Stealing Candy (18 page)

They exited I-95 South on the Edgemont Avenue ramp and made a left. He drove along Morton Avenue. When they approached a familiar intersection, Gianna realized that Harrah’s casino was around the corner.

She figured Bullet had rustled up some patrons from the casino. Bullet would hit the crap table while the horny men would drive Gianna to a remote street where she’d give as many blow jobs as were paid for. But this time, she’d be sure to ask for tips.

Bullet made a right, driving in the opposite direction of the casino. She was curious where they were going, but knew better than to ask questions.

“You know where we are?” he asked, after making a series of turns designed to disorient her.

“No.” Gianna pretended not to know that they were in Chester, Pennsylvania, a small town outside of Philadelphia. A town Bullet visited frequently.

“Good,” he said, pleased with her response.

He parked on a residential street. The street sign read
Tilghman Street.
Other than the area where the casino was located, she didn’t know much about Chester. Or any other area where she worked for Bullet.

When she wasn’t working, she was kept inside various storage units and motel rooms, denied permission to venture outside. He moved her around constantly…a day here…a day there, never
allowing her to become acquainted with her surroundings. Never permitting her to mingle with anyone other than paying customers.

They approached a row-house that stood out from the other lowly houses on the block. The front entry door was grand, with a glazed glass surface and deep, carved etching. Using a key, Bullet opened the door.

Gianna stepped inside a house that was small but so elaborately decorated, it could have been a celebrity’s secret hideaway.

The living room was white. Every furnishing from the long sectional sofa to the coffee table, chairs, throw pillows, drapes, area rug, lamp shades, silk flowers, the candles, and vases, all were entirely white.

A glimpse into the dining room revealed more white and another super fabulous room with an elaborate bar surrounded by flashy white bar stools. At first, Gianna thought she saw a willowy woman in the kitchen, but upon closer inspection, she realized it was a man. A slender man with short, chemically straight hair, and wearing tight jeans, a red wife beater, and oddly…red maribou feather heels.

The obviously gay man sent a beaming smile toward Bullet. That smile twitched into a grimace when he noticed Gianna.

Nose turned up, he slammed the lid on the frying pan, containing the wafting aroma of fried chicken.

He pranced into the living room. Holding a spatula and batting elaborate false eyelashes, he said, “Oh, no you didn’t bring another young ho up in my crib? What the hell is wrong with you, Bullet?”

He shoved Gianna aside and he switched past her, leaving behind a mixed scent of fried chicken and a musky cologne. With a dramatic gesture, he flung the front door open. “Get that young bitch outta my house, right now,” he demanded, motioning with the spatula.

“Chill, Flashy. Lollipop is cool.” Much stronger than his feminine friend, Bullet pushed him aside and forcibly pushed the door closed.

So this is Flashy.
Gianna had heard Bullet talking to Flashy numerous times, and despite his name, she’d never suspected that he was gay.

“I’ve been in the kitchen working like a damn slave. I was going to play some slow jams and set the table so me you could enjoy a romantic late night dinner.” Flashy rolled his eyes at Gianna. “Now here you come, bringing another young ho into my crib. Damn, Bullet, why you keep messin’ with these minor children?”

“The younger the better.”

“The better for what…doing a long bid? These girls have families. They got peoples who must be wondering where they at. Ain’t it bad enough that you brought that little baby over here?”

“I paid you for your services.”

“I thought that was gonna be the extent of my services. Now you’re dragging one young hooker after another right to my front door. I don’t know what you think this is, but it ain’t no damn whorehouse. Damn, Bullet, this ain’t no fleabag motel. This is where I lay my head!”

“Man, chill!” Bullet insisted. “Ain’t nobody looking for Lollipop.”

“How do you know?”

“I had her for over a month. If somebody really wanted her ass, don’t you think they would have found her by now?”

Flashy sucked his teeth. “What about that other one?” He nodded toward the carpeted stairs.

“Bubbles gotta couple lessons to learn.”

“Why she gotta learn ’em over here? Take her to one of those sheds you rent out,” Flashy shrieked, sounding on the verge of a tantrum.

Gianna felt a stab of guilt at the mention of Brielle’s baby, but was unsympathetic toward Bubbles’ plight…whatever it was. She wished the worst kind of punishment on Bubbles. Other than Bullet, she’d never felt such an intense dislike for another person. Her feelings for Bullet were changing now. She still feared him, but was beginning to kind of like him. She liked his softer side. Had enjoyed the warmth and comfort of his arm around her.

She liked being treated nice by Bullet and would strive to get more of the nice treatment.

“I’m gon’ move Bubbles in a coupla days. But Lollipop needs to stay here for a while.”

“Why?” Flashy frowned at Gianna.

“I gotta keep my eyes on my bitches. And I can’t watch ’em all at the same time. I need you to be my other set of eyes.”

“I don’t know.”

“Two of ’em is still in training. They need a lot of attention. Ain’t too many niggas I trust the way I trust you, man.”

“I’m not tryna catch another case.”

“I got this shit under control. Lollipop is already trained. She easy-going. If I say the sky is dog-shit brown, she say…” He nodded at Gianna.

“The sky is dog-shit brown.”

“See what I’m saying?”

“I don’t see shit. She just a parrot, repeating what you say.”

“She’s better than a parrot. Lollipop is like a faithful puppy. For real, man. I’m all she got.”

“She’s scared of you. Don’t confuse fear with loyalty.”

“Her pops done married the bitch he left her mom for. Him and the new bitch done started a family of their own. Her pops ain’t thinking about Lollipop no more.” Bullet nudged Gianna. “Speak your piece.”

“My pops not thinking ’bout me no more.”

“I’m not listening to this lil’ robot bitch.”

“For real, though. Her mom was a few steps from the psych ward when I caught this lil’ bitch. Shit, she grateful that I brought her into the life. Ain’t that right, Lollipop?”

“You right. Ain’t nobody looking for me,” she said emphatically, repeating words that Bullet had been drilling in her head for the past month.

“Tell Flashy what you’d do if somebody tried to grab you.”

Gianna’s face hardened. “I’d cut a mufucka for trying to steal me away from Bullet,” she added venomously.

“See what I’m saying, Flashy? She’s ride or die, man,” Bullet boasted, giving Gianna a nod of approval.

Flashy sneered at Gianna. “Yeah, well…this ride-or-die hooker gon’ get us both put underneath the jail if the police find out you kidnapped her from her peoples. I thought you were keeping her locked up in some hideaway place?”

“I can’t be three and four places at the same time. She staying here ’til I get situated.”

“What about us?”

“Ain’t no us. Stop tripping; I ain’t no fag.”

“Uh-huh,” Flashy said, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “First, you drop a damn baby on me. I took care of that. Then you bring in that wild-ass, thicker-than-a-Snicker chick…” He pointed the spatula toward the stairs and then he glared at Gianna. “Now this?”

“Don’t worry about Lollipop. She’s cool.”

“You full of shit, Bullet. You ain’t no real pimp and you know it.”

“Why ain’t I?”

“From my recollection, you did time for armed robbery, not pimpin’.”

“I changed occupations. Pimpin’ is easier.”

“Don’t seem like it.” Flashy raised a brow. “That’s a serious scratch on your face.” Flashy placed his long, manicured fingers on Bullet’s face. “You should let me put some cocoa butter on that nasty mark before it leaves a scar,” he said softly.

Looking perturbed, Bullet pulled away from Flashy’s reach. “Fall back, man,” he growled.

“You don’t have to act so touchy all of a sudden. You didn’t mind my affection when we were locked up together.”

“Stay focused, man. We talking about
now
.”

“Whatever.” Rejected, Flashy screwed up his lips.

“Anyway, this scratch ain’t nothing compared to that bitch’s face.”

“True. And that’s exactly why I want you to move that battered child out of my house. Take her off to the boonies to one those storage spaces. I don’t want her in here. Seriously.”

“It’s cool.”

“No, it’s not! I’m not trying to go back to prison, Bullet!” Flashy shouted, waving the spatula through the air.

“Stop being so negative all the time.”

“Ain’t no hope for you.” Flashy lowered his lengthy lashes and shook his head. “You better be glad I got love for your pretty ass. I wouldn’t take this kind of risk for no average-looking man.”

“Yo, is that food ready yet?” Bullet said, changing the subject.

“Oh, Lord. My chicken is burning,” Flashy shrilled. He twirled around and daintily trotted toward the kitchen.

 
 CHAPTER 20

Bullet and Flashy were in the kitchen arguing. Clearly, Flashy had a crush on Bullet. Gianna could understand why. Bullet was so cute when he wasn’t mad. But Gianna was certain he was as straight as an arrow. Flashy would never be more than a friend.

While Flashy ranted about his ruined meal, Gianna sank into a white leather barrel chair and focused her attention on a rerun of the MTV Awards.

On the TV, Miley Cyrus took the stage. A sudden pang of nostalgia gripped Gianna. She was a huge fan. Hannah Montana posters adorned the walls of her bedroom in New Jersey.

A severe case of homesickness stuck like a punch to the gut. Nauseous, she jumped up. “Bullet, I’m about to throw up.”

“The bathroom’s at the top of the stairs!” Flashy shouted. “Don’t be spilling your guts in my living room!”

Gianna covered her mouth with her hand. Dry-heaving, she waited for Bullet’s permission to go upstairs.

Frowning, Bullet gave a head nod.

As she took the stairs two at a time, she heard Flashy ask, “Is that lil’ ho knocked up?”

“Better not be,” Bullet replied.

She rushed inside a bathroom with walls painted bright pink. Blinging shower curtains were splashed with beads and rhinestones. An elaborate mirror was outlined in light bulbs overtop a vanity sink, which was covered with a scattering of makeup, hair clips,
lip gloss, a container of Tic Tacs, and an assortment of colored condoms.

Gianna knelt on a fluffy pink rug and lifted the cushioned toilet seat. Hovering over the toilet, she gagged and heaved, causing her eyes to water, but nothing came up. Her bout of nausea had passed, but a deep sorrow intensified.

Her life was hopeless. Bitter tears spilled down her cheeks. She cried softly.

Someone should have rescued her by now. Bullet was right. Her parents had stopped trying; they had moved on with their lives. It wasn’t fair. She was so lonely and missed being with her friends. Her neighborhood. She wanted to be in New Jersey—back to her real life when classes resumed in the fall. She wanted to sleep in her own bedroom—not on a mattress inside a storage unit. She wanted to go home!

But it was a hopeless dream. Bullet would kill her before he let her go. Tears fell harder.

“What’s taking you so long, Lollipop?” Bullet shouted from downstairs.

She flinched in terror and stood up immediately. “I’ll be right down.”

Gianna grabbed a tissue from a sparkly tissue box. She wiped the tears from her eyes and blew her nose. She turned on the faucets and splashed water on her face. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes were puffy from crying. She shrugged in resignation, and began to quickly pull herself together. She ran a palm over her tousled hair, and then smoothed out the rumpled pleats of her skirt.

As she exited the bathroom, she heard something that sounded like sniffling and muffled sobbing.
Bubbles?

Downstairs, Bullet and Flashy were engaged in a heated discussion, their voices raised, oblivious to the sound of crying.

It had to be Bubbles. Curiosity sent Gianna creeping toward the bedroom at the end of the narrow hall. She opened the door and gasped.

Standing stooped, Bubbles held a blood-soaked pillowcase to her face. A trail of blood trickled down her arm.

“Oh, my God!” Gianna was astonished by the large amount of blood. “You need a doctor,” Gianna whispered.

Bubbles pulled the crumpled pillowcase away from her face, revealing blood-stained gauze taped to her face. “Your boyfriend cut me,” Bubbles said in a hushed voice. “That faggot who lives here bandaged me up, but the blood is seeping through. You gotta do something to help me. Call the cops.”

Gianna tensed. Her eyes grew large with fear. Shaking her head, she backed away from Bubbles. Closed the bedroom door and hurried downstairs.