Brick (Double Dippin') (17 page)

Behind the wheel, his chest heaved and he gasped for breath. He’d run only a short distance, but his chest was on fire. With construction work and weightlifting, Brick’s body was ripped and cut, but he obviously needed to get in some cardio exercises if he planned to continue racing away from crime scenes on foot.

During the drive back to the motel, his eyes roved anxiously from the rearview mirror to the bag of money in the backseat. So far, so good. There were no squad cars tailing him and no exploding dye packs popping off inside the bag. But then again, maybe dye packs exploded silently. Hell if he knew how that shit worked.

Nobody could identify him…all they could say was that a big black man had robbed the bank and left on foot, but still, he needed to keep it moving, and get the hell out of Bucks County.

But he couldn’t leave town just yet. He had to go back to the motel and get his personal items. Nothing he possessed had any real value, but the photographs of his son were irreplaceable. Taking a huge risk, Brick went back to the motel. Once inside, he glanced out the window every few minutes, checking to see if the cops were lurking outside.

With nervous hands, he counted the money. Only twelve thousand.
Damn! He’d expected a bank job to bring in a lot more than that. Still, he was relieved the money was not covered with red dye.

From his duffle bag, he pulled out a couple of items, and then changed from dark pants and boots to a pair of cargo shorts and sneakers.

Bucks County was a wrap. It was time to move on. Brick was ready for Miami, but he needed some more information from that lil’ punk, Cash Money.

One last glance around the room, and he noticed Anya’s red-print overnight bag. Brick’s heart dropped. He didn’t want to hurt Anya, but it was time to make a clean break from her. He’d leave her a stack and then move on to Miami with a clear conscience.

Anya could do much better than him—a troubled man on the run for attempted murder…and now a bank robbery. He couldn’t contribute anything positive to Anya’s life. Leaving her behind would be an act of kindness.

But Brick realized Anya wouldn’t take it that way. She’d feel rejected. Brick imagined her hurt and disappointment when she discovered he’d ducked out on her. She deserved an explanation. Instead of leaving her overnight bag behind, he tossed it in the trunk alongside his duffle bag.

While driving, one hand steered, the other roved over the screen of his cell phone, placing his call to Anya on speaker. It would be real dumb to get pulled over for driving around with a cell phone up to his ear.

“You still researching stuff on the computer?” he asked when Anya picked up.

“Yeah, I’m done. Was just getting ready to log off.”

“There’s a change in plans…” Brick hesitated briefly. “I’m…uh…on the move. Understand what I’m saying?”

“No. What do you mean, you’re on the move?”

“We have to get out of Bucks County…go our separate ways. It’s not safe for you to be with me.”

“Brick…” She spoke his name pleadingly.

“I’m on the run, Anya. And I don’t want to drag you any deeper into my situation.”

“This is so sudden. What happened?”

“Things changed; that’s all I can say. I’m not gon’ leave you hanging, though. I got something for you.”

“But—”

“Meet me outside the copy center in five minutes,” Brick said firmly.

“All right.” There was acceptance in Anya’s voice, and Brick was relieved.

As soon as Anya got in the car, Brick pulled off.

Offended, Anya tsked through her teeth. “Oh, my goodness. Are you in that big of a rush to get rid of me?”

“It’s not you. I got law enforcement on my ass. I got shit to take care of…for Misty. Until Smash Hitz and that tranny get bodied, I can’t be out here fucking around and getting caught.”

“Why are you ditching me? I told you that I’m willing to help you.”

“You don’t need to get involved in my problems. Stay focused on looking for your pop. And after you get that resolved, I want you to find yourself a good man.”

“I’m not looking for a man.”

“A pretty girl like you should be thinking about sharing a future with a nice dude. I’m bad news, baby—I’m all fucked up!”

“No, you’re not.”

“You’re better off without me. Real talk. I’ma give you enough bread to hold you until you get yourself together, aye? I want you to get yourself an apartment, and stop all this moving around. You deserve better.”

“If you say so.” Anya’s tone was snippy.

“I’m sorry, Anya. I really am. But I’m tryna look out for you. So where do you want me to drop you off? I can give you enough money to stay in a nice hotel until you find something permanent.”

“A nice hotel is the farthest thing from my mind. You’re not the only one that’s out for revenge. Wanna know what I discovered today?” Anya said angrily.

Brick cut an eye at her. “You found your pop?”

“No. I found out one of the men that brutally murdered my mother is out of jail. He’s free as a fucking bird…walking the streets right now.” She stopped talking and murmured something under her breath. She dropped her head and Brick realized that she was crying.

“It’s okay…” His voice trailed off. He nodded sympathetically, at a loss for words.

“It’s not okay. I’m consumed with hatred. Just like you.” She looked up at Brick with tears streaming. “Fuck getting me an apartment. If you really want to do something for me—something that’s meaningful—then get me a piece. I need a gun, Brick. I’m gonna personally put a bullet between that killer’s eyes.”

Anya’s mouth tightened. Her eyes, no longer filled with tears, were icy cold. Turning her head, she stared out of the window. Every few moments, a deep, shuddering breath expressed her quiet rage.

Brick kept driving. He had a much better understanding of why Anya became so violently passionate when they were in bed. It was the only way she could express her pent-up rage.

He rubbed Anya’s shoulder with one hand and steered with the other. His reassuring hand had no effect on Anya. She didn’t revert back to her usual sweet self. She sat motionless. Staring out the window, intent on committing murder.

Making a split-second decision, he proceeded to cross the Tacony Palmyra Bridge.

“We’re going to Jersey?” she asked without emotion.

“It’s close enough to Philly to handle business, but far enough away to be a good hideout spot.”

“What about the gun?”

“I’ll make some calls. I gotchu. I’ll take care of it.”

They had an understanding now. A nonverbal agreement. They were rolling together. Neither was concerned about the danger. They both possessed a thirst that could not be quenched until blood was spilled.

O
n his hands and knees, Munch is growling and pulling, but Blake yanks him over to Tillie. At this point, Fawn is standing near the front door with her hands over her mouth. There’s a mixture of shock and excitement shining in her pretty brown eyes.

Munch rears up and knocks Tillie into a chair. Standing on his knees, he holds her down with his forearms. Tillie isn’t fighting back at all. Her short skirt is hitched up. She’s got her legs cocked open, and she ain’t wearing any panties. The bitch came prepared.

Munch is a big freak. The way he’s chowing down on that girl’s pussy is bananas! I have never seen any shit like this. He’s growling, sucking, and licking—slurping. The way this nigga is gobbling up pussy, I’d be surprised if that ho, Tillie, has any pussy left to share with Blake and me.

After about five minutes of watching Munch, I realize he has no intention of stopping. I turn to Blake. “I thought he was supposed to be getting her ready for you?”

“He is,” Blake says. Blake is looking real comfortable with the situation, and he’s not even holding the handle of the collar anymore. He’s letting Munch freestyle on that coochie.

“How long is he gon’ be at it?” I ask, disgruntled. Shit, I want my turn to smash.

Blake shrugs. “I think he sniffed too much glue. If I try to pull him off, he might bite her.”

“So! Let him bite her. He’s taking too long.” I cut an eye at Fawn and she seems mesmerized by what’s happening in the living room. Munch has turned into some kind of pussy-eating animal. Fawn is watching as her girlfriend, Tillie is lying back, busting one nutt after another.

Meanwhile, Blake and me huddle together, both silently coming to terms with the fact that Munch is not going to stop and we may possibly have to share Fawn.

“I don’t do sloppy seconds!” The words fly angrily out of my mouth.

“Man, I’m the one that brought you in on this. Fuck if I’m going behind you,” Blake declares.

I turn to Fawn. “Who do you wanna get with first?” I’m confident she’s feeling me as much as I’m feeling her, so I stand there, smirking.

Fawn looks from me to Blake. “Umm…Umm.”

Umm!
What the fuck!

“I think… I’m gonna pick…” She keeps pausing and hesitating, acting like she can’t make up her mind.

You could have knocked me over with a fuckin’ feather when she points to Munch, and says, “I wanna wait for him.”

Blake is as stunned as I am. I keep a straight face, but Blake turns beet red. I guess Pretty Boy never had a chick choose Munch over him.

“Aye. I got shit to do.” Blake plays it off like he’s real busy. He checks the screen of his phone. “My baby mom is blowing up my phone. Tell Munch I’ll swing back to pick him up in a couple of hours.”

“Hold up, Blake. How you gon’ walk out and leave Munch in my crib? I’m not fucking with him and that dog collar. I refuse to get bit, tryna pull him off shawty. Worse comes to worst, I’ma let him eat that bitch alive,” I say with a surly attitude.

Blake holds up the cloth Munch had been sniffing on. “He can’t keep going without this. He’ll be more manageable when it wears off.”

“What about me?” Fawn inquires. “Is he gonna do me after he finishes with Tillie?”

Blake looks at Fawn like she’s scum. “I don’t know, bitch. Ask him!”

“Who you calling a bitch? I don’t know why you coming at me like that,” Fawn complains.

Blake grabs one of the six-packs and slams the door on his way out.

Munch and Tillie are in their own world. The living room has a thick, musky odor. I don’t actually know how a whorehouse smells because I’ve never been inside one, but I bet it has the same scent lingering in the air right now.

I give Fawn a suggestive look. She smiles, which makes me feel confident I can change her mind about waiting for Munch.

“While they’re busy, why don’t we get into something?”

“Get into what?” she asks, her eyes gleaming. I realize she wants me to give her some head. I’m actually considering it. But on some real shit…I ain’t never done that before. Not to a female.

I can’t take my eyes off Fawn’s glittery lips. For some odd reason, I feel compelled to kiss her. I haven’t kissed a girl since I was a teenager. I wanted to save myself for the right one, but life is too short to wait for the right girl.

I take Fawn by the hand and pull her into my arms. She feels small and delicate. I press my lips against hers. I’m feeling a little awkward at first, but then my tongue takes over, starts sliding inside her mouth, licking her tongue. She’s making little sounds in her throat. My breathing is heavy as hell, and my Johnson is getting activated.

My joint is acting crazy. It’s discombobulated and bunched up
all crazy and uncomfortably in the front of my pants. I want to take it out of confinement—give it some freedom. I also want to coerce Fawn into fondling my dick. Real sneaky like, I slip one arm from around her, and I allow my free hand to journey down to my crotch. The moment I touch my zipper, I hear movement. I crack an eye open and here comes that fuckin’ Munch! He’s crawling all zigzag and crazy…heading in our direction.

Something’s wrong with this nut-ass bull. I’m sick of all this crawling around on the floor. It’s nerve-wracking. The shit is getting old. And the way he’s crawling now is more disturbing than before. His movements are no longer fast and furious. He’s crawling in a slow and crooked way…like an old dog that needs to be put down.