Brick (Double Dippin')

by Allison Hobbs

  “Run! Get in the car!” Brick yelled in desperation.

  Anya looked over her shoulder. When she saw the smoking pot, she began sprinting toward Brick—racing like Marion Jones trying to cross the finish line.

  Anya was half in and half out of the car as Brick peeled away.

  After she caught her breath, Anya closed the door and put her seat belt on. She looked at Brick. “Now, you know where C’s mother lives. Do you believe me now?” Anya asked, and then burst out laughing.

  “Dude might be cowardly, but his mom’s got heart. She ain’t scared of nothing.” Brick chuckled and then his expression turned serious. “I’m sorry for putting you in that situation. I wasn’t expecting her to be waiting with a pot of bleach and boiling water. Who does shit like that?”

  “That’s what was in the pot—bleach and boiling water? Goddamn!”

  Brick nodded. “That’s what she said when I called her.” He held up Cash Money’s phone.

  “Oh, my God.” Anya shuddered. “Wow! That’s ghetto warfare.”

  Brick grew quiet. It was hard enough dealing with the fact that he’d failed Misty; he didn’t want to be responsible for bringing harm to this innocent young woman.

  “Can’t blame a mother for trying to protect her son, but I’m curious, can you please tell me what’s going on? Who is this Misty chick and what happened to her?”

  “I can’t get into that with you.”

  Now Anya fell silent.

  “What’s your story?” Brick asked merely to make conversation.

  “It’s long and crazy. My father is out there living on the streets and nobody cares except me. I’d been searching for him for about a month when I…uh…fell on hard times. I feel like giving up, but can’t. I won’t be down much longer. Once I’m on my feet, I want to help him. Make sure he has decent food; put a roof over his head.”

  Being homeless had always been one of Brick’s biggest fears. He was homeless right now, but he was surprisingly unworried, viewing his situation as more of an inconvenience than a hopeless state of being. His mind was too focused on revenge to worry about a comfortable bed.

  “How long has your pop been living on the streets?” Brick asked.

  “About seven or eight years. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive, but I have to try to find him.”

  “I got a room with AC back at the hotel. I’m not gonna use it. It’s yours for the night, if you want it. But I really don’t think it’s safe for you to stay there, now that you got beef with Cash Money—and Mom Dukes.” Brick chuckled uneasily, trying to make light of the dangerous encounter he’d led Anya into.

  “Can you give me a ride to the women’s shelter in Germantown? I’ve stayed there from time to time. They may have an available bed.”

  “No problem.” Brick wished that he could be more of a help to Anya, but he had troubles of his own. He didn’t need any extra baggage.

  Driving along Stenton Avenue in Germantown, Brick noticed one fast food place after another. “You hungry?” he asked Anya. The least he could do was offer the poor thing a meal before he dropped her off at the shelter.

  “Kind of.”

  “Is KFC all right with you?”

  “Anything’s all right with me. Beggars can’t be choosers,” she said with a pained smile.

  CHAPTER 14

  Inside KFC, Brick and Anya ate in silence. Anya tore into a drumstick and then a chicken wing while Brick was still working on the same chicken breast. Big and muscular as he was, Anya was eating him under the table. The girl was hungry.

  Noticing there were no napkins on their tray, he got up and grabbed some napkins from a dispenser. “Here you go.” He set the napkins down in front of Anya.

  “Thanks,” she muttered, steadily chewing.

  “How old are you?” he inquired.

  “I’ll be twenty-one soon.”

  “You don’t look any more than seventeen or eighteen.”

  “Well, I feel like I’m eighty.” She gave a weary sigh.

  “Where you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I was born here in Philly; moved to Indiana when I was a little girl.”

  “Did your pop stay here in Philly, after you and your mom left town?”

  “My mother didn’t exactly leave town. She’s deceased.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “I was eleven years old.” She shrugged. “It’s been so long, I barely remember her. Anyway, I stayed with my father and grand-mom for a while. After my grandmom passed, my dad wasn’t able to take care of me. He sent me to Indiana to stay with my aunt. Aunt Minerva isn’t a blood relative. She’s more like a friend of the family. I didn’t have an easy life, but I try not to dwell on the past,” Anya kept her eyes down as she wiped her hands with a napkin. She was acting as if she hadn’t been affected by losing her parents, but Brick could sense the subject made her tense and upset. He was sorry he’d persuaded her to divulge her personal history.

  “I’m broke right now, but not for long,” she continued in a much stronger voice. “When I get on my feet, I’m going to hire a detective…do whatever it takes to find my father. I’ll get him his own crib or he can come back to Indiana with me. It’s his choice—whatever makes him happy.”

  Brick had also lost his mother when he was young, and he felt a connection to Anya. She was lucky to have a support system back in Indiana. Part of what made Brick tick—the dark, treacherous part of his soul—had developed during childhood, when he was whipped and abused, threatened and taunted by the adults that were supposed to be taking care of him.

  He wondered if Anya’s aunt had treated her right. But since he wasn’t willing to share his personal story, it wasn’t fair to ask her for details about her life.

  Besides, Brick and Anya were only two passing ships. He was on a mission that would end in murder. While Anya, on the other hand, was desperate to save a life.

  They were on two separate journeys.

  Back in the car, Anya gave Brick directions to the shelter. The women’s shelter was on a nice street in a residential neighborhood. Brick popped open the trunk so that Anya could get her bag.

  She grabbed her red bag and hurried to the front door. She gave Brick a quick wave when someone opened the door. Brick let out a breath of relief once Anya was inside. Instead of pulling off, he sat in front of the shelter with his motor running, wondering what his next move should be.

  He needed money. Couldn’t accomplish much without it. He could get a loan from the credit union at work. After he got his hands on some paper, he’d put in for a two-week vacation—or better yet, he’d ask for a leave of absence.

  Infiltrating Smash Hitz’ camp would probably take longer than two weeks. Finding a way to abduct both Smash Hitz and the tranny broad was going to take patience and cunning.

  Now that he’d figured out a way to finance a trip to Miami, he decided to splurge on a clean room in a decent hotel. Still sitting in his car with the motor running, Brick searched the Internet on his cell, and located a hotel near the airport that offered a full kitchen, a living room, and a bedroom. The price wasn’t bad, either.

  Satisfied with his plan, he pulled out of the parking space and drove a few feet, tapping on the brakes when he reached a stop sign at the corner.

  Glancing in his rearview mirror, he spotted Anya. She was leaving the shelter, head hung low. Red bag tossed over her shoulder.

  Brick immediately put the car in reverse and cruised backwards until he reached Anya. “What happened?”

  “No room. They’re only taking women with children. The administrator called a shelter on Thirteenth and Arch. They have two beds open. But it’s first come, first serve,” Anya said, sounding dejected. “I hate to ask you, but can you give me a ride downtown?”

  “Yeah, I can do that.” Brick unlocked the passenger door. He felt somewhat responsible for her predicament. If he hadn’t shown up at the flophouse, Anya would have continued her daily routine with Cash Money. As p
itiful as her life with Cash Money must’ve been, at least she’d had a place to stay. Now she was out on the streets. Brick noticed the sky was darkening. It looked like it was going to rain.

  Suddenly affected by the gloomy sky, Brick thought about his family. Thomasina had always shown him nothing but love; she’d given him the utmost respect throughout their short marriage, and now she hated him. His son was going to be distraught when he woke up in the morning and couldn’t find his daddy.

  And Misty… Oh, God. Misty! His anguish over Misty was all consuming. I fuck up everything I touch.

  “Is something wrong?” Anya asked, picking up on Brick’s sudden mood swing. “I can take a bus and the subway if you don’t feel like—”

  “You don’t have to go to a shelter; you can stay with me,” Brick announced, making a sudden decision to take care of Anya for a few days. He’d have a guilty conscience if he left her stranded with nowhere to rest her head.

  “You know the deal,” he told her. “I got shit to take care of. I’m only getting this room for a few days…a week at the most. After that, you’re on your own.”

  Anya nodded.

  Brick swiped the key card. He and Anya entered the cool and nicely decorated hotel room. Carrying a shopping bag filled with milk, cereal, and munchies, he strode to the small kitchen and set the bag on the counter.

  Anya lingered in the living room area for a moment, checking out the widescreen TV and the modern furnishings. “Wow. This is nice,” she said as she joined him in the kitchen. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “It’s a big deal to me. It’s been a minute since I’ve been in clean place with all the comforts of home.” She ran her hands along the surface of the countertops, and then swung open the door to the fridge. “Ooo, they gave us complimentary bottles of water.”

  Brick chuckled as he began taking items out of the shopping bag.

  “You’re laughing, but I’m serious, Marvin. People take shit for granted, but I know what it feels like to go without the basic necessities in life.”

  “My name isn’t Marvin,” Brick corrected. “I made that up. Call me Brick,” Brick said, refusing to divulge his government name.

  “Brick? Is that short for brick house?” she asked, laughing as she surveyed his muscular body.

  “Nah, another long story. I picked up the name when I was a kid.” A kid transporting bricks of marijuana in my backpack.

  His mind wandered to his horrible childhood. Abandoned by his mother. Abused by his stepparents. Molested and mutilated by the neighborhood drug dealer—the man who’d trained him to sell drugs and who’d dubbed him Brick. Reflexively, Brick’s hand went to his cheek, expecting to feel the cruel, jagged scar his molester had left on his face.

  Thanks to Thomasina, the scar had been surgically removed. Yet it always came as a surprise and a great relief when his fingers slid easily over smooth, textured skin.

  And then there was his past with Misty. Recalling the perverted path they’d taken together filled Brick with shame and regret.

  “Hey, Brick, there’s another TV in here,” Anya called from the bedroom.

  Lost in thought, Brick hadn’t realized Anya had left the kitchen.

  He shook away the painful memories and strolled into the bedroom.

  Anya turned down the covers of the king-size bed. “Look at this! Crisp, clean sheets. This is heaven! I’m gonna sleep so good tonight!”

  “They only gave us one bed? I asked for a room with two queens,” he stated, frowning. “Oh, well. Fuck it. I have to be on the job at seven-fifteen in the morning. I gotta get some rest. I’ll deal with the room change after I get off work tomorrow.”

  “The sofa has a pull-out bed; I can sleep in the living room,” Anya suggested.

  “Nah, you’re all excited over this big bed. I can nod off in the living room.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive. Can you excuse me while I take a quick shower?”

  “Sure.” Anya left the bedroom, giving Brick privacy.

  CHAPTER 15

  Compared to the grungy, hot room Anya had been sharing with C, this suite was a palace. While Brick showered, she pulled out the sofa bed and made it comfortable with the extra set of sheets and blanket she found in the hall closet.

  She was surprised at how compassionate Brick could be. Attitude-wise, he’d done a complete one-eighty. She’d been petrified when he’d come barreling into her and C’s room, making unspeakable threats and holding them hostage. Her dislike of him had been immediate and profound. His good looks were hard to recognize while he was terrorizing her. Now that he’d changed his disposition, kindly giving her food and shelter—even offering her the big comfy bedroom, she could appreciate the strong, masculine features that shaped his handsome face.

  Anya had no intention of taking advantage of Brick’s kindness. The pull-out sofa bed was too small for a big hunk of a man like Brick; she’d sleep here in the living room.

  Anya could hear the sound of the water running in the shower; it had a soothing effect. She hadn’t felt this safe and protected in a long time. That wedding band on Brick’s finger had her curious. Was he married to Misty, the comatose woman?

  She had been stunned when Brick and C started talking about the rappers, Smash Hitz and D.B. Spydah. Anya knew someone was after C. She’d assumed he had beef with a local thug. Never in a million years would she have imagined that C was hiding out from a big-time celebrity. And the news that Smash Hitz was into transvestites… Wow! That was some juicy information. Scandalous!

  She wanted to be nosey and ask Brick to fill in the blanks about C’s involvement with this Misty chick and Smash Hitz, but Anya knew better than to pry. At the moment, Brick seemed to be in a fairly decent mood. The mere mention of Smash Hitz’ name might set him off—might prompt him to begin another round of intense questioning. And Anya didn’t have any answers for Brick. It was best to let sleeping dogs lie.

  She clicked on the TV and gazed happily at the vivid, high-definition images on the screen. A feeling of contentment washed over her. Hopefully, she could stay here with Brick until her money came through.

  In a few weeks, she’d be visiting the lawyer. After that, she’d be Miss Independent. With a few million in her bank account, she’d never have to depend on anyone again.

  But she wouldn’t be able to enjoy the money until she found her father. She had to help him; had to let him know she understood everything now. It was so important for him to know she loved him. That she forgave him.

  She’d shower him with material things. First thing on the list would be a home of his own. A decent wardrobe. And a car. Whatever it took to make him feel like a contributing member of society.

  And she also had to deal out some personal justice.

  Pondering the options money could buy, Anya suddenly decided that Brick might be the perfect man to get the job done. But she needed to act fast…approach him with an offer before he cut ties with her and took off for Miami. I need someone killed. I can pay. Are you interested? She shook her head. Seriously, how could she ask him a question like that? Brick acted like a killer, but he had a personal vendetta against Smash Hitz and the unnamed transvestite. Killing for money was a different story.

  She’d wait a couple of days. Get to know him better. Determine if she should try to negotiate a deal. Having Brick take care of the job was more appealing than contacting an anonymous assassin online. Crazy as it sounded, a person could find damn near anything on the Internet. Including a hit man.

  Anya reached inside her bag and retrieved a plastic case filled with toiletries. She tugged off her shorts, planning to jump right in the shower after Brick finished.

  Brick! That nigga was shot out…crazy as hell when he was angry. But damn, he was hot! Assuming his wife was the chick in a coma, the poor man could probably use some loving. Anya sure could. She was long overdue for some skin-on-skin action.

  Wh
ile staying with C, it was easy to ignore his sexual advances; she wasn’t feeling him like that. But Brick. Whew! His name should be Mr. Muscles. His arms were cut and looked as hard as steel. She could only imagine what his bare chest and all the rest of him looked like. Yeah, Brick could get it. Trouble was, he didn’t seem to want it.

  Anya sighed. She was too intimidated by Brick to flirt with him. Maybe he didn’t think she was attractive enough. She stood in front of the wall mirror. Frowning, she scrutinized her face. Her eyebrows needed to be waxed. She unloosened the knot in the back of her scarf. Her hair was a wreck. Dry and in desperate need of a perm. But there was nothing she could do until she could afford to go to the hair salon.

  Her wardrobe sucked, too. It was hard to make a fashion statement with only a few tops, a couple pairs of jeans, and some shorts. Nothing glamorous. Nothing that was feminine or sultry enough to entice Brick.

  She turned away from the mirror and slumped down on the sofa bed. Sulking, she tied the bandana around her head. She didn’t even feel sexy enough to try to be seductive. Brick might feel disrespected if she came at him all half-ass and dead wrong. Having already experienced his lunatic tendencies, Anya decided to leave Brick alone. He was a loose cannon, capable of whipping her ass and possibly breaking a few bones during the process.

  Curled up on the pull-out bed, Anya closed her eyes and fantasized that Brick was tossing her around, smacking her ass and fucking her like he was a wild-ass stallion. Ramming her, taking out all his frustrations on her pussy. Ooo, damn.

  Substituting dick with a finger, she pulled her panties to the side; her middle finger traveled to her hot spot.

  By the time that Brick finished showering, he found Anya softly snoring. He was ready to switch rooms with her, but shawty was knocked out. She was lying on top of the covers and wearing only a bra and panties. Brick respectfully covered her with the blanket. He turned off the TV and switched off the lamp.