Free RedBone by T. Styles

errand boy. Now, he had to deal with a girl who was high from sniffing his drugs. Normally he would not have been caught slipping by leaving his door unlocked, but when Willie called him back for the bullshit, it threw him off his game. If he had been more careful, he wouldn’t have to deal with her. Randy opened the back door, grabbed the bags, and said, “Come inside. I can’t take you home until you come down off that shit.”
    “Come down where?”
    “Just get the fuck out.”
    Farah eased out of the car and followed him to a nice-sized home. She had no idea where she was but she hoped he wasn’t a pedophile or a serial murderer. Once inside, she marveled at how bright everything was. The color white dominated, and that included the drapes, leather couch, and plush carpeting.
    Randy closed and locked the door, and placed the duffle bags on the kitchen table. “Ma ... I’m home!” he yelled toward the back.
    When Helen Gregory walked into the living room wearing a cream silk pants pajama set, which looked so elegant it could be worn outside, Farah felt inferior. She was extremely beautiful and favored her mother, Brownie. Helen was dipped in diamonds and gold and her long hair brushed against the sides of her ebony face. Holding a glass of cognac in one hand and a cigarette in the other, she looked at the scared child hovering in her living room corner. Placing her drink on the table, and mashing her cigarette in the ashtray, her white feather high-heeled slippers click-clacked in Farah’s direction. “Before I forget, honey,” she said, looking at Randy, “the nursing home called and said you can volunteer again next week if you want.”
    “Thanks, Ma. I’ll call them tomorrow.”
    Standing over her she said, “Now ... what do we have here?” She looked at her son. “You didn’t tell me you had company.”
    From the kitchen Randy said, “Oh, yeah ... Pops fucked my head up, and I accidently left my shit open. The bitch hid in my truck.” He placed the bricks of cocaine on the table. “I think some broads were after her or some shit like that. I’ma take her home in an hour.” He looked at her as if she were a pest. “She caught a contact from my coke and got high. I ain’t want to take her back to Ashur like that.” He focused back on the bricks. “I don’t feel like killing that dude.”
    Farah had to piss so bad now she could barely hold it, but she was scared to ask to use the bathroom. Helen placed her soft hands on her chin and lifted it up. “You know ... you would be a pretty red thing, if your face wasn’t so spotty. She looked at Randy. “You should keep her around. When she gets older, she can give you all kinds of yellow babies.” She released her.
    “That’s a kid, Ma. Why would you even say that?”
    “She got to be about twelve or thirteen,” Helen continued. “Five years is gonna fly by and before you know it, she’ll be having her period. What’s your name, girl?”
    “Farah.” She swallowed, placing her hand between her legs to pause the urge to piss. “Farah Cotton.”
    “Well, Farah, get something for that face. You too young to look so hard.” On to another thought, Helen turned to Randy and said, “Was that white bitch Eleanor around your father today?” She picked up her drink and lit another cigarette. “All she’s trying to do is steal my husband.”
    “Ma, I don’t know about all that. I just need you to cook this shit, so we can make the drop-offs.”
    Helen rolled her eyes. “Take your father’s side if you want to, but I’m sure he’ll stab you in the back just like he’s doing me before long.” She paused. “Let me go freshen up, and then I’ll start working on it.”
    When she disappeared into the house Randy asked, “You hungry? Thirsty?”
    Since she’d unconsciously sniffed cocaine in his truck, she’d completely lost her appetite. “No ... but I gotta go to the bathroom real bad.” She started moving around in place, pressing