Shana was caught off guard, and her body went tumbling backward as blood squirted from her nose. She hit the floor dead on her ass because she was unable to prepare for or break her fall. Shana’s tailbone throbbed.
Candice was in shock. All of the dudes surrounding them were caught off guard as well.
“Yo, man, why the fuck you hittin’ on a girl?” Junior’s right-hand man growled at Broady.
Junior didn’t say a word. He just looked on with a stupid-looking grin on his face.
Candice jumped up and grabbed her bag. Instinctively, she began reaching for her gun but remembered quickly that she was outgunned twenty to one. “What the fuck are you doin’?” she screamed in a somewhat delayed reaction as she rushed over to help her friend off the floor.
“I’m minding my fuckin’ business and leaving yours alone,” Broady hissed.
Junior watched Candice closely.
“Damn, baby girl! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you was a cop, the way you came to that bitch’s aid,” Junior said to Candice.
Candice turned to face him, her head spinning around like the possessed girl in The Exorcist. “Far from a cop, actually. And I ain’t gotta be a cop to know that a nigga that hits on a girl to impress his brother is a bitchass!”
Junior and his crew began laughing. They obviously loved Candice’s cocky attitude. She was definitely different than the girls they were used to hanging around with, who fawned all over them. Candice had a confident air about her, almost like one of the fellas in Junior’s crew.
Candice turned her back on Junior and attended her friend.
“Girl, I’m fine,” Shana mumbled as her nose leaked blood.
“No, you’re not fine. What the hell was that all about?”
“I told you that is how he gets when Junior is around. I’m going to be all right. Why don’t you just head home, Candy? This ain’t really the place for a nice girl like you.” Shana was embarrassed that Candice had seen Broady behave in his normal asshole way. Shana had taken many a beating from Broady, but lately he had begun to do it in public, sometimes without even provocation.
“I’m not going to leave you in this place and in this condition if you think you won’t be all right,” Candice said firmly.
Although Candice had initiated their friendship because Shana was a means to an end, she was starting to care about the annoying ghetto girl. Shana was a sweet, harmless, fast-talking bubblehead that had an asshole for a boyfriend. She was a victim of sorts that needed protection from the likes of Junior and Broady.
During one of their early brunch meetings, Shana had told Candice all about how her mother had been a drug mule and went to jail when she was just seven years old. Shana then went to live with her maternal grandmother, but after she died, Shana was basically knocked around in foster care until she met Broady.
Essentially, Shana went from the frying pan into the fire when she got into a relationship with that man. Broady became her caretaker, lover, friend, her everything. Shana really didn’t have anyone else. For that reason, when Broady said jump, Shana asked how high.
Candice could totally relate. Of course, she wasn’t fully honest about her childhood with Shana, telling her that her parents had died in an accident. At least, it wasn’t a total lie. She pulled on Shana’s arm and steered her toward the ladies’ room.
Shana wasn’t too mortified about her bloody face, since there was only a scattering of people left in the club.
Broady yelled at their backs, “Hurry the fuck up!”
Candice gritted her teeth to keep from saying something she’d regret later.
Once inside the bathroom Shana tried to brush it all off. “It’s really nothing, girl. I’m so used to this same routine. Liquor, plus his ego, plus that fuckin’ brother of his. Really, Candy, I’m fine,” Shana rambled as she cleaned up her face with the hard industrial paper towels. She wet the paper and blotted at her nose. Her cheek was starting to show green right through her makeup.
Candice watched as Shana limped over to the hand drier, pressed the large silver button, turned around, and lifted the end of her dress in an attempt to dry the huge wet spot on the back of it. She’d fallen right into a puddle of somebody’s spilled drink. Shana continued to make conversation, while Candice looked on in disbelief.
“He usually keeps his cool in front of people most of the time. I don’t know . . . maybe he had too much to drink. I really was nasty to Junior, and I should’ve just been nice. Like I said, though, it’s all right, Candy. I know I sound like I’m making excuses. I’m just trying to explain. I just want peace. I . . . I’m . . . just . . . Look at you, looking at me like I’m crazy.” Shana ended her succession of words with a high-pitched laugh that bordered on hysteria.
Candice could see right through Shana’s act. “It’s never all right for a man to hit you, Shana. But I’m not one to judge anybody’s choice in men. Broady is going to get his.”
Candice immediately regretted the words after they left her lips. Uncle Rock had always told her, “Words are like eggs dropped from great heights. You can’t ever put the pieces back together after they hit home.”
Shana, preoccupied with fixing her appearance, didn’t seem to notice or care about Candice’s offhand comment. “You ready, Candy?” she asked, smoothing down her dress when she felt it was dry enough.
“If you are,” Candice replied, yanking on the door and holding it so Shana could leave first.
Shana rushed out of the bathroom so fast, Candice could barely keep up with her. Trying to catch up, she walked headfirst into someone. Startled, she jumped back to put some distance between them. “Oh, excuse . . .” Candice looked up into the face of a stranger. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
“Excuse me, too. Is she all right?” The man motioned his head in Shana’s direction.
Candice recognized him as the man who’d been at Junior’s side all night. She immediately put a scowl on her face. Why didn’t his ass do something besides talk, when Broady had slapped the shit out of Shana? She had heard him referred to as Junior’s “lieutenant” throughout the night. In her assessment, anybody who was a friend of Junior’s was an enemy of hers.
“Nah, I don’t think you would be all right if somebody six times your size slapped the shit out of you in a club filled with people.” Candice pursed her lips.
“I feel you, ma. I know that li’l dude, Broady, be fuckin’ up. I’ma talk to him,” the man said.
Candice softened the look on her face once she realized he wasn’t half bad-looking. In fact, he was damn near fine. Her cheeks immediately flamed over at the thought. He was about six feet two inches tall with an athletic build and had the most beautiful chocolate-colored skin Candice had seen, aside from her father’s, of course. The man’s head was shaved clean, and he had a long, prominent chin. His most striking feature, however, was his eyes, which were chestnut brown and showed up much lighter against his smooth, dark complexion.
“Anyway, ma, I’m Tuck. I don’t think we’ve met before,” he said, extending his hand for a shake.
Candice had to snap herself away from staring at his perfect white teeth. He either had a great orthodontist or he had purchased them.
“Candy. Nope. We haven’t met,” she said dryly, keeping her hands at her sides. She felt a little fluttering in her stomach that made her want to run in place or move her body. Or maybe even run away from him. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. This indescribable feeling was a new sensation for Candice—uncomfortable in a good way, but extremely dangerous, given her current mission.
“It’s real nice to meet you, Candy,” Tuck said, putting his hand down to his side when he realized she wasn’t going to shake it. “Look, I don’t ever agree with that hitting-on-a-woman bullshit. Broady is a little asshole that wants to be a man so bad like his brother. That was some bullshit.”
“Yeah, well, birds of a feather . . . ” Candice walked away from him in a huff. She wanted to turn bac
k and look at him so badly, but her pride and ego would not allow it. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was watching her. You’re on a mission. You ain’t here to look at no dudes. Getcha mind right, Candy.
Love for a man wasn’t something Uncle Rock had taught her. In fact, he had warned her against falling in love. “Falling in love is a waste of time,” Uncle Rock had cautioned her on numerous occasions. “It never lasts.”
But Candice couldn’t help thinking about the tiny possibility of falling in love. When she was sixteen, she would stay in Uncle Rock’s bathroom for hours practicing kisses on her hand, making a pair of makeshift lips with the edges of her thumb and index finger. As she grew older, she began to explore the erogenous zones of her body with her hands. Uncle Rock would always ask her what was taking her so long in there, and she would reply, “I was memorizing my pressure points.”
Candice planned to tell Shana that she was done with Broady, Junior, and the entire scene at Club Skyye. She was going to let Shana know that she was leaving and that Shana was more than welcome to accompany her. But when she saw Shana by Broady’s side and pretending that all was well, she just shook her head from left to right. This poor girl.
“Yo, apologize to my fuckin’ brother,” Broady growled at Shana, who stood by his side, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, looking like she had to urinate urgently.
Pitiful. The whole scene infuriated Candice and she had to will herself to keep her cool. She thought she’d come to Shana’s rescue, but Shana didn’t want to even help herself.
“I apologize, Junior. I was just joking,” Shana said, in a real soft baby voice.
Candice squinted her eyes into evil slits, and her nostrils opened and closed with every breath she took. Now she wanted to slap Shana herself for being so meek and stupid.
“Candy, this is Junior. Junior, this is Candy.” Shana introduced her as though they hadn’t even met earlier in the evening. If it was a formal introduction they wanted, Shana was aiming to please.
As Junior extended his hand toward Candice, she twisted her lips into a scowl, keeping her hands at her sides.
“Shana, I just came to tell you that I was leaving. Call me when you can,” Candice said, holding eye contact with Junior, then Shana.
“Oh, okay. That’s fine, Candy,” Shana said, avoiding eye contact.
“Damn! These bitches get more and more breezy the older I get. I guess it’s hard to find a quiet, obedient motherfucker to lay on her back and bring up the rear,” Junior remarked as he was set to turn away. “It was nice to meet you, anyway. What’s your name, again? Lollipop or something like that?” Junior looked into Candice’s eyes like he had seen them a thousand times before.
Candice inhaled deeply, willing the hot sensation of anger welling in her chest to dissipate. She finally broke her gaze with Junior and sashayed away from the group without another word, her heart thumping wildly in her chest and the fine hairs standing up on her neck. She wanted to pull out her gun and make Junior’s head explode. Candice’s emotions were taking over, and she had to get out fast. She was breaking a cardinal rule in Uncle Rock’s training manual—keep a cool head, no matter what the provocation.
“Candy! Hold up!” Razor called after her.
Fuming mad, Candice picked up her pace, with Razor close on her heels. He just didn’t know who he was messing with.
Chapter 4
Rock was huffing and puffing by the time he made it up the stairs to his apartment door. His lungs were on fire as he coughed uncontrollably. He stood with his back against the hallway door, letting his bags fall to the floor. Rock was frustrated and exhausted. Droplets of blood oozed from his mouth and formed a teardrop pattern on his shirt.
Rock’s hands shook as he fumbled with his keys. He was wishing he had fixed the old rusty lock on his door because, at times like this, he hated fighting with it. When the lock finally gave, he spilled into his apartment and lay in a heap on the floor for at least fifteen minutes. He was feeling worse with each passing day and had definitely overdone it this time. With each rise and fall of his chest, he thought for sure he saw flashes of the devil.
Not the type to let illness defeat him, he bit down into his jaw and pulled himself up off the floor, determined to go through with his daily routine.
He finally managed to get to his small Formica-top kitchen table. He’d had it for so long, the flowers embedded in the material appeared to be masked by a smoke screen. Rock dropped his bags onto the table and flopped down into one of the mismatched chairs. He popped the little plastic top on his cup of green tea and opened up his Daily News. No matter how much his chest and stomach burned, he needed his daily cup of green tea.
Barely able to grasp the small paper cup, Rock held the small cup of tea to his mouth and took the first sip. He winced. He smoothed out the newspaper and read the first bold headline. Pain shot through his body like a bolt of lightning. A mouthful of tea and blood splattered all over the table.
Candice’s phone ringing startled her out of her sleep. She bolted upright, thinking something must be wrong with uncle Rock. He was the only one who would call her this early in the morning.
“Hello,” she huffed into the phone, her voice sounding like a frog was lodged deep in her throat.
“Candy! Wake up!” Shana screamed in Candice’s ear.
Candice was surprised to hear her friend’s voice on the line. “I’m up. I’m up,” she reassured her friend, wishing she would just get to the point.
“Girl! Razor been missing for three days!” Shana screeched, her voice shaking.
Candice sat upright in her bed. “What? What do you mean, ‘missing’?”
“Candy! Nobody ain’t seen Razor since he ran after you at the club! Oh my goodness! Broady is going crazy around here. I can’t even stay in the same room with this nigga right now, it’s so bad. Candy, they’re saying somebody might’ve kidnapped Razor ass.”
“Damn! That’s fucked up. Who would want to do that?” Candice asked calmly. Her stomach cramped as soon as she asked the question. Suddenly, she was on her feet, feeling the need to pace, a coping mechanism she’d acquired over the years to deal with rushes of emotions.
“They found his truck on the side of a road out in New Jersey. Girl, niggas in the streets are saying that he might be dead. It’s not like Razor to even miss a day—much less three days—calling Broady or coming around to make money.”
Candice didn’t really know what to say to comfort Shana. “Why would somebody want to kidnap him? Did he owe somebody money? Did Broady do something to somebody?” Candice asked, pacing the room. She closed her eyes and tried to picture Razor’s face the night he’d followed her out of the club.
“Girl, they finally put a thing about it in the paper. Just because his baby mother is making such a big deal about it.”
“Damn! It’s in the newspaper?” Candice immediately thought about Uncle Rock and his daily morning newspaper review. Her heart thumped a little bit. She wondered what he would be thinking if he read about Razor in the paper, if he’d even realize who Razor was.
“I still can’t see why somebody would want to kidnap a grown-ass man,” Candice said, wanting to hear Shana’s assessment of the situation.
“Well, Broady is convinced it’s some uptown dudes that want to move in on his spots in Brooklyn. Broady had beef with some of them from back in the day. I heard Broady saying something about he recently got into something with these dudes. I think Junior and Broady will surely prepare for war if Razor don’t turn up soon. I’m telling you, this is not going to be a good look. If they don’t find Razor safe and sound, it’s about to be war out here, Candy.”
Candice was quiet on the other end of the phone. The fact of the matter was, Corey “Razor” Jackson was missing, and she was one of the last people to see him alive and in the flesh.
Junior Carson paced up and down his living room floor, rubbing his neatly trimmed goatee with his left hand. All of his workers, including
his brother, were silent. They didn’t dare interrupt him when he was thinking or pacing, or both. Junior finally turned toward his brown leather sectional, where all of his workers sat uncomfortably quiet and looking at their feet.
“I leave for one fuckin’ week and y’all niggas go buck wild, partying e’ery day, flashing big money, beatin’ niggas up on the streets and embarrassing them. I mean, I can’t fuckin’ step out for a minute without shit getting out of hand.” Junior slammed his hands down on the oak bar that sat on the far left of his living room, near the sliding glass doors, making a few of his workers jump.
“Now what the fuck are we supposed to do? Y’all sayin’ y’all think it’s niggas from uptown that got Razor, but why? Why would Phil and those cats even reach all the way down to Razor’s level if they were tryin’ to make a point?” Junior’s words were stiff and bitter as he looked each man in the face. His crew’s assessment of Razor’s disappearance just didn’t sit right with him.
Broady jumped up and screamed, “It was those niggas! Hands down! Who the fuck else would do some shit like that? Brooklyn niggas know better!”
What he failed to say was that just last week he and Razor had encountered Phil’s girlfriend in a club uptown. When Broady tried to push up on her and she refused him, Razor stepped in and tossed a drink in her face. Broady mushed the girl’s head so hard, it really constituted a slap, and she almost hit the floor. Broady was sure that she had reported the events of that night to Phil soon afterward, explaining his suspicion that Razor’s disappearance was related.
Junior eyed Broady with menace in his gaze, giving him the unspoken signal to sit his ass back down.
Broady stood his ground, his face curled into a scowl and his fists clenched. There was nothing Junior could say to comfort him.
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