Stealing Candy (22 page)

She was flat broke. To help find Portia, she’d gladly take out a second mortgage on her home…but that wasn’t even an option.
The mortgage company had done all they could to help her; it was just a matter of time before her home went into foreclosure.

“I honestly don’t have any money to put toward a reward.”

“Most people don’t. Don’t worry. We’ll get donations,” he said with self-assurance, as he weaved through traffic.

Her shoulders began to relax. She wasn’t fighting this battle alone. Khalil was lending his support. Coming up with ideas, making plans to help find Portia.

Though Saleema kept a straight face, a smile was blossoming… this one was in her heart.

 
 CHAPTER 24

At Thirty-third and Brandywine Streets, the heart of the section of West Philly known as “the bottom,” Saleema and four girls from Head Up waited for Khalil to arrive with the fliers.

She’d called eight girls the previous night, but Portia was so disliked, she’d only been able to persuade Amirah, Stacey, Tasha, and Chyna to hit the streets with her in an effort to help find the missing girl.

“What’s taking your friend so long to get here?” Tasha wanted to know, frowning as she took a swig from a bottle of water.

In sullen silence, Amirah stood with her shoulders slumped, groaning and shifting from foot to foot.

“I wish he’d hurry up. It’s too hot to be standing around like this.” Stacey twisted her lips into a petulant pout.

Chyna was showing off her thick, shapely legs in a pair of cut-off shorts. “I was on my way to Kelly’s pool, Miss Saleema. I could be chilling with the lifeguard, but I came out here on the strength of you.”

“I know and I appreciate your support. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t feel so passionate about Portia’s situation.” Saleema glanced at her cell phone, checking the time. “He would have been here on time, but the copy center didn’t have the order ready when he went to pick it up.”

There was a collective sigh, followed by impatient utterances.

Chyna slathered on some lip gloss. “I don’t even like Portia like that. I’m dead up. I feel like changing my mind.”

Saleema looked stunned. “How can you say that? If something bad happened to one of you, wouldn’t you expect someone to care?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like Portia is innocent. She escaped from that place and got in some man’s car. That was her choice,” Chyna responded.

Saleema looked into Chyna’s brown eyes. “She made a mistake.”

“Why we gotta burn up in this hot sun over Portia’s mistake?” Chyna mumbled.

“Because her mistake could be deadly,” Saleema said grimly. “It’s our obligation to try and help find her.”

“I don’t see why. Like I said, I’m out here because you asked me to,” Chyna insisted.

Slouched against the brick wall of a dry cleaning business, the four girls began pointing out Portia’s many flaws, and openly questioning their sanity in even trying to bring her rowdy behavior back into their lives.

If they were at Head Up, and having a sharing session, Saleema would allow each girl to vent and then they’d discuss ways that they could help Portia to mirror their good behavior. But at the moment, she had too much on her mind to successfully alter their attitudes.

She stared at the moving traffic and sighed in relief when she saw Khalil’s SUV barreling along Thirty-third Street.

There was a stretch of silence as the girls gazed at the Nissan Murano, their eyes filled with suspicion and hostility.

Armed with bright yellow staple guns and carrying boxes containing flyers, Khalil and four broad-shouldered, young men poured out of the SUV.

Straightening up their postures, all four girls became enlivened
and wore pleasant expressions. There was no indication of the resentment they each felt toward Portia and the task that lay ahead.

Chyna flipped her ponytail over her shoulder and quickly applied more lip gloss.

“This is Dr. Gardner, girls,” Saleema said. She glanced at the students from Khalil’s school. They all wore serious expressions, indicating that they were here to get the job done. She hoped their sense of civic duty would rub off on her girls.

“Dr. Gardner, would you introduce your students?”

“Sure. This is Mel, Fabrio, Rashan, and Evan.” Khalil pointed at each boy as he spoke his name.

“Hi,” the girls chorused together. No longer disturbed by the rising temperature, they seemed instantly soothed by the presence of the quartet of good-looking young men.

Before Saleema could introduce them, Chyna cut in. “My name is Chyna, better known as Classy C.”

Not to be outdone, each of the other three girls presented herself with a catchy alias in addition to her given name.

Mel, Fabrio, Rashan, and Evan all kept their cool, nodding in acknowledgment after each introduction, and sprinkling in a few deep-toned, “What’s up?”

The girls blushed and giggled, obviously enamored by the physical attractiveness of Khalil’s students.

Khalil got down to business. “It’s already eighty-four degrees and it’s going to get hotter. I apologize for asking you to work in this heat.”

“That’s okay,” Amirah murmured, forgetting that she’d been complaining about the weather. Amirah placed her hand on the waistline of her drawstring shorts, and stood in a feminine manner in which Saleema had never seen her stand.

Chyna’s glistening lips parted, showing off even, white teeth.
“We don’t mind.” She flashed the boys with a big, flirtatious smile.

“I realize that this would be less daunting if we put up the flyers after the sun goes down,” Khalil said. “Unfortunately, we don’t have another second to waste. A young girl…one of your friends… is missing. An eyewitness states that she got in a car with an adult male. She hasn’t been seen since. We believe her life is in danger and want to get her away from her kidnapper and back home safely.”

There was something about Khalil’s serious attitude and professional demeanor that encouraged the girls to be on their best behavior. Surprisingly, there were no more complaints about the heat or their dislike of Portia.

Working in pairs, Khalil and Saleema and the group of young adults covered the area with Portia’s image on sheets of paper, headed by the word:
MISSING.

 
 CHAPTER 25

“How do you like her hair?” Flashy asked Bullet. His devilish grin expressed malicious triumph.

In the makeshift beauty salon in his basement, Flashy had spitefully tinted Brielle’s hair with streaks of blue, raspberry, and yellow.

Brielle hadn’t been given a mirror. Her drowsy eyes shifted to Gianna’s face, searching for an answer regarding the status of her hair.

Unable to meet Brielle’s medicated gaze, Gianna looked away in embarrassment.

Both Bubbles and Brielle were given an assortment of drugs on a daily basis. Gianna was often given the task of administering the pills.

Bullet said Bubbles needed medication to keep her from fighting with the customers. And Brielle was drugged because he was sick of hearing her whining and crying about her baby.

With a squinted eye, Bullet took in the botched dye job. “Where’d you get your beautician’s license? You got her dome looking like a pack of Skittles,” he said, laughing.

“You told me to fix it so she’d be unrecognizable.”

“It’s all good. I like the look.”

“You do?” Flashy asked, shocked and annoyed.

“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling that name, Tootsie Roll. This bitch is getting a new name. I’m calling her Skittles from now on.”

Flashy threw up his hands in defeat. “That name is stupid.” He
plopped into a chair and sulked because Bullet was pleased with the hairstyle he’d created out of malice.

“All I need is a few more pieces of candy and my stable’s gon’ be tight,” Bullet bragged.

“You need to make it happen with the three hoes you already got.” Flashy fanned out the masculine fingers on his left hand and turned up his nose. “I thought you’d have all the fingers on at least one of my hands blinging by now. I’m supposed to be Chester’s version of Kimora Lee Simmons. When is my fabulosity gonna pop off?”

“I ain’t on your timeframe.”

“Obviously, you ain’t on no type of timeframe. You slackin’, boo.”

“I’m not putting these young hoes out on front street right now. They gotta keep working on the low until we can move to the West Coast, Hawaii, or somewhere.”

“Another pipe dream. Now that you’ve discovered Chester, you ain’t going anywhere. You like the feeling of being a big fish in a small pond.”

“Fuck Chester. Ain’t nobody trying be lingering in this lil’ hick town.”

There was some truth in Flashy’s words. Bullet could never be a heavy hitter in Philly. Gianna recalled how Bullet had backed down to the baller dude who was driving the Escalade that day when Bullet had tracked her down, barefoot with his curls wet with shampoo lather.

Though Bullet was secretive about his sex operation, Gianna knew that in Chester he’d been getting a level of respect that he’d never gotten in Philly. She’d overheard Flashy fussing plenty of times about the way Bullet was drawing unnecessary attention by flashing his knot of money when he bought drinks for strangers and gave out big tips in the local bars.

“So take your ass back to Philly; ain’t nobody holding a gun to your head, either. You and these drugged-up bitches ain’t doing nothing for me but tearing up my beautiful house.”

Bullet’s cell pinged. Body leaning, he checked out the screen with a big, twisted grin. “Money call,” he announced and then put the cell back in his pocket. He clapped his hands together. “Let’s bounce. Lollipop and Skittles…you two hoes about to showcase your talents in a freaky duet.”

Heading for the front door, Skittles walked unsteadily ahead of Bullet and Gianna. Bullet whispered in Lollipop’s ear, “While the trick is up in that ass, you need to be rustling through his pockets. You know the drill.”

“Yeah, I know it.”

Bullet slipped Gianna his knife. “Poke that muthafucka if he tries to rewrite the script.”

The motel room stank to high heavens, but the trick didn’t seem to notice. His moans of ecstasy filled the room.

High as a kite, Skittles’ mouth hung open, her tongue lolled, and her eyes were at half-mast as she endured anal penetration without a care in the world.

Revolted, Gianna looked away. Then forcing herself to focus on the task at hand, she returned her gaze to the trick.

His wrinkly eyes were squeezed shut as he plowed into Skittles. Normally, this would have been a good time for Gianna to strike. But she couldn’t get near his wallet with his pants hanging around his ankles.

Shit!
The old, crusty trick was making her job harder than it needed to be.

She hadn’t done her share of the sex work because the gray-haired,
white man was so excited about getting between Skittles’ tiny butt cheeks; he seemed to forget that he had paid Bullet for services from both girls.

Bullet would be heated if she didn’t leave the motel with all dude’s money and valuables.
Fuck!
She’d started using a lot of profanity lately…out loud and in her head.

While Gianna tried to come up with a plan, she heard ol’ boy groan. The sound of him climaxing was loud and torturous, as if he were on the verge of a massive heart attack.