Stealing Candy

by Allison Hobbs

  Breaking news. Reporting from the scene, a reporter was talking: “A dismembered body of a teenage girl was found in this open field in Lower Bucks County today. An eyewitness to this gruesome scene thought an irresponsible resident was burning what appeared to be a bale of hay. Inspecting the burning object, the eyewitness discovered a horrifying sight. A human torso, brutally dismembered, with its arms and legs tied tightly around the torso.”

  Next to the reporter, an older Caucasian man wiped his forehead.

  “Tell us what you saw, Mr. Cambridge.”

  “Well, I saw a fire. Then a cloud of smoke. As I pulled over on the side of the road, I saw a car pull off and roar down the road. A white 2001 Cadillac.” The man shook his head. “Right in broad daylight. Poor girl.” He squeezed his eyes shut, too choked up to go on.

  The reporter moved along with the story. “Discovered approximately a mile away from this area, the victim’s head was apparently tossed out of a moving vehicle. The body is believed to be that of missing teen, Brielle Harper, who left Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania with her infant daughter back in late June. Anyone with information on the whereabouts of little Samantha Harper should contact the number on the screen.”

  A missing teenage girl and her baby from Wilkes-Barre. Saleema searched her mind, trying to recall why that rang a bell.

  “That’s Skittles,” Gianna sobbed. “Bullet chopped up Skittles and burned her up!”

  Saleema quickly jotted down the number on the screen. “How do you know that it’s Skittles,” Saleema said, her voice panicked.

  “Because Bullet told me he was going to kill all of us. He said that he’d already killed Skittles, but I didn’t believe him. He was mad because I didn’t come right back.”

  “When did you talk to him?”

  Saleema had no doubt that she was in over her head. It was time to call 9-1-1.

  “I called him and gave him your address when you went down in the basement to check on Bubbles. I didn’t think he was serious. I thought when he got over here and I gave him the fifteen stacks, he’d feel better.”

  “How did you know my address? We came in through the garage.”

  With a guilty expression, Gianna said, “I saw your water bill… on the kitchen counter while I was talking to him on the phone.”

  “Why would you tell a murderous pimp how to find you?”

  “He always tells me to keep it one hunnit with him. That’s what I was trying to do. I didn’t want to get in any trouble with him after I collected the reward for finding Bubbles.”

  Hearing Portia referred to as Bubbles made Saleema’s flesh crawl. She used to call herself Hershey. She had given herself that name when she was only seventeen, when she’d starting turning tricks at Pandora’s Box.

  “All this time, you knew where that girl’s baby was and you haven’t told anyone?” Saleema gawked at Gianna in horror. Maybe Gianna had been so traumatized that she was now deranged.

  Saleema hurried out of the lavender room and raced down the hall toward the kitchen to call the police, but her footsteps were cut off by a gunshot blast that shattered her kitchen window. Screaming, she dropped to the floor. Gianna ran out into the hall.

  “Get down!” Saleema shouted. She started crawling fast toward the basement. “We have to get Portia,” she whispered. “Hurry!”

  They tiptoed down the basement stairs.

  Saleema dragged Portia off of the sofa in the basement and pulled her sluggish body across the tiled floor. “Help me get her into the garage. Did you tell that pimp that I parked my car in the garage?”

  “No, I forgot.”

  “Thank God! We have time to escape. He’ll have to drive a couple of blocks to get to the back of my house.” They heard another blast from his weapon. This one seemed to have shot out an upstairs window, like he was shooting at any room in the front of the house that had a light on.

  Inside the car, with Portia on the floor in the back and Gianna crouched in the passenger seat, Saleema reversed out of her garage, zigzagging on screeching tires as she zoomed into the dark night.

  There were no blaring sirens. Help was not on the way. Until she could put some safe distance between herself and this maniac pimp named Bullet, Saleema was on her own.

  Speeding and handling the wheel with one hand, she scrounged around inside her purse looking for her cell.

  Shit! In her mind’s eye, she could see her cell on the stand next to the TV, where she’d placed it while looking for the remote so Gianna could take her mind off her pimp, while she channel-surfed.

  CHAPTER 50

  “He’s two cars behind us,” Gianna said in a whisper, keeping her voice low as if fearing the pimp might hear her.

  “Oh, shit. Where’s a fuckin’ cop when you need one? Is he from Philly?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Good! Then he doesn’t know his way around Fairmount Park.”

  Saleema made a quick U-turn and zoomed past the Philadelphia Zoo. Still no cops in sight and no time to ask for the help of her fellow man. She shot down Girard Avenue, and turned on two wheels when she got to Parkside. Her gas light came on. Shit!

  Inside the park, she headed for Belmont Plateau, a spot she used to hang out as a teen, but would now use as a refuge, being that her gas tank was dead on E.

  They couldn’t make it any farther without gas. She hid the Camry under a huge tree that was hidden from view.

  “Why you stopping? Bullet’s gon’ kill all of us. We gotta keep moving.”

  “Out of gas. We’re going to leave Portia on the floor of the car. You and me can make a run for it. Get help when we get out of this park.”

  Gianna’s teeth started chattering. “He’s gon’ find us. He told me he’d always know where to find me.”

  “He’s not psychic. He was messing with your head. Don’t worry; he doesn’t know about the Plateau. He’ll never think to drive up here. He’s probably still riding up and down Girard Avenue, trying to figure out what happened to us. Now stop talking, and run!”

  Gianna jogged alongside Saleema. “Sizzle’s from Philly.”

  “And?”

  “She was in the car with him.” Gianna was already panting.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

  Gianna shrugged.

  Headlights suddenly shone in the pitch-black park, and then went dim.

  “That’s him! I know it’s him,” Gianna whispered, her body trembling like a leaf. “He said the next time I betrayed him, he’s gon’ chop off all my fingers.”

  “Shh. Get down. Stay low. He didn’t see my car; he’ll move on,” Saleema said. She and Gianna crawled deeper into the park and then lay on their stomachs, panting.

  “Oh, God. Please don’t let him spot my car. If he finds Portia, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

  Though the headlights were turned off, the sound of tires slowly crunching over twigs put them on notice that the car being driven by a maniac was gaining on them.

  “Hey, hoes. Where y’all at?” Bullet’s voice echoed ominously through the quiet night. “I can’t see y’all asses, but I know you’re out here somewhere. Come on out, Lollipop. I’m already mad. Don’t make me have to start chopping off yo’ toes.”

  A woman giggled.

  That’s that Sizzle bitch! “We have to move deeper into those trees and bushes,” Saleema whispered.

  Gianna didn’t budge. Her teeth began chattering again. Louder this time.

  Saleema elbowed her, trying to get her to clam up and move along. But Gianna lay on the ground, her body going into spasms of fear.

  “Move, girl!” Saleema whisper shouted. “He can’t see us. He’s playing mind games with you.”

  The sound of a car door opening and then slamming shut sent Gianna into motion. Panicked, she slithered on her belly like a fast-moving snake. Unencumbered by the shoulder bag that she lugged along, Gianna kept up with Saleema, sliding into the shelter of a group of trees with bushy foliage and thick trunks.


  The shoulder bag clunked against a gnarled root at the base of a tree, the sound giving away their position.

  Slowly. Tauntingly, footsteps crunched in their direction.

  Gianna uttered a moan of defeat.

  Saleema prayed that they would remain unseen…that Bullet would pass them by. As her life began to pass before her eyes, she realized that the hope of staying alive was merely wishful thinking.

  The worst part about viewing the scenes of her life was seeing snippets of the future she might have shared with Khalil. She wished that she could have told him goodbye.

  Then she thought of Portia, lying vulnerable in the back seat of her car. She wanted to cry. No doubt, he’d get to Portia, too. Saleema had wanted so badly to protect troubled girls, but instead she’d unwittingly contributed to Skittles’ brutal murder. Now she, Gianna and most likely Portia, too…would soon meet certain death. She prayed their demise would be swift and painless.

  “I don’t want to die,” Gianna whispered, her body quaking, her elbows banging against her shoulder bag.

  Gianna started wriggling her hand inside the bag. Saleema figured that the girl was religious and was routing around for a Bible or some prayer beads. It really didn’t matter at this point.

  The moonlight filtered through the treetops, casting a glow on a long shadow. A man with a dagger-like knife in his hand was approaching.

  “I didn’t want to touch this, but I was desperate. I was going to try to pawn it earlier today.” Sitting upright, Gianna gripped a gun with both shaking hands.

  At a complete loss for words, Saleema watched as the man’s silhouette grew larger. Was there time to take the gun from the terrified girl, who obviously didn’t know how to use it?

  “Oh! There you go, bitch!” Bullet said, his voice ringing with sadistic pleasure.

  Though it was too dark to see his features clearly, the whites of his eyes became wide and visible when Gianna held up the gun with amazingly steady hands. The weapon shimmered in the moonlight.

  “Yo! Watch yourself, bitch! Whatchu think you gettin’ ready to do?” The knife in his hand now looked as threatening as a poodle.

  “My name ain’t bitch. It’s Gianna Strand. And this ain’t target practice, muthafucka!” Gianna opened fire on Bullet. She didn’t stop shooting until she’d emptied the clip.

  CHAPTER 51

  Saleema clicked off the TV in disgust. Watching a remorseless Joseph Oaks, aka Flashy, preening for the cameras as he was led into court was revolting.

  The prostitute known as Sizzle shamelessly adored the spotlight also.

  Portia would be testifying next week and Saleema would be in the courtroom to support her. Until then, she didn’t want to hear anything else about the horrendous crimes that had been committed against three teenage girls. Thankfully, with Gianna’s cooperation, the abducted baby had been rescued.

  Gianna and Portia had provided Saleema with enough graphic details of their ordeal to give her nightmares for the rest of her life.

  The only good thing that could be said about Joseph Oaks was that he’d made sure that Brielle’s daughter was given good care. His motives, however, weren’t honorable. His intention was to traffic a plump, healthy baby to a prospective buyer.

  Little Samantha was now in the care of her grieving grandparents. Witnessing their anguish was unbearable, and Saleema wondered how Brielle’s parents would be able to get through Portia’s and Gianna’s graphic testimony, detailing the horrors their daughter had endured up until her brutal murder.

  Gianna was given the reward money. Her parents, reconnected though their daughter’s tragedy, added fifty-thousand dollars to the reward and used it to set up a trust fund for Brielle’s daughter.

  Saleema now realized that Brielle was the girl that was mentioned in the HelpfindPortia chat room. She’d had the girl in her car and let her go back to that brutal maniac.

  Having unwittingly played a part in Brielle’s atrocious and untimely demise, made it very difficult for Saleema to sleep at night.

  Unable to save her home from foreclosure, Saleema moved into a small efficiency apartment. The tiny space took some getting used to, but on the flip side, it was much easier to keep clean. For Saleema, the miniscule living quarters did not represent rock bottom, but symbolized a fresh start.

  Having no formal education or job training, she worked for minimum wage, stocking shelves at a grocery store at night. It was humbling but good for her soul.

  She also volunteered at the Haverford Recreation Center, working with the seniors. She needed to clear her head and get away from adolescent issues for a while.

  During the day, she was a full-time student at the Community College of Philadelphia.

  For some unknown reason, Portia’s mother, who still had not demonstrated any motherly concern, would not relinquish custody of her daughter. Saleema was denied permission to become Portia’s legal guardian. The injustice of an unfit parent being allowed parental rights bolstered Saleema’s desire to eventually practice family law.

  She had a long journey ahead of her and she welcomed every step of the way.

  Portia was being detained for eighteen months. Fortunately, she was incarcerated in Philadelphia and Saleema visited her several times a week.

  Ironically, part of the detention center’s mission statement was to protect the community from juvenile offenders, yet the community had not protected Portia until it was almost too late.

  Portia’s neighborhood was evolving and coming together since they had banded together to help find her. Now the Haverford Recreation Center offered numerous structured recreational programs for youth, as well as giving them access to a state-of-the-art computer center that was given by an anonymous donor.

  Whenever the girls—Amirah, Chyna, Tasha, and Stacey—used the computer center, they gave each other knowing glances, realizing that Saleema was the anonymous donor.

  Khalil.

  Saleema gave a wistful sigh.

  Khalil was busy running his school, going through the rigors of trying to mold thuggish ninth-graders into college-prepared students.

  Her best friend, Terelle, who resided in Montreal, told Saleema that she was making a big mistake in letting a good man like Khalil slip through her fingers.

  But Saleema knew better. She couldn’t accept his love.

  She was too broken and fragile. Still damaged and scarred from her own childhood and calamitous recent past.

  Khalil had introduced Saleema to her soft side, given her an opportunity to experience the most important aspects of a relationship: friendship, respect, and intimacy that weren’t attached with a dollar sign.

  It was her strong feelings for him that made her relinquish their budding relationship. She wasn’t ready for Khalil.

  She was still running from her demons. It would be a long time before she found peace.

  If she and Khalil were meant to be, they’d reconnect one day.

  Until then, she’d do everything within her power to ensure that she became healed, whole, and healthy.

  Saleema prayed every day for Brielle’s soul. She asked God for wisdom, strength, and inner peace. And to be forgiven for all her past sins.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  Dear Reader:

  Gianna, Brielle, and Portia, also known as Lollipop, Skittles, and Bubblicious; three young ladies that I will never forget. Allison Hobbs has outdone herself with Stealing Candy; in my humble opinion, her best piece of literature to date. Allison has penned an unforgettable novel with even more unforgettable characters. If you have already completed this novel, then I am sure that you were riveted to each and every page. The most prevalent message contained within is that we must protect our youth. They assume that they are prepared to go out into society, that they understand the consequences of their actions, and that horrible things only happen to other people. That is not the case.

  The three girls in this book were innocent in their own way, they thought that making rash and
hasty decisions were okay. Gianna wanted to go to a party with a famous singer. Brielle wanted a ride to a gas station with her baby. Portia wanted to try out for a music video. All three of them ended up being used, abused, and terrified; used for everything from sexual favors to being tied against trees for target practice by a sociopath.

  And what about Bullet? Even he was a young man who fell victim to circumstances, having learned to have a blatant disregard for women from his old cellmate in prison, where he himself was coerced into having sex with other men. Another product of what happens when no one cares.

  What difference can one person make? Saleema made a world of difference; she would not give up on Portia. Saleema understood about being a victim of circumstance and thus, she did not judge Portia. She only loved her. By teaming up with Khalil and rallying the neighborhood together, it ultimately brought the ordeal to an end. Not a positive one for Skittles but at least Portia and Gianna had a fighting chance to begin their lives anew. Damaged but breathing, and free from the oppression forced upon them by Bullet.

  I must touch upon two underlying messages in this book, masterfully executed by Ms. Hobbs; lessons that every woman must learn. One is that too many people do suffer from the Stockholm Syndrome. Not to the degree of Gianna, kissing up to a man who chopped off her finger and auctioned off her body; but by staying with men who demean them, physically and verbally abuse them, and keep them trapped in relationships and marriages out of pure fear. Unless they make the decision to get out—not often an easy one—that pain and humiliation will follow them every day of their lives.

  The other message—and I love how Allison dealt with it—is that until a person is in the right place for a relationship, they should not set themselves up for failure. Saleema was feeling Khalil, yearned to be with him, but she realized that it could never work—not until she was ready. Every woman needs to do a serious self-examination and determine if they are emotionally prepared to love. Self-love is the greatest love of all. Without it, any other type of love will ultimately fail. I commend Allison for examining that fact.