Hard Candy Saga

by Amaleka McCall

  “It is almost ten o’clock. I’m beat.”

  “Please, Candy, come back just for a little while.”

  Candice refused again, but Shana practically got on her knees and begged Candice to come back to the house for the funeral repast.

  Candice had a lot of things on her mind. More importantly, she didn’t trust herself around Junior’s right-hand man, Tuck. Candice couldn’t stop running their last encounter through her mind, no matter how hard she tried to think of something else. She pictured his perfect face, those even white teeth and mesmerizing voice. She imagined herself kissing his plump lips. She had always wanted to be kissed by a man but had been too afraid when the opportunity presented itself. Uncle Rock had warned her repeatedly about the dangers of falling in love. She had avoided that fate simply by steering clear of the male species as a whole.

  After a few more minutes of Shana’s pleading, Candice accepted Shana’s invitation, convincing herself that her friend needed her support. But, deep in her heart, she really wanted another opportunity to exchange words with Tuck.

  Candice had sat outside of Broady and Shana’s house many times while she conducted research on her mark. The outside of the two-story house, with its plain brick front and ugly black wrought-iron gates, told nothing of what happened on the inside.

  When Candice stepped inside, her jaw dropped.

  “C’mon, Candy, let me show you around,” Shana said, pulling Candice farther inside the house.

  Candice followed Shana through a grand foyer, complete with a small statue and exquisite marble tile. She didn’t even think such a foyer could fit inside the house. The house had clearly been gutted and rebuilt based on the owner’s or, more probably, Shana’s direction.

  Shana had accessorized the dining room with just the right amount of vases, mirrors, and candleholders. The rest of the house was just as beautiful. Candice could tell that Shana had poured a lot of money and heart into her home. Now she could see why her friend had been so reluctant to give Broady up, beatings and all. Shana was living hood-rich and better than she’d probably ever live, even if she went the traditional route and worked a full-time job.

  “You have a beautiful home,” Candice complimented Shana as she walked through her home. Candice’s steps felt lead heavy, and she felt slightly dizzy. She had always just thought of him as a mark, a monster, someone she wanted to kill for revenge, but being inside Broady’s home somehow made him more human to her.

  Following on Shana’s heels, Candice felt a surge of adrenaline, and her pulse quickened—a mixture of fear and power.

  “Thanks. I try,” Shana replied, giving Candice a half-hearted smile.

  They strategically dodged bodies as they passed several different groups of people holding conversations throughout the house. Some were laughing, some were still crying, while others were just eating and drinking.

  Shana finally pushed through two short white swinging doors and stepped into her gourmet kitchen. “It’s kind of peaceful in here. Too many people out there for me,” she said, flicking her wrists dismissively. She climbed up on one of the leather stools that sat in front of the bar-style granite counter.

  Candice joined her. “Are you all right? I mean, with Broady and everything. I know you said he had been acting a little erratic,” Candice said, choosing her words carefully. She had finally gotten a grip on her shaking legs and hammering heartbeat.

  “So far he has just been caught up with a bunch of different dudes trying to play detective behind Razor’s murder. He hasn’t had time to really focus on me. I know he was very happy with the way I arranged this little thing for everybody, so maybe shit will be all good tonight. Maybe his days of laying his hands on me are over,” Shana said, looking down at her feet.

  “So Broady is playing detective? I mean, nobody has heard any more information from the police about suspects in Razor’s murder?” Candice didn’t want to sound like she was prying.

  Shana’s facial expression turned serious. “Candy, do you really think the fuckin’ jake is looking for Razor’s killer? C’mon now, girl, be for real.” Shana chortled, moving her hands in front of her and snapping her neck in and out. “Let’s see . . . Razor was a known drug dealer, a ‘predicate felon,’ and ain’t never paid a cent in fuckin’ taxes. Those bastard-ass DTs are probably having coffee and donuts right now, saying, ‘Good riddance,’” Shana replied with an angry sigh.

  Candice knew she was right. She had thought all of this through when she set out on her revenge mission. Nobody would care if Junior, Broady, or even Razor was wiped off the face of the earth, as they were all menaces to society. She couldn’t help but think that was the reason no one was ever charged in her family’s deaths. Did the police officially say, “Fuck finding the killers,” since her father was a well-known drug kingpin? Why else would there have been no arrests for such a horrific crime? The rumor mill on the streets pointed the guilty finger at Junior and his little cronies, but Candice didn’t need the police to exact her own brand of justice.

  “Well, I still would like to know who’d do some shit like that to Razor,” Candice said. The last time she’d seen Razor was at Club Skyye when she’d stormed out of the club in a huff. Razor had followed her outside to calm her down, but she could barely remember their conversation. She was so furious with Broady that night, all she could see was red.

  “Ayo, Shana!” Broady growled.

  Shana bolted upright on the stool, almost losing her balance.

  Candice sat up straight as well, Broady’s voice sending a prickly feeling down her spine.

  “Yeah, Broady. I’m in here,” Shana responded, twisting her lips. She looked at Candice and rolled her eyes. “I’ll be right back.” Shana sighed. She wasn’t going to do anything to set Broady off, with so many people milling around the house.

  Candice shook her head in disgust. When would Shana learn that no man is worthy of such blind obedience? She drummed her fingers on the granite countertop and gazed around the kitchen. She could see herself living in a home like this, with a gorgeous man and a few kids running around.

  Candice almost laughed out loud. She didn’t know why that thought had crossed her mind. It would be the Immaculate Conception indeed, considering she had never even been touched by a man. She chalked up her strange thoughts to the fact that she was feeling lonely and out of place. Marrying and having children would be one way to fix that problem. But if she heeded the words of her uncle Rock, it could also mean an uncertain future. If Candice wanted to plant roots, as Uncle Rock said, she would just have to become a tree. She inadvertently smiled at Uncle Rock’s eccentricity.

  “You look pretty when you’re smiling and not looking so angry all the time,” a male voice chimed from behind her.

  Candice jumped off the stool, whirling around and clutching her bag, her boyfriends (Glock and SIG Sauer) nestled safely in her purse. She relaxed a bit when she recognized the voice belonged to Tuck.

  “Nobody ain’t ever teach you not to be sneaking up on somebody like that,” Candice huffed, attitude in full force. She knew she shouldn’t have come back to Shana’s house. Her pulse raced, and her heart quickened. Just being in his presence made her feel hot, flushed, and uncomfortable.

  “It must be me. I must be the reason you’re so mean. Because I know I just looked in that mirror across the kitchen and saw you smiling,” Tuck said, moving closer to her side.

  Candice swore she felt an electric current flowing between their bodies. Is this what it feels like to lust after someone?

  “Maybe it is you . . . since you like bumping into people and sneaking up on them. I don’t like that.” Candice didn’t like the overwhelming sexual attraction she experienced each time she laid eyes on him. It was dangerous. It was pure, raw emotion—something she had been taught to suppress all of her life, professionally and personally. Candice clutched her bag tightly, her lips curled into a snarl. She was going to fight these feelings. She wouldn’t go panting after this guy
like some bitch in heat and do something she would regret.

  “I’m sorry for whatever it is that I didn’t do to you,” Tuck offered.

  Candice snorted and rolled her eyes.

  Tuck sighed. “See, I am even willing to apologize when you know good and well I ain’t do a thing to you and you still won’t throw a dude a bone. You’re something else.” Tuck flashed the sexy smile that always fucked Candice’s head up.

  “Hmm!” Candice grunted, petulantly cocking her head to one side. She wiggled her toes in her shoes. She felt agitated and hot enough to melt, but she was damned if she was going to let him know the effect he was having on her.

  “So, Candy, tell me something about yourself,” Tuck said, ignoring Candice’s defiant body language.

  “I don’t tell strangers about myself.” Candice refused to make eye contact, afraid that looking into his eyes would cause a floodgate to open. Stay focused, Candy. Stay focused. Stay focused.

  “Damn, you a tough nut to crack.” Tuck pretended to wipe sweat from his forehead. “Look, how about we start from scratch? I tell you one thing about me. Then you tell me one thing about you,” Tuck said, dipping his head up and down and around, trying to make eye contact with Candice.

  Every time he moved his head to try to meet her gaze, she turned her head and eyes in the opposite direction.

  “Last I checked, this is not Let’s Make a Deal. I’m not a game show contestant, and I don’t have to negotiate a truce with you. I don’t even know you!” Candice secretly enjoyed the back-and-forth and giving him a hard time. If Tuck wanted to get to know her, he’d have to work for it. Besides, Candice knew that if he got in the way of her mission, he’d have to be dealt with swiftly, and she didn’t want to get attached to anybody she considered expendable.

  Tuck laughed at her tough-girl façade, seeming to enjoy the byplay. He could see right through her act. Her flaming red cheeks had already given her away. “I’m sayin’, for real, though . . . you are one hard-ass Candy, ain’t you?” Tuck chuckled, still trying his best to get a smile out of her.

  Candice opened her mouth to respond, but a bloodcurdling scream cut through the air, forcing the words down her throat like hard marbles. “What the fuck!” she mouthed, instinctively moving toward the door. She recognized the voice behind the scream all too well.

  Tuck spun around like a man possessed. More screams prompted him to pull his weapon out of his waistband and race through the kitchen doors.

  Candice was hot on Tuck’s heels. “Oh my goodness . . . Shana,” Candice whispered breathlessly.

  Tuck and Candice rushed toward the commotion against a wave of people heading for the nearest exits. No one, apparently, wanted to be a witness to anything going down.

  “Junior! Stop it!” Shana screeched, her voice sharp like nails on a chalkboard, her eyes stretched wide with fear.

  “Fuck!” Tuck huffed, rushing over to the tangle of bodies.

  “Tuck! Help him! Get him off of him!” Shana screamed, jumping up and down.

  Candice was finally able to make out the identity of the individuals in the twisted heap of arms and legs. It appeared to be a fight as old as time—Cain versus Abel.

  “You ain’t so fuckin’ tough now, you pussy!” Junior growled, his left arm wrapped tightly around his brother’s neck in a headlock that threatened to crush Broady’s windpipe. In his right hand, Junior gripped a .357 Magnum and held it to his brother’s temple. Broady’s huge body was slumped against Junior’s smaller frame, but with his air supply being choked off, his size wasn’t helping him.

  “You’re gonna choke him to death!! Ahhhhhh! Don’t shoot him!” Shana bawled hysterically as she jumped up and down, flailing her hands like a crazy person. Her face was now a cakey mess of smudged makeup, salty tears, and sweat.

  “Get her the fuck out of here!” Tuck hollered at Candice.

  Candice rushed over to take Shana away from the fracas, although she didn’t appreciate Tuck screaming at her. “C’mon, girl,” she said calmly, cutting an evil eye in Tuck’s direction. She felt like she was the only sane person in the room at the moment.

  Tuck knew he needed to get Broady’s head out of Junior’s death grip. Broady’s body was already going slack, like he was being put to sleep. He tried to place his hands on Junior’s arm to loosen his grip, but it only made matters worse. Junior not only tightened his grip, but he pressed his gun into Broady’s head even harder.

  Fuck! Tuck screamed inside of his head. “C’mon, Junior, man. It ain’t worth it.” He couldn’t afford to grab Junior’s weapon and cause an accidental discharge. That would put the last nail in his career coffin.

  Meanwhile, Candice tried to persuade Shana to leave the upturned family room.

  Tuck tried his most compelling argument. “Junior, man, he is your brother. I know you mad, man, but—”

  “I’m not leavin’ him! He’s gonna kill him!” Shana squealed, her voice a high, keening pitch, her body trembling. She was running in place now and screaming for Junior to release Broady.

  “I said to get her the fuck outta here!” Tuck barked again.

  Candice shot him another glare. Don’t this motherfucker see I’m trying to calm her ass down first? What am I supposed to do? Pick the bitch up over my fucking shoulder?

  “Stop fuckin’ screaming at me! I’m doing my best!”

  Tuck quickly got the message. Now he had two angry women to deal with. Things were going from bad to worse. The situation was spinning out of control, and he had to put things back in order. If Junior killed his brother and went to jail, Tuck’s case would be over.

  “You slapped a nigga’s wife and didn’t even tell me? You goin’ out of borough, startin’ a fuckin’ beef, and didn’t even tell me? Huh, motherfucker? You can’t keep it one hun’ed?” Junior barked, still applying pressure to Broady’s neck.

  “Cuh! Cuh! Cuh!” Broady struggled for breath. His windpipe was on fire and would surely buckle under Junior’s grip.

  Broady’s vision was narrowing; he would soon lose consciousness if Tuck didn’t act fast. Junior had been holding him in the dope fiend sleeper hold for too long.

  “You embarrassed me!” Junior belted out, his words coming out in raggedy, clipped breaths. All of the liquor he had consumed during Razor’s funeral services didn’t help the situation either.

  “Junior, man! You gon’ fuck around and kill this motherfucker! He turnin’ blue and shit.” Tuck touched the outside of the arm wrapped around Broady’s throat.

  At Tuck’s touch, Junior jumped. His eyes bugged out, and sweat dripping off his face, he was like a rabid dog, foaming at the mouth, and looking to take a bite out of a helpless victim. “Back the fuck up!” he hollered, moving his gun from Broady’s face and pointing it at Tuck.

  Tuck threw his hands up in surrender. He didn’t have a choice. He thought of his father dying in the line of duty and what it did to his mother. He couldn’t do that to his wife and kids.

  Junior turned his attention back to his brother. He loosened his grip on Broady’s neck. “You so lucky I care about my fuckin’ mother and don’t wanna see her have to bury your worthless ass. It’s only because of her that I don’t fuckin’ murk you right the fuck here in ya own crib,” Junior screamed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

  Broady fell forward onto his knees with a thud. His hands uncurled, and he dropped the little blue card he was holding. He gasped and wheezed, trying to get his lungs to fill back up with air. Broady couldn’t stop coughing. He rolled around on the floor like he was having a seizure, his hands massaging his neck.

  Shana raced over to his side, rubbing his back to soothe him. “Oh my God! Broady, are you all right?” she screeched, stooping over him. Shana glanced up and shot Junior an evil look. She really hated his ass.

  “You a fuckin’ punk bitch! You better stay the fuck away from me! Next time some bullshit pops off, I’ma kill you my fuckin’ self and that hateful bitch standing by your side!” Junior glowered
at Broady.

  “It was those niggas, and you takin’ they side,” Broady rasped, barely audible. His lungs had finally caught enough air for him to get in a few words.

  “That nigga Phil gave me his word. You got it fucked up. Phil ain’t kill ya manz, but you know what? He shoulda fuckin’ killed you for slapping his bitch. Your name is mud in my fuckin’ book and in the streets. You dead on ya feet, nigga, so watch ya back. I might not be finished with ya punk ass just yet.” Junior hawked up a wad of spit and hurled it at his baby brother. Then he pushed past Tuck and Candice and stormed toward the front door of the house.

  Junior’s hard-bottom dress shoes slammed against the marble floors, like gunshots ricocheting through the silent house. The noise chilled Candice right to the bone.

  Tuck looked down at Broady. He noticed the little blue card on the floor but quickly dismissed it. He had bigger issues to deal with right now.

  “You a’ight?” Tuck asked, walking toward Candice.

  Candice furrowed her eyebrows. She had noticed his slightly puzzled gaze on the little blue card on the floor. She stared at Tuck like she didn’t understand his question. As he moved closer, she began backing out of the doorway, one step at a time. Her eyes wide and wild, she looked disoriented. Maybe even in shock.

  “Candy, what’s wrong?” Tuck asked.

  Candice wished she could bend down and pick up the card. It was too late. She spun around and rushed toward the door.

  Tuck watched in confusion as she broke into a full jog. “Wait!” he screamed at her back, but it was too late. She had bolted, maybe this time for good.

  Chapter 7

  Avon paced inside his undercover apartment with sweat dripping down his back. He jumped at every little noise. Every car sound he heard outside caused him to rush over to his window and peek through the slats of his blinds.