Rich got on his knees and faced Vanessa and Candy. “I didn't survive and thrive on these streets from age nine to thirty-five because I had a horseshoe up my ass and a rabbit's foot in my
pocket. I know my way around. And I'm not even into bracelets, so you know I don't get along
with handcuffs. Plus, we got a lot more living to do and that ain't gonna work if I'm hanging out
with Biggie and Pac. I never let neither one of y'all down and I ain't about to start now. Trust
me.”
They stood and hugged. Then he stepped into his closet. Seconds later he came out with a
handgun. He tucked it on his waistline and pulled his white mock neck over it. Rich squatted and tightened the shoelaces on his Wallabies. When he looked up, Vanessa and Candy were
sitting on the bed, hugging each other and rocking back and forth. The sight of them crying was eating at Rich. He turned and walked out the room. He tried to rid the image of them from his
mind. He knew that he would need to be focused for the mission he was going on with Chase.
Distractions on the street could easily lead to death.
* * *
It was midnight and Rich was wheeling the black Ford Taurus with Chase in the
passenger seat. Vanessa and Candy were still fresh on his mind. He had been on many missions
like the one he found himself on, and never had a woman occupied space in his mind while he
was focused on drama. Now he had two women clouding his thoughts. This new phenomenon indicated two things. First, although Rich once had virtually no feelings for women, he now had
feelings for two. Second, while he used to be so deep in the
game that nothing superseded it, he was now so far removed from the game that it was no longer his top priority.
“Park right there,” Chase said, pointing to the corner in front of a Fish & Chips restaurant
that was closed. Then he pointed to another building in the center of the block. “That's the
building.”
“That tenement?” Rich asked.
“Yeah.”
Rich surveyed the six-story apartment building and the rest of the block where they were parked
. It was deserted, an unusual occurrence for most Harlem blocks on a summer night.
But there were many cars parked on the strip of concrete and tar that was lined with another tenement, brownstones and a large yard connected to the restaurant at the corner on which they were parked.
“These motherfuckers gotta get it,” Chase said.
“So, what's poppin'? How it's going down?”
Chase said, “We lay until we see Biz pushin' that white Tahoe. It's gonna park in front of the tenement to pick up that little bastard Pana. By the time they get to this corner, I'ma be out there waitin’.”
“Good, 'cause I'm just gonna be here laying to hold you down. That's it!” Rich said, emphatically.
“Right.” Chase nodded. “But I need you to cut them off, so they can't drive away. Once
they stop, that's when I'm airing the whole truck out.”
The plan seemed simple to Rich. “Cool.” He pulled out his .45-caliber Glock. He
partially cocked it back, checking to make sure there was a bullet in the chamber.
“Fourteen shots. I know you keep 'em full,” Chase said. “Still know how to handle that hammer?”
“You never forget how to protect yourself.”
“Shit, you was on offense a whole lot more than defense,” said Chase.
Rich was silent, taking in the truth in Chase's statement. Most of the people Rich and Chase had shot or killed were not people who tried to kill them.
“Remember when I came home and you gave me that Smith and Wesson?” Chase asked.
“That nine. Dry sliver, twelve shots.”
“I still got that shit,” Chase said.
“Get the fuck outta here.”
“I'm dead ass. You gave that to me along with a hundred one-hundred-dollar bills. I kept
the gun and the C-note that was on top of the stack. Those is souvenirs. They in my basement.
The gun is still in the box with both clips.”
Rich remembered giving Chase the gun and money as coming home gifts. Fresh after serving five years, Chase had stepped back into the game with a fully loaded gun in his waistband
and a pocket full of drug money. As they sat now, waiting to commit the same act that had sent
Chase to prison, Rich felt guilty for welcoming Chase back into a life of lawlessness. The life
that Rich had left behind, only to be pulled back into it by the man who he reintroduced to the game. Rich stared at the gun
in his hand, then Chase, whose eyes were focused ahead of them.
This is karma, for real.
“It's on, homey,” Chase said.
Rich looked up, spotting Biz's white Tahoe.
Chase removed two masks from a bag, handing one to Rich. Then he took out an Uzi
from the bag and set it on his lap. He pulled the mask over his head and face. Only his eyes
and mouth were visible. He stepped out of the car and ducked into the doorway of an apartment
building next to the restaurant.
Rich slipped on his mask, as he started the Taurus. His sweaty palms soaked the glove
that clutched the steering wheel. His other hand clutched the Glock. Rich shook his head, as Pana
walked out of the tenement and stepped inside the Tahoe.
Fucking kid is sixteen. I'm more
than twice his age.
The Tahoe rolled slowly. Rich tapped his fingers on the wheel, while
gripping the Glock, hoping Chase completed the job so his role would remain minimal.
Rich hit the gas, then stopped in the center of the street corner. The Tahoe skidded to a halt a second before the rapid fire of Chase's Uzi provided a soundtrack reminiscent of an old
war film. He stepped into the street, riddling the SUV with 9-millimeter bullets. Paint peeled off the white doors and glass shattered from the windows.
“Come on, come on, come on.” Rich slowly rocked back and forth, tapping the Glock against his leg. The adrenalin rush that came with crime was back. Then his mind flashed on
Vanessa and Candy—the image of them curled up in fear as he walked out the door. He
remembered Candy's comment about Dez being killed.
Chase stepped toward the driver's side, firing non-stop into every tinted window of the SUV.
“Oh shit!” Rich jumped out the Taurus when he saw Pana exit the Tahoe on the opposite side of Chase.
Pana fired, hitting Rich. “Motherfucker!” he barked.
Chase dashed around the back of the Tahoe and cut Pana down with six quick shots. “Come on!” Rich screamed to Chase, while looking around the block for witnesses and police.
Chase dumped a few more shots into the Tahoe and ran over to the car, making it seconds before Rich did. Rich sped off.
A few blocks later, Chase said, “You should let me drive.”
Rich looked at his bloody arm. “I told you it's just a graze. It's nothin’.”
They rode through Harlem until they made it a couple blocks away from Rich's
penthouse. Rich pulled over on the deserted block. He inspected his wound. The graze had torn
just enough skin off his bicep to drench a portion of his shirt with blood. Rich tore a piece of the mock neck and wrapped his arm with it. Meanwhile Chase went to the trunk and grabbed an old sweatshirt and gave it to Rich to wear. Rich
drove home and stepped out of the car.
“Yo, Rich,” Chase said as he leaned his head out the window. He nodded. “Good lookin' out.”
Rich nodded back and walked off. He was greeted by the doorman, who welcomed him
into his building. Slowly stepping across the waxed marble floor of his immaculate building, he felt
awkward. The gun on his waist and the wound on his arm did not fit the image of the building.
This ain't even my style no more.
CHAPTER TEN
Candy and Vanessa had waited up past midnight for Rich, hoping he returned home
safely. Their night had been a cycle of crying, laughter and silence. They cried out of fear of the
worse happening. They laughed when they joked about the fun experiences they shared with
Rich. They were silent when their fears were overpowered by the presence of their
circumstances.
The possibility of losing Rich showed Candy how important he had become to her. Her
life had begun revolving solely around Vanessa. At work, Vanessa was present. After work,
Vanessa and Rich were present. They were her sexual, mental and social support network.
Without Rich, Candy's life would be incomplete.
Candy stepped into the living room, where Vanessa was seated Indian style on the couch. Sitting next to Vanessa, Candy gave her a cup of green tea, sweetened with Stevia.
“Thank you,” Vanessa said in a low tone.
Candy leaned back on the couch and watched the woman she loved slowly sip from the cup. They both sat silent for minutes.
Vanessa set the cup on the coffee table, then stretched out and rested her head on Candy's lap.
Candy began gently rubbing Vanessa's head. Seeing pain in Vanessa's face was almost as hard for Candy to think of as pondering the potential problems Rich faced.
“You believe in life after death?” Vanessa asked.
“Don't talk like that. Please.”
“Just speaking my mind.”
“Intelligent people like you have a lot more on their minds than that. How about living to the fullest in this life? Now, I believe in that. Let's talk about life.”
“It sucks.”
“Nothing wrong with a little sucking.”
Vanessa laughed. “I want you to promise me something.”
“What?” Candy asked.
“That you'll never hurt me like this, like Rich is doing.”
“You've got my word.” Candy kissed Vanessa's forehead.
The silent period returned, lingering like pollen in spring air. It was soon shattered by the
sound of a key in the front door. Before the key could fully turn, Candy and Vanessa had raced
to the door and snatched it open.
Rich smiled, as his women ushered him inside to the couch. “The door,” he said.
“Oh shit.” Candy ran and closed the door, locked it, then returned to the couch.
Rich peeled out of the sweatshirt Chase had given him.
“Oh my God.” Vanessa stared at the bloody remainder of Rich's white mock neck that wrapped his arm.
“It's nothing,” Rich said, nonchalantly. He removed the makeshift bandage.
“What happened?” Vanessa probed.
“Stop thinking about the past, baby. Let's focus on the future,” Rich said.
Candy sat down beside Rich. She was silent, hoping that the few bits and pieces that
came from Rich's mouth were enough for her to piece together the puzzle that Vanessa was
trying to solve. Candy had dealt with enough hustlers to understand that the details of what happened in the streets stayed in the streets. But she knew details would not do much to change
Rich obviously being shot in the process of retaliating with Chase.
Specifics were not important. What was important was Rich had emerged alive and he did not seem worried about the police coming for him.
“You okay?” Vanessa asked Rich.
“I only got grazed.”
“We gotta get you to a hospital,” said Vanessa.
“Not if you love me,” Rich responded.
“What?” Vanessa was baffled.
Candy looked at Vanessa and said, “Police will come asking questions at the hospital if you have a gunshot wound.”
Vanessa went to the bathroom and returned with a first-aid kit. She began cleaning Rich's
wound. “Rich, I can't do this again. You don't know what the hell it felt like sitting here all damn night, not knowing if I would get a call from the morgue or the precinct.”
“While you was sitting here thinking about me getting killed, I almost got killed,” Rich
said, visibly upset. “Now I'm home trying to move on, so the last thing I need is you killing me
softly with this bullshit.”
“Bullshit!” Vanessa screamed. She dropped the first-aid kit. “My love for you is bullshit?
Okay.” She stomped off onto the terrace.
Candy followed behind Vanessa, stopping next to her. “You know he loves
you.” She explained that Rich had just been through something traumatic and he needed the
sensitivity of a woman to readjust to the state he was in before he left home and entered a war
zone. Candy knew that Vanessa had a sheltered background and had never been involved with a
hustler. Candy explained to her the dynamics of the streets that had almost claimed Rich's life. “Ain't no love in these streets, Vanessa. When a man is caught up in all that bullshit,
he wants to come home and get everything those streets ain't giving out.”
Vanessa folded her arms. “What about us? Huh, Candy? What about what we went
through tonight?”
“It's not about us right now.”
Vanessa shook her head. “Well, you go tend to him.”
“And you're just gonna stay out here, forever, huh?”
“I just need some space,” Vanessa said, turning to look over Central Park.
“Okay.” Candy walked back into the penthouse and finished patching up Rich, while
explaining to him what Vanessa was going through. “You want something to eat?”
“I'm good.”
Candy went to the bedroom with Rich and helped him undress.
“Vanessa just don't get it,” Rich said, as Candy removed his shoes.
“She'll be okay.” Candy looked up into Rich's eyes. “She just needs some time.”
Candy continued undressing Rich until he was seated on the bed in his boxer shorts. He
pulled them off, staring at Candy.
Damn, it's like his dick is growing bigger by the day.
Candy stared at Rich's long dick
standing tall, through the slot of his underwear. It was finally the first opportunity to have it all to
herself. She had been dreaming about this moment before, but she had never acted on her
fantasies. There was no explicit rule that she not have sex with Rich alone, but there seemed to
be a nonverbal agreement between all three parties. But tonight was different. Vanessa needed
some personal space, while Candy and Rich were in a space of their own.
Candy began undressing. “You've been through enough tonight.” She pressed her palm
against his firm, bare chest. “Lay down, so I can take care of you,” she whispered in her most sexy voice.
“Whatever you say.”
Candy crawled on top of Rich and slowly kissed him as his hands roamed over her back and stopped on her butt. She sucked on his neck, slowly working her lips and tongue south until
his erection was hers to savor.
“Damn, girl. You serious.”
Candy loved when Rich talked to her during sex. It confirmed to her that she was capable
of pleasing him. She massaged his balls, while slurping away on his dick.
Rich leaned forward. “Let me hit it from the back.”
Candy got on her knees and hands. She felt Rich's powerful hands grip her waist, as he
entered her. She moaned. She felt like there was no more room left in her body as he began
pulling her back into his strokes. They were in an air conditioned room, but her body was
overheating.
“Damn, your shit is tight.” Rich worked up a slow rhythm.
Candy gritted her teeth, bouncing her butt backwards to meet Rich's thrusts. He was
giving her the satisfaction that no man had before. Just the thought of finally having him to herself
made her wet and her nipples hard. She needed him to give her all he had. “Fuck me harder!”
Rich picked up his pace. He began slapping her butt, as he rammed into her harder.
“Yes!” Candy roared like an animal. Rich's smacks heightened the sensation that
she felt throughout her body. She felt his hands pull her back and wrap around her breasts.
She put her hands on top of his. They were both on their knees, her back to his chest, his mouth
pressed to her neck. Her body almost lifting from the mattress as Rich stroked harder and faster.
“Yeah,” Rich whispered.
“I feel it all in me.” Candy's mouth was wide open, her breath heavy. “Ahh,” she
screamed like her life depended on it. “Ahh, I'm cumming.”
“Me too. Come on.”
Yes, yes.” Candy's breath slowed, as she and Rich climaxed together. She could still feel
his tongue on her neck. She opened her eyes as Vanessa opened the bedroom door. She watched V
anessa frown and walk away.
Vanessa awoke on the couch the following morning. Before she realized that she was in
the living room and before she wiped the cold from her eyes, the image of Candy and Rich having
sex flashed in her mind. She felt betrayed, double crossed by both of them. In Vanessa's mind,
Rich belonged to her. When Candy was around, Rich was hers to love, make love to, laugh with, converse with. And when Rich was not around, Candy belonged to her. The
girls nights out, the office freak shows, cuddling under the covers at Vanessa's apartment. It was
Vanessa who had the upper hand—the best of both worlds. At least that was the rationale she had on her mind since she spotted Candy and Rich the night before.
Vanessa did not intend for her infatuation to turn into love and her love into a feeling of
possession of human life. But she was realizing that her problems were her own. They dated
back to the day she chose to experience sex with another woman. Candy's first lick on Vanessa's
throbbing clit sparked a pattern of Vanessa withholding the truth of her sexuality from Rich. She
now regretted that decision. Back then, she and Rich were in an open relationship. There was
only lust and intrigue holding them together. That was the ideal time for her to be truthful. For
even after they fell in love, Rich appreciated and accepted her sexuality. But it was that
truthfulness that helped nurture, within Vanessa's mind, her deception that she had two separate
relationships in which she reigned.
But as she lie on the couch with visions of Candy and Rich flesh-to-flesh on a bed that all
three of them had been sharing, reality was apparent. Vanessa and Rich were not a couple and Vanessa and Candy were not lovers. Vanessa, Candy and Rich were a trio that was equally bound by powerful feelings. But Vanessa was still emotionally wounded. She knew the truth, but
she couldn't handle it.
Vanessa rose and walked into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and took a shower. As
the hot water cascaded over her soft skin, she heard the bathroom door open. Seconds later,
Candy slid the glass shower door open. “What the hell are you doing?” Vanessa barked.
Candy stood naked, with a surprised look on her face. “Come on, now. I'm getting in the shower.”
“Not this shower.”
“What?” Candy responded.
“Use the other shower. You and Rich.” Vanessa closed the shower door. She listened to Candy rant for a few seconds, before she slammed the bathroom door and left. It hurt Vanessa to
stop Candy from showering with her. They had showered together nearly every time Candy slept
over. Having Candy caress her body with a soapy sponge was one of the most comforting
feelings Vanessa had experienced.
After Vanessa showered, she got dressed and prepared some oatmeal, multi-grain toast,
soy sausages and a slice of grapefruit. She bit into her toast, while thinking about Candy and Rich. Just as she was almost done eating, Rich walked into the dining room.
“What's for breakfast?” he asked.
“Whatever you decide to make,” Vanessa said, as she slipped the last bite of her soy
sausage into her mouth. She stepped into the kitchen and put her plate in the dishwasher. Rich followed behind her. “Still got your panties in a knot, huh?”
Vanessa looked at him with venom in her eyes. “My panties are the last thing you have to worry about.”
She stepped out of the kitchen and stormed out the front door.
* * *
Later that day, Vanessa was in the crowded shop working on one of her client's twists. She had been working beside Candy for hours, only speaking to her when absolutely necessary
. Vanessa managed to squeeze in some indirect comments about
loyalty and trust during the conversations among the women in the shop.
Vanessa had been peeping Candy's reactions to her standoffish demeanor.
Vanessa also noticed Candy bow her head in silence once in response to one of the loyalty and trust comments.
Vanessa struggled to maintain her harsh stance, while inside she was hurting as much as Candy. She had never wanted to do anything to Candy other than please her. Hurting her feelings
had never been a thought. But that changed the moment Vanessa's feeling were hurt by the sight of Candy and Rich having sex.
“You okay?” Leah asked Candy. “You seem like you been dealing with something all
day. You wanna talk about it?”
Vanessa observed silently, as Leah placed her hand on Candy's shoulder.
Candy flashed a cheesy smile. “I'm good Leah. Just thinking.”
“You sure?” Leah asked.
Candy nodded, then peeked at Vanessa.
“Hey, Vanessa,” Chanel said.
Vanessa turned around to her, spotting Chanel clamping her cell phone onto her hip.
“What's up, Chanel?”
“I just heard that young fool Pana who almost killed Chase got murdered last night. Six
shots. Biz and his girl got it too. They was all in Biz Tahoe.”