Free Candy Licker by Noire Page B

you pass?”
    I shook my head. “Nah.”
    “Damn!” he cursed. “We shoulda took a blind. Okay,” he told Jadeah, “give us a eight.”
    I kept squeezing my cell phone between my thighs, waiting for Caramel to call, and when the phone finally did vibrate it scared me so bad I dropped half of my cards trying to get to it. Mama's number was on the caller ID, but before I could click it on, Hurricane lunged across the table and bitch-smacked the phone clear out my hand.
    “No fuckin’ phones up here!”
    I froze, then looked down at my cell laying on the floor. The entire faceplate had come off and it wasn't ringing no more.
    “Well damn,” Jadeah said, still studying her cards. “The girl didn't know. Omar should've told her. C'mon, Junius. It's your play.”
    Hurricane played the ace of diamonds and Mo’ Troubles leaned over and scooped the cell phone up off the floor. He clicked the faceplate over it and passed it back to me.
    “Turn it off,” Hurricane demanded.
    I did. I was so shook and distracted that I played out of turn once, slept a book twice, and almost reneged too. All that sweet shit Hurricane had been dropping on me went out the window. He got mad like we was playing for millions and started slamming his cards on the table all crazy. His sister gave him a chill-the-fuck-out look and he calmed down a little bit, but he didn't want me to be his partner no more.
    “Yo, baby,” he told me, shaking his head. “You got to go.” He looked around the room then hollered, “Yo, Knowledge! C'mere!” Then to me: “Get up, shawty and let my man sit down. This here is money we working with. You gone need a little more practice before you get back at my table.”
    I knew how to play Spades better than I had shown him, but I got up gladly. My mind just wasn't on no damn card game. It was way over on the West Coast in a city called L.A., worrying about my mother and waiting for my little sister to call.
    The guy Knowledge came up and dapped Hurricane's fist, then sat in my seat. He had smooth chocolate skin and clear brown eyes. His gear was expensive and pressed, but nowhere near flashy.
    “What's up?” He nodded at Mo’ Troubles. Then he leaned over and kissed Jadeah on the cheek and looked from her to me and asked, “How my sisters doing?”
    Jadeah patted his back like he was her little brother. “Good, baby.”
    “I'm good,” I said quietly.
    Jadeah started shuffling the cards.
    “Knowledge,” he said, holding out his hand to me. One of his fingers was missing.
    I glanced at Hurricane then shook it for just a second. “Candy.”
    “Cool,” he said, picking up his cards and setting up his hand. “Cool.”

Chapter 8
The Scene of the Crime
    W e left the House of Homicide at 6:00 A.M. and decided to go to Vonnie's place for the night since her sugar daddy was locked up and she had the most room. I'd seen all kinds of stuff transpiring at the House, and my head was swimming from the size of Hurricane's operation. I'd found out from nosey Vonnie that he washed West Coast money through legitimate businesses, but here on the East Coast he was a straight baller. He controlled his gambling and drug operations from the upstairs rooms, and there was porno filming, dick sucking, and all-night fucking going on downstairs.
    My girls were amped about me and Hurricane hooking up. I told them all about the finger fuck he gave me on the dance floor. Dominica gave me a sick look and called me a cheap ho, but Vonnie gave me big props and said I should have slurped his dick down while I was at it so we all coulda got paid out the ass.
    “Now, Candy,” Dominica said, talking to me like I was a little kid, “we do not let men treat us like chickenheads on thefirst date, remember? They are
not
entitled to the poon-poon just because they have mad dollars. If we expect the hustlers and Hurricanes of the world to respect us and treat us like talented, independent sistahs, we can't be grinding our pussies all over