Chapter 12
Farah
“If you got an hour and a lunch break, I can show you exactly what I’m talking about.”
Farah cruised down the darkening streets with the sounds of Keyshia Cole blasting from her stereo. An open bottle of wine sat tucked in her purse in the passenger seat, while she sipped on the rest from her cream-colored coffee cup. She had a lot on her mind and a lot on her list to take care of that evening. She looked forward to a time when she no longer had to look over her shoulders or worry about people out to get her.
When she pulled up in front of a small brick house, she sat outside for a minute and took it all in. Huge green trees lined the front, and decorations from holidays past still donned the door. She wondered what it would be like to live in a house like this . . . as a child. Did the person she was looking for always feel safe? And loved? The thought made her envious and at the same time ready for war. So she downed everything in her cup, took a deep breath, and grabbed her purse. Before exiting the car, she surveyed her surroundings to be sure the coast was clear. When it was, she eased out of her car and approached the house.
The moment the door opened, Lesa stumbled back when she saw Farah’s face. The blue cashmere sweater Lesa sported lit up her eyes and made her even more beautiful.
“How you been, Lesa?” Farah tried to stare inside from where she stood. “How does it feel to live back with your mother? You two getting along better, I hope.”
“I . . . uh . . .”
Farah laughed. “I can’t believe this. When was the last time you were at a loss for words? Especially considering the word on the street is that you can’t keep my name out of your mouth.”
“F . . . Farah, what are you doing here? How did you know where I lived?”
“As long as you on the East Coast, Lesa, I’m gonna always be able to find you,” she responded, leaving out how she searched the Net for her mother’s information. “Now, I asked you a fucking question. Why do you got a problem with keeping my name in your mouth? Don’t you know what happens to snitches? Or do I have to remind you?”
Lesa looked off balance when she saw Farah reaching into her purse. Afraid for her life, she ran into her house, screaming her lungs out. Farah was right on her heels, ready to finish what she started, until she glanced at the mirror on the wall. In it she saw a uniformed officer sitting on the sofa. When the person turned, she saw it was Nadia Gibson and the joke was on her. This was the last person on earth she wanted or needed to see.
Farah backed out slowly at first, before flying out of the house at lightning speed. On her way down the steps, she tripped and fell, sending the wine bottle she planned to crack over Lesa’s head crashing to the ground. Wine covered everything and glass crunched under her boots as she made it to her car. Nervous about being arrested, she softly bumped the car in front of her as she wiggled out of the parking space and back into traffic. From the rearview mirror, she could see Nadia waving at her with an evil grin on her face.
Although Farah considered this a defeat, she wasn’t ready to claim it as a win for the officer either. She would do whatever she could to silence anybody trying to ruin her life, including a hating-ass cop.
Farah arrived at the blood drive bright and early the next day, eager to do her thing. Normally she preferred to move in the darkness, but the night before had proven to be unsatisfactory. She couldn’t get her hands on Lesa and her search for Eleanor had once again ended in vain. It was time to do something she loved: hunt for blood.
When her phone rang and she saw it was an unknown number, she figured it was her father. It had been a while since she’d spoken to him, and she wondered how he was doing since hearing the news. She felt like a coward for not telling him Chloe was missing and Brownie was dead, but at the moment she couldn’t handle his reaction. “Hello, Daddy. How are you holding up?”
“Baby girl, I’m not good.”
Farah’s stomach rumbled.
“You can’t even imagine what it’s like to lose a child and the love of your life at the same time.” He paused and took a deep breath.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy,” Farah said, observing a truck behind her from the rearview mirror. “I wish you didn’t have to be alone.”
“Don’t worry too much about me. The good thing about my situation is I’m in the right place to take out my frustrations, and I wanted you to know that it may be a long time before I talk to you again.”
“What . . . Why?” she yelled.
“Let’s just say that problem you told me about the last time you talked to me was taken care of. He won’t be doing anything to anybody else ever.”
Farah’s heart rate increased. “You talking about . . . You . . . kill—”
“Don’t say it over the phone. Just know that it’s not a problem anymore and that I don’t want you out there worrying about me. If they pin it on me, I might be in solitary for a long time, and I just wanted you to know in case you don’t hear from me. Tell Shadow and Mia to be easy, and that I love them too. Bye, baby girl.”
He ended the call, and for a second Farah sat in silence. Part of her was relieved that Tank was dead and could not harm him, but the other part blamed herself because had she not tried to rob Tank, he would not be in jail trying to take his life. She hated Randy and hoped at some point he got exactly what he deserved. In fact, she prayed on it.
The truck she was worried about was still behind her, so she turned around and it pulled off. “Are you following me?”
When the vehicle was out of sight, she observed the building hosting the blood drive. She decided to select her next victim there, figuring anybody donating would most likely have a clean bill of health. The blue sweater dress she wore presented her ass in 3D, and she looked so edible that only a gay man could deny her. Once inside of the building, she strolled to the counter, grabbed an application, and scanned the room for donors.
After completing her paperwork, she sat in the lobby and waited for her fake name to be called. Although she had no intention of giving blood, she had to at least look the part. Bad prospect after bad prospect crawled inside, and she was starting to believe the blood drive was a useless idea. After an hour of waiting and ignoring her name when it was yelled, she was about to leave. That was until she finally saw her prospect. He was tall, handsome, and chocolate, just like she liked. He walked in with a swag about himself that said he was the only man in the room. Farah had to have him. The only problem was he wasn’t sitting anywhere near her.
Quick on her feet, she strutted toward the bathroom to stall. She hoped the seat she’d chosen earlier would be taken, which would give her an excuse to find another one, next to her potential victim. When she walked out of the restroom, she saw her plan worked when she eyed some girl going through her fake Gucci in her seat.
Beaming, Farah whipped her hair over her shoulder and switched toward her prize. Her hair moved effortlessly with every step she made, and she was sure there wasn’t a soft dick in the house. When she made it across the room, she wiggled into the seat next to him and said, “How long do you think we have to wait? It seems like I’ve been here all day.” She paused only to breathe. “I sure could find something else better to do with my time.”
He was totally involved with a text on his phone and said, “Not sure. I just got here myself.” But when he finally observed her, he grinned as he scanned her from top to bottom. His eyes said it all . . . he loved what he saw. There was a quiet shyness about him that turned her on, and to her mind, he was the perfect catch.
“Why you looking at me like that?” she asked.
“No reason,” he lied. “Anyway, usually when I come, it doesn’t take this long.” He looked over at the counter. “I think you can reschedule if you have to. They need you, not the other way around.”
She crossed her legs. “You do this all the time? Donate blood?”
“Whenever I can,” he admitted. “I feel like I’m doing my part by giving blood. You know?”
She felt like she’d hit the jackpot. Finding someone who felt like he was doing something in life because he donated blood was a goldmine. “What do you mean?”
He sat back in his plastic white seat. “My sister died when I was in the military serving in Iraq. She was in a car accident caused by a drunk driver. She lost a lot of blood, and even though it didn’t save her, I donate out of memory. What made you donate?”
“I just love blood.”
“That’s different.”
“Different is good. At least that’s what I think.” She paused. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sweetheart, as sexy as you are, you can ask me anything you want. And that’s on everything.”
Her next question was serious because if he said no, she would leave him alone and he would inevitably save his own life. “Can I make you famous?”
He laughed heartily. “That’s an odd question. How does one make one famous?”
She put her hand over his crotch and rubbed lightly. His eyes popped open and he hoped no one was looking. When he looked across the room, the employee who handled the paperwork was staring dead in their direction. “If you got an hour and a lunch break, I can show you exactly what I’m talking about.”
“I think my schedule just cleared up.”
When Farah followed him to a nice house in Virginia, she was impressed. Since it was midafternoon on a weekday, there wasn’t a car on the street. She figured most people were at work and that was even better. But when she followed him inside, she was disappointed that the decor didn’t match her first impression. There wasn’t much furniture, and it looked like someone had just moved in.
“This your house?” she asked as she followed him.
“No, not exactly. Well, I’m renting a room.” They walked toward the back.
“Did you say you’re renting a room?” she asked, disgusted. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
He turned around and grinned at her. “Old enough to satisfy your every need.” He took a key out of his pocket and placed it in a gold doorknob. “Is that enough for you? Besides, you’re gonna make me famous, right?”
Silence.
Once inside the room, she saw how dreary it was, and she wanted to roll over and die. Everything was juvenile. There were posters all over the walls of models in swimsuits, the bed was twin-sized, and the sheets were on the floor. To make matters worse, his clothes were thrown everywhere, and it smelled like he hadn’t taken the trash out in a year.
“Can I use your bathroom right quick?” She stepped on a plastic water bottle and it crackled under the weight of her shoe. “I want to freshen up.”
“Uh . . . sure. It’s out there.” He removed his wallet and keys and threw them on the dresser. “But don’t keep me waiting too long. You got me ready to see how you gonna make me famous. It was the only thing I could think of on the way over here.”
“I bet it was.” She frowned, trying not to touch anything. “Anyway, does somebody live in this house with you? It seems so empty.”
“I have some more roommates, but they not home at this hour. Most of them go to work and college. But since I can never be sure because I don’t know they schedule, knock on the bathroom door first. I wouldn’t want you walking in on something you don’t want to see.” He laughed.
Irritated, she plodded down the hallway and couldn’t get over the feeling of wanting to smash his face in and run. When she reached another door, she knew it was the bathroom because of the sign that read,
ALL RESIDENTS, PLEASE KNOCK BEFORE ENTERING.
Is this a house or group home?
She slogged into the bathroom. Once inside, she threw cold water on her face and stared at her face in the mirror. Although her skin was clearer, it was obvious that she needed more blood, so she had to calm herself down to follow the plan. When she thought he was a sexy, shy, horny bum, it was sweet, but now she was so turned off that she contemplated leaving. She reasoned that Elizabeth Báthory would not allow a messy room to stop her from achieving her goal, and neither would she.
She checked her purse for the meds Shadow got for her, and then after giving herself the energy she needed to go back, she walked to his room. When she opened the door, he was in the bed, toes spread, with his extra-long brown dick in his hands. Now she couldn’t wait to kill his ass.
“Get over here. Got me waiting all day and shit.” He jerked himself so hard the muscles of his arms buckled. “I know that pussy stinks so good, don’t it, baby? I hope you ain’t wash it up too much, because I like to smell a juicy pussy.”
“What you doing?” She frowned from the door. “When you take your clothes off so quick?”
“The moment you left. Now stop fucking around. I’m waiting on you,” he said with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.
Farah threw her purse on the table next to the door and it landed on the floor. She started to pick it up but thought,
Fuck it ... When in Rome, be as nasty as everyone else.
Slowly she eased out of her clothing and stood in front of him for a minute to drive him crazy. She couldn’t lie. As much as she loved blood, there was something about tasting the goods before she killed them that just did it for her.
“I’m trying to have a little fun with you too, but can I have something to drink first? I want to be right for you, baby. I hope you don’t mind.”
“You want a drink right now?” he asked with an attitude. It was obvious that the only thing he wanted to do was fuck. “I was all ready to dig into them walls. I’m not even thinking about getting anything to drink.”
“And you can have these walls, but you gotta get me something to drink first. And to be honest, it feels like you have the heat on hell in here.”
“I hope you not fucking around with me, Farah.” He scooted out of the bed with his swollen dick pointed in her direction. “Otherwise we came here for nothing.”