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Hard Candy Saga

Page 29

by Amaleka McCall


  Junior felt like a kid who’d just been suspended from school. He looked around the room, then back at DeSosa. He knew DeSosa too well; it would never be over that easily.

  “C’mon, DeSosa! I’m sayin’, how the fuck do you expect me to find this bitch? I don’t know where she is! I hardly even know her! I find out this punk-ass old man who raised her is my own fuckin’ father, but that don’t mean I know where to find this bitch! I told you everything.... I gave you every fuckin’ thing I could!” Junior forcefully detailed. He was on the brink of tears. “You, of all people, should understand why I want Phil! If somebody did something to your family, you would be the first one out for blood!” Junior whined now, pleading his case.

  DeSosa’s henchmen closed in on him, but he didn’t care. He was coming apart right now. His business had dried up. DeSosa was no longer supplying him because he thought he might still be a target of the DEA. And now he’d never be able to get his hands on Phil.

  “DeSosa! You can’t do this to me now!” Junior pleaded.

  DeSosa didn’t flinch or blink. He didn’t have any respect for a man who couldn’t stand his ground. That was the one thing that had set Easy apart in DeSosa’s mind. Although he ultimately viewed Easy as a traitor, which was the most detestable form of human being, at least he could respect Easy for sticking to his decision about turning his back on the game.

  “You can leave now. When you find out any information, you are welcome to come back. Maybe by then you’ll grow some balls and find some loyalty,” DeSosa spat out in Junior’s direction. His words cut like small carving knives.

  “Fuck you, DeSosa! Fuck you and your little game!” Junior boomed. His newfound courage wrapped around him like a dark cloak.

  DeSosa let out a snort, followed by a maniacal laugh. His goons surrounded Junior now. Junior wrestled his arm away from the big gorilla-shaped goon who roughly helped him to the door.

  He straightened out his rumpled jacket sleeve and followed their lead to the door. Before he got there, he stopped in his tracks to address DeSosa. His action garnered glares from the goons.

  “You really fucked up for this one. You just gonna leave me out there like that after I murked Phil’s right-hand man at your request? Those niggas are looking for me and you just gonna leave me open out there with no help and no protection? I’m tellin’ you, what goes around comes around.... You better sleep with one eye open.” Junior issued his warning; his voice was quaking—filled with one part anger, one part fear.

  His words got him grabbed by the neck by a goon.

  “You are weak! You can’t find one girl who tried to fuckin’ kill you! I have nothing to say to you! Get the fuck out of my presence!” DeSosa barked at Junior’s back.

  Junior was tossed outside the house like yesterday’s trash. His ego was bruised, and so were both of his knees.

  “I want him followed. I think he knows something and he is just not letting on.” DeSosa snapped his orders, flicking his hand in the direction of the door. He needed some time to regroup and rethink this whole situation with the girl.

  Outside, Junior picked himself up off the concrete ground and shouted for DeSosa and the world to hear. “Y’all ain’t seen the last of me! You muthafuckas fucked with the wrong nigga!”

  He stepped backward out of the gate, when he spotted a woman out of the corner of his eye. She was herding two little kids in the opposite direction of the commotion. He was angry, but for some reason he took particular notice of her. Maybe it was because she watched the scene a bit too closely.

  “Mind yo’ fuckin’ business, bitch!” Junior yelled at the unsuspecting nanny.

  The woman scampered into the house with the children in tow like he was a pedophile on the sex offender registry. Something about the fat, frumpy nanny made Junior pissed. She had the nerve to be watching him get embarrassed.

  Junior waited outside the gate for DeSosa’s thugs to bring his car around. He needed to get far away from this place and come up with a new strategy for finding Phil and catching that cunt, Candy.

  * * *

  Tuck slumped down farther into his seat as he watched Junior get tossed out of DeSosa’s estate. Then Tuck noticed the woman who watched from the sidelines, much like himself. Something inside his chest jumped; her face was disguised but familiar.

  “Candy,” he whispered, his breath catching. Tuck forgot everything: the danger, his cover, her cover, everything. He was up in his seat now, with his dark glasses far down on his nose. He needed to see her in natural light. He needed to know if it was really Candy or if his mind had conjured up her image.

  Candice glanced in his direction as she hefted a baby girl onto her hip and grabbed the little boy’s hand. Tuck watched her rush away—her body not the same, but her eyes telling a different story.

  Tuck was brought back to reality when Junior revved his car engine. With his heart sitting in the back of his throat, Tuck shrank back down into his seat. He would sit outside all night if he had to until Candy emerged.

  Tuck’s mind was too preoccupied to realize that he was being followed as well.

  One of DeSosa’s henchmen picked up his cell phone to call in his report. “Sí, tell the boss he was right. Junior is being followed by the DEA agent. I have my eye on him right now. He is watching the house.” The man relayed his visuals into the phone.

  He could hear DeSosa’s booming voice in the background. He cursed Junior’s name and condemned him to hell for being a traitor. The man listened, knowing that Junior had sealed his fate.

  The one thing DeSosa couldn’t stand was a traitor. He viewed them as low-down, dirty scum of the earth. It was the same reason Easy Hardaway had suffered the fate that he did. DeSosa finished his tirade with specific instructions.

  Neither Junior, Tuck nor Candy was safe.

  * * *

  Candice rushed the children back into the house. Her head was spinning. She’d seen Tuck and she knew that he’d seen her.

  What the fuck is he doing there? How did he find me?

  He’d definitely recognized her; she was sure of it. She didn’t want to believe Tuck was part of the government bastards who were after her. But now he appeared to be spying on her, and she had to reconsider. Could it be that he was just another hired gun after her head?

  Candice felt sick to her stomach. His betrayal burned badly. Candice’s hand shook and her body was covered with a fine sheen of sweat. The fat suit felt extremely heavy on her body and her legs felt wobbly. Stumbling around like a cow, she could barely carry the baby up the stairs. Candice reached to the wall for support and caused one of the pictures to crash to the floor. Candice jumped, her nerves on edge. She looked down at the shattered glass frame that held a picture of Guillermo. Candice stared at the picture like it was a bad omen. She felt like throwing up.

  Cyndi rounded the corner like a bat out of hell in response to the loud noise.

  “Dulce, are you all right?” she asked, noticing Candice’s pained expression. Cyndi looked down at the shattered frame, then back up at Candice.

  “Um . . . I—I’m not feeling good. I need to leave early, if you don’t m-mind,” Candice stammered, using the wall to hold herself up now. She couldn’t even be bothered with the accent, and she didn’t even care if Cyndi noticed.

  Cyndi eyed her suspiciously and grabbed her baby before Dulce dropped her.

  “I have to go,” Candice panted; her chest felt tight. She was afraid that if she stood in front of Cyndi another minute, she would definitely blow her disguise.

  Candice slid down the steps and out of Cyndi’s line of vision.

  “Okay. Okay, you go ahead. I’ll keep the kids tonight,” Cyndi called out from the balcony landing.

  All Candice wanted to do was get out of the house and take in a deep gulp of fresh air. She moved fast now, ignoring everyone and everything.

  As Candice moved away from her, Cyndi noticed that her nanny’s shirt was hiked up slightly in the back. Cyndi squinted; Dulce’s skin
looked wrinkled and rubbery. Perhaps she had been burned in a fire as a child? Cyndi shook her head. Maybe her eyes were deceiving her, or the lighting was bad, but a nagging, suspicious feeling invaded her mind.

  Something about Dulce just didn’t sit right with her, and she couldn’t put her finger on it. She had a funny feeling about her from day one, but she’d ignored it. With everything that had happened, she had been preoccupied, but the feeling was back. Cyndi hurried up the stairs and put her baby down in the crib. She rushed to her bedroom and retrieved her cell phone.

  “Hello, Ms. Sanchez? I need to ask you some questions about the nanny you sent to replace Flora. Yes, I want to know everything,” Cyndi demanded.

  * * *

  Tuck watched the chubby Hispanic woman rush through the gates of the DeSosa home. He started up his engine as soon as she got in her car; in a matter of seconds he was on her tail.

  “You are a bold bitch, Candy,” he said out loud to himself. He could not believe she was inside DeSosa’s home, playing with his grandkids. He thought Candy had been bold when she infiltrated Junior’s crew to get closer to them, but this took the cake. She was one bad bitch, and he knew he’d have to tread lightly with her.

  He followed Candice with every dip, turn and U-turn she made. He had to give it to her—she was slippery as a snake. Rock Barton had obviously trained her well.

  Candice pulled her car over abruptly. Tuck had to stop short to keep from rear-ending her.

  “Fuck!” Tuck cursed, slamming his palms on the steering wheel. He had been made.

  Candy rushed toward his car, digging into her bag at the same time. Tuck went to his waistband as well. She yanked open his passenger door and plopped into the seat. Her gun was under his chin, and his was at her temple.

  “Why the fuck are you following me?” Candice growled. Her finger was in the trigger guard, ready to blow Tuck’s head off.

  “I’m not following you! I was following Junior!” Tuck panted, his nerves on a hair trigger.

  “You’re a fucking liar! How did you know it was me?”

  “I recognized you, even with all of that padding, makeup and fake-ass eyes! What made you think you could disguise your eyes?” Tuck’s voice cracked. He still seemed to have a soft spot for her.

  “Tell me who the fuck sent you, or you die right here and right now.” Candice couldn’t care less about the gun that rested on her temple.

  “Put your gun down and I’ll put mine down. We need to talk,” Tuck said calmly.

  “No! I don’t trust you!” she barked, working her jaw and readjusting her grip on her weapon.

  “You have no fuckin’ choice right now! There are some very dangerous people hunting for your ass, and I’m the only person who can tell you who they are and why they want you dead or alive,” Tuck said seriously. “Now put your fuckin’ gun down and I’ll put mine down,” he said firmly.

  “You first,” Candice said, not buying it. If Tuck tried anything funny, she would take Tuck the fuck apart, limb by limb.

  He reluctantly lowered his gun from her head. She took a deep breath and did the same, but she kept it at the ready. Tuck placed his gun back into his waistband as a symbol of trust. He wanted her to know he had no ill intentions toward her.

  Candice didn’t give a shit what he did. She kept her gun ready, willing and able to blow his skullcap back.

  “Now let me explain everything to you,” Tuck began with a sigh.

  “You already said that bullshit. Start talking . . . and fast. The way I see it right now is you were working for the bastards who killed my family the entire time.”

  “Candy . . . I was never working for anyone who had anything to do with your family’s murders, but I have a lot of information that may be of use to you. I have your father’s books—all of his secrets, his life story,” Tuck said, his words coming out slowly and deliberately. Candice seemed to soften a bit.

  “Where would you get my father’s books from if you don’t work for the fuckers who killed him?” she asked, her eyebrow raised.

  “It’s a long story. We don’t have time now. I want to show you some of the books and give you a different perspective on your family’s past. I want to help you get away from here before you get hurt.”

  “I can’t get sidetracked right now. I will meet you at the Monte Carlo later tonight. You better come alone, or else you die,” Candice growled.

  “Candy . . . you need to be careful. They are probably watching us right now,” Tuck cautioned.

  “I’m a big girl. I can handle myself,” she said pointedly, reaching for the door handle. Before Tuck could take his next breath, Candice was out of the car and up the street.

  Tuck picked up his cell phone to call Carlisle. He needed to gather up all of the files so he could hand them over to Candice.

  The phone vibrated in his hand. “Shit!” He jumped, putting his hand over his heart.

  “Hello,” Tuck barked into the phone.

  Ear-shattering screams filtered through the receiver, threatening to burst his eardrums.

  “Elaina! What’s the matter? What?” Tuck felt his chest heave with effort. He dropped his phone and screeched away from the curb.

  “Fuck!” Tuck screamed, taking off like a madman.

  They were fucking with the wrong man’s family. The game was about to change . . . drastically.

  Candice, meanwhile, didn’t bother to pull out until she saw Tuck leave, along with his tails. She got out of her car and disappeared down a side street. She dipped into a building before her followers could even get out of their cars.

  She watched two men turn down the block, their ties flapping in the wind as they ran from building to building, peeking their heads inside doorways.

  After a few minutes the men threw their hands up in exasperation. They were not very diligent in their efforts.

  “So fucking impatient and predictable.” She smiled.

  It was time for her to ramp up the heat on her marks. Candy knew she should have murked all of them as soon as she gained access to the house. Uncle Rock had told her about becoming personal with her marks; now she had to turn things up. She was back in her hard candy mode.

  No man, woman or child would be safe from her wrath.

  Chapter 22

  Secret Assignations

  Guillermo DeSosa took a long pull off his cigarette. His hands shook involuntarily. He paced outside, near the spot he’d agreed on. He looked at his watch impatiently and blew out a thick cloud of smoke. He plucked his cigarette to the ground and began to walk away; his shoulders were slumped in disappointment.

  “Did I keep you waiting long?” an effeminate male voice filtered through the crisp night air. The man seemed to materialize from thin air. That shit unnerved Guillermo; he reached for his waistband, jumpy and anxious. He was always on edge with these meetings, especially when he dealt with someone new.

  Guillermo kicked himself for answering the Craigslist advertisement. Why didn’t he just go his usual route?

  “Shit! Don’t you know better than to sneak up on a gangster’s son?” he huffed, moving his jacket aside so the man could see his shiny piece. He wanted this man to know who would be in charge this evening. He avoided the man’s direct gaze; it would be easier this way. They had already discussed through e-mail how things would work. Guillermo wanted to stay low-key, but he disclosed his father’s status—just in case the man was thinking about setting him up.

  “Pay me first, like we agreed, then tell me where to meet you,” the mysterious man said.

  “It’s all in the envelope,” Guillermo said, his voice quavering. He was taking a chance, and he knew it. When his desires took over, all logical thinking evaporated. Walking toward his car, Guillermo quickly placed a small white envelope on top of a black car that was parked three cars away from his.

  Guillermo quickly picked up his pace and rushed to his car as if the Furies were on his heels. The man walked swiftly by, swiped the envelope from the car hood,
then headed in the opposite direction of Guillermo’s car. Guillermo was panting now as blood and adrenaline rushed to his brain. Once inside, he took a deep breath, looked around and pulled away from the curb. After all of these years, the heat of embarrassment still climbed from his chest and settled on his face when he set up these rendezvous. And each time, he felt dirty and ashamed. If his brother and his father knew about his secret lifestyle, he would definitely be excommunicated from the family or—worse—put to sleep like a horse with four broken legs.

  The urges had started when Guillermo was just twelve years old; he had felt an overwhelming level of attraction, which he couldn’t explain, for members of the same sex. The first time he remembered having a physical response to another boy was in the locker room after gym class. The physical education teacher had entered the locker room and instructed them all to disrobe and jump in the showers after a grueling day of climbing ropes. His friend had dropped his drawers right next to him and casually walked to the showers. As soon as he spied his friend’s flaccid penis, he felt himself grow hard.

  Guillermo had felt like reaching out and grabbing his friend in his most private area and even kissing him. His friend caught him staring and sent him a look that spoke volumes. Guillermo smiled nervously before running into the bathroom stalls and hiding.

  Inside the stall he vomited into the toilet from the shame he felt. He sobbed uncontrollably and wondered what was wrong with him. Why couldn’t he be like the other boys, interested in staring at women’s breasts and butts? He smacked himself in the head, trying to beat the sordid thoughts out of his own brain.

  It hadn’t worked, of course. Every day afterward, Guillermo struggled with his identity and unnatural desires, learning to satisfy them in the most discreet ways possible.

  When Guillermo spent time with his father and older brother, he acted the consummate ladies’ man, even going as far as slapping women’s asses in public. He was a wonderful actor and an accomplished liar. Though he often felt like a fraud, he felt these were necessary evils he must carry out to remain a part of the DeSosa family.

 

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