Stealing Candy (37 page)

“Count that money I took off Big Ballin’.” Bullet reached up and pulled wads of money out of his pocket and tossed it in Gianna’s lap. She immediately started counting.

“I thought I had a come-up; now I’ma have to spend that nigga’s paper on some body work. Ain’t that some shit!”

“I know, Daddy. Them some foul niggas,” Gianna soothed.

“How much?” Bullet yelled.

“Um, there’s seven hundred in the small pile.”

“Seven hunnit? That lying sidekick told me he had a stack. Count the rest,” he ordered.

Gianna obeyed, flipping through bills. “There’s fifteen hundred in the thick wad.”

“That’s all?” Bullet’s incredulous voice was as high-pitched as Flashy’s.

“There’s a whole lot of small bills mixed in, making the knot look big.”

Bullet exhaled loudly. “I should have smoked them two punks when I had ’em leaking blood in the bedroom.”

“Yup, you sure should have,” Gianna agreed.

“This is what we gotta do…we gon’ get a motel room while my man, Bronco, gets his thoughts together. He said we can all crash at his crib but not until after he gets admitted in the hospital. He said he can’t stand all the racket and commotion of having three young hoes under his roof.”

“Aw, he must be really sick. When is he getting admitted?” Gianna put compassion in her voice, as if she really cared about the expimp’s failing health.

“I’m not sure. He said something about needing to get his insurance approved. He should know in a day or two.”

Gianna nodded in understanding. But thoughts of Samantha occupied her mind. She doubted if she’d ever have peace of mind if she didn’t try to save that baby from the wretched existence that was waiting for her in Wisconsin, or somewhere.

“I see a sign for a Red Roof Inn,” Bubbles alerted.

“Nah, we can’t stay near the airport…too close to Chester. Them crazy, young-ass muthafuckas would be grinning and laughing while they shot up everybody in this goddamn car.” Bullet’s mouth turned down as he continued driving…over the George C. Platt Memorial Bridge and onto I-76 West.

Bullet rolled up in front of a hole-in-the-wall bar. “Hold this money.” He threw Gianna the wad of cash.

“I’ma go holla at this hooker who works in there. She’s a hardcore ho. Bitch will pick-pocket a muthafucka while she giving him a lap dance.” Bullet smiled, looking wistful, as if the hooker’s dishonest practices were praiseworthy.

“Why you gon’ to see her?” Gianna asked with undisguised jealousy.

“Last time I saw her, she was trying to choose up, but I told her that I don’t deal with no seasoned whores. They hard to control… been in the streets too long.”

“So why you gon’ to see her now?”

“I’ma get the keys to her crib so we can stay there for a minute.”

“Suppose she got herself a pimp. What we gon’ do if her man is staying at her house?” Gianna asked, trying to gauge how much time she had to be settled somewhere before the man from Wisconsin came to pick up Skittles’ baby.

His eyebrows rose in disapproval. “You outta pocket. Do you want me to knock your teeth out of yo’ mouth?”

“No,” she said, looking down.

“Then stop asking so many questions. Stay in your lane, ho.”

“Alright.” She smiled at him, testing his anger barometer.

“Skittles acting like she gotta go to the bathroom,” Bubbles yelled.

Gianna twisted around and checked. “Yup, she do, Daddy. She squirming and mumbling like she do when she gotta pee.”

“She better not piss on my seats. Tell her she gotta wait ’til we get to the crib.”

“You gotta hold your pee,” Gianna translated.

“Damn, I hope this bitch got some running water in that dip.”

“Huh?” Gianna blurted. She thought they were past the stage of living in abandoned houses without electricity or running water.

“I’m just saying, the last time I was at the crib, she ain’t have the water on. Damn shame cuz she had got a big lump sum amount of money a coupla years ago. She went through that dough real quick. Stay high all the time, forgetting to pay bills. That’s why she was trying to choose up. She needs a business-minded man like me to manage her cash flow.”

“How come you turned her down?” Bubbles asked from the back seat.

“Mind your business, Bubblicious. Ain’t nobody talkin’ to yo’ ass.”

“Bubbles stay tryin’ to be all up in your business,” Gianna said with loathing.

“I’ma be in that mouth in she don’t learn how to keep it shut.” Bullet glared at Bubbles.

“Anyway, that ho who was tryna choose up ain’t even my type. She too far up in age.”

“How old is she?” Gianna asked.

Bullet looked up in thought. “I’d say she somewhere around twenty-six…twenty-seven. Too old to train. I like working with fresh meat. Y’ah mean?”

 
 CHAPTER 45

Bullet came back smiling and dangling a keychain.

“She’s letting us stay?” Gianna was delighted.

“Damn right. Your man got good game. That ho is happy like it’s Christmas morning.”

He started up the car and pulled off. “Keep your ear locked to my phone. That bitch is going to call me at two o’clock when her dancing shift is over.”

“Okay.”

“Nah. Fuck that. I’ll get there when and if I damn get there.”

“Alright, Daddy.”

Bullet parked two blocks from the hooker’s house. With his arm wrapped around Gianna, he and the girls trekked to Delancy Street.

En route, they had to stop to let Skittles urinate. She squatted behind a fire hydrant and sighed with relief as her yellow flow streamed down the pavement.

Bullet rolled his eyes and groaned in disgust while Bubbles and Gianna shielded Skittles from any passersby who might call the cops on Skittles for indecent exposure and for openly pissing in a residential area.

The hooker’s house wasn’t fly, but it was presentable—better than the house where they’d stayed in Chester. An extra bonus… all the utilities were on.

Bubbles and Skittles were assigned one of the three upstairs bedrooms. “Take y’all asses to bed. We might have to get up early and bounce to AC.”

Gianna and Bullet went inside the master bedroom, which was junky with wigs, lingerie and other clothing items strewn all over the place. Bullet knocked a bunch of clutter off of the bed and pulled back the sheets.

“I’m stressed, baby. Climb on top of me. I ain’t got no strength to do nothing,” he said.

Wearing a smile, Gianna removed Bullet’s sneakers and socks. She kissed his feet.

He raised his head, grinning. “Lemme find out you some kind of foot freak.”

“For you, I am.” She covered his feet with kisses. Sucked his toes, the way a trick had done her. She remembered how good it felt and wanted Bullet to have that same pleasure.

Mimicking everything the trick had done to her, she slid her tongue in and out of the spaces between his toes. When Bullet moaned, Gianna joined him, his sounds of pleasure making her pussy wet and hot.

With his participation, she stripped his pants off. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered as she straddled him, kissing and biting his neck, making him squirm.

Bullet flipped her over on her back. “I can’t lay dead and let you drive me crazy. Damn, how I let you get me open like this? You fuckin’ up the game, Lollipop,” he accused, scowling and breathing hard.

Positioning his dick between her legs, he murmured. “I been waiting to smash this ever since I caught Big Ballin’s tongue embedded in yo’ pussy.”

Gianna moaned as Bullet pushed in deeply.

“Yeah, baby. Slang that pussy at me. We gon’ make this bed rock.”

By the time Bullet was close to reaching the finish line, Gianna
was screaming promises: “I’ma get you a pair of Louis V. sneakers; a big-ass chain; I’ma drape you in ice.”

“What else, baby?” Bullet asked, steadily stroking.

“I’ma…ah,” she moaned, overcome by the good feeling that Bullet was putting on her. “I’ma get you a new whip.”

“Yeah, baby, and I’ma keep hitting this thing right.”

Gianna began pulling her own hair, wrapping her legs around Bullet’s waist as she swiveled her hips.

He unwound her legs, lifted them high, placing her heels up on his shoulders.

“Daddy, I’ma get you…”

“What else you gon’ buy me?”

“Seven whips! A different color for every day of the week.”

With a booming roar, Bullet released his load.

Gianna didn’t know what was better…being filled with Bullet’s passion or cuddling afterward in his arms. He stroked her hair as his breathing returned to normal. It seemed like the perfect time to talk to him about raising Skittles’ baby.

But Bullet sat up suddenly, snatching his arm from around Gianna. “Where’s your lil’ clutch bag?”

She pointed to a chair that was piled with clothing. “Over there,” she said, both puzzled and disappointed over his sudden interest in her clutch bag. “I hid it underneath all that junk. Why? What’s wrong?”

“I was thinking about that shit you was talking a few minutes ago.”

“Uh-huh…”

“You know…all that shit you plan on buying me.”

“Oh!” She looked slightly embarrassed, recalling that she’d been talking out of her head. How could she buy him seven cars when she was barely able to keep gas in the one he was currently driving?

But it wasn’t her fault. Bullet spent a lot of money on cocaine, she thought to herself.

Naked, Bullet stalked across the room and wrenched the clutch bag from beneath the junk in the chair. He snapped it open, peering inside as he returned to the bed and emptied the contents. Wads of cash tumbled out, followed by blood-encrusted jewelry.

“Man, I forgot I took Big Ballin’s bling!” Bullet smiled proudly as he picked up an earring. “This is about two carats. Wonder how much I can get off the set?”

“You gon’ sell it?”

“Hell yeah. I don’t need no faggot-ass jewelry. I’m about gettin’ paper, some blow, and long-stroking my ho. A couple cars would prolly get my dick hard,” he added, laughing.

Even though she wanted to be wifey, Gianna couldn’t help from blushing.

“Go clean this shit up and lemme see how nice it shines.”

She trekked to the bathroom down the hall and cleaned the jewelry, shined it up with a hand towel.

When she returned, Bullet had clicked on the TV that was mounted on the wall. It was the only thing that wasn’t covered with clutter in the messy room.

Bullet kept his eyes on the screen for a few moments, and then he lit a blunt. Blowing out smoke, he picked up and admired the shine of Mookie’s diamond and gold jewelry. “This is good money. We gon’ hit a pawn shop first thing tomorrow.”

He returned the cash and jewelry into the clutch bag and handed it to Gianna. “Sleep with that tucked under you. I told you that hooker who owns this crib got light fingers.”

By the time Gianna found a comfortable position, Bullet was snoring, with his back to her. Unable to find a way back into his arms, she snuggled against his back, inhaling his male scent. Running
her fingers up and down his toned back, his neck, and through his tumbles of curly hair.

Gianna awoke to hammering! Pounding! Drumming!
What the hell?

Bullet threw the sheet off of his body. Instantly alert, he grabbed his jeans and hopped into them. He pulled his gun from beneath the mattress and tucked it in his waistband.

“Open the fucking door!” a woman’s voice called from outside.

Gianna hugged her nude body. “What’s going on, Daddy?”

“That ho outside tryna cause a commotion cuz I ain’t go pick her up after work.”

Bullet stormed out of the bedroom and ran down the stairs. Gianna heard him unlocking the door.

“Bitch, is you outta your mind? Who you think you is? Bangin’ on this muthafuckin’ door like you own the place? You want me to put my foot up yo’ ass?” His menacing tone humbled the feisty prostitute.

“I’m sorry,” she said meekly. “I had to get a cab and um…I was scared something happened to you. That’s all.”

Gianna felt proud of Bullet. He didn’t back down to anyone. Well…he had back in the beginning, when that big baller driving the Escalade had come to pick up his soldiers off the corners. But Bullet had manned up since then. He didn’t take no shit off of anyone. Gianna liked that about him. He handled shit like a real man.