The internal fight Candy was having about Domingo was over. Her emotional side had successfully been knocked out by her intelligent side. The possibility of incarceration occupied a space in her thoughts. But the probability of Candy successfully murdering Chanel was the only outcome she saw.
Candy put on some Prada jeans, sneakers, and a long button-up shirt. She went into the closet in the bedroom and removed a large trunk. She pulled it beside the bed and began unloading guns. Within seconds, she had a 40-caliber Glock, Tec-22 and a .380-caliber Beretta on the bed. She grabbed the Tec and loaded it with a 50-shot transparent banana clip with a brown tint. She cocked it back and put it in her D&G backpack. Next, she loaded the Beretta and tucked it in her waistband before putting a second clip in her pocket. Lastly, Candy loaded the Glock and tossed it inside of the knapsack along with an extra clip.
Candy pushed the trunk back into the closet, then grabbed her knapsack and went outside. The morning sun bore down on her as she made it to Domingo's Expedition. Starting the car, she adjusted the mirrors.
Candy pulled off and turned on Biggie’s “Somebody's Gotta Die.” She nodded her head to the beat, trying to cultivate the mindset she would need to kill not only intended victims, but anyone who interfered, be it good Samaritans or police. Candy was aware that plans had a tendency of not working out to perfection.
Candy made her way into Queens. She drove past Domingo's house and saw yellow crime scene tape just about everywhere. A few tears trickled down her face as she stared at the window she had jumped out of, leaving Rich behind to die. She had abandoned him in the worse way. Although he had insisted she leave, Candy now felt more than guilty for his death.
She flipped on the news, peeking at the screen in the dashboard in an attempt to see if there was any coverage on Rich or Vanessa. Making her way out of Queens, she drove through Red Hook in search of her prey. With no sign of them, she drove Uptown to Harlem. As she steered through her old stomping ground she reflected on the shifts that her life had taken. Bonds she had built and broken. Friends and family she had loved and lost. She slowed down as she gazed at the barbershop fashioned from the storefront that was once Candy's Shop. Leah's conniving attempt to take over the shop is what had boiled over into the tragedy that had changed Candy's life.
Candy continued driving around New York City until night. She rented a room at a small hotel in Coney Island and watched the news.
“Oh shit.” Candy began to fidget as she saw a news reporter in front of Domingo's home. She felt little emotion when the reporter announced Domingo's death. Luis Dominguez. She had already been through the emotional whirlwind of watching him die, only to later conclude that Rich was right when he said Domingo deserved to die. But when the reporter mentioned Rich's government name, Jamel Thomas, Candy's heart sunk into her chest and she began wheezing. The televised confirmation of Rich’s inevitable demise was almost as shattering as if it were breaking news for her. She could no longer watch the television. Candy turned it off and closed her eyes. Blood would soon spill and she would cherish the sight of every crimson drop that befell the flesh of her victims.
Domingo's phone sounded and Candy opened her eyes. It was another text message from Chanel saying in two hours she would be at the Ark nightclub in East New York along with Mimi, and Meisha. “She's gotta know he's dead. I'm sure the Twins told Vera and she told Chanel,” Candy mumbled to herself. “Plus, his death is in the news.” Candy knew the Twins had seen Domingo's dead body in Rich's home when they killed him. But Candy was the only person who knew Domingo's birth name. At least that's what he had told her. So a reporter announcing the death of Luis Dominguez would mean nothing to Chanel. And she remembered Domingo saying Vera had denied the shootout between Domingo and the Twins when Chanel asked about it. Maybe the Twins told Vera to keep Rich and Domingo's death on the down low, Candy thought.
Candy made it to the club with an hour to spare. She was parked on the corner of the block, watching partygoers headed inside the Ark. Candy waited impatiently, her fingers tapping against her thighs. Her mission was beyond mere desire. She needed to kill. It was the only way she would begin to feel whole again, the only way she could live with herself. Candy was not leaving until each of the women were dead.
Fifteen minutes prior to when Chanel and the others were set to arrive, Candy texted Chanel. Acting as Domingo, Candy said he would be parked outside of the club and that he needed to speak to her before they went inside.
About ten minutes later, Candy watched Chanel's Escalade park behind Domingo’s Expedition. This is it, Candy told herself. She put on a skully hat and pulled it over her eyebrows, then down both sides of her face as far as she could. Next, she pulled out the Tec-22 from the knapsack and clutched it in her lap. Simultaneously, the women exited the Escalade and began walking toward the passenger side of the Expedition. This is too easy. Candy grinned at how naive the women were, blinded by the dark tinted windows separating them from death.
Candy looked around the street, finding only a few stragglers nearby, making their way to the club. She glanced down at the banana clip in her gun. Her feet tapped away at the floor of the truck. “Come on, come on, come on,” she whispered anxiously as the women got closer.
Chanel was leading the pack. Candy eased up from her seat, prepared to shoot and exit as fast as possible. As soon as Chanel tapped on the window, her face was in clear sight. Candy raised the Tec-22 and squeezed the trigger on the fully-automatic machine pistol. Five bullets shattered the window and the smile on Chanel's face as they tore through her pretty dark skin and Gucci shades. She dropped to the ground as Candy opened the passenger side door and stepped over her.
“Oh my God!” Meisha froze, her fingers gripped her handbag and phone. Her eyes grew wide as her lips quivered.
Candy pumped ten shots into Meisha's face, neck and chest before the Tec-22 jammed. She tossed the gun inside the Expedition and pulled out the Beretta from her waist. Mimi was running as Candy fired at her. Mimi darted into the street and was hit by a speeding minivan.
“Oh shit!” the driver yelled as he skidded to a halt.
Candy ran over to Mimi, who was curled up in the middle of the street in front of the van. Blood was leaking from the side of her mouth and head. Her slanted eyes were closed. Candy didn't care that Mimi was unconscious. She took aim and fired six shots into the neck and face of Vanessa’s ex-best friend.
The minivan sped off in reverse, leaving a cloud of smoke from its burning tires.
Candy traced her steps back, firing two more shots into both Meisha and Chanel. She jumped in the truck and backed off the block as people flooded the scene. While Candy drove away, she felt as if a surmounting pressure had been pulled from her shoulders. The need for getback was gone. But the truth was that Rich and Vanessa were also gone. No matter how elated Candy felt because she knew her victims warranted what she had given them, no penalty on any perpetrators would bring back the people Candy loved. There was still the feeling of guilt for Rich's death. And there were still the Twins and Vera alive. Judging from the pain that still ached Candy's heart, she was sure that more murders would not stop the feeling. They would only compound the feeling with the twisted thrill that came with revenge killings. But Candy was mindful that the Twins wanted her dead, and allowing their desires to come to fruition was not an option.
* * *
A month had passed since Candy committed the triple homicide. During that time, she had been cooped up in Rich's cabin, trying to come to terms with her life. She feared being alone, but needed time alone to become in tune with herself. She knew that she would never be able to be any good to anyone unless she became mentally fit. The absence of Rich and Vanessa had diminished her ability to love and trust others. The loss of someone to a relationship gone bad would do nearly as much damage to Candy as the death of a loved one.
But through all her fears, Candy needed someone to trust, someone to be a part of her life. There would never be another Rich
or Vanessa. But Candy was ready for someone new in her life.
Candy had just spoken to the manager of her hair care business. He was the one person who had brought some semblance of socialization to her life, yet they had only been speaking by phone. Candy had been through enough of merging friendships with business to know the results could be deadly, so she maintained her distance.
As Candy sat on the porch of the cabin, she surfed the internet, researching for a new distributor for her products. Her manager had just informed her that one of their top distributors was downsizing and their diminishing staff would slow down Candy’s business. Her phone rang, but she didn't recognize the number. She answered anyway.
“Candy?”
“Who is this?”
“Peg.”
“Peg?”
“Yeah, Vanessa's friend.”
“I remember you.”
“I don't think you are aware, but Vanessa has been in a coma for a little over a month.”
“Oh shit.” Candy jumped to her feet. Candy smiled because she was happy to know that Vanessa was alive, even if she was in an unconscious state.
Peg said she and Heather had been by Vanessa's side since she had crawled from a building in the Bronx where she was shot in the head. Peg's phone number was listed in Vanessa's phone as a person to contact in case of an emergency. Medics at North Central Hospital had called Peg and Vanessa. They remained at the Bronx hospital since the shooting.
“I gotta see her,” Candy said.
“I wish I could've told you sooner. I just found your phone number as I was going through some of Vanessa's things in my apartment.
“I'm on my way,” Candy said. She hopped in the old Toyota Corolla Rich had kept at the cabin. She hit the gas and zipped down to New York City. She flew through traffic in the Bronx, until she was in the parking lot of North Central Hospital. Peg and Heather were waiting downstairs for her. They hugged Candy like long lost sisters. None of the women showed a sign of discontent from their last meeting in Atlanta that resulted in Peg and Heather virtually pulling Vanessa across the country. Now there seemed to be an unspoken, collective agreement that Vanessa was more important than any of them and their old friction.
“She's a fighter,” Peg said with a smile.
Heather added, “The doctors say she's strong like that Gabrielle Giffords, that congresswoman who survived being shot in the head by that madman in Arizona.”
Candy smiled, thinking of the pint-sized woman who walked into her shop a few years earlier. Vanessa had appeared so fragile and innocent. Precious. Not the type of person with the capacity to cause death or fight it off.
The women found their way to Vanessa's room. Candy trailed Peg and Heather as they entered the pristine white area filled with beautiful bouquets. When Peg and Heather parted, Candy stepped forward. Her eyes were transfixed on Vanessa, whose head was wrapped in a bandage as she rested underneath a white sheet. There was a clear mask-like device covering her nose and mouth. It was attached to a nearby respirator. Vanessa was a poor imitation of the beautiful woman Candy had grown to know and love. Her naturally smooth, light skin was pale. Her lips cracked. Her bushy 'fro was reduced to small patches of hair surrounding her stitches that sealed the signs of brain surgery.
Candy gently grabbed one of Vanessa's hands. She leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead. Candy was elated at being in Vanessa's presence, but Vanessa's condition scared her. It angered her. Candy felt weak, as if her legs were going to give out and she would curl up into a helpless ball of flesh. She could feel tears stream down her cheek.
As Candy sniffled, trying to ward off tears, she turned to Peg and Heather. They gave her a group hug. Candy felt what she yearned, what she missed. The strength of someone else's body transferred to hers. She felt comforted, cared for, supported. Candy didn't have Vanessa or Rich to hold, but she had two people who knew both of them.
After they parted, Candy watched Vanessa again before stepping out of the room. She leaned her back against the wall outside of the door. Candy wondered if Vanessa would make it out of the coma.
Peg and Heather walked over to Candy. “This has been my life for the last month,” Peg said, tears dripped beneath her glasses.
“We never got a chance to fully reconcile,” Heather said. She began telling Candy about the conflict that had arisen because she had sex with Rich. “We talked about it and made up, but I still think Vanessa never really forgave me.”
Candy listened as Heather and Peg rekindled memories of Vanessa—good and bad.
Candy laughed and engaged the women with personal tales of her own about Vanessa and Rich.
“Wow,” Peg said, glancing at her Casio watch. “We've been talking for hours.”
“Yeah, I'm starving,” Heather added. “You guys wanna grab a bite to eat?”
“Sure,” said Peg.
“I'm with it,” Candy said, looking at the two white women she was growing to like. They were nothing like the women she had grown up around in Harlem. But neither was Vanessa. Candy understood how the three of them had jelled so well.
The women went and observed Vanessa for the last time for the day, then left the hospital. A short drive left them in front of Candle 79. They found seats at a square table perched against the floor-to-ceiling windows inside the exquisite, duplex restaurant located on Manhattan's 79th Street. It was a favorite of Heather's, because of its organic vegan cuisine.
After ordering, they began eating. Candy listened to Peg and Heather discuss issues ranging from feminism to environmentalism. Candy joined in, interjecting views that often conflicted with the women's. But there was no debate. Candy found that Peg and Heather were as empathetic and understanding as Vanessa. But Peg was clearly the more vocal of the two, and Heather the easygoing one. It felt good to Candy to be in the presence of women again. Her past month of solitude in Rich’s cabin had taken a lively woman with a strong sex drive and subjected her to isolation and sex deprivation.
“Excuse me,” Candy stood, gaining her balance after too many drinks. “I have to use the restroom.”
“It's that way.” Heather pointed at the ladies’ room.
“Thanks.” Candy walked away. Once inside of the restroom, she entered the last stall. She closed the door behind her, but it flung back open. “What the—”
Heather stepped inside with Candy and closed the door.
Candy's eyes locked on Heather's. She had been attracted to Heather and she could tell that Heather was attracted to her by the way she had stared at her for extended periods. Candy's thought produced guilt, because she couldn't help but think of Vanessa and she was still grieving over Rich. But as Candy looked into Heather's eyes, she succumbed to her desires. Desire to be touched. Embraced. Sexed. They locked lips without as much as a word.
Candy's hands were all over Heather. She had never been intimate with a woman as tall and thick as Heather. Candy let out a slight moan as she titled her head back and Heather's lips and tongue probed her neck.
Heather's hand rubbed Candy's inner thigh, making its way up her miniskirt. And beneath her thong into her wet pussy.
Candy's back sunk in as she felt Heather's fingers invade her insides while her thumb stimulated her clit. Candy grabbed Heather's head and pushed it downward until Heather's tongue was pressed against her clit.
Heather's hands cupped both of Candy's butt cheeks. She pursed her lips around Candy's clit and sucked it softly.
“Whoa.” Candy pressed her open hand against the wall of the stall and her lips began to quiver. She felt like she was floating as her legs locked around Heather. Candy's hands were trembling. Her heart rate accelerated. Her toes curled and she gnawed on her lip as she came in Heather's mouth. Candy's heart rate slowed as she unlocked her legs from around Heather and her feet hit the floor.
Heather kissed Candy. Then smiled before leaving the stall.
Candy's body was still hot. She wanted to taste Heather, but she patiently waited. There was plen
ty of time left before the night would be over. Candy used some tissue to clean up and she fixed her clothes before leaving the bathroom. Heather and Peg were eyeballing her as she made it back to the table.
“You've been a naughty girl.” Peg smiled at Candy.
Candy countered, “What does that make Heather?”
“Extremely naughty,” said Peg.
Candy sat and engaged in the most sexually explicit conversation she had been in since she was on good terms with Rich and Vanessa. Candy was amazed at how nonchalant Peg and Heather were about sex. Candy could see how Vanessa fit perfectly among them.
Candy ordered some more wine as she became increasingly comfortable with the women. Neither Peg nor Heather were drinkers, so Candy ended up downing almost the entire bottle. The alcohol made her all giggles. She transformed into a comedian. She had become touchy feely, flirting with both Peg and Heather.
After they finished eating and paid the bill, they each stood. Candy paused to catch her balance.
Lickin' License Part 2: More Sex, More Saga Page 25