Lickin' License

by Intelligent Allah

  Vanessa had also wallowed in self-pity since the incident. She shouldered the blame because she shot Chase. She felt that if she had not been so weak, Rich would not have been consoling her inside the penthouse lobby, leaving Candy to exit the building alone with the bags Rich was supposed to be carrying.

  Staying cooped up in a cabin in Balmville, New York only enhanced Vanessa's frustration and guilt. The wealthy Orange County enclave was just an hour and twenty minutes from Harlem, but Vanessa felt like she was in another world. During the ride upstate, she took in the scenery—the country club, mansions, golf course, a seemingly endless sea of trees and perfectly trimmed lawns. The nearest house to Rich's cabin was a large two-story ranch backed by towering hills. The peaceful atmosphere of Balmville was the type of environment Vanessa would enjoy under normal circumstances—circumstances in which Candy was safe and present.

  “What are we gonna do?” Vanessa asked as she parted from Rich's embrace.

  “I got a plan. Don't worry. I made some calls late last night. People got they eyes open in Harlem. Don't worry. Candy gonna be back and motherfuckers gon' get it!” He looked down and pointed at his guns. “Pick that gold one up.”

  “Huh?”

  “Pick it up,” he demanded. “The little gold one.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don't want you having another nervous breakdown if you have to use a gun again. And the way shit going down, you need to learn how to protect yourself.”

  Vanessa stared at the gun, then back at Rich. She took a deep breath and picked up the weapon. Rich laid his on the bed sheet. Vanessa's hand shook nervously. Her mind doubled back to when she shot Chase.

  “That's a Three-Eighty Llama. Three-Eighty is the caliber of the bullet.”

  “Exactly what is a caliber?”

  “The caliber is the diameter of the bullet based on an inch. So the bullet in that gun is three hundred eightieths of an inch. It's all fractions, baby. The gun I put down is a Fifty-Caliber. That means the bullet is a fiftieth of a inch, which is mathematically a half of a inch.”

  “Oh.” Vanessa nodded, twisting the .380 in her hand.

  Rich stood behind Vanessa, placing his hands over hers. He showed her how to aim through the sights of the gun, how to use the safety, load and cock the gun, then fire. Within half an hour, Vanessa had gone through over 100 bullets. Her aim needed improvement, but she had become comfortable holding and shooting the gun. She was surprised how empowered she felt with it in her hand.

  She sat back, watching Rich shoot bottles. She kept thinking of how just days ago, everything in their lives was perfect. Now Candy was missing and a man who had left the streets behind was teaching Vanessa to shoot. She wondered if things would ever be how they were.

  Rich's phone rang and he answered it. He stood speechless, dropping his BlackBerry to the ground.

  Vanessa rushed to his side. “What happened?”

  “Candy's in the hospital.”

  ***

  Vanessa had been quiet during the ride to St. Luke's Hospital in Manhattan. Neither she, nor Rich knew what Candy's status was, only that she had been beaten and dumped in front of the shop naked.

  Vanessa and Rich neared Candy's room. Besides Leah being present, Vanessa was surprised to see Chanel, Meisha and Mimi outside of Candy’s room. Everyone was moping around with teary eyes. They gave Rich and Vanessa a group hug.

  It was Leah who had called Rich to relay the bad news. She now revealed that a large “C” had been carved into each of Candy's buttcheeks.

  Rich held Vanessa up, as her knees buckled in response to the heinous details of the crime to which Candy had been subjected. “It's my fault,” Vanessa kept screaming until Rich managed to calm her.

  When the doctor stepped out of Candy's room, everyone swarmed him. “She suffered severe trauma to most of her body.” He told them that Candy had also been sodomized. One result of the blunt trauma was a miscarriage.

  Vanessa's head dropped and everything became a blur. Faces turned to silhouettes and voice seemed slurred. She staggered to a chair as the doctor continued talking. Vanessa wanted blood. Chase had to pay for killing the child Vanessa looked forward to helping raise. Candy did not deserve the punishment she had received. She was suffering simply because of her association and love, Vanessa rationalized. Within a few days, Vanessa had been transformed from a joyous young woman with an open heart to a callous soul shattered by the unwanted destruction of her family.

  RICH

  Rich cried as he stared at Candy's swollen face and the IV running into her body. The bruises, dry blood and gashes in her head made her almost unrecognizable. There was little left of the woman with the face and figure of a model. She tried to smile, but it was obvious the pain was too much for her to completely remove the frown from her face. Rich kissed her forehead and held her hand. He noticed welts on her wrists. He wiped her watery eyes and whispered, “I love you.” He called Vanessa over, sliding his hand on her shoulder.

  “I'm so sorry,” Vanessa said, hugging Candy.

  Rich sat on a nearby chair, allowing the other women to speak to Candy. He had never felt so weak, helpless and guilty. The loss of his son kept haunting him. The fact that his child had not yet been born did not matter. There had been a million visions in Rich's mind of his son. Now, those visions would not materialize.

  Chanel sat next to Rich. “I ain't even gonna front like I know what you going through, `cause I don't. And I know I ain't been on the best terms with you or your women. But I know nobody deserves this shit. And I know that you get busy, or whatever. But I'm gonna tell you to think before you make a move. You got two women who love you and you still got a baby on the way from one. You don't wanna give all of that up going after Chase.”

  Fuck that. Nothing would stop Rich from his murderous plan. Chase's selfish desire to stay in the game had disrupted everything that Rich was building outside of a life of crime. Chase had earned every bullet that Rich had reserved for him.

  Rich stood and walked outside of the room. He paced for a while, thinking of how he would function on a daily basis, while being haunted by the image of Candy's scarred body. The sight of one of the two women he loved in such a brutalized state would push Rich to murder anyone, even if he did not want to. But Rich wanted to kill Chase, so the need for revenge was a logical reaction.

  Rich had seen so much in the streets, but he had never predicted the man who had saved him in the streets would attempt to destroy him. The deceit and friends-turned-enemies were parts of the game that Rich felt he and Chase were above. Rich had outlived enemies and survived street wars with rival crews only to be blindsided by his star teammate.

  Rich stepped back into Candy's room and squeezed through the crowd of solemn faces. He stood beside Vanessa at the front of the group. He had nothing to say. No word would do anything to remove the pain he, Candy or Vanessa were experiencing. No language could convey what he felt. So he watched, silently—accepting the punishment of seeing Candy removed the furthest from herself that he could imagine.

  Time drifted by and visiting hours ended. Rich and Vanessa were the last to leave the hospital. They walked through the parking lot toward a Range Rover. The atmosphere set in on Rich. He and Vanessa were no longer in Upstate, New York. They were in Manhattan—the Rotten Apple that had spoiled everything for Candy. Rich kept his eyes open. “You got that gun on you?” he asked Vanessa.

  Vanessa held up a brown clutch.

  “Where the hell you get a clutch from?” Rich asked.

  “I bought it Upstate.”

  Rich grinned because it took Vanessa needing to carry a gun in order for her to own a purse. She had never used clutches or handbags. Rich's mind was so off-balance that he had not noticed the small brown bag until Vanessa held it up.

  Vanessa got in the Range Rover after Rich. “So we got two days left and we can take her home, right?”

  “That's what the doctor said,” Rich pulled off in the Range Rover
.

  “Well, she could be a lot worse.”

  “I'm sure you can think of something different to say to make me feel better.”

  “I don't know what to say, Rich. In a split second, life has totally changed for us.”

  “I been saying that to myself since all this shit happened.”

  “I can't believe Chanel and Meisha showed up, not to mention Mimi,” said Vanessa.

  “Yeah. Chanel gave me a speech about not risking everything trying to get revenge.”

  “We've already lost one baby. You need to focus on the one we have left.”

  Rich knew he was responsible for Vanessa's well-being as well as that of his future child. Losing

  another child was not an option for him. But letting Candy suffer in vain was not an option either.

  ***

  A day had passed since Rich and Vanessa made it back to the cabin. They spent almost an entire day on the makeshift shooting range behind the cabin. In the middle of the night, Rich shifted in his sleep until he awoke. Vanessa was gone. Rich grabbed his .40-caliber Taurus from underneath his pillow and crept out of bed in his boxers. He tiptoed past two empty rooms, and then saw Vanessa sitting in the front of the fireplace crying. He walked over and set the gun down before hugging her in silence. They sat in each other's arms for almost an hour. The only communicating done was with their hearts, confirming that their love would hold them together. Vanessa had told Rich several times how she felt so safe in his strong arms, so Rich knew that she now needed to be held more than ever.

  “I couldn't sleep,” Vanessa said. “Couldn't get her off my mind. Then I dozed off and I had a nightmare. Chase had killed you.”

  Rich could feel her tears on his neck as Vanessa's sobbing increased. “I'm gonna be all right. It was just a dream.”

  “But it seemed so real.”

  Rich and Vanessa sat in silence a little longer until she was ready to go back to sleep. They lie on the huge rug in front of the fireplace, her head resting on Rich's bare chest until sunrise.

  After showering and eating, Rich was back behind the cabin, shooting bottles. It had become a stress release. It was also practice that would be useful for when he crossed paths with Chase.

  Rich turned to Vanessa as she walked over with her gun in hand. He watched her switch from safety to fire. She cocked the gun back and took aim at her target twenty yards away. She squeezed two shots that missed. The third reduced the 16-ounce Pepsi bottle to pieces of glass. Vanessa turned to Rich with a sneaky grin.

  “I would never believe it if I ain't see it,” he said.

  “Do something enough, you get good at it.”

  “Accuracy is one thing. I'm talking about something else.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Baby, you took to that gun like a duck take to water. Few days ago you almost passed out after you pulled that trigger. Now you flickin' the safety and cocking it back like you grew up on a Army base.”

  “Things were a lot different a few days ago.”

  “Baby, if it's one thing for sure and two things for certain, everything gon' be all right in a minute. Trust me,” Rich said.

  “But you can't erase memories. The pain of the past will always remain.”

  Rich thought of the memories of him being abused. Not only were they permanent, but they had affected how he viewed and related to women for years. He could not help but wonder how Candy's experience would change how she viewed and related to him.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CANDY

  Candy had been recouping in Rich's cabin for weeks. The swelling of her face was practically gone, but she still had trouble sitting down. The thirty staples in her butt were a painful reminder of her assault, as was the pain she endured when defecating. But the experience that hurt the most was losing her child. She felt she had neglected her motherly duties, that she had failed as a mother before she even became a mother. Candy questioned whether she was qualified to raise a child because she could not protect her unborn.

  Vanessa and Rich reminded her that she could become pregnant again. But Candy didn't want to become pregnant. She wanted to give birth to the child that had been growing inside her womb.

  She was not alone in her grief. The effect that her ordeal had on Vanessa and Rich scared Candy. For weeks, she had watched the two of them firing guns daily, for hours. Vanessa walked around, protesting that she would never allow Candy or Rich to be harmed again. She told Candy that if she had not been scared of guns before, she would have fired enough bullets to kill Chase and he would not have been alive to harm anyone.

  While Vanessa was on defense, Rich was on offense. Candy pled with him day in and day out not to seek revenge on Chase. She argued that Rich had everything to lose and nothing to gain, because the damage she experienced could not be undone.

  “I lost my son, Candy. Chase gotta die. His mother needs to lose her son.”

  “What if we lose you in the process?” Candy asked.

  “I’ve been planning Chase’s death for a while. Ain’t no failing.”

  Candy stared at Rich in silence. His claims did little to stop the fear Candy had for his safety.

  ***

  Days later, Candy was lying on her stomach on the living room couch. Vanessa walked into the room after hours of shooting outside. She twirled her gold-plated gun with her index finger as if she was a cowboy in a western film. “Look at you!” Candy barked. “What if that goes off?”

  “It's not loaded. See?” Vanessa cocked the gun back several times, then flashed the bottom of the butt, showing there was no clip inside. She pulled a clip from her pocket and quickly jammed it in and cocked the .380. “Now it's loaded.” She flicked on the safety. “But it's on safety.”

  “This Rambo-Nino Brown shit gotta stop, Vanessa,” Candy demanded.

  Vanessa was silent for a moment. She looked like she wanted to cry and kill. “What happened to you is not gonna happen again. Nobody is gonna destroy what we have.”

  As Vanessa left the room, Candy gazed at Rich.

  “Baby, not today. Please,” he uttered.

  “Come here.”

  Rich tucked his Desert Eagle into his waist and stepped over to Candy. He squatted beside the couch so he was face-to-face with her.

  “I'm scared,” Candy whispered.

  Rich put his hand over her cheek, pressing her face against his. “You don't have to be.”

  “That's easier said than done.”

  Rich leaned back, gazing into her eyes. “You know I love you, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you know I'll die for you?”

  Candy was silent, noticing Vanessa step back over.

  Rich wrapped one of his arms around Vanessa's shoulders. “I'll give my life for either one of y'all. And this ain't some shit you hear in a R & B song, watch in a romance movie or see a pimp tell his hos. I'm dead-ass serious.”

  “Don't talk like that,” Candy said, coming to tears.

  “Baby, I done lived my life two times over,” Rich said. “I traveled outside of the country more than once and been to damn near every state in America. I slept in Trump Tower, I own a penthouse, and I done drove any car you can name that cost upwards of fifty stacks. I done literally slept with a different freak everyday of the week. And on top of all of this, I know what it's like to love and to be loved. Not by one, but by two women at the same time. On some real shit, what more can a man ask for? I lived my life. So when I say I'll give my life for the women I love, I'm serious.”

  Candy could see the passion in Rich's eyes and hear it in his low tone. She knew the chances of him not risking his life to kill Chase were almost none.

  “We all would like to see Chase dead, Rich. But if you lose your life in the process, that's something none of us would want to see. And it wouldn't be you giving your life to save us, because we're safe right here. We're miles always from Chase,” Candy said.

  “So we just sit here? Base our existence on not goin
g where Chase is? Just forget about the one-point-two million dollar penthouse where we fell in love? Where we planned our future only to have Chase take it away from us?” Rich shook his head. “Not Rich. I been in the street damn near my whole life and nobody never took nothing from me. Then I leave the streets and help create the one thing I never had, the most precious thing in life, just to have Chase snatch it from us.” Rich shook his head, gazing at Candy. “Baby, I can swallow a lot of things, but that ain't one. I couldn't live with myself and I wouldn't be no good to y'all if I let this shit slide. That's why Chase and everybody else that had something to do with this shit is a done deal.” Rich stood and walked away.

  VANESSA

  Vanessa trailed behind Rich into the bedroom. She understood his position, but it troubled her. Not only because she feared for his well-being, but also because of the guilt she was feeling. The last thing she needed was for more guilt to kick in because of something happening to Rich—something rooted in the bullet she fired into Chase over a month ago. Since she could not stop Rich, there was only one alternative in her mind. “Rich,” she called. “I'm coming with you to get Chase.”

  Rich turned to her. “Oh yeah?” he tossed his Desert Eagle on the bed.

  “Yeah. You're not the only person who will die for the people you love.”

  “You're much smarter than you're sounding right now.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “First and foremost, losing another child ain't a good look. Besides that, you're a twenty-two-year-old woman working on a master's degree and your book is flying off the shelves like it got wings. And to seal the deal, everything you know about beef came from me talking to you on a tour through Harlem and you listening to them freaks bumping they gums down in the shop.”

  Vanessa sighed and folded her hands. “Well, you been training me to shoot and how to clean guns for over a month, like we're starting a militia.”

  “The word 'self-defense' mean anything to you?”