death of Kai Montgomery was a secret that Saleema would take to her grave.

On the bright side, it was best that she’d aired most of her dirty laundry before she allowed him to get too close. Now she could continue her single-minded commitment to helping troubled teen-aged girls without any distractions. The last thing that she needed was to be encumbered by an emotional attachment while she was at such an all-time low in her life.

She eased out of his embrace.

“You okay?” There was unmistakable concern in Khalil’s voice, but in Saleema’s state of self-protectiveness, his tone sounded very close to pity.

“I’m fine,” she huffed, giving him an indignant sidelong glance.

He brushed the top of her hand. “You had it rough, I know. I’m sorry about everything you’ve gone through.”

She pulled her hand away. “I don’t need your pity. I’m good!”

“Whoa. I didn’t—”

“Seriously,” she said, cutting him off harshly. “I didn’t ask you to come over here, bothering me and disrupting my life.” Saleema knew she was speaking irrationally but she continued to release the angry flow of words.

“Disrupting your life? You’re taking things way out of context. I was just checking on you.”

“That’s rather arrogant. Who appointed you to do that?” She laughed bitterly. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I don’t need you or anyone else to check up on me.”

“Bad choice of words.”

“You’re the scholar. I would expect you to choose your words more carefully.” Biting sarcasm was the only defense mechanism she could access easily.

“Ease up, Saleema. I’m not the enemy; I’m trying to be your friend.”

“I’m not feeling very friendly.” She gazed toward the doorway, indicating his visit was over.

Taken aback, Khalil frowned. “Believe me, it’s not pity that I feel for you. The other day…over lunch…it seemed we’d established a connection.”

Convincing herself that it was for the best, she folded her arms, looked him in the eye and said, “We didn’t establish anything. I was merely killing time. Honestly, Khalil, you’re not my type.”

He flinched and then glanced away.

It was a bold-faced lie. If Khalil wasn’t her type, then who was?

Sickening images of the men who used to be her type raced across her mind. They were exceedingly wealthy men who wore Italian suits, had secure investments, and traveled the world. She was paid to be an amorous companion to men who were more passionate about their stock portfolios than their lackluster performance in bed.

There were so many reasons not to get involved with Khalil. He was ambitious, highly educated, and an honorable young man. Someone who was destined to succeed in life.

It was Saleema’s own fault that she’d made inappropriate choices. She was quietly making amends by helping young girls stay on the right track.

She’d be damned if she’d put herself in the position to seek Khalil’s approval. He was out of her league and that was that. Being around Khalil dredged up old feelings of unworthiness. Feeling unworthy fueled a desire to lash out.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” she said, tightening her folded arms.

“I have something to say.”

Saleema sighed audibly.

Attempting to put her at ease, Khalil smiled. “Forgive me if I sound condescending, but I get the feeling that you think you need to put up a wall between us.”

“I don’t
think
anything. I know what I need. I need distance between us. A lot of distance,” she added. “This is not a good time for me to start a relationship of any kind.”

“I’ll accept friendship, if that’s still on the table.” Khalil tried to be lighthearted but the hurt was still in his eyes.

“Why are you being so stubborn? I guess you’re accustomed to getting everything you go after.”

“Stubborn sort of fits my character, but nothing ever came to me easily. We have a lot more in common than you think.”

“I doubt it,” she huffed, discounting their dedication to helping troubled teens. She glimpsed at him. His lips were parted, as if preparing to launch into a soliloquy regarding his hard climb to academic success.

She inched closer to the kitchen’s archway, expecting him to follow her lead. She wasn’t interested in hearing how he’d grown up poor, had worked two or three jobs to put himself through college…how he had studied during breaks while working as a dishwasher or some other menial job.

Whatever route he’d taken to achieve his doctorate’s degree and to become the founder of an alternative school would be another blow to her self-esteem. She’d always taken the quick and easy route to get what she wanted. Even the money she’d used to open Head Up had been ill-gotten gain.

There was a degree of cowardice in rebuffing Khalil. Putting up an impenetrable wall of resistance between them was based on an irrational fear of rejection. To have convinced herself that he hadn’t spoken during her crying jag because he was repelled by her sordid past had been a handy excuse.

“Khalil, I find you irresistible,” she said softly. “You’ve given me no reason to distrust you, but I’m feeling too vulnerable to start an intimate relationship right now.”

He nodded in understanding, encouraging her to continue.

“To be honest, I’ve never had an actual boyfriend. All my involvements with men were based on what they paid me.” She lowered her eyes. “I’m damaged goods.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I’m being honest. That’s how I feel.”

“Listen, I’m not asking for anything you can’t give freely.”

“I know. You seem to be a good man, but I feel so awkward in your company. I’ve always taken pride in feeling self-assured and in being a strong woman…I don’t like feeling off kilter.”

“If it’s any consolation, I felt the same way when I met you at the detention center, but I didn’t allow my lack of confidence to stop me from trying to get to know you better.”

Saleema chuckled. “You didn’t seem insecure at all. In fact, as I recall, you were really cocky.”

“I talk a lot when I’m nervous.” He laughed.

Instantly comfortable, Saleema unfolded her arms and laughed, too.

Stepping forward, he entwined his hand with hers, and looked into her eyes.

“I promise to respect your parameters. But please, don’t push me away. Can we let this…can we allow
us
to evolve the way that we’re supposed to? Even if it’s no more than a platonic friendship, I have a feeling it will be life-lasting.”

Emotionally drained from reliving her past, and weighed down from fear and worry over Portia, Saleema had no energy left to speak.

Silently agreeing to give their association a chance to blossom, she gave Khalil’s hand a tight squeeze.

 
 CHAPTER 18

Preoccupied with dance moves, Bubbles paid no attention to the two cars, the pickup truck, and the SUV that were parked in the shadows.

Gianna recognized the vehicles. They belonged to some of the members of the Ridley Park bowling league.

Bullet stopped in front of the space he rented, hit the lights, and turned off the ignition. Without a word, he got out and went to collect cash for the services Gianna would soon render.

“What the fuck he doing out there?” she asked Gianna.

“Talking to Soulja Boy’s peoples.” The lie rolled easily off Gianna’s tongue.

“Why ain’t we meeting up with them at the hotel or wherever they holding the auditions?”

“He probably trying to get them to go along with letting an overweight girl audition,” Gianna said maliciously. She detested everything about Bubbles: her boisterousness, her cocky demeanor, her bad manners, and her boobs. Bubbles’ breasts were so big, they looked fake…totally in-your-face annoying.

“Who you calling overweight? Just cuz I ain’t built like a toothpick don’t make me overweight.”

“That’s your opinion; you’re entitled to it.”

“You jealous cuz I got moves and you don’t.”

“Whatever.”