Lickin' License Read online

  “I ain't seen Chase since Pana got at him,” Meisha added.

  “Who knows who did it.” Candy said.

  “But you ain't gotta be a rocket scientist to narrow down the possibilities to the usually suspects,” Chanel said.

  “We don't need to be speculating,” Vanessa said.

  “That's right,” Candy added. “A lot of people in the Feds for conspiracy based on hearsay. And all that he-say-she-say is not even supposed to be allowed in court.”

  Chanel looked at Candy. “You right, girl. Let's change the subject.”

  Vanessa's heart was racing. Candy's talk of conspiracy charges and Federal prison kept replaying in her mind. She knew if Chanel was making assumptions, other people were too. Harlem was small, news traveled fast and bottom feeders were always trying to pull down the big fish on top. That was one of the things Rich had taught Vanessa about the streets. Her hope now was that Rich had not become a victim of the streets he knew all too well. Vanessa's anger with Rich was being replaced by her fear for him. She could be mad at him later, after she was certain he was not destined for a life behind bars. Now, she needed to help him.

  RICH

  Rich stood on the edge of his balcony, looking over Harlem, as if he were still one of the hustler who reigned supreme over the neighborhood. He was reflecting on the fact that he had flirted with death and his freedom less than twenty-four hours earlier. He was questioning his ability to remove himself from the street life he knew far better than his new life. Chase had showed him how easy it was to be pulled back into the game. But Rich felt his debt was now paid to Chase. There would be no more guilt trips…hopefully.

  Rich had not spoken to Chase since the shootout. Under normal circumstances, they would have met up the day after the action to discuss their performance and their next move. But Rich knew these were not normal circumstances. There would be no rehashing the drama or developing new plans. Rich wanted the madness behind him and the future open. His lack of contact with Chase told him that Chase was ready to give him some space, or part ways with him permanently. Strangely, Rich wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

  He went inside of his living room and flicked on the wide screen TV to CNN, so he could check the financial markets. “NASDAQ is down,” he mumbled to himself, watching the ticker float across the bottom of the screen.

  Seconds later, Vanessa and Candy stormed through the door. “They said Pana, Biz and his girl got murdered last night, Rich,” Candy confessed.

  “Chanel was running her damn mouth in the shop,” Vanessa said, before recounting the scene, emphasizing how she and Candy stopped Chanel from practically mentioning Rich and Chase as the killers.

  Without disclosing any details, Rich assured the women that they had nothing to worry about. “Baby, me and jail don't mix. I can't get no money if I'm sitting in Sing Sing.” He grabbed the remote and changed the channel to the local news.

  “Did you kill that woman, Rich?” Vanessa asked, looking square into his eyes.

  “No,” he said, without flinching. “I don't even hit women.” Rich didn't like that Chase had killed Biz's girlfriend, but he understood that collateral damage was a part of street wars. “I

  didn't kill nobody,” Rich said.

  “Nobody?” Vanessa needed a confirmation.

  “Baby, I'd ignore you before I lie to you.”

  “Look!” Candy pointed at the TV screen. “Turn it up.”

  Rich turned up the volume. A reporter stood at the crime scene he and Chase had created:

  Police say that at approximately one-forty this morning, a triple homicide occurred on One-hundred and Forty-Fifth Street and Madison Avenue in Harlem. There are no eye witnesses. Neighbors say they heard multiple gunshots. Police arrived on the scene where the driver of an SUV, thirty-eight-year-old Bismarck Jefferson of Harlem, was found dead from multiple gunshot wounds to the face and head. Twenty-six-year-old Debra Foster of Queens was found shot to death in the passenger seat. The third victim, sixteen-year-old Fernando Jimenez of Harlem, was also found outside of the SUV, dead from multiple gunshot wounds. A gun was recovered from the scene, which police believe belonged to Jimenez. Police have no motives or suspects.

  Rich turned down the volume as the reporter vanished from the screen. He noticed Vanessa staring at him in shock. He knew she had never come this close to street drama, so he anticipated her reaction. There was not only surprise covering her face, but also there was a look of disgust. It served as a reminder to Rich how blessed he was to have her in his life. The fact that she was not desensitized to death was something he valued in her. She was a reminder that the life he had left behind was not normal, not to be tolerated.

  Vanessa took Rich's hands into hers. “Please tell me you won’t get involved with anything like this again.”

  “You got my word,” Rich said. He pulled her close and hugged her, then turned to Candy. “You kind of quiet over there.”

  “Just observing.”

  Rich sat on the coffee table, facing both women seated side-by-side on the couch. He took a hand from each of them. He looked at Vanessa. “Baby, without you, I wouldn't know what love is. You taught me how to love and what it feels like to be loved, literally. And I gave you a picture of the pain in my life that nobody walking the face of this earth will ever get a peek at. Turning my back on you is something I couldn't do if I wanted to.”

  “I love you.” Vanessa leaned forward and kissed Rich, then leaned back on the couch.

  Rich turned to Candy. “When I asked Vanessa to bring another woman into our bedroom, I told her it would only be a one-time affair that would benefit us both. But I had no idea how important you would become to us in and outside of the bedroom. I would be lying if I told you that I loved you, but I got a feeling in my heart that's damn near as strong.”

  “You know I feel for you too, Rich,” Candy said.

  Rich took all of their hands and stacked them together with his. “We got something real special going on here and we can't let our emotions get in the way of that. The three of us pleasing each other is no different than two of us pleasing each other. If I'm not around and y'all get hot and bothered, what they say? One man don't stop the show.”

  “I see you got jokes,” Candy laughed.

  “I'm serious as cancer,” Rich said. “If you're spending the weekend and Vanessa's not in the mood, you still need the same affection as me.”

  “I got a confession to make,” Vanessa interjected. She looked at Candy, then to Rich. She began telling the truth of how she and Candy had been having an affair and how they fell in love.

  Rich smiled. He thought about how comfortable they had been together since their first threesome. Suddenly it all made sense. He wasn’t upset with them, just a little upset with himself that he had not detected their affair himself. “I knew you was a freak, Vanessa. That's why I asked you to have the threesome.” He laughed.

  “Yeah,” Vanessa said.

  “You didn't know,” Candy added, then began mentioning how she felt about Vanessa and how her feelings for Rich were growing.

  Rich sat on the couch between the women, sliding his arms over their shoulders, as they huddled beneath him. They each talked and joked about their unique relationship. Rich understood that he had something many men only dreamed of having. But he wondered how long would it last.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CANDY

  Candy had been up since 3:00 a.m. and she had torn her bedroom apart during her search. She had invaded every crevice of the large room, but there was no sign of the video of her and Vanessa. It was obvious that Vera had stolen it. She had been in the bedroom the day before she stormed past Vanessa into Candy's office and announced that she wanted out of the relationship she and Candy had developed. Candy now assumed that Vera had probably spent a night watching the video, mustering the gall and anger it took to confront her and announce their relationship was over.

  Fuck! Candy flopped down on her bed, wondering if Ve
ra was planning on revealing the tape to someone, if she had not unleashed it already. They were living in an era of celebrity sex tapes and average Janes and Joes trading graphic photos and videos with camera phones. The last thing Candy needed was the video of her and Vanessa to go viral on line. She could withstand the drama, but she doubted that Vanessa could. Vanessa would be crushed and Rich would be vexed. Candy was at risk of losing the two people she cared about most.

  Frustrated, Candy pulled out her cell phone and dialed Vera’s number. She got her voicemail, so she hung up. She thought about going to Vera's apartment, but she changed her mind. She decided to try contacting her a few more times before tracking her down. Candy knew if she confronted Vera in person, their interaction could become explosive. Risking an altercation that could prevent her from getting the video was not an option for Candy. She would have to humble herself to get what she wanted.

  * * *

  Candy dug through her office drawers. Since the tape wasn’t in her bedroom, maybe, just maybe it was in her office. “Damn, I knew that shit wasn't here,” she mumbled, shaking her head and leaning back in her chair. She tried to clear her mind. She had twenty minutes left before it was time to open the shop.

  Candy closed her eyes and dozed off. She was awakened by Vanessa tugging on her arm. “Come on, Candy,” Vanessa said. “This is not the businesswoman I know.”

  “I only closed my eyes a minute ago.”

  “You look like you were out all night clubbing.”

  All night searching for this damn video. Only if you knew. She looked at her watch. “Anybody out front yet?”

  “Everybody's there and clients are already coming in.”

  Candy stood up and turned toward her bathroom. “I'll be out there in a minute.”

  “Yeah,” Vanessa said, then left the office.

  Candy never saw her attraction to women in the same light as gay men. She couldn't fully explain it, but the feminine and sensual nature of a woman made lesbianism seem normal to her. Yet as she watched and listened to the conversation in the shop, she pondered if there truly was a difference. Despite her thinking, she still had a strong urge to be with a woman. The fact that she kept glancing at Vanessa was adding to her desire.

  Candy always had a different perspective than the norm. And it was always laced with enough logic to get her point heard without creating an argument. There was so much Candy had learned from Vanessa, simply by listening to how she viewed life.

  “Excuuuse me, Vanessa.” Chanel shook her head. “What you think, Meisha?”

  “I won't be surprised if they pop up on a sex tape gettin' it on,” said Meisha.

  Candy peeked at Vanessa. Her mind was back on their video and Vera stealing it. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Vera. Voicemail again. She contemplated leaving a message, but she didn't. She needed to hear Vera's voice to gauge how to handle her. She needed to see Vera face-to-face.

  * * *

  It was ten o'clock that night. Candy was growing impatient. Her shiny red BMW was parked in front of one of the many buildings of Red Hook Housing Projects. It was her third time there and her first time without Vera. On the past two occasions, Candy had simply double-parked and dropped Vera off in front of her building, then peeled off before Vera's high heels hit the sidewalk. Candy had heard enough war stories about the dangers of the projects to know it was a place she wanted nothing to do with.

  “Where the fuck is she at?” Candy mumbled to herself. She had called Vera a block before she parked, getting her voicemail again. She had walked up to Vera's building and rang the intercom, but got no response. Assuming Vera was out, Candy hoped she would be home any second.

  Candy stared at the group of teens forming in front of Vera's building. Fuck it. She got out of her BMW. The click-clack of her Sergio Rossi pumps echoed as she walked the concrete path leading toward Vera's building. Her statuesque figure was hugged by a Prada dress that she had struggled to squeeze into. She could hear the whispers about her, as she got close to the teens in front of Vera's building. She found it amusing, because the baby face boys dressed in jeans and fitted hats looked to be half of her age.

  “Let me holler at you, shorty,” said a five-foot Latino teen that sported specs and peach fuzz.

  “Shorty?” Candy smiled, staring down at the boy.

  “Yeah, Mamita. What's good?” He stepped up to her. “Holler at ya boy.”

  That's just what he is, a boy. “I'm looking for somebody.” Candy said.

  “I know, Mamita. I'm right here, you heard?”

  “You're cute, but you're too young and I like women.”

  “I like women, too. That's what's up.”

  “I'm looking for Vera.”

  “You talkin’ ‘bout short, dark-skinned Vera? Big ass and tits?” He pointed to the building they were in front of.” She live in 3-B.”

  “Thank you.” Candy realized she had rung 3-D earlier. She walked past the other four teens, noticing their eyes track her as she made it to the building lobby. She looked at the silver intercom and pressed 3-B.

  “Who is it?” Vera's voiced echoed from the small speaker of the intercom.

  “Candy.”

  “Foul-ass Candy from Harlem?”

  “I need to speak to you, Vera.”

  “No you don't.”

  “About the video.”

  “Too late. I got plans for that.”

  “What?” Candy frowned.

  “Goodnight.” The intercom clicked off.

  Candy screamed Vera's name into the intercom twice. Her slanted eyes were almost shut and her fists were balled tightly. She stormed out of the building.

  “Mamita, you all right?” the Latino teen asked as he strolled beside her. “What's poppin'?”

  “You live in this building?” Candy asked, still stepping forward with her fists balled.

  “Nah. Over there.” The youth pointed to a distant building in the projects.

  “So, you hustling in front here?”

  “Nah, Mamita. And you asking too many questions. What, you writing a book or something?”

  Candy stopped and smiled. She liked the youngster's style. “I see you got jokes.”

  “I don't sell drugs.”

  “What's your name?”

  “Domingo.”

  “I'm Candy.”

  “Candy?” The teen smiled and licked his lips. “You know your boy got a sweet tooth.”

  Candy grinned, giving him a thorough once-over for the first time. He had on at least $1,500 worth of clothes. Pulling down his left earlobe was a huge diamond—a baguette that was more carats than most of the women who entered Candy's Shop could afford. Candy also noticed the imprint of a gun on Domingo's waistline beneath his Gucci shirt. “You may not be selling drugs in front of this building, but I know your little ass is hustling somewhere.”

  “I get it in any way I can, Mamita. Just not here, you heard?”

  “Any way?”

  “Just about,” Domingo said.

  She looked back at the lobby of Vera’s building, then at Domingo. “Let me get your cell number. I think I got a job for you.”

  VANESSA

  Vanessa sat Indian style in bed, typing away on her laptop. She had been in Rich's bedroom working on her novel for eight hours straight. It was her day off and Rich was out of town at a business convention. Candy was in the shower.

  Vanessa was proud of herself for completing the first draft of her novel. She was now rewriting it to tighten up, before letting Rich and Candy critique it. She knew they could both help her story with the authenticity of the streets she was writing about. The book, like her experience with Rich and Candy, had started off as street erotica. But as Vanessa began to experience love, her feelings unconsciously affected her writing. Her book was now an urban erotic romance. She was aiming to create a new genre that was a mix of styles of authors Zane, Wahida Clark and Eric Jerome Dickey.

  Candy stepped into the bedroom in a robe with a peach-co
lored towel wrapping her hair. She opened her Louis Vuitton travel bag, which was on the bed. As she began undressing, Vanessa peeked at her, then continued typing.

  “You need to give that book a break,” said Candy, as she slipped on a tank top. You hear me?”

  “I'm drained,” Vanessa said.

  “You've been writing all day.” Candy crawled in bed, moving behind Vanessa until Vanessa's back sunk into her embrace. Candy leaned against the headboard. “Stretch out. You and this half-lotus yoga shit.”

  Vanessa laughed. She extended her legs and continued typing. Candy's hands began massaging her shoulders and neck. “That feels so good,” Vanessa said.

  “That's what I'm here for, to make your life easier.”

  “Sometimes I feel like we're supposed to be sisters.”

  “We are,” Candy said. “Sisters, lovers, friends and anything else that can mean something that's real and shared between women.”

  “You're right.” Vanessa shut her laptop and set it on the nightstand. She closed her eyes and began to savor the soothing feeling of Candy's delicate hands. The pampering put her at peace. It was always like that around Candy, almost too good to be true.

  “Why don't you let me do your whole body?”

  “You brought your oils?”

  Candy pointed to her overnight bag. “Right in the Louie bag.” She removed two bottles of oil, then left to heat them up. When she returned, Vanessa was laying nude, faced down on the bed. Candy slapped her butt.

  “Stop playing.” Vanessa giggled.

  “You know you like that shit.” Candy sat on top of Vanessa and dripped some of the scented oil down her spine. She began working her upper back, rubbing the oil into her tension spots.

  “You're a pro at this, for real. It feels so good.”

  “I just know what your body needs,” Candy responded.

  “Let me ask you something serious.”

  “Go 'head.”