Trap House (21 page)

“You still got me,”
a soothing voice said reassuringly.

“Huh?” Tiffany said, looking around the room for the source.

“You know I got you, girl,”
the calming voice said in its singsong manner.

She tilted her head and looked at her purse, puzzled at the voice emanating from within it. She
snatched it open and checked her cell phone, but it wasn’t on.

“Right here,”
the half-ounce of P.I.G.’s finest said, chuckling. “I’m here for you.”

“I know you are,” Tiffany sniffled, removing the drug and her shooter. For the next couple of
hours, she made small talk with her crack as she smoked.

When she finally got around to surveying the damage, a pattern began to take shape. Wanda’s
stuff seemed to be tossed with care, while hers was destroyed, much of it missing. The clothes that
weren’t stolen were cut up, and there was urine on her bed.

“This bitch right here!” Tiffany said, shaking her head as she dialed her phone.

When Mike heard the distress in her voice, he dropped what he was doing and rushed over.
When he arrived, Tiffany was curled up on the sofa of the ransacked room. “Fuck happened here?”
Mike asked, looking around the room.

“We…well, no, I got robbed,” Tiffany replied with a pain-filled chuckle.

“Don’t worry. Ima find out who did this,” Mike boomed.

“Oh, I already know who did it,” Tiffany replied.

“Who?” Mike demanded, sitting next to her on the sofa.

“Take a look around, then you tell me. It ain’t hard to tell,” she replied.

Mike didn’t budge, looking at Tiffany, confused.

“Go on. Look around,” Tiffany urged.

Moments later, Mike stormed back in the room, fuming. “That trifling lil bitch!” he yelled.

“Trifling ain’t the word,” Tiffany said. “Bitch peed in my bed!”

“What all she took? I’ll get it back,” Mike said in earnest.

“Uh, let’s see…$15,000, my clothes, jewelry, shoes…” Tiffany went on. “My panties…”

Mike was dialing his phone was she spoke. “She gon’ give it all back.”

* * *

Wanda was in the middle of a long pull from her shooter when Mike’s name appeared on her
caller ID. She hit the ignore button, sending the call to voicemail. After holding the smoke for as
long as humanly possible, Wanda exhaled. “Lemme see what dis nigga talking about,” she said,
checking her voicemail.

She knew Mike was gonna take Tiffany’s word about the robbery, so she intended to avoid him
for as long as she could. When she heard the message, she was filled with hope.
Perhaps there is a
way out
. To be sure, she replayed it again.

“Babe, it’s me. There was a break-in at the house. Are you okay? Call me and let me know
you’re okay,” Mike said convincingly.

Wanda immediately returned the call and told Mike she was fine and on her way. She glared at
P.I.G., daring him to complain about the ounce she was taking out of the house.

P.I.G. stared back but said nothing. The way she was hitting that pipe was victory enough for
him. P.I.G. was a vet, and he knew the end was near.

“I’ll see y’all later. My man need me,” Wanda told her fellow crackheads before turning her
nose up at P.I.G. again.

“I can’t wait to see that black-hearted bitch fall,” P.I.G. said once Earl closed the door behind
her. One thing he knew was that no one could keep smoking at that rate and not fall. He had
been taking note of the gradual increase of her purchases and consumption. He noticed the subtle
changes in her appearance that most people would miss. The jeans and shirt were designer, though
wrinkled. Her usually meticulously done hair was pulled back into a lazy ponytail, tucked under a
Braves cap. P.I.G. knew the difference between a bad hair day and a woman’s demise. He’d seen
it hundreds of times, but none would be as sweet as Wanda’s. Just her sticking around to smoke
with the “commoners” spoke volumes. “Just a matter of time,” P.I.G. snarled. “And I’ll be waiting,
broom in hand.”

* * *

“Oh my God! What happened here?” Wanda exclaimed as she walked into the house.

“And the award for Best Actress goes to…” Tiffany chuckled at Wanda’s weak performance.

“Bitch, sit you rotten ass down,” Mike said in a deadly tone.

“Wh-what’s going on, Mike? What’s she talking ‘bout?” Wanda said, obeying the command to
sit. She looked back and forth between Tiffany and Mike, wearing a pained expression. When her
eyes met Tiffany’s, Tiffany sucked her teeth and looked away. “Fuck you sucking your teeth at me,
bitch. I ain’t take yo’ damn money,” Wanda yelled, rising to her feet.

“Sit yo’ ass back down!” Mike ordered through clenched teeth. “And who said anything about
her money?”

“I…I’m…I’m sayin’ tho’…” Wanda stammered. Realizing she was caught, she decided to Rush
Tiffany. Getting her ass kicked was inevitable, so at least she could get a piece of Tiffany first.

Mike was too quick for Wanda and intercepted her before she made it across the room and
began to pummel her. He was hitting her with his fists, feet, knees, and elbows. The heavy blows
sounded off in the small room.

Tiffany, being unaccustomed to violence, was absolutely terrified. “Stop it! You’re gonna kill
her!” she yelled, trying to pull Mike away.

In his fury, Mike wheeled around and slapped her across the room. The blow left her on the
floor, dazed. “Babe? Are you okay?” Mike said, rushing to her side.

Tiffany was too stunned to reply. She watched Wanda spit blood and a tooth onto the carpet.
Wanda took advantage of the reprieve and took off out the door.

Mike gave chase, but Wanda was too quick in running for her life. She was in her car and
locking the door by the time Mike made it through the door. He took the front steps in a single
bound and was at the car before Wanda could back out.

Wanda slammed the car in reverse and stood on the gas pedal. The tires squealed as she pulled
out and down the street. She made it, but she left behind all her worldly possessions, things she
would never see again in life.

Back inside, Mike found Tiffany packing what was left of her belongings. “What are you doing,
baby?” Mike asked when he found her loading her bags.

In an instant, she had become tired of the sex and violence – tired of the club and tired of being a
prostitute. She wanted to go home and be Tiffany again. “I can’t do this no more. I’m going home,”
she pleaded.

“Fuck you mean, ‘home’?” Mike growled. “You belong to me!” he yelled, snatching her up.

“Nigga, you don’t own me!” Tiffany yelled, determine to take control of her life.

Mike’s hand was a blur as it sped toward her face. The slap, though not as hard, hurt more than
the first because this one was deliberate. “Bitch, I DO own you. You are my property! Do you
understand?” Mike screamed, inches from her face and clutching her harshly by the shoulders.

Tiffany was so scared she could only nod her head. She was shaking like a leaf, trying to pee
on herself.

Mike sensed that he had accomplished his goal and softened his tone. “Look, baby…” he began,
kissing her forehead as he spoke. “We are a team, you and me. I need you,” he said, feeling her
relax with his words. “Ima make sure you get all your money back and then some. After we reach
our goal, it’s over. You’re coming to live with me. That’s if you belong to me. Do you? Do you
belong to me?” Mike then removed her clothes and laid her down as he spoke.

“Yes, I’m yours,” Tiffany moaned as Mike entered her.

“Tell me you’re my property,” Mike demanded, stroking her firmly.

“Yes. Yes, I’m all yours!” Tiffany yelled as an orgasm shook her small frame.

CHAPTER 19

M
ike had put out a $10,000 reward for whoever brought Wanda to him. He wanted her
alive…so he could kill her himself. Her little stunt cost him fifteen stacks to replace the
money she stole from Tiffany. It didn’t matter that he drove Tiffany even harder and charged more
for her services.

Once Wanda polished off the last of the ounce she got from P.I.G., she was back on the hunt,
knowing full well that P.I.G. despised her and would turn her in on the strength, let alone ten
stacks. That bridge was burned.

Word was out at most of the other smokehouses in town, further reducing her options. The few
renegades who either had the balls or lacked the brains to trap on the street or out of hotel rooms
had pure D bullshit, straight chalk.

Wanda was born again when she found the card Pony had given her months before at the bottom
of her purse. She remembered a sample of that butta came with it.

Pony knew about the bounty on Wanda’s head, but he wasn’t interested in claiming it. At the
same time, he wasn’t messing with her either. His life was drama free, and he wanted to keep it that
way. Instead, he directed her to the address of the small smokehouse he had set up for Marcus.

Wanda was thrilled to find out trick-ass Marcus had a package. As bad as he used to sweat
her, she didn’t intend to spend a dime. She knew the money she’d stolen from Tiffany wouldn’t
last. Even if Mike hadn’t blackballed her from every club, who wanted a dancer missing a front
tooth?

* * *

“Today is ya lucky day,” she said, pulling in front of the small rental house Marcus operated
out of. Another advantage to seducing Marcus was his shared hatred of both Mike and Tiffany. He
could be an asset in her plans for revenge.

She had long ago copied the keys to Mike’s condo and gleaned the combination to his safe. The
only thing she lacked was the courage to hit the lick. Years back, Wanda had previously watched
Mike beat a girl to death over some missing money—cash Wanda herself had stolen. She planned
to make an anonymous tip once she got that money out of the safe.

It took several minutes of beating on the door for Wanda to revive Marcus from the coma-like
sleep.

“Fuck! Beating on da do like da po-lice!” Marcus grumbled. Then, being the foolish, reckless
junkie he was, he pulled the door open without even checking to make sure it wasn’t the police.

“Hey, Mr. Man,” Wanda said seductively, pushing past Marcus. She was relieved to see he was
alone, and better yet, he hadn’t begun to get high. One thing Wanda knew was that once a junkie
started smoking for the day, he had no use for some pussy.

“What time is it?” Marcus inquired, blinking rapidly and trying to make sure his eyes weren’t
deceiving him. He couldn’t believe Wanda was actually there and being nice to him.