“I wanted to give you these,” Tuck told her, reaching behind him into his backseat. He pulled up a thick packet. She furrowed her forehead at the stack of papers.
“Everything you need to know is right in here. Candy, your father was in a lot of shit. I want to warn you, some of this shit is very deep. Deeper than anything Barton could’ve even imagined,” Tuck said in a foreboding tone.
Candice accepted the package, but she hesitated to look inside. She didn’t want to learn anything about her father that would change her last view of him. In her eyes he was, and always would be, a stand-up family man who commanded respect and loved her more than anything in the world.
“Where did you get this, if you weren’t working with them?” Candice asked, squinting her eyes.
“Let’s just say I have friends in high places,” Tuck replied.
“Yeah, that’s just what I was afraid of. Thanks,” she said in a low whisper.
Tuck nodded.
Before she left the car, Candice gave Tuck her cell phone number, though she didn’t plan on having it for much longer. She knew all about the government’s GPS tracking technology.
Tuck watched her disappear into the night. Now all he needed to do was get in touch with Carlisle and get his family the fuck out of Dodge.
* * *
Candice opened the notebooks as soon as she was alone. The curiosity was burning her up inside. She would read through her father’s stories, but she wouldn’t let it change her mind about what she had to do. There was still one more mission to carry out before she went ghost, once and for all.
“My Life,” she read aloud, already captivated.
Hardaway Household, 2006
Easy walked into his bedroom and found his wife sitting on the side of the bed. She had obviously heard him arguing on the telephone. The vibe in the entire house was tense, to say the least. Easy glanced at Corine and knew that this conversation would not go over well.
Corine sat stiffly upright, her body language completely closed off to him. Deep worry etched extra lines around her eyes and mouth; she seemed to have aged lately. When Corine wasn’t angry with him, she was detached and aloof in her interactions with Easy. This shit was harder than he thought it could ever be.
Getting out of the business was much harder than getting in.
“Corine, we need to talk,” Easy told her. His voice was heavy with resignation.
She shuddered a little bit and looked down at her nails, anything to distract her mind. She knew they would be having this conversation sooner or later. Corine had expressed her dislike and distrust of the Dominicans on numerous occasions. Easy never listened to her; he always brushed off her concerns.
Easy sat down on his side of the bed; she stayed on her side; neither looked at the other.
“Listen, I want you to hear me out before you react crazy,” Easy warned. He knew how hotheaded his wife could be at times.
She cleared her throat. Corine was ready for him; she had been preparing what she would say ever since she’d overheard his phone conversation with his regular confidant.
Easy continued talking. “We might have to leave Brooklyn, Corine. I think it’s going to be best for us and for the kids to just take what we got and get far away from here. I’ll find a new hustle,” Easy announced gravely.
Her eyes went wide. She didn’t even understand her shock. She should have felt relieved that he was getting out of the game. But uprooting the kids? Taking apart their lives? All of the sacrifices she’d made to build this life with him would be for nothing. Her insides grew hot.
“I told the Dominicans I wanted out. They ain’t happy about this shit, Corine. It might mean war,” Easy said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know I promised you that things would always be all right. I know you never wanted me to get down with them, but you have to trust me. I did all of this for us,” he said, almost whispering.
It was always about Easy, never about Corine or the kids. He made all of the decisions—Corine and the kids were always an afterthought. His arrogance, even when trying to be humble, sent her over the top. Corine was on her feet like a demon had taken possession of her body and mind.
“I hate you! It was all for nothing! I hate you! You’re a selfish piece of shit! I should have never married you, just like my daddy said!” she screamed.
Easy whirled around so fast—he almost gave himself whiplash. Her words hurt him deeper than a knife wound. Her reaction shook him to his core and totally caught him off guard. “Corine, I’m sorry.” What else could he say to make up for the years of suffering she had experienced because of his poor life choices?
“You have no idea how you’ve ruined our lives! What about the sacrifices I’ve made? Huh? What about me—your wife? What real sacrifices have you made for this family, Eric? All you’ve ever cared about is making money!” Her caramel face turned almost burgundy with anger.
Easy worked his jaw. What the fuck was wrong with this woman? He could feel heat rising from his feet and climbing up. He put his hands out in a conciliatory fashion, trying to level with her.
“We’ve both made sacrifices, Corine. I have worked my ass off to give you this life. So you wouldn’t have to work or do shit but sit around, shop and look fuckin’ pretty!” Easy retorted.
The words hit her like a cold slap in the face.
He immediately regretted the words after they’d left his lips. His wife’s face crumpled and her eyes turned dark, like a storm was brewing inside.
Corine doubled over at the waist, her body quaking with emotion.
“Yeah, all I ever did was fuck you, stay barefoot and pregnant, and spend your money, right, Eric? That’s all I ever did for you, right? I should be kissing your feet with appreciation, huh? Fuck you, Easy Hardaway! You don’t know what I’ve done for you—you have no fucking idea!” Corine erupted, propelled by her rage.
Easy was pissed now too. He was under enough stress without these dramatic outbursts from his wife.
“Did you ever think about me? How I walked away from my own family to be with you? How I lost myself to this lifestyle? What about my sacrifices!” Corine was screeching like a fishwife.
“Corine, I don’t have time for this shit right now. I have shit to handle that you know nothing about,” he grumbled.
Corine shoved an accusatory finger into his chest.
“Your little sacrifices don’t mean shit in the scheme of things, Corine. And don’t make your father into some kind of saint. He was a fuckin’ crooked-ass cop who thought you were a prize to be won. Your mother always hated you, jealous of your relationship with your own father, so fuck your sacrifices. You don’t even understand the meaning of the word,” Easy boomed cruelly.
Corine had pushed him into a corner, and the only thing he could do was attack. In a knee-jerk reaction to his vituperative words, Corine reached out and slapped him across the face with all of her might. She’d hit him so hard that the palm of her hand stung. Corine didn’t know what had come over her, but it felt good to get her aggression out. She lifted her hand to slap him again, but her fingers curled involuntarily into a fist. She flew at him like an avenging angel.
“I hate you!” she growled, going wild on him.
Instinctively, Easy grabbed her wrists in defense. He held them tightly until he felt the tenseness leave her body.
“C’mon, we not gonna do this,” he whispered. The last thing they needed to do was turn against one another.
Corine’s knees suddenly buckled and she collapsed to the floor. She didn’t have the fight in her anymore. She felt drained. She sobbed like a woman burying her dead baby.
Easy had no idea she would react to his news so violently. He got down on the floor with his wife, but she was beyond consoling.
“Corine, I’m sorry. It’s going to be okay. I promise, just like from day one, I’m going to make it all okay,” Easy lied. He didn’t know how things would turn out. The truth was, he was scared to death for himself, for her
and for their kids.
“No! It won’t! They told me they wanted to get back at you! They said you were talking to the cops!” Corine wailed.
Easy’s face folded into a frown. He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. What the hell was she talking about?
“Who? What? What are you talking about, Corine?” he asked incredulously.
“I didn’t want to tell you! They wanted to hurt you. I didn’t want to tell you,” she rambled incoherently. Her voice was a shrill cacophony of pain. She rubbed her arms up and down, as if she had goose bumps.
“Tell me what?” Easy’s voice boomed as he shook her shoulders. “What are you talking about?” he asked frantically.
“They—they hurt me, Eric. They violated me. They wanted to get back at you. They took turns hurting me!” Corine screeched, rolling around in pain.
The entire scene smacked of melodrama; Easy felt like he had been thrown into a bad soap opera. His ears began ringing. The room began to spin around him. He jumped up like his wife was a contagious disease. How could she have hidden something like this from him? She clearly didn’t trust him enough to share the information with him.
“Eric . . . please!” she cried out, stretching out her hand for him. She knew this would be his reaction. She knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it. “Please!” she begged again.
Easy began stalking the room like a caged animal overdue for a feeding.
“When?” he asked harshly. His eyes were closed in agony. He hadn’t stopped moving.
She didn’t answer.
“When did it happen, gotdamn it?” he boomed.
Corine jumped. Her body trembled with trepidation.
“The day I had you pick me up from the hospital, when I told you someone had snatched my purse and made me fall. Remember my supposed mugging? My black eye and busted lip? I concocted that whole story. I didn’t want you to find out the truth.”
Easy furiously stalked over to the dresser and swiped everything onto the floor. He was panting and growling now. He felt like someone was choking the very air out of his body. He wanted to throw up. Corine cried out even louder.
“Tell me everything!” Easy barked. His palms were splayed flat on the emptied dresser top; his head was slung low between his shoulders.
“Don’t make me, Eric. Please.” She regretted that she’d ever gotten so emotional that she had broken her silence. She never wanted him to experience this sort of betrayal and hurt.
“Tell me now!” he barked, slamming his hands down on the dresser.
Corine closed her eyes and hugged herself. She opened her mouth and told Easy the whole truth. She recalled how she had left Macy’s and had headed to her car, happy as a lark because she had just picked up two nice shirts for him. Corine loved nothing more than to surprise Easy with gifts, since he was always giving her beautiful tokens. When she got to her car, she placed her purse on top of the trunk and fished around in her pocketbook for her car keys.
While she was distracted with this task, a Hispanic man materialized out of nowhere. So did a van. She should’ve noticed when the van pulled too close to her car. When the man approached her, she felt a chill as his black eyes gazed at her a bit too long. A chill went up her spine. The man spoke in Spanish to her and appeared to be asking for her help. He was pointing to a car a few spots back.
Corine looked at him, confused. She couldn’t understand anything he was saying. She was about to tell him she couldn’t speak Spanish; but before she could get the words out, she felt a rush of wind behind her and felt a pointed pressure in her back.
She stumbled forward and the Hispanic man grabbed her. Another man had bum rushed her from behind. Within seconds, the two men, working together, had thrown her in that black van. She fought them off at first, scratching at skin, kicking, spitting and biting when she could.
All of her efforts were in vain. A black blindfold was securely tied over her eyes. She opened her mouth wide to scream and she smelled something strong. Not quite like alcohol, but more like hospital disinfectant. It burned her nostrils. Her brain felt blank and then her world went black.
When Corine regained consciousness, she cracked her eyes open but could only see little slivers of light through the blindfold. Her neck throbbed as she tried to move her head. She finally became aware of her entire body and the pain that permeated it. She moaned out loud. She felt a burning sensation between her legs and severe cramps in her abdomen. The pain was almost unbearable, but at least she wasn’t dead. She tried again to lift her head, but she felt a pair of strong hands bearing down on her chest, forcing her back down.
Deep-voiced cackles sent chills down her aching spine. She squinted through the black material trying to make out shapes and faces, but it was nearly impossible. The shadows moved in front of her. This time she tried to move her arms, but they wouldn’t budge; they had obviously tied them down. There was more Spanish being spoken. Foreign words filtered into her ringing ears. She felt hands on her legs. She jumped to kick the offending hands away, but they pulled her legs apart like a wishbone. She tried to scream, but the material from the gag cut into the corners of her mouth.
She might not be able to see them, but she could smell them clearly. A mixture of sweat, alcohol and hair grease assailed her nose. She wanted to vomit. She gagged but somehow managed to control her stomach. If she didn’t get a hold on herself, she would choke on her own vomit and die. And then her children would be without a mother, and her husband without a wife.
She tried to scream as a man straddled her broken body. A hard slap to the face shut her up real quick. She knew one of them had gotten between her stretched legs. She prayed that God would watch over her children, for surely she would die today in the most humiliating fashion. Pain rocked through her abdomen like an earthquake as she felt him pounding into her body. Her vagina was raw with burning. She bit down into the gag as tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
One after the other, they each took their turns with her. They performed sordid acts, violating her in the most sickening ways. After an eternity the violence on her body came to an end. By then, Corine had wrapped herself in a cocoon of disbelief and denial. Oddly enough, she thought of her father and how much she missed him.
In broken English a new voice cautioned, “Not too much’a bruises.”
Why this man was saving her from bruises, when the men clearly planned to kill her, was beyond her understanding. The man called an end to their sick little party; for that, she was grateful. His voice was raspy, and his cologne smelled familiar, but she couldn’t place the fragrance.
“Tell your husband what we did to you. Tell him, we know he is talking to the police and he’d better stop. Tell him, we said there’s only one way out,” the older gentleman had whispered, close to her face. She tried to turn her head toward him, but they pushed her face away.
Her attackers had been instructed to clean her up and drop her off back at her car.
When Corine was deposited back in the parking garage, she tried to make out their faces. But this time they were smart enough to wear disguises. Corine didn’t know whether to start screaming for help or thank them for not killing her. Her head was all messed up.
When she put the key in the ignition, she didn’t know what to do or where to go. Every car that drove by made her jump. She’d sat there for almost an hour, crying off and on. Her body ached so bad; she didn’t think she could grip her steering wheel.
Corine wanted to call somebody, but they hadn’t returned her pocketbook or her cell phone—she was given just a lone car key.
She couldn’t ask for help from strangers. She didn’t trust anyone right now. Worst of all, she didn’t know how she could possibly tell Easy about what had happened to her during these last few hours. The news would devastate her husband, giving her attackers twice the satisfaction.
Corine decided she would take her lumps on this one. She would be strong and come up with a plausible story to explain the bruises
that were already darkening her face.
She planned to put the trauma behind her and move forward with her life. She would hold her head up high and never let those bastards see her falling apart. Corine knew the risks she’d accepted when she agreed to become a hustler’s wife. She knew that one day she would have to make the ultimate sacrifice; today, unfortunately, was that day.
Corine pulled her car over to the side of the road about five times before she arrived at the hospital. She stumbled into the emergency room and requested a female doctor. Corine was examined by the doctor. The doctor immediately ordered a rape kit and told Corine she’d have to wait for the results of the STD tests. That had unnerved Corine. She hadn’t even considered the consequences of her rape. Aside from the STD, the men could have impregnated her as well. Her womb shuddered in revulsion. She snatched the Plan B pill from the doctor and swallowed it in a single gulp.
“Please . . . you can’t tell my husband about this. You can’t mention it around him,” Corine pleaded, holding on tightly to the white lab coat.
The doctor looked at her like she had lost her mind.
“He won’t ever look at me the same. I couldn’t handle that on top of this,” Corine half lied.
The doctor consented to her wishes, although very reluctantly. She recommended that if Corine was not going to share the truth with her husband that she at least join a support group for victims of rape. Corine agreed to give it careful consideration.
When Corine finally called Easy from the hospital, he sounded very close to near panic. He told her he had been worried sick about her and had about a hundred dudes scouring the streets looking for his wife.
Easy made it to Long Island College Hospital in record time. When he saw Corine’s face, his anger erupted like Mount Vesuvius. He seemed to buy the robbery story; for that, Corine was deeply relieved.
Easy knew that a nigga in Brooklyn bold enough to touch his wife had to be on a suicide mission. He had to find the fuckers responsible for robbing his wife. He had his workers all over the streets, fanned out looking for a ghost. After a while the manhunt died down.
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