“What about the baby?” Gianna whispered. “You gon’ let Flashy collect that money and keep it?” she asked, pretending to be interested in selling the baby.
“Fuck that baby. That’s the last thing on my mind. The buyer is from Wisconsin or somewhere real far. He’s still negotiating the deal with Flashy.”
“But Flashy’s got shady ways. After what he did tonight, I don’t think you can trust him to be on the up and up.” She wanted Bullet to go get the baby and take her with them.
“I ain’t going back to jail. Ya dig? I gotta get out of Chester. I’ll deal with that baby situation when I can think straight.”
“Okay.” Gianna rubbed his hand comfortingly, while her mind raced to come up with an idea that would keep them from having to move in with that cranky, old pimp.
“Roll me a blunt. Nah, never mind. You can’t roll for shit.” He stared through the windshield. “Where the hell could that fat bitch be at? After she roll me a blunt, I’ma fuck her up for making me drive around while the Chester po-po is looking for my ass.”
Continuing on Second Street, Bullet stopped near some construction work at Edwards Street.
“There she is!” Gianna shouted, pointing.
Barefoot, Bubbles was fast-walking down Edwards Street, heading toward Third Street. Her tight skirt, obviously put on in a hurry, was inside out and twisted around backward.
Bullet accelerated. The roaring motor and screeching tires startled Bubbles, causing her to jump back and shriek in fear.
Bullet jumped out the Cadillac, and began forcefully beating Bubbles about the head and face. He dragged her to the idling car, shoving her inside the back seat with Skittles.
“You know what happens to runaway hoes, don’tchu?”
“I wasn’t running from you. I wouldn’t do that, Daddy. Flashy told me the cops was looking for all of us. He said you killed them ballers. He told me to run somewhere and hide. But I don’t know my way around Chester. I ain’t know where to go.” Her voice was defensive.
“First of all, I ain’t kilt nobody. Second, if I do end up with a murder rap, it’s gon’ be cuz I put a bullet in Flashy’s dome. That punk need to stop spreading rumors all the time.”
He tossed a bag of weed and a cigar in the back. “Roll me a blunt.” He rubbed his nose. “Damn, I wish I had my medication.”
“You wanna take a chance and drive by that convenience store on Ninth and Kerlin?” Gianna asked.
“Nah, we gotta bounce outta this town. I’ll be aiight when Bubbles hand me that blunt.”
CHAPTER 44
Lost in her own thoughts, Gianna wasn’t paying any attention to the phone conversation Bullet was having with the ex-pimp.
Preoccupied with trying to come up with ideas to prevent Samantha from being sold, she didn’t notice that Bullet had hung up and was cursing in anger and frustration.
Intellectually, she knew she was too young to be a mom, but her naïve heart told her that together, she and Bullet could give Samantha a good life. Well, maybe not a traditional life…but being with them would be better than being sold to a sick pedophile who would do awful things to the infant for the rest of her life.
Skittles was crazy, but there was a chance that she might make a recovery and return to her normal frame of mind, if she could see her daughter. Holding and kissing Samantha might give her a new lease on life. Skittles could make Bullet a lot more money if she wasn’t such a loony tune.
She turned to Bullet and noticed that they were approaching a sign that read WELCOME TO DELAWARE.
Good! She didn’t question where they were going, but was relieved that it was the opposite direction of Atlantic City and the irate ex-pimp. Her parents were in New Jersey, too. But they were the last people she wanted to see. Because of their apathy, she’d lost part of her finger. If they really wanted to find her, they could have, Bullet had finally convinced her.
“Your peoples got money. They could have hired a private detective, if they really wanted to find you. They living their own lives. Glad to have you out of the way,” Bullet had told her repeatedly.
The way she felt about it…her mother and father could both kiss her ass. She despised both of them. Bullet was the only family she needed.
“Why this muthafucka ridin’ my ass?” Bullet muttered.
Gianna and Bubbles both looked out the back window.
A dark compact car was tailing them…too close for comfort.
“Damn, Daddy, that little-ass car behind us ’bout to ram your bumper,” Bubbles complained.
“What the fuck? Reckless sonabitch driving that lil’ squatter must be smokin’ crack!” Bullet sped up, putting distance between his Cadillac and the dark economy car.
The dark car picked up speed and pulled up in the left-hand lane.
“They young bulls. And they throwing up signs,” Bubbles informed.
“What kind of signs?”
“I don’t know. I aint never seen those signs in Philly.”
“Don’t fuck with the Farms!” a voice hollered from the small car.
“TF!” another harsh voice rang.
“You fuck with Mookie; you fuck with Toby Farms, muthafucka!” the driver of the hooptie yelled. He looked no older than Gianna and Bubbles. Probably about fifteen or sixteen.
Then a shot rang out. Bullet ducked his head. Gianna scooted down to the floor mat, her arms covering her head.
“Oh, Lord. Somebody’s tryna kill us!” Bubbles screamed.
Bullet did a quick, screeching turn. Cars skidded. Horns honked as cars slammed into each other. During the traffic pileup, Bullet drove bumpily over the island that separated north and southbound traffic and maneuvered into northbound traffic and pushed the pedal to the floor. He looked back with murderous fury in his eyes, but then laughed when he saw the little squatter was in the pileup, too.
“That must’ve been Big Ballin’s peoples. That clown couldn’t handle the situation man to man. Nah, that punk ass had to send a car fulla strapped kids after me.”
Gianna slowly rose up and eased into her seat. “What’s Toby Farms, Daddy?”
“A section of Chester,” Bullet explained. “Lil’ young chumps tryna be gangsta.”
“They shot a hole in the back door, Daddy,” Bubbles informed, examining the door while sitting on a tilt. Her buttocks still too sore to sit straight.
“They fucked up my whip?” Bullet looked over his shoulder real fast and then returned his angry gaze on the road.
“I’ma squash them Toby Farms niggas like they roaches,” Bullet fumed.
“I can see the bullet!” Bubbles hollered in an excited voice. “It’s lodged in the door. If it woulda came through, Skittles woulda got hit. I’m dead up, y’all.”
“Fuck Skittles.” Bullet growled. “Damn, don’t I have enough problems? Now I gotta worry about getting that hole patched up and my door painted.”
“You gon’ have to get the interior fixed up, too. Cotton and shit is hanging out that bullethole.”
“Goddamn! Always gotta be spending money on some bullshit.” Bullet blew out a stream of frustration and then fired up the blunt that was resting in the ashtray. “Damn, I can’t believe them niggas was on my ass like that. Bronco sure picked a bad time to try to get new.”
“Who’s Bronco?” Gianna asked.
“You know, Bronco! My man. You know…my old cellmate. Dude you met in AC. That ol’ pimpin’ muthafucka who got me into this hustle in the first place.” Bullet frowned.
He got me into it, too, she thought with a mixture of sorrow and acceptance. She’d never thought of the mean, coughing from too many cigarettes man by name. Ol’ Ex-pimp, was his name as far as she was concerned.
“Count that money I took off Big Ballin’.” Bullet reached up and pulled wads of money out of his pocket and tossed it in Gianna’s lap. She immediately started counting.
“I thought I had a come-up; now I’ma have to spend that nigga’s paper on some body work. Ain’t that some s
hit!”
“I know, Daddy. Them some foul niggas,” Gianna soothed.
“How much?” Bullet yelled.
“Um, there’s seven hundred in the small pile.”
“Seven hunnit? That lying sidekick told me he had a stack. Count the rest,” he ordered.
Gianna obeyed, flipping through bills. “There’s fifteen hundred in the thick wad.”
“That’s all?” Bullet’s incredulous voice was as high-pitched as Flashy’s.
“There’s a whole lot of small bills mixed in, making the knot look big.”
Bullet exhaled loudly. “I should have smoked them two punks when I had ’em leaking blood in the bedroom.”
“Yup, you sure should have,” Gianna agreed.
“This is what we gotta do…we gon’ get a motel room while my man, Bronco, gets his thoughts together. He said we can all crash at his crib but not until after he gets admitted in the hospital. He said he can’t stand all the racket and commotion of having three young hoes under his roof.”
“Aw, he must be really sick. When is he getting admitted?” Gianna put compassion in her voice, as if she really cared about the expimp’s failing health.
“I’m not sure. He said something about needing to get his insurance approved. He should know in a day or two.”
Gianna nodded in understanding. But thoughts of Samantha occupied her mind. She doubted if she’d ever have peace of mind if she didn’t try to save that baby from the wretched existence that was waiting for her in Wisconsin, or somewhere.
“I see a sign for a Red Roof Inn,” Bubbles alerted.
“Nah, we can’t stay near the airport…too close to Chester. Them crazy, young-ass muthafuckas would be grinning and laughing while they shot up everybody in this goddamn car.” Bullet’s mouth turned down as he continued driving…over the George C. Platt Memorial Bridge and onto I-76 West.
Bullet rolled up in front of a hole-in-the-wall bar. “Hold this money.” He threw Gianna the wad of cash.
“I’ma go holla at this hooker who works in there. She’s a hardcore ho. Bitch will pick-pocket a muthafucka while she giving him a lap dance.” Bullet smiled, looking wistful, as if the hooker’s dishonest practices were praiseworthy.
“Why you gon’ to see her?” Gianna asked with undisguised jealousy.
“Last time I saw her, she was trying to choose up, but I told her that I don’t deal with no seasoned whores. They hard to control… been in the streets too long.”
“So why you gon’ to see her now?”
“I’ma get the keys to her crib so we can stay there for a minute.”
“Suppose she got herself a pimp. What we gon’ do if her man is staying at her house?” Gianna asked, trying to gauge how much time she had to be settled somewhere before the man from Wisconsin came to pick up Skittles’ baby.
His eyebrows rose in disapproval. “You outta pocket. Do you want me to knock your teeth out of yo’ mouth?”
“No,” she said, looking down.
“Then stop asking so many questions. Stay in your lane, ho.”
“Alright.” She smiled at him, testing his anger barometer.
“Skittles acting like she gotta go to the bathroom,” Bubbles yelled.
Gianna twisted around and checked. “Yup, she do, Daddy. She squirming and mumbling like she do when she gotta pee.”
“She better not piss on my seats. Tell her she gotta wait ’til we get to the crib.”
“You gotta hold your pee,” Gianna translated.
“Damn, I hope this bitch got some running water in that dip.”
“Huh?” Gianna blurted. She thought they were past the stage of living in abandoned houses without electricity or running water.
“I’m just saying, the last time I was at the crib, she ain’t have the water on. Damn shame cuz she had got a big lump sum amount of money a coupla years ago. She went through that dough real quick. Stay high all the time, forgetting to pay bills. That’s why she was trying to choose up. She needs a business-minded man like me to manage her cash flow.”
“How come you turned her down?” Bubbles asked from the back seat.
“Mind your business, Bubblicious. Ain’t nobody talkin’ to yo’ ass.”
“Bubbles stay tryin’ to be all up in your business,” Gianna said with loathing.
“I’ma be in that mouth in she don’t learn how to keep it shut.” Bullet glared at Bubbles.
“Anyway, that ho who was tryna choose up ain’t even my type. She too far up in age.”
“How old is she?” Gianna asked.
Bullet looked up in thought. “I’d say she somewhere around twenty-six…twenty-seven. Too old to train. I like working with fresh meat. Y’ah mean?”
CHAPTER 45
Bullet came back smiling and dangling a keychain.
“She’s letting us stay?” Gianna was delighted.
“Damn right. Your man got good game. That ho is happy like it’s Christmas morning.”
He started up the car and pulled off. “Keep your ear locked to my phone. That bitch is going to call me at two o’clock when her dancing shift is over.”
“Okay.”
“Nah. Fuck that. I’ll get there when and if I damn get there.”
“Alright, Daddy.”
Bullet parked two blocks from the hooker’s house. With his arm wrapped around Gianna, he and the girls trekked to Delancy Street.
En route, they had to stop to let Skittles urinate. She squatted behind a fire hydrant and sighed with relief as her yellow flow streamed down the pavement.
Bullet rolled his eyes and groaned in disgust while Bubbles and Gianna shielded Skittles from any passersby who might call the cops on Skittles for indecent exposure and for openly pissing in a residential area.
The hooker’s house wasn’t fly, but it was presentable—better than the house where they’d stayed in Chester. An extra bonus… all the utilities were on.
Bubbles and Skittles were assigned one of the three upstairs bedrooms. “Take y’all asses to bed. We might have to get up early and bounce to AC.”
Gianna and Bullet went inside the master bedroom, which was junky with wigs, lingerie and other clothing items strewn all over the place. Bullet knocked a bunch of clutter off of the bed and pulled back the sheets.
“I’m stressed, baby. Climb on top of me. I ain’t got no strength to do nothing,” he said.
Wearing a smile, Gianna removed Bullet’s sneakers and socks. She kissed his feet.
He raised his head, grinning. “Lemme find out you some kind of foot freak.”
“For you, I am.” She covered his feet with kisses. Sucked his toes, the way a trick had done her. She remembered how good it felt and wanted Bullet to have that same pleasure.
Mimicking everything the trick had done to her, she slid her tongue in and out of the spaces between his toes. When Bullet moaned, Gianna joined him, his sounds of pleasure making her pussy wet and hot.
With his participation, she stripped his pants off. “I love you, Daddy,” she whispered as she straddled him, kissing and biting his neck, making him squirm.
Bullet flipped her over on her back. “I can’t lay dead and let you drive me crazy. Damn, how I let you get me open like this? You fuckin’ up the game, Lollipop,” he accused, scowling and breathing hard.
Positioning his dick between her legs, he murmured. “I been waiting to smash this ever since I caught Big Ballin’s tongue embedded in yo’ pussy.”
Gianna moaned as Bullet pushed in deeply.
“Yeah, baby. Slang that pussy at me. We gon’ make this bed rock.”
By the time Bullet was close to reaching the finish line, Gianna was screaming promises: “I’ma get you a pair of Louis V. sneakers; a big-ass chain; I’ma drape you in ice.”
“What else, baby?” Bullet asked, steadily stroking.
“I’ma…ah,” she moaned, overcome by the good feeling that Bullet was putting on her. “I’ma get you a new whip.”
“Yeah, baby, an
d I’ma keep hitting this thing right.”
Gianna began pulling her own hair, wrapping her legs around Bullet’s waist as she swiveled her hips.
He unwound her legs, lifted them high, placing her heels up on his shoulders.
“Daddy, I’ma get you…”
“What else you gon’ buy me?”
“Seven whips! A different color for every day of the week.”
With a booming roar, Bullet released his load.
Gianna didn’t know what was better…being filled with Bullet’s passion or cuddling afterward in his arms. He stroked her hair as his breathing returned to normal. It seemed like the perfect time to talk to him about raising Skittles’ baby.
But Bullet sat up suddenly, snatching his arm from around Gianna. “Where’s your lil’ clutch bag?”
She pointed to a chair that was piled with clothing. “Over there,” she said, both puzzled and disappointed over his sudden interest in her clutch bag. “I hid it underneath all that junk. Why? What’s wrong?”
“I was thinking about that shit you was talking a few minutes ago.”
“Uh-huh…”
“You know…all that shit you plan on buying me.”
“Oh!” She looked slightly embarrassed, recalling that she’d been talking out of her head. How could she buy him seven cars when she was barely able to keep gas in the one he was currently driving?
But it wasn’t her fault. Bullet spent a lot of money on cocaine, she thought to herself.
Naked, Bullet stalked across the room and wrenched the clutch bag from beneath the junk in the chair. He snapped it open, peering inside as he returned to the bed and emptied the contents. Wads of cash tumbled out, followed by blood-encrusted jewelry.
“Man, I forgot I took Big Ballin’s bling!” Bullet smiled proudly as he picked up an earring. “This is about two carats. Wonder how much I can get off the set?”
“You gon’ sell it?”
“Hell yeah. I don’t need no faggot-ass jewelry. I’m about gettin’ paper, some blow, and long-stroking my ho. A couple cars would prolly get my dick hard,” he added, laughing.
Even though she wanted to be wifey, Gianna couldn’t help from blushing.
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