Crimson Footprints II: New Beginnings (28 page)

Snow dropped onto the couch and dug weed from his pocket. Keisha went to a drawer in the kitchen and withdrew a package of cigars without question. She brought them to him and retreated to chop more onions.

“How many new girls?” Lizzie said, asking and not wanting to know.

“Seven,” Snow said and pulled a Swiss Army knife from his sock. He flicked it open and cut a cigar down the middle.

“Let me tell you how I got ’em. Shit’s genius,” he said. “I get a young dude looking to come up. Pour a little money into him, take good care of him, and the girls flock to him, you know? Eventually, he steps to one. A shy one, not that good looking, looks like she comes from a real holy-type home like you. He asks her out. You know, movie, dinner, some bullshit that makes her feel pretty. She agrees; he picks her up in a nice-ass car. Then he takes her here or some other private spot I like to use. Tells her he needs to stop and pick up more cash. Invites her inside. Gets up in here and handles business, you know? Take that shit no matter what she says.”

Snow lit the blunt, its spark like the hot anger in Lizzie’s belly.

“But here’s where the shit gets ingenious.”

Snow took a deep tote.

“I’ve got fellas staked out, taking pictures while he’s fucking her. Dozens of these shits. So, she leaves, all fucked up in the head from getting the shit fucked outta her and a few days later he approaches her, tells her he wants to see her again. When she says ‘no,’ he shows her the pictures. Now what’s she gonna do? Dude is telling her that her mom, dad, preacher, hell, the whole fucking school, is about to see her with her pussy out like a freak, with her mouth gobbling dick. So, what’s she gonna do? Whatever the fuck we tell her. And that’s how she gets pimped. Right now, I’m using your little cousin T3, or Baby Tariq, to help me out. Dude’s a natural. You should see him.”  

Lizzie stared. Once, she talked to Kenji about how dirty she now felt about being a whore and how stupid she’d been. He’d told her that girls like her, from certain families, were preyed on and manipulated by men. She hadn’t believed it. But as she stood there, listening, she realized that every moment of her life, every thrust she’d taken, every ounce of crack and heroin, had been orchestrated by this man or another.

She stole a glance at Keisha, who stood motionless, thoughts far from the room. What could she be thinking? Lizzie’s aunt Caroline and Keisha had always prided themselves on Snow’s ability to “take care of business.” Well, here was the business transaction. And there were absolutely no refunds.

This time, when Snow went into the back, Lizzie made for the kitchen.

“How many girls are you gonna let him do this to?” Lizzie hissed. “How many girls does he have to hurt?”

There was no denying the sickness on her face. Keisha was disgusted. Finally.

But then she quickly shook it away.

“They want it,” she said simply and went back to chopping. “Just like you did. They could stop at any time.”

“I was a child!” Lizzie cried. “A child.”

Keisha chopped harder. When a toilet flushed, Lizzie knew Snow was about to return.

“Do something,” she hissed and walked to the opposite side of the room.

~*~

Afternoon passed to evening and Lizzie didn’t dare pull out her cell phone. Though she knew Kenji had to be sick with worry, she also realized that Snow hadn’t thought to take it from her. She would bide her time, only to make an escape, somehow, though she couldn’t say how. No one talked of evacuating for the hurricane. No one left her alone. And with each hour that she remained there in that house, Lizzie crept an hour closer to her death.

Keisha’s daughters arrived that evening. There were three in all, each from a different father. The oldest, Treasure, was 16; the middle girl, Temple, 15; and the baby, Moondisha, called Mooney for short, had turned 12 just a few days ago. Eventually, all three were supposed to move in, but for the time being, Treasure lived with her father’s mother, while Temple and Mooney lived with Aunt Caroline.

That evening, the family watched a movie. Something bootleg and grainy called
Firestorm.
The girls sat on the floor, a pizza between them, with Mooney text messaging nonstop. Snow sat next to Lizzie on the couch, whispering things that only she could hear.

“You let another man come between us, Lizzie, after all this time. After all this that’s been between us.”

She swallowed.

“What he give you that I ain’t give you? Money? You don’t need that shit. I took care of you. Made sure nothing happened to your ass.”

She looked down at the faded scars of her body, the ones that called him “Liar.”

“He can’t protect you. I’ve seen him. What you want with him? What he do for you?”

She didn’t trust herself to speak. If Snow knew the real depth of her emotion, than he would harm Kenji instead. That way, he could keep his product and make his point at the same time.

The easiest thing to do would’ve been to deny him, to say that she’d used him in the greatest hustle of her life, but Lizzie knew her mouth wouldn’t form the words.

“I know you,” Snow said. “He don’t know you like I do. I’ve seen you in action.”

She looked at him and saw in his smile every dirty thing she’d ever done. Every hole filled as a line of men waited, and her, enthusiastic, desperate, disgusting.

She looked away.

Snow laughed.

  It was the longest night of her life.

One by one they went to bed, Keisha first, inviting Snow to join her. He snorted in response. Treasure went next, with an exaggerated yawn that told Lizzie she’d be up and sneaking out soon. Temple and Mooney left at the same time, heading for the smallest room with bunk beds. But Snow remained on the couch with Lizzie. Soon, she began to feign sleepiness in the hopes of encouraging the same with him. Nothing good ever came from being alone with Snow.

He was constantly on the phone, text messaging, text messaging, always. He flipped channels, blinking sleepily, and only occasionally glanced back at Lizzie.

“You got a cell phone with you?” Snow asked suddenly.

Lizzie bristled.

“No.”

He pursed his lips in disbelief.

“Now if I make your ass strip down naked and happen to find a cell phone, I’m a kick your fuckin’ head in. Now one last time. Do you have a cell phone?”

Lizzie didn’t care what he said. Her cell phone was the only connection to Kenji.

“Search me if you want. I forgot it at home,” she said.

He opened his mouth, but his own phone interrupted him. He looked down at it and put it away.

“Kit left the family Wednesday night,” Snow said. “Told me she’d had enough. Friday morning, the police were towing away a 1995 Toyota Camry with her body in the trunk.”

He stood.

“There’s a lot of cars around here. Old cars. Junk cars that nobody pays attention to. You feel me?”

Lizzie nodded, sickly.

“Good.”

She watched him head down the hall.

How long she stared behind him after he turned the corner she didn’t know. Her heart pounded. Her mouth went dry. How long should she wait? A half hour? An hour? She could run out the door, but that would do no good. Months ago, when she’d first gone missing, Snow had placed a bounty on her head. Such was the way of pimps. Every two-bit hustler from Overtown to Liberty City would look to bash Lizzie over the head and drag her back for the respect of an OG and a couple twenties in their pocket.

Lizzie stretched out on the couch. An hour. Snow had seemed sleepy. An hour would be long enough to ensure her safety. Then she would text Kenji and take her chances. That was the only way. Police were nothing in places like this. A cop would show up, take a statement, and leave her right where she stood, never even bothering to offer her a ride.

A sound in the hall made her strain to hear. A door opened. Or maybe closed. She’d been so embroiled in her thoughts that she couldn’t tell which. Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut and pretended to sleep. She squinted just in time to watch Treasure tiptoe out the door.

More time passed. How much, she didn’t know. Her heart beat too fast. The house was so silent she likened it to a tomb.

It was time to make her move.

Lizzie sat up, ears perked, and tiptoed to the hall. If she was stopped there, she would tell them she had to use the bathroom. Anywhere else in the house and her motives were suspect.

Still, she careened her head around the corner, darkness engulfing her completely.

Keisha surprised her, stock-still in the hall, motionless, arm extended, her face shadowed from view.

Something was wrong.

Curiosity bade Lizzie forward.

Her cousin eased into view like a slow-moving panorama. Keisha. Keisha’s arm. A gun. Pointed into the open room. And then . . . the reason why.

Snow, in the bottom bunk, moving, groaning, grinding atop the smallest figure.

Mooney.

Above them, Temple still slept.

She wasn’t crying as Lizzie had been, when Snow had her the same way at about the same age. In fact, she was the opposite, arms around his neck; soft mewls muffled by the grunts of a middle-aged man. Lizzie looked away, sickened.

Mooney screamed.

“What the—” Snow yelped and scurried away. Keisha’s arm swept from where he’d been to where he ran at the foot of the bed. Cock jutting like a dagger, he eyed her steady, jeans and boxers at his feet on the floor.

“You filthy motherfucker,” Keisha spat.

Mooney gathered up the covers to shield her slight body.

“You better get that gun outta my face,” Snow said. “Baby momma or not, you know the rule. You pull a gun on me, you get put in the dirt.”

Keisha’s eyes watered. They were in a standoff, each staring at the other. Slowly, her gun began to lower. Snow smirked in response.

“Come on,” he said. “You gonna shoot your fiancé?”

She lifted the gun again.

“You fucking my twelve-year-old, Snow? You fucking my baby, and you got the nerve to be smiling?”

He went for the boxers, pulled them on first, and followed them with the jeans. He could’ve been dressing to get the mail; he seemed so relaxed.

“Yeah. I am.” Snow stood. “I fucked all three of ’em, matter of fact. And a couple of them nieces and cousins, too. But you knew all that already.”

He took a step closer and instinctively, Lizzie, behind both Keisha and the gun, took one back.

“Now get that gun out my face,” Snow said.

Keisha cocked it instead.

Snow stepped forward so that barrel pressed his chest.

“You ain’t got it. And you ain’t never had it. You ain’t shit but a piece of dirty ass. What the fuck you gonna do to me?”

He held her gaze, steady, confident, and Keisha’s arm slackened under it.

Suddenly, he turned his back on her.

“Fucking Hammond pulling a gun on me,” he snarled. “Y’all ain’t learn your lesson, yet? Last one to try that got unloaded on. Take that to your motherfuckin’ nightmares.”

“You!” Lizzie cried. “
You
killed Tony?”

“Yeah, I killed that motherfucker. And I’m ’bout to—”

Keisha fired.

One bullet into his back and he catapulted like a cannon into the bed frame. She stepped forward, steadied her arm, and pointed downward to where he’d slumped, partway on the bottom bunk, knees on the floor. He was groaning. She shot again, and it silenced him. Temple, now bolt upright, began to scream. Mooney joined her. Keisha pulled the trigger again. And again. And again, until the gun clicked empty and Steven Curtis Evans was silenced forever.

~*~

Kenji ripped through the streets of Miami, tires squealing in the night. He had no idea what had happened to Lizzie, or could’ve been happening at that moment. She called him, told him where to come and that Snow was dead. It was all he knew.

Kenji called Tak and told him what was happening. His brother, naturally, begged him not to go. When that didn’t work, Tak insisted on following. Kenji gave him the address only after he promised not to come. Two children and one on the way meant this was Kenji’s journey alone. Tak had too much to lose.

Kenji pulled up at a high-rise behind a handful of squad cars. Were they taking Lizzie away? Had she given Snow what he deserved? If so, he’d have her out on bail in an hour with the best damned lawyer on her side.

The police, he thought with a sneer. They
would
be there to take Lizzie away. Never to stop the abuse, only there to tidy what remained of the mess.

Kenji jumped from his Audi, pushed past the growing crowd of bystanders, and burst into the building. 

“Lizzie!” he roared, desperation boiling as he tore up the stairs. “Lizzie! Tell me you’re all right!”

He couldn’t bear to hear any different.
God, please. She has to be all right.

A crowd of officers milled around on the sixth floor. Just as he reached them, Lizzie burst through and flung herself into Kenji.