It's Like Candy (20 page)

As the shower ran, Starr pulled out Ms. Henderson's number from her jeans pocket. She stared at it and felt sad that she had run away from the two social workers. But she refused to be placed in a group home.

Ms. Henderson was the only person who ever took time out to be with her and really talked to her, and prayed for her. Already Starr was missing her a little bit. She tried to block from her mind what Ms. Henderson had said to her about becoming a respectful and educated young woman, and tried to focus on making money for Rome tonight.

Starr slightly crumpled the phone number in her grip, tempted to throw it in the trash, but she decided to hold on to it. She placed the paper back in her jeans pocket and jumped into the shower. It had been a rough two weeks for her, and she needed to make up for lost time—money needed to be made. She dismissed Ms. Henderson from her mind and said to herself,
fm never getting caught out there like that again. She doesn ‘t understand me, and never will.

She was determined not to get caught up in a situation with Bamboo or the CAC ever again. In fact, she wanted to get revenge on Bamboo. She wanted to kill him. Starr knew that in due time, her sweet revenge would come.

She quickly washed and dried off, and wrapped herself in a large towel. She wanted to relax for a few hours. But when she stepped out of the bathroom, she saw Rome standing in the living room with one of her male clients.

“Bitch, you might as well not get dressed, you got business to take care of,” Rome said. “He's been wanting to see you for a week now.”
Starr sighed, securing the towel around her tightly. “C'mon,” she muttered, heading for one of the back bedrooms.

The man gave Rome a few twenty-dollar bills and followed Starr to her room. Starr closed the door behind him and then walked up to him. He took a seat on her bed, looking as though he was raring to go for some ass.

Starr stood over him, untied the towel from around her, and dropped it around her ankles. She stood naked in front of him, fresh from the shower. He reached his hand up to her breasts and fondled her gently, his dick getting hard as he pinched her nipples softly.

Starr got down on her knees, unbuckled his pants, and pulled out his dick. He was average, and she felt relieved that she didn't have to put in too much work handling a big dick. She rolled back a condom on his dick and then engulfed him slowly, causing her trick to let out a slight moan as her head bobbed up and down.

Starr's two-week vacation was over. Her first day out of the hospital and it was back to business, being in her bedroom sucking dick. But even though she'd been in the hospital, for her it felt good to just chill out and talk to Ms. Henderson and not think about the track that often.

But this was her reality, and this was how she got paid. And she felt that there was nothing more for her, especially an education. She had street smarts, and the hood showed her how to get paid. And being young, she thought that all she needed to get by on was her looks and her sexual skills.

But then Starr asked herself, if this was all it was about for her, then why did she keep Ms. Henderson's number?

River sat alone at a botth,
sipping on a strawberry daiquiri and thinking about her life. She was sitting in a Harlem lounge collecting her thoughts. No one knew her in Harlem and she figured it was safe for her uptown. A small jazz band serenaded the crowd in the dim atmosphere, as everyone felt at ease nursing their drinks and letting the night carry them away.

River thought about Eric and hoped that he was okay. She decided to stay out of Queens for a few days despite Big Red's disapproval. Things were getting too hot for her in Queens.

With the money and jewels they had gotten from robbing Eric, it totaled $15,000 apiece for them. Big Red had pawned over $10,000 worth of jewelry, and mixed the proceeds in with the loot.

River decided to take her share and leave the hood for a while. She rented a lavish room at the Sheraton in downtown Brooklyn. It cost her two hundred a night. But for her, it was worth it.

She lingered in her booth looking like money herself. She was clad in a beige glazed leather wrap miniskirt, a sheer boat-neck sweater with side ties at the hip, and stilettos. Her flawless beauty attracted unwanted attention from the many men who occupied the
lounge. Around her neck she sported a diamond, seed pearl, sapphire, platinum, and pink gold necklace, and wrapped around her right index finger was a diamond-encrusted platinum ring.

She glanced around the lounge and noticed a man in a gray suit raising his glass of wine at her, trying to catch her attention. But River ignored him and focused her attention on the band. She wished she hadn't come alone, being prey to a roomful of men. River knew it would only be a matter of time before someone came up to her.

Her pager went off in her purse, and she dug into it and looked at the number. It was Big Red paging her. She sighed, tossed the pager back in her purse, and said quietly, “Not tonight.”

Moments later, a tall, well-groomed man clad in a three-piece black suit appeared at River's table. He was decked out in diamonds and jewelry, and gazed at River with a smile.

Without her permission he took a seat across from her in the booth, and said, “You look familiar. I know you from somewhere.”

“I don't think so,” River shortly replied, clearly implying that she wanted to be alone.

“Nah, I do know you, but I just can't place where,” he continued.

Something about his presence made her nervous. She didn't want to make a scene, so she continued to sit casually in the booth, acting as if they were old friends.

By his demeanor, River knew he was a thug disguised by a suit. His eyes were black, and even though he was handsome, she knew his attitude was very ugly.

“Why you here alone?” he asked.

“Can you please leave?” she said.

“Nah, not until I place your face. There's something about you that got me trippin' right now. I don't know why.” He sat there and studied her. “What's your name?”

River sighed. She knew sooner or later that the situation was going to turn ugly. She slowly reached into her purse for her blade.

“You must know my boy, then,” the man said, looking across the room.

River turned to see who he was looking at, and suddenly fear spread across her face. The man who sat with her noticed this and said with a smirk, “Yeah, you know him, right? I see it in your face, and it can't be for anything good.”

“No, I don't know him,” River replied.

“Bitch, don't lie to me,” he barked.

“Excuse me, but I have to go,” she said, slowly moving out of the booth.

“Nah, fuck that, you ain't goin' anywhere,” he said, quickly grabbing her by the forearm with force, spilling her drink.

“Please—” River uttered, sounding helpless.

The man held on to her tightly as he nodded over to his friend Hubert. River saw Hubert get out of his chair and start to come her way flanked by two other goons. Panic struck her suddenly, and she knew that she had to make her move, even if it meant causing a scene. With her one free hand, she reached for her blade, and when the man wasn't looking, instantly she came down on his right hand with the blade, pinning his hand to the table.

“Aaaaaahhh! Aaaaaahhh, this bitch stabbed me!” he screamed, trying to free his blood-soaked hand.

River bolted from the table and made her way for the door. Hubert and both his goons gave chase as patrons looked on in awe. Everything stopped for that moment.

River quickly ran outside, racing in her stilettos down the block. She glanced back and saw Hubert and his men running quickly for her. She dashed across four lanes of traffic and oncoming cars, making a minivan stop short to keep from hitting her.

She scurried down a busy street, trying to hail a cab. She saw one parked and quickly made her way to it. But before she could open the back door, one
of
Hubert's goons grabbed her, twisted her around,
and gave her a backhand smack across her face. River dropped to the concrete, peering up at her attacker.

“Bitch, where the fuck you going?” he shouted, revealing a .357 in his waistband.

The cab driver got frightened and pulled away without even trying to help. Hubert was there shortly. He glared at River, and said, “You remember me, bitch?”

“No!” River replied sarcastically, with a little bit of blood trickling from her lips.

Smack.
Hubert struck her, and River fell back against a parked car.

“You set me up,” he said.

“You got the wrong bitch,” River replied.

“You must think I'm stupid, right?” Hubert exclaimed, glaring at her. “Bitch, you're about to breathe your last breath on this earth. But not before me and my niggahs finish raping your ass. Gene, get the fuckin' car and go see if Dino is all right—stupid muthafucka!”

Hubert forcefully grabbed River by her arm, but suddenly fell back when he heard the far-too-familiar sounds of
whoop-whoop.
Police sirens blared at a short distance.

“Shit!” he mumbled.

A squad car pulled up to them, and two white officers stepped out. River quickly wiped the blood from her mouth.

“Is there a problem here?” the tall blond officer asked, glaring at all three men.

“Officer, my ex-boyfriend was trying to attack me,” River exclaimed. “We were having a fight.”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

River nodded. “I just want to go home.”

Both cops looked at Hubert and his men. “The three of y'all were trying to jump on this one lady?”

“Nah, it ain't even like that, Officer. Nothing but a misunderstanding between me and my woman, that's all,” Hubert calmly informed him.

The man concealing the .357 was hoping that it didn't get ugly and they wouldn't try to search him, because he was already on parole.

“Officer, I don't want to press any charges,” River continued. “I'm tired and I just want to take a cab home. Me and him are so through, right, Hubert?”

“Yeah, we're through, you're like dead to me right now,” Hubert dryly returned.

“You need a cab?” the tall officer asked.

“Yes. Please.”

While his partner maintained order with Hubert and his men, the blond officer helped River hail a cab. Hubert stood back and helplessly watched River jump into a cab and ride off. He glared at the cab, and bit down on his bottom lip wishing tonight had turned out differently for River—like seeing her lying dead in a ditch somewhere.

“Okay, tonight's your lucky tonight. She's gone, so turn around and go back where y'all came from,” the shorter officer instructed. “I don't want to see the three of you around here anytime tonight.”

Hubert sighed and walked away reluctantly with his two goons right behind him.

In the backseat of the cab, River sighed with much relief. She came so close to losing her life tonight that it took her a minute to tell the cabbie her destination. She thanked God for the officers' perfect timing.

“Please take me to the Sheraton, downtown Brooklyn,” she told the cabbie.

Her heart pounded rapidly as she stared out the back window. She'd known it would be only a matter of time before she ran into a victim that she had helped set up, but tonight had caught her off guard. She quietly shed tears in the cab as she thought about her options. It was becoming too risky. Robbing tricks on the track was one thing, but going after full-blooded hustlers was another. And River was too wise not to know that everything comes to an end sooner or later. She definitely wanted out after tonight. Her life came first.

The burgundy Escalade pulled up
to the parked four-door sedan at a pier in Far Rockaway. It was three in the morning, and quiet. Yung Slim sat in the passenger seat while Critter was driving. Yung Slim lit a cigarette and sat in the truck for a while, peering out at the beach.

“Why you deal wit' these muthafuckas, Yung Slim?” Critter asked, glaring at the sedan.

“Cuz, I rather side with them than be against them. Everybody comes in useful, remember that, Critter. Besides, I need some information from our friend,” Yung Slim said, then stepped out of the truck.

Detective Monroe stepped out of his car and Yung Slim followed him toward the boardwalk. Critter sat back and watched his boy disappear onto the dark boardwalk with a cop he didn't like or trust.

“I can't believe they let your monkey ass out in seven,” Detective Monroe said. “Whose dick did you have to suck to get paroled?”

“Fuck you, too!” Yung Slim chided. “I can't believe your crooked ass is still a cop. I thought the DA had a case against you.”

“I've been a cop for too many years to let some snitch rat muthafucka get the drop on me,” Monroe said. He pulled out a cigarette. “You got alight?”

Yung Slim passed him his lighter and the two continued to walk down the boardwalk. Monroe took a long drag from his cancer stick and exhaled, peering up at the stars.

“What you need from me?” Monroe asked.

“Some information.”

“So I take it that a nine-to-five for you is out of the question? You ain't even out one week yet.”

“There's five grand for you.”

“Five grand for what kind of info?” Monroe asked, taking another drag from his cancer stick.

“I need an address or location of a certain individual,” Yung Slim said.

“I need a name first.”

“His name is Rahmel, but he goes by Rah,” Yung Slim said.

“Rahmel. Ain't that your cousin's homeboy? What you want wit' him?”

“I just need to talk. I heard he got married some time ago, but he never came back to the States. I know he's running,” Yung Slim informed him.

“I see what I can do. But I want half up front.”

Before Monroe could say anything else, Yung Slim pulled out a knot of hundreds and passed it to Monroe. “You ain't changed a bit. There's twenty-five hundred in that knot. Get it done.”