“Um…” Cradling little Samantha, her hands shaking, Gianna struggled to control her anxiety. She shot a worried glance at the baby’s unconscious mother.
“What you lookin’ at her for? That bitch is knocked out. But even if she was wide awake, I don’t need to ask her permission.” Bullet made a disgusted, hissing sound at her. “I’ma muthafuckin’ pimp.”
Afraid for the baby’s safety, her lips started to tremble. “I can take care of Samantha until Brielle is feeling better.” She smiled down at the baby. “I…I took Child Life classes in school.”
“I don’t give a fuck!”
“I babysat for neighbors. For extra money.” Her voice took on a desperate tone. “I’m really good with babies.” She nodded her head, strengthening her case.
“Is you crazy? Didn’t I tell you to gimme dat goddamn baby!” With savage force, Bullet ripped Samantha from Gianna’s arms. He tucked the wriggling baby under an armpit, like he was holding a football.
Gianna gaped at Bullet, shocked by his careless handling of the young child.
“Whatchu staring at?” The fury in his eyes intimidated her into shifting her gaze downward.
“Nothing,” she mumbled, suppressing a natural desire to protect a defenseless infant.
Samantha kicked out her little legs in protest and made tiny yelping sounds. Then she took a deep breath that signaled the coming of a full-blown wail. Her scream echoed.
“Shut the fuck up!” Bullet snapped at the baby.
Samantha screamed louder. Struggling, her small chubby fingers tore at Bullet’s shirt, fighting the brute of a man whom Gianna didn’t have the guts to lift a finger to.
Brielle moaned in response to her baby’s wail. Her eyelids fluttered. Fighting for consciousness, her moans grew stronger. Her bleary eyes cracked open into slits. Blinking in confusion, she tried to push herself up on an elbow. With a low groan, she flopped down.
Bullet sneered at the groggy, teenage mother. He tossed Gianna a knife.
Reflexively, she caught it.
“Shank her if she tries to get out of hand,” Bullet ordered, pointing at Brielle.
“Okay,” she said agreeably, though she wanted to shed tears. Her life had taken another bad turn. Now her captor wanted her to resort to violence, expecting her to wield the very weapon he had used to torment her with before he’d purchased the deadly gun.
Gianna held the knife loosely.
“Don’t act stupid. If she gets feisty, you know what to do. Poke a hole in that bitch.”
“I will,” she said with a tremor.
“Convince me.”
Gianna could feel tears welling, but repressed the urge to cry. Nervously, she bit her bottom lip. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I’ll put it to you like this…”
The baby shrieked; her arms flailed as she tried to get to her mother. Bullet gave the child a forceful shake, shocking her into a brief silence.
“When I get back; she better be ready to rock and roll. If I gotta waste time whooping that ass in order for her to make me some money, ain’t gon’ be no more target practice for you.” He shook his head grimly. “Nah, no more target practice. It’s gon’ get real. I’ma put some hot lead in your shoulder…or maybe your arm. Or leg.”
Gianna legs were ready to buckle as she imagined getting shot in one of them.
“I know a coupla people who real good at digging out bullets and patching the hole up with cotton balls and shit.”
She clenched her teeth together to keep them from chattering.
“Tell that ho that I expect her to make me ten stacks. That’s how much I expect it’s gon’ cost me to feed her and pay somebody to take care of this youngin’. After she’s paid up in full, she can have her brat back.”
The baby cried and fought mightily as Bullet strode toward the door.
With renewed strength, Brielle shot upright. She looked around, uncomprehending as she scanned the barren storage unit. Her eyes landed on the pink diaper bag.
“My baby!” she gasped.
Too late.
CHAPTER 13
Bullet was already outside, clanging the lock into place. The baby’s cries became distant. Muted.
Brielle shot across the concrete floor, racing toward the door. Wildly, she kicked the sturdy door, making anguished sounds as she banged her body against it to no avail.
She whirled around. “You bitch! You let him take my baby!” Hands clawing the air, she dashed toward Gianna.
Survival instinct kicked in. Gianna steadied her hand and held up the knife. She had no choice. She had to subdue Brielle or feel the heat of Bullet’s scorn.
“You better back the fuck up,” Gianna spat, the venom in her voice halting Brielle.
Brielle’s sandals skidded on the concrete as she came to an abrupt halt. She looked stricken, but Gianna didn’t feel an ounce of pity for the young mother. Brielle was her enemy.
Seeming to sense that Gianna would not hesitate to use the knife, Brielle looked around helplessly, and then spoke in a controlled whisper. “Where did he take Samantha?”
“That ain’t none of your business.” Gianna stepped forward, her stance confrontational, her tone belligerent. Mimicking Bullet, she was deliberately irrational; using bad grammar, wielding a weapon…absurdly angry. Bullet would be proud.
Confused, Brielle blinked rapidly. “My baby is my business.”
“Not anymore. That baby belongs to Bullet now.”
“No! Samantha is my child!” Breathing in rapid pants, she patted her chest several times.
“If you want her back, you gotta work for Bullet.” Gianna now spoke in a droning tone. She was speaking on Bullet’s behalf. Her own personal emotions, thoughts, and beliefs were removed from the conversation.
“Okay.” Lines of desperation creased Brielle’s forehead. She wiped blood from her face, but didn’t seem concerned about her condition. “He forgot Samantha’s diaper bag. She’s probably wet and hungry.”
“Fuck dat.” Gianna pointed the knife near the open wound on her face.
Brielle recoiled. “Oh, God!”
“That lil’ cut on your face ain’t about nothing. Bullet only gave you a love tap with his gun. But if you fuck with me, I’m gon’ poke you up and let you bleed like a stuck pig.” She was channeling Bullet. Her new persona was starting to feel natural.
Brielle was afraid of her and Gianna was afraid of getting shot.
Tears filled Brielle’s eyes. “I just want my baby back. Her clothes, food, and extra diapers are in the trunk of my car.”
“He’ll pop the trunk when he moves your car.”
“He’s moving my car?”
“Uh-huh. Bullet said you can’t get your car or your baby back ’til after you pay your tab.”
“My tab!”
Gianna nodded. “Bullet’s a pimp. He caught you,” Gianna said in a matter-of-fact tone. “He gon’ keep you until you pay the cost of feeding you and taking care of your baby.”
“How much is that?”
“Ten stacks.”
“He wants me to pay him ten thousand dollars?”
“That’s what he said. So you better cooperate. If you make Bullet mad, he’ll kick your ass and jack the price up.”
“He expects me to be a prostitute?” Brielle asked, her expression both shocked and pained.
“Yup,” Gianna replied, ignoring the horrified look in Brielle’s eyes.
“I can’t—”
“It won’t take long to get the money,” Gianna said encouragingly. Feeling empathy, and allowing a fragment of her personality to come through.
“Do you know where he took my baby?”
“No, and that’s enough talking. When Bullet comes back, you gotta prove that you can suck some dick. Don’t make him pull out his gun. Just act like you’re happy to see him and show him how well you can work your head game.”
Brielle’s mouth was open, speechless.
Gianna took th
e pack of wipes out of the diaper bag. “You look gross. Get yourself cleaned up before Bullet comes back.”
When Bullet reentered the unit, he was sniffling from his allergies, wiping his nose with the back of his hand and looking fiercely angry, like he was eager to hurt somebody.
“Is Samantha okay?” Brielle said in a pitifully squeaky voice.
“What the fuck is up with this bitch?” Bullet exploded.
Gianna elbowed Brielle. “Do what I said!”
“Hi. You want me to make you feel good?” Brielle said, without emotion, and walked woodenly over to Bullet. She knelt in front of him and tugged on the waistband of his shorts.
“Stand up.” Bullet grabbed a handful of Brielle’s hair.
She rose.
“Turn around. I ain’t really get a chance to see whatchu workin’ with.”
She turned slowly, allowing Bullet to critique her.
“Damn, you got a flat ass. You built like a white girl. I can’t have a bitch representing me with a flat ass.”
He smacked her rear end. “This here is presenting a problem. And I’ma have to fix it.”
Blinking in confusion, Brielle darted a glance at Gianna.
Gianna gave a tiny shrug. She had no idea what Bullet was talking about.
Bullet pulled down his shorts and sank into the green chair. He stroked his dick.
“Get over here, Lollipop, and get me ready. It’s a good thing I don’t mind a lil’ peanut butter, cuz I’ma be spending a lot of time plumping up that bitch’s pancake ass.”
Gianna moistened her lips and squatted between Bullet’s legs.
Twenty minutes later, Brielle was on her knees, her torso and face pressed against the lumpy mattress. Behind her, Bullet tried to insert himself inside her tight anus.
“Stop clenching up on me, bitch. I told you to relax. Lemme do this.” He maneuvered her body, pulling her buttocks closer.
“I can’t. It hurts. Stop. Please stop.” Brielle stiffened her body, moaning as Bullet struggled to get inside.
“You want that lil’ brat back, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said in a painful moan.
“Then act like it. I’m starting to think you don’t give a shit about your youngin’.”
“That’s not true. I love my daughter.”
“Show me. If you wanna get that money up quick, you gon’ have to get used to dealing with this back door action.”
Gianna sat in the green chair, relieved that she wasn’t involved in the disaster on the other side of the room. Her stomach growled, a reminder that she hadn’t eaten since yesterday. She was starving. Her thoughts turned to McDonald’s fries. Bullet had promised to take her to McDonald’s when he finished with Brielle.
Bullet picked up a small container of lubricant and squeezed a generous amount onto four fingers. He swiped the gooey substance inside the crease of Brielle’s buttocks. Angrily, he resumed thrusting.
Moaning, Brielle clutched the stained mattress.
Bullet stopped moving. Frustrated, he released his grip on Brielle’s hips. He smacked her backside harder than before.
He yanked his sweaty face in Gianna’s direction. “How long I been trying to get up in this ass?”
“A long time,” Gianna replied flatly, shaking her head. Gianna sighed inwardly. Nothing was being accomplished, and she found herself resenting Brielle.
“This ain’t working,” Bullet complained as he mopped sweat from his face.
“I tried,” Brielle sobbed.
“How you trying with your flat-ass cheeks all clenched up?”
He flopped down on the bed, lay flat on his back, panting. “Lollipop,” he bellowed.
“Whatchu want me to do, Daddy?” Gianna asked eagerly.
He shot a look of contempt at Brielle. “She ain’t loosening up for me, so bring me my shank. After I catch my breath, I’ma have to cut my way up in that ass.”
Brielle scrambled to an upright position. Her eyes were wild with disbelief as she watched Gianna stride over with the knife in her hand.
Brielle gasped. “No! Please don’t cut me! I’ll loosen up!”
Gianna handed the knife to Bullet. He placed it on the mattress.
“Aiight then, we gon’ try this shit again. You ready?”
Brielle flinched. “Yes,” she said in a choked whisper.
He mounted the girl. “You gon’ loosen up for me?”
“Yes,” she promised and then closed her eyes tight and gritted her teeth.
But instead of penetrating with his dick, he rammed the handle of the knife inside Brielle.
Her scream was long and anguished.
“Bet I’ll get up in there now!” Bullet boasted.
Gianna covered her mouth in shock when Bullet withdrew the bloody end of the knife.
The night was hot. The asphalt was dry, without even a drop of moisture left from the downpour earlier that day.
Bullet was at the wheel. In the passenger seat, Gianna, changed from her wet clothing, was dressed for work in a short pleated skirt and a white blouse knotted in the front.
Incapacitated, Brielle was left locked inside the storage unit.
Using her daughter’s life as leverage, Bullet told her to rest up and not to make a sound.
They cruised through the drive-through. Bullet placed the order.
He reached a hand out of the window and accepted the large-size bag filled with twenty-two dollars’ worth of burgers and fries. “You my bottom bitch now,” Bullet informed Gianna.
“Wow!”
“That’s all you got to say?” He took a large container of fries from the bag and handed it to Gianna.
“Thank you, Daddy.” Calling Bullet “Daddy” used to conjure up images of her father and it was hard to say, but the word rolled off her tongue with ease now.
“I like the way you handled that bitch for me. You came a long way. I’m putting my trust in you,” he said, his eyes filled with sincerity.
“I got your back.” She unwrapped a cheeseburger and sank her teeth into it.
“Yeah, baby. Me and you gon’ conquer the world. And you gon’ help me snatch up some more young hoes. I can see it now…me pimpin’ a whole stable fulla hoes. All of ’em young and dumb with lil’ pussies, sweet as candy.”
She swallowed. “You said you were gonna let Brielle go after she pays you the money she owes.”
As if the very thought was hilarious, Bullet guffawed, coughing and choking on French fries. “Hell, no. Her narrow ass gon’ make me a fortune. That shit I kicked back in that storage unit wasn’t nothing but game. That hooker ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
“What about her baby?”
“Fuck that baby.” Bullet glared at Gianna. “You turning on me?”
“No, I just thought—”
“Let me do the thinking, bitch.” He pointed a finger at Gianna. “You know what tomorrow is?”
“Yes.” She bit into a cheeseburger, but it suddenly lost its flavor.
“Tell me.” There was a cruel glint in his eyes.
“It’s target practice.”
Bullet smiled. “That’s right. Who should I practice on—you or Brielle?”
“Brielle,” Gianna blurted without hesitation. “That ho ain’t nothing but trouble,” Gianna reminded him, speaking the street language he preferred.
“Yeah. I gotta practice on Brielle. Let her know what’s really good. Feel me?”
“Yeah.” Gianna smiled broadly. The next bite of the cheeseburger tasted much better.
“I don’t like the name, Brielle. I gotta call her something else.”
“Passion?” Gianna suggested.
“Nah. Y’all young girls are like candy. She needs a name that’s sweet, and that suits the kind of work she specializes in.”
“Oh, yeah,” Gianna said absently as she began gobbling up fries.
“Help me come up with a name. I might take her to Ridley Park tonight. Use her new talent for some extra dough. Them crackers
you been sucking off would probably love to switch it up and dip they dicks into some peanut butter.”
Now deep in thought, Gianna was struggling to help Bullet come up with a name for Brielle. The fries tasted so heavenly, her mind went blank.
“Peanut Butter might work,” Bullet mused. “But that name ain’t sexy enough.”
“How about Reese’s Cup?” Gianna suggested.
“Nah, that don’t have a good ring to it, either.” He shook his head.
“You’re right.” Hungrily, she resumed munching on the fries.
“You killin’ them fries,” he said, laughing at the way Gianna was shoveling them in.
Gianna laughed as she was expected to do. “I know. Dey so good,” she said in dialect.
Hoping to stay on Bullet’s good side, she refrained from using the standard English that tended to rile him. He claimed her proper way of talking drew undesired attention. People knew the missing girl from New Jersey went to private schools and talked like a white girl.
Bullet smacked the dashboard. “I got it! I got a good name for that ho.”
“What?”
“Tootsie Roll! That’s a good name for a hooker who specializes in Greek.”
“That’s perfect,” Gianna agreed, careful to not add anything that might piss Bullet off. Being in his company when he was relaxed and in a cheerful mood made her existence easier to bear.
“After she stops worrying about her youngin’, Tootsie Roll gon’ thank me for bringing her into the life. She gon’ be happy she got a good man like me to look out for her and whatnot.”
“You right. She gon’ be so happy once she gets the hang of it.”
Poor Brielle. Gianna gave a regretful sigh. Like her, Brielle was trapped in “the life” forever. She wondered who was taking care of Samantha. She hoped the person loved babies as much as she did.
CHAPTER 14
Where would a pair of fifteen-year-old runaways hide out? The location of the detention center was not familiar territory to either girl, so it wasn’t likely that they’d stick around that area for very long.
They had probably flagged down a ride minutes after they escaped. It was easy for teenage girls to hitch a ride. Men pulled over for young girls, and most often the offer of a ride was not an act of chivalry.
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