“Wait, listen.” Real held up a hand after hearing one of the guys mention something about hurting Candy.
“We gonna follow her out the neighborhood and force her to take us to the paper.” There was a slight pause. The sound of guns being cocked echoed through the phone.
These niggas got me fucked up, Candy thought, ending the call. She reached over and pulled down the glove compartment door. She removed the .22 and passed it to Truth. “Real, let down yo’ seat and crawl back there in the trunk and get that Glock.”
Real moved next to Truth, and let down the back of the seat. He slipped into the trunk and pulled up a board that was covered by black carpet. He stuck his hand into the compartment, moved jumper cables and a jack to the side, and pulled out the Glock.
Real handed the Glock to Truth and slid out of the trunk. He then put the seat back up and took the Glock from Truth.
Candy took her TEC-9 from her waist and checked the magazine to make sure that it was loaded. “Call up y’all relief and tell ’em I said to get down here and fill in.”
Both runners pulled out their cells and called their reliefs. They relayed Candy’s message and placed their cells back on their hips.
“They on they way, right?” Candy closed her jacket and zipped it up.
“Yeah,” both runners said in unison.
“Y’all ’bout to earn more stripes.” Candy laughed.
Candy looked over her left shoulder. Seeing that there was no traffic traveling east or west, she pulled away from the curb and busted a clean U-turn.
“We’re headed to PCH and Wilmington.” Candy passed by the apartment building where the guys were seated on the porch. As soon as they spotted her car, they jumped into a Toyota Land Cruiser and followed her.
With one person scheduled to die after sunset, Candy decided to add two more bodies to the plot. It was obvious that the guys following her didn’t know as much about her as they thought they did. But before the night was over, they would have figured it out.
The plan was to lead them to the house of the first victim on Raynail’s list, and kill three birds with one stone. For most, the murders would appear to be difficult to pull off, but Candy wasn’t among the most. She was one of the very few ride or die females who wasn’t afraid to hold court in the streets, while getting the paper at the same time. And if a nigga didn’t know it, he’d better ask somebody who did.
“Let me run some shit down to y’all before we do this.” Candy looked in all of her mirrors at the guys who were following her. “These dudes ’bout to die, but here’s the twist to the shit. The house we going to, it’s a rat up in there and I got some poison for his ass.”
Truth and Real looked at each other. “But how the three of us gonna pull that shit off?” Real asked. “You got two dudes in back of us and we ’bout to creep up on another one?”
Candy looked into the mirror on her sun visor at Real and smiled. “Such little faith,” she said, shaking her head. “Just follow my lead.”
Truth hunched his left shoulder. He turned in his seat and glanced back at the guys who were following them.
“This street don’t look like it would have a stash house,” the driver of the truck said, following closely behind Candy. He surveyed the middle-class neighborhood. “How many niggas you know got a stash house on the same street as a neighborhood watch?”
The houses sat far back away from the curb. And in each window was a sticker with a burglar sitting behind bars and the words NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH written across the bottom of the picture. Rosebushes decorated the yards. The grass and bushes were neatly manicured. Each house was painted a soft pastel color, giving it a unique appearance.
“Well, maybe she going home,” the passenger suggested. “Then again, she could be going to her other dude’s house. That’s how these bitches are these days. They wait ’til they dude get knocked, then run out on his ass.”
“Look.” The driver pointed to Candy’s car. “She parked in front of that brown house over there.”
Candy parked in front of a brown house and looked at the paper that Raynail had given her. She then looked at a separate piece of paper that she had gotten from somebody on the street, with the same guy’s name and address on it.
Seeing that she was at the right house, Candy folded both papers, raised the armrest, and dropped them inside. She lowered the armrest, and turned to Truth and Real.
“Okay, this is the plan. We gonna go up to the house, acting like we know dude inside. When I knock on the door, as soon as he opens it, I’ma have my gun pointed straight at his gut. Once we get in, y’all start searching the house. If you find anything of value, bring that shit to me. If you find any niggas in the rooms, bring ’em to the living room.” She removed her seat belt and felt her waist, making sure that her TEC-9 wasn’t visible. “Let’s go.”
Candy and the runners got out of the car and walked to the front door of the house. Before knocking she took a quick glance at the truck that had been following her. The truck was parked across the street and three houses down from where she was. She noticed the passenger’s arm hanging out of the window with smoke coming from his fingers.
“Yo, man, put that damn cigarette out,” the driver barked. “I can still smell the shit!”
“You told me not to smoke in yo’ ride,” the passenger replied. “That’s why I got my arm out the truck.”
“Man, you’s a stupid nigga.” The driver stared his partner down. He then refocused his attention on Candy and her runners.
“That ain’t her house,” the passenger said. “She’s knocking on the door. If that was her crib she would’a walked right in.”
Candy knocked on the door three times, but no one answered.
“Maybe nobody’s here.” Real tried looking through the window to the left of the door.
“No, somebody’s here. I can hear the TV.” Candy leaned over to the right side of the door and peered into the window. The curtain was slightly open, and through the opening she could see a shirtless dark man walking to the door. “He’s coming,” she whispered.
“Yeah, who the hell is it?” the soon-to-be victim growled as he snatched open the door.
Candy pulled her TEC-9 from her waist and pressed the muzzle against his gut. “Walk backward into the house,” she ordered through gritted teeth.
The guy backed into the house with his arms at his sides.
“Yo, what’s up wit’ this?” The muscles in his chest popped with anger. He towered five inches over Candy’s five-foot-six-inch, 140-pound frame. Anger drew his eyebrows together. His nose expelled heat. His 220 pounds gave him a physical advantage over Candy and her runners, but were no match for her TEC-9.
“Sit on the couch and shut the fuck up until I tell you to talk.” Candy turned to her runners. “Search the house,” she ordered.
The runners drew their guns. Truth nodded in the direction of the den, while Real looked in the opposite direction. They then split up in search of another body for Candy to kill with her stone.
“So, what’s been up wit’ you ... Don?” Candy kept a nice distance between her and her victim just in case he tried to rush her.
“Who the fuck are you?” Out the corner of his eyes, he watched Real walk out of a bathroom in the hall and into a bedroom next to it.
“Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am,” Candy sarcastically said.
Don hunched his shoulders. His facial expression said, “And I don’t give a fuck, either.”
“You don’t, do you?” Candy said.
Don leaned forward and balled his right hand into a fist. He then covered the fist with his left hand. “Look, what you want? ’Cause I got things to do.”
Candy felt something brush against her ankle. She looked down at her leg. A devilish grin spread across her face after seeing that it was a cat.
The runners walked back into the living room, shaking their heads. “Ain’t nobody else here,” Truth said.
These bitches got
me caught up in my own crib ... straight violation. I’ma kill they ass wit’ they own shit, though, Don thought, as he focused his attention on the gun in Candy’s hand.
“That’s cool.” Candy glanced from the cat to Don. “Yo, you got some kitty litter?”
Truth and Real wore the same confused look as Don.
“Yeah, I got some cat litter.” Don looked down at his cat. “Wouldn’t I have some damn litter?”
“This nigga wanna be smart.” Candy smiled into the eyes of her runners. “Go in the kitchen and look for the litter. Look in all the cabinets and shit ’til you find it,” she told them.
“Why don’t you just ask me where the shit is?” Don slyly asked. “What? You and yo’ little kit-cat need to take a piss?”
“That’s funny. Real funny.” Candy smiled. “Yeah, um ... where is it?”
“It’s in the back in the cabinet above the washer and dryer.” Don laughed. “Hurry up and get the shit before she pee on my expensive carpet.”
The runners walked off, laughing.
“Since you think I’m so funny, let me tell you a joke.” Candy took a seat in a recliner across from him. She bent forward and pulled the .22 from her ankle. She then leaned back and crossed her right leg over her left leg. She trained both her TEC-9 and .22 on him.
“When I was a kid, my uncle raped me and my aunt didn’t believe me. The psychiatrist my mother sent me to was a bitch so you know I laughed after I slit her jugular vein.” Sensing someone behind her, Candy turned her head slightly to her right. Out of the corners of her eyes, she watched her runners walk into the living room, each one carrying a bag of kitty litter.
“It was a bloody mess, but it wasn’t as bad as the charred bodies that they pulled from my aunt’s house.” Candy laughed at Don, who was now shaking uncontrollably.
“First my mother, then my uncle,” Candy continued. “I couldn’t tell if the next body was my cousin or my father. All I know is that they all died that night. And you wanna know how I killed ’em?” Candy uncrossed her legs. She spread her legs apart and leaned forward. “Kitty litter,” she whispered in a seductive tone.
Don now knew who she was. Fear danced across his face while his heart did a dance of its own. Damn, so if Raynail is her husband, she could only be here for one reason, he thought. “I ain’t have nothing to do wit’ Raynail gettin’ knocked.” Don bitched up. Sweat trickled down the sides of his face. “It wasn’t me, not at all.”
“Well, my husband gave me yo’ name.” Candy stood up and tucked the .22 in her pocket. She pulled a silencer from the same pocket and screwed it on her TEC-9. “If you ain’t had nothing to do wit’ it, you goin’ to heaven, right?”
“Huh?” Don replied. Wrinkles creased his forehead.
Candy raised her TEC-9 and let off two shots into his chest. The bullets ripped through his heart and straightened the wrinkles in his forehead.
Candy tucked the gun in her waistband and immediately sprang into action. She walked over to Don and turned the pockets of his Dickies inside out, searching for cash.
“Real, y’all go pour that litter on the floor under the gas pipe in back of the dryer. After you do that, find some pliers and unscrew the gas pipe.” Candy walked over to the window and moved the curtain to the side. She ran to the back of the house to help Truth and Real, after noticing that the guys were standing outside of the truck.
“We just gonna bust in the door,” the driver of the truck said. “So make sure yo’ shit is cocked and ready to go.”
“I don’t feel good about this, man,” his partner said as they crossed the street. “We don’t even know how many people up in there.”
“It don’t matter.” The driver looked back at his partner. “The bitch can’t stop us, and them boys sho ain’t stoppin’ shit.”
“Damn, man, think! We don’t even know what we walking into. If you ask me, it ain’t worth it.”
“Well, ain’t nobody asked you,” the driver said. “We gonna be in and out. Nigga willing to rob any damn body else but you scared to rob a bitch?”
“All right look, it’s something I ain’t tell you,” the partner said. “The bitch got over a dozen bodies on her hands.”
The driver suddenly stopped walking and turned to his partner.
“Word on the street is that she killed her fam.” The partner nodded. “But that was only her first stripe. After that, ol’ girl went on a killin’ spree.”
The driver looked at his partner in disbelief. “Man, I don’t believe that shit. Don’t nobody on that side of town got more bodies on they hands than me.” He turned around and walked off, leaving his partner standing under a flickering streetlight.
The light continued to flicker. But once it came completely on, as if on cue, the entire neighborhood watch came to life. The porch light of each house was now on, with some of them brighter than others. An old lady looked out the window of the house that the partner was standing in front of and stared at him suspiciously. She walked outside and sat down on the swing on her porch. Her nosey eyes were glued to him.
Hearing a loud roaring noise across the street from where he was standing, the partner quickly looked in the direction of the noise. He watched a man pull a blue trash can to the curb. As the man walked back toward his house, he dug into the back pocket of his dirty-brown jeans and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
Nervous, the partner caught up with the driver.
“I see you finally decided to join me, dumbass,” the driver said while looking over his shoulder.
They stopped in front of the house and looked it over. It was the only house on the street that didn’t have its porch light on.
They walked up the walkway that led to the porch. They crept onto the porch and each took a window. The driver peered through the window to the left of the front door as his partner tightened his eyes and gazed into the window to the right of the door. The driver could see the top of a man’s head pressed against the back of a couch that was positioned in front of the window.
“I think they ’sleep,” he said. “This dude on the couch looks like he’s knocked out.” He looked through the window again. “And all the lights are out, so they all might be ’sleep.”
“Man, this is bullshit,” the partner barked. “We supposed to be following her to a stash house and shit. All she did was go home and go to sleep. Why are we still here?”
“It don’t matter.” The driver reached for the doorknob. “She got paper, and whether it’s here or at another spot, we gonna get it.” He turned and looked behind them, where he noticed the old woman sitting on the swing on her porch, watching them. “That bitch on that swing watching us.”
“Yeah, I know. The bitch looks like a pit bull on alert.”
“Let me try the door first,” the driver said. “This bitch ain’t white, but she in a high-class White area. These people known for leaving windows and shit open at night.” He turned the knob. He then looked back at his partner and smiled. “Dis shit open! Nigga, this gon’ be like taking candy from a baby,” he said in a dry, hushed tone.
The creaking of the front door startled Candy and the runners. They had just stepped out of the back door, and were in the midst of closing it. They only had five minutes to get as far away from the house as possible.
“This shit is gonna make the news for real.” Candy giggled.
Candy hit her keyless remote. She walked around the back of her car to the driver’s side door. She then opened the door and climbed inside. She watched Truth climb into the back seat, but didn’t see Real anywhere.
“Where the fuck is Real?”
“That nigga out there, hopin’ to see bodies fly.” Truth laughed.
Candy jumped out of the car. She looked over the top of the car at Real, who was standing on the grass, staring at the house. “Get yo’ ass in,” she angrily said in a low voice. Candy slid back into the driver’s seat. “Bitch ’bout to blow up and he standin’ right in front of the shit.”
Candy stopped at a stop sign on the corner, and looked straight ahead.
It had gotten to the point where she did not have to see her destruction to know that her wrath would be felt. Instead, she listened for it. For Candy, the sound was almost like having an orgasm. It gave her a sensation that only a killer could identify with.
The runners rose up in their seats and looked out of the back window at the house. Candy opened her cell and called the soldier. Since his shift was over, she did not expect him to answer. She wanted to congratulate him on his keen observation.
Candy let the phone ring five times before hanging up. She looked at her watch and counted down the last sixty seconds to breaking her own record.
She had fifty-four bodies on her hands, with the guys from the truck pushing her up to fifty-six. Wonder if the cat greeted them at the door. Candy laughed in her thoughts.
The driver and his partner could not see their right foot in front of their left, the house was so dark. Once the driver’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness, he turned his attention to the guy who he thought was asleep on the couch.
“This nigga must be a hard sleeper.” The driver bent forward and looked into Don’s face. He shook him. Once he pulled his hand away, Don fell off the couch onto the floor.
“Goddamn, man, this dude is dead!” the driver yelled.
“Ol’ boy dead, but where is that bitch and the kids?” The partner sniffed the air. “Hold up. Do you smell gas?” he asked, turning up his nose.
They searched for the kitchen with the driver leading the way. The closer they got to the kitchen, the stronger the fumes became.
“What’s that noise?” the partner asked as they walked into the kitchen. “Sounds like a hissing noise or something. You hear that?”
The driver nodded in agreement.
They walked around the kitchen in the direction of the noise. Realizing that it was coming from the laundry room, which was right next to the kitchen, they walked slowly inside.
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