by T. Styles
Whether Shadow knew it or not, discovering that a person was alive who participated in the same kinds of crimes did nothing but validate her. What a sick combination.
Two cars behind her was a truck full of Baker cousins with Killa in the driver’s seat. He was waiting for her to make a move, and now that she was on her feet, he would not let her out of his sights.
Chapter 8
Farah
“The night is young and so are we.”
The cool night air made her feel powerful as she strolled into the Smoke Shop. The honeyed fragrance wasn’t offensive, nor did it exacerbate her illness. In fact it was refreshing and made her horny. The stylish brown leather jacket clung to the waves of her breasts, and her cleavage puffed out at the top ever so slightly. There wasn’t a man in sight who wasn’t lusting after Farah Cotton.
“Damn, beautiful. You wearing that dress, aren’t you?” a short man said, pimping toward her. Every tooth in his mouth was yellow or chipped, and not a thing was attractive about him.
Farah enjoyed blood, but she preferred her victims to be attractive. She couldn’t imagine putting her lips anywhere near his dehydrated skin.
“Can I take you out? As a matter of fact, can I lick that pussy dry?”
She frowned when she smelled the scent of the rotten teeth in his mouth. “You can’t do nothing for me but get up out my face.” In need of separation, she strolled up to a black-and-silver hookah lamp. She wasn’t looking to make a purchase, just looking the part.
“Damn, baby,” Death Mouth continued, grabbing her softly by the elbow, “you can at least show some respect. I’m trying to show you how a real man can make you feel, and you giving me neck. What’s up with that shit?”
She spun around and glared at him. “Look, nigga, I’m doing you a favor by carrying the fuck out of you. You don’t know what kind of person I can be.”
“So what is a pretty thing like you gonna do to me? Kill me?”
Silence.
He took the walk of shame out of the shop. Farah sighed.
“My man, come here for a second,” Killa said when he saw Mr. Rotten Tooth exit the shop.
“Do I know you?” He frowned.
“Naw, but you might know him,” he said, flashing a fifty dollar bill.
Broke and busted, he strolled over to Killa’s black Suburban. “What’s up?” he asked, looking at the four niggas in the truck.
“Is a bitch with the red dress inside there?” Killa asked him.
Irritated that she shot him down, he said, “Yeah, that slut up in there, acting like she too good for a nigga and shit.”
“She look like she coming out anytime soon?”
“Naw, if you ask me she looks like she waiting for something or somebody.”
Killa nodded. “Thanks, man.” He dapped him up and gave him the bill. “We appreciate it.”
When he walked away, Killa’s cousin from Jersey said, “So what we gonna do now? Go up in there and kidnap the bitch?”
“No.” Killa shook his head. “We gonna try to get up in her car first to see if we can find anything. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll push to plan B.”
After bullshitting around the shop a little longer, it didn’t take Farah long to spot a six foot tall sexy nigga. He took his brown gloves off and stuffed them inside the pockets of his black peacoat. His brown face was speckled with a few moles, and luckily for Farah, instead of the cigars, he was coming straight for her. She whipped her bone-straight hair over her shoulder and braced herself. Before he mumbled a word, she knew he would taste sweet. Trying to play a little hard to get, she picked up a pack of strawberry tobacco to give him a hard time.
Greeting her back instead of her face didn’t spoil his confidence one bit. He strolled into her space, giving her nowhere to move but against him. From the shine of the hookah lamp to the right, she saw the reflection of his face. He was perfect. “You know you gonna be my wife, right?”
She whirled around to face him and beamed. “As bad as I look? You still want a girl like me?”
He looked her over. “In my opinion you are perfect.”
“Don’t say stuff you don’t mean, because I take marriage very seriously.” She touched her imperfect face. “Once you have me, you stuck with me for life.”
He nodded, loving her already. “For life, huh?” He grinned. “As fine as you are, that’s a chance I’m willing to take.”
“You laying it on very thick, ain’t you?” She surveyed the store. “I mean, ain’t you supposed to be in here buying some cigars, or hookah stuff?” She waved the pack of strawberry tobacco. “You looking at me like I’m on the shelf.”
“And you love it, too.” He considered the curvature of her body. “Besides, when I see something I want, I jump at it. I’m not about wasting my time or yours.” He paused and looked at her cleavage. “Is your boyfriend in here?” He looked around. “’Cause I know somebody’s claiming you.”
Thinking of Slade made her feel guilty, but he made his decision and she was going to do her. Besides, the man in front of her wouldn’t be around long enough to cause serious problems anyway. “I’m single, so my only question to you is, what are you gonna do about it?”
“I have a few ideas,” he admitted. “That is if you not too busy for a nigga today.”
“I think I have a little time. But I have one question.”
He nodded for her to proceed.
“Can I make you famous?”
He chuckled. “Hold up, what you mean about that?”
“The question requires a yes or no answer. Can I make you famous?”
Farah believed in giving her victims a right to decide before she killed them and took their blood. If they said no, she’d leave them to it, but if they said yes, it would mean their lives.
“As long as you let me take you out of here, you can make me anything you want. And that’s on my mother,” he told her.
That was one thing she loved about men. They always seemed to walk into the trap and lock the gate behind them. “Before we do all of that, you have to tell me your name.”
“Floyd, but honestly, you can call me anything you want.” He was on a roll, but she loved it. “What’s your name, beautiful?”
“Farah Cotton.”
“Now, that’s a name.” He took her hand into his.
She grinned. “Glad you like it. So where we going?”
“Wherever you allow me to take you.”
“Lead the way,” she said softly.
As Farah followed his white Honda, she noticed something was off in her car. Things were placed differently than they were before. And then her scalp seemed to tighten. Someone had been in her car.
“Oh my God! The picture! I left the picture in the trunk.” She needed to check the trunk, but lust and blood were on her mind too.
Nervously, she followed Floyd, with plans to check her car the moment they parked. Looking out of her rearview mirror every so often, she was trying to be sure she wasn’t being followed. Nothing appeared to be out of place, but her mind was so wrecked, she couldn’t be sure.
After some time, what she did notice was how drastically the environments changed. One minute she was in a ritzy part of Maryland, and the next minute she was parking in one of the most violent areas of DC. She was no stranger to the hood, but it was unexpected for a man like him. Floyd looked like he played basketball overseas, but she wondered if he was a dope boy instead.
He parked his car and rushed toward her Benz to open the door. “You cool? Because you look out of it.”
Farah popped the trunk, stepped out, and rushed toward it. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for. There, under the spare tire, was the picture of Knox. Looking behind her, she ripped it up into a million pieces and stuffed it inside her purse.
“It didn’t work, mothafuckas!” she yelled into the night. “Do you hear me? It didn’t work.”
Floyd stepped back and asked, “Are you okay?”
&nbs
p; Realizing she looked beyond crazy, she said, “Yes . . . uh . . . It’s a long story.” She didn’t know who was in her car, or even how they got inside without popping the locks, but she grinned, realizing that she’d won.
“Well, you want to go inside and grab a drink?”
“Lead the way.”
A little calmer, she observed the run-down apartment building before her. Green moss ran up and down the bricks, and it creeped her out. If there was anything she despised, bugs and grossness were it. “Yeah, I guess.” She shrugged, rubbing her arms. “You live here?”
“For now.” He grabbed her hand. “But come on in, sexy. Let me get you inside before you catch a cold.”
Reluctantly she accompanied him up a set of dank-smelling steps and to a blue door. Although the hood was alive outside, the inside was on some VIP shit. A large, plush sofa sat against the wall, and a beautiful mahogany table sat in the middle of the living room. It smelled sweet and fresh, but not strong enough to worsen her illness.
Floyd removed his black peacoat and assisted her out of her leather. “Damn, you sexy as shit. And I love them shoes.”
She grinned, wiggled her black steel-toed pump, and posed. “Glad I could make you happy already.”
“I can’t lie, you did that the moment I saw your face. And them hips.”
“I love compliments, even though I see you keep looking at my spotty face.”
“The last thing I’m thinking about is your face.” He winked.
“So thank you,” Farah told him.
He was so excited that for a moment, she felt sorry she was going to kill him.
“Don’t thank me. I just love a bitch with a mean shoe game.” He paused. “You drink merlot?”
“Sure.” She dropped her purse on the table and fell onto his sofa. If she had to, she could certainly see living there. “As clean as this place is, you got to have a girlfriend.”
“Why you say that?” He popped the cork on a bottle of wine. “Because I keep my place up?”
She raised her eyebrows.
“I’m gonna be real with you. You know I got somebody. Just like I know you do. You here now, so there ain’t no need in playing no more games. We both ain’t shit.”
She giggled. “So all that shit in the store about me being wifey was game?”
“What you think?” He giggled. “And about my place being nice, even if I didn’t have a bitch, I’d keep a fly place.”
“And you don’t have a problem bringing me here, knowing you got somebody in your life?” She was beginning not to like him, and it was always easier killing someone she disliked. “Because I know she wouldn’t like what you’re doing.”
“We haven’t done anything yet.”
“You just like the rest of the niggas out there. Always want to fuck a bitch, play with her heart, and dump her when you get yours. One day niggas like you gonna be extinct, Slade. Just remember that shit.”
He didn’t know what caught him more off-guard: the name slip-up or what she said to him. “My name isn’t Slade. I knew something was wrong with you after you yelled at nobody outside.” Farah’s crazy slid out, and now he was nervous.
“I meant Floyd.”
“Who is Slade?” He paused. “Your man?”
“I said it was a mistake.”
“Look, what I do with my bitch is my business, and what you do with your nigga is yours. All I want is to spend some time with you and maybe put a smile on your face. Is that gonna be enough for you or what?”
She shrugged. “I’m here, ain’t I?”
“Good.” He handed her a glass of wine and held on to his glass.
“So tell me about yourself,” Farah said, sipping her drink. “Well, what you want me to know anyway.”
“Okay, I’m an engineer and I love to fuck and have a good time,” he said.
I can’t wait to kill your ass. “Anything else?”
“You want more, huh?” He chuckled, “Well, I’m real close to my family.”
“You got a big family?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “But my sister is dying of cancer and my mother is losing her mind because of it.” Suddenly he wasn’t cocky. “That’s why I smoke so much weed, just to clear my mind. I stay at the Smoke Shop getting blunts and shit. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around there before.”
Something about what he said put her on pause. “When you say you’re close to your family, do you mean really close?”
“I’ll put it like this, if it wasn’t for my family, I’d be dead or in jail right now, so I take them very seriously. I talk to my family every day, and that’s not an overstatement. I put nothing above them, including my girlfriend. That’s one of the reasons we fight so much and I fuck around on her. She don’t understand the bond I have with my family, and I can’t understand why she don’t get along with hers. If Chloe dies though, I’m gonna lose it.”
“Your sister’s name is Chloe?”
“Yeah. Why?”
Farah downed her glass of wine and stood up. “I’m out of here.” She slammed the glass on the table, threw her jacket on, and snatched her purse. “It’s been real, but I have things to do.” It was easy to kill him when she believed he was selfish and thought only of himself, but now she discovered that he loved his family and that their sisters shared the same name. Because of it, she would spare him.
“Wait, where you going?” He approached her at the door and put his hand on it to prevent it from opening. “We haven’t done nothing yet.”
When she grabbed the doorknob, he yanked her by the elbow. “So you the type of bitch who like to play games? Come over a nigga’s house, drink his wine, ask about his girlfriend, and bounce?” He frowned a little. “Wait, you know my girlfriend Candace or something? You one of her friends?”
“I’m trying to leave, Floyd. You really need to allow me.”
“If you were in prison playing these games, you would already be on your knees with my nuts in your mouth.”
Farah grinned. “You so stupid you don’t even know when you’ve been spared.” She shook her head. “I’m giving you back your life, Floyd, but if you don’t get away from this door, you gonna find out what I really came for.”
He stood at the door for a second until he recognized her glare. He’d been in jail long enough to know when a nigga was bluffing. She was not playing. He released her arm and she switched out of the door and on to her next victim.
She couldn’t believe she wasted so much time at his house only for him to be ungrateful. She massaged her left temple and tried to calm down. Hours wasted and no blood. Before she renewed her search, she had to get out of the neighborhood.
She was strutting toward her car when someone yelled, “Can I holla at you for a minute?”
Farah took one look at the drug dealer in the souped-up silver Chrysler 300, rolled her eyes, and continued on her journey. “I’m not even interested.” She waved as she wrestled for the keys in her purse. “So do me a favor and step the fuck off.”
“Well fuck you then, you high yellow bitch! Want a nigga to kiss your ass and shit!”
Farah stopped in place, rotated, and faced the caller. She could tell by how little his head was in his car that he wasn’t as big as Floyd. Despite his height, the one thing he had going was his looks. As a matter of fact, at a distance, he was inviting. So she twinkled and said, “On second thought, I can spare a few minutes.” She approached his window and peered inside. The car was neat and clean. “I’m sorry about how I carried shit back there. I just broke up with my boyfriend and got a lot on my mind. I don’t have a right to be taking it out on you though.”
He smirked. “You were pretty cold.” He was laying it on thicker than peanut butter. “But damn, why you let me unleash on you first? I wasn’t even trying to come at you like that.”
“It’s not even that deep. Let’s move past that shit.” She looked up at the stars. “The night is young and so are we. Anyway, what’s your name?” She leaned on hi
s car.
“Glover, but my friends call me G.”
“So, G, you got somewhere to be in the next fifteen minutes? After the day I just had, I really don’t want to be alone.”
His words flowed coolly out of his mouth, but his smile resembled a Cheshire cat. “I’m good if you are.” He slapped his hands together and rubbed them like he was trying to warm up. “My mother gonna be gone all day. If you want, we can fuck at her crib. I don’t have to check up with my weed man until later.”
This nigga is perfect. He was cute enough to fuck, but irritating enough to soothe her conscience. “I’ll go with you on one condition.”
“As fine as you are, I’ll give you anything but money.”
Don’t worry, nigga. I’m gonna take everything you got anyway. “You have to answer my question, can I make you famous?”
“You can make me anything you want! Believe that.”
She grinned. “Well, lead the way.”
Farah was sitting on top of Glover’s dick, bucking her hips wildly. Sweat spilled off of her body and melted into the curly black hairs on his chest. His fingernails dug into the flesh of her yellow ass as he pushed into her wetness. She wasn’t a pro by a long shot in the bedroom, but the last time she fucked Slade, he gave her enough jewels on how to move her waist. If only you could see me now. You’d be proud, she thought.
While on top of him, she leaned back so that her hands were on the bed while she pushed and wound against him. Her pussy syrup dripped all over his legs, and the bed was soaking wet. She fell into him, and her breasts pressed against his lips.
“Kiss them for me, baby.” He removed his hands from her ass and gripped her left breast and sucked the nipple. “Work that tongue, G. Ummmm, just like that. That shit feels so good.” If she closed her eyes tight enough, in her dreams he could’ve passed for Slade.
Although she was there for blood, she would be lying if she didn’t say she was highly aroused by his fuck game. The nigga was brilliant, and in her opinion it was a shame that such good dick would go to waste.