Page 75 of Kneeling to Candy

Once in our shared space, I pause. The room looks like a tornado spun through it.

Errant clothes hangers litter the floor. A few articles of clothing are scattered around the room and over the furnishings. One of the accent chairs is tipped over. And—I do a double-take, rubbing my eyes with the heels of my palms before looking again—my dresser is missing?

“What the?” I spin, noticing not only my dresser is missing, but all of my things are gone.

I hurry to the closet. My half is cleaned out.

“What in the actual fuck?”

“Candy?” Red pleads as I exit the closet, bee-lining for the bathroom.

Again, all my things are gone.

Reality isn’t clicking. “Where’s all my stuff?”

My friends have differing reactions. Worry etches Red’s fine brow, while Ebony is trying hard not to laugh, her face growing dark from holding it together.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, miffed she’s chuckling at a time like this. “I’ve been robbed, and you’re laughing?”

Something I’ve said has Ebony doubling over, belly laughing.

Appalled, I gawk at my friend. “Stop laughing. This is serious. Someone broke into headquarters. We have to warn the guys.”

Ebony straightens, running her fingers underneath her eyelids to stop her makeup from smearing. Laughing, she says, “Chica! You weren’t robbed.”

Is she mental? My shit is gone.

“Eb, look around. My stuff is missing.”

Still trying to rein in her hysteria, Ebony collects herself enough to inform me, “Candy, your stuff isn’t gone. It’s moved.”

“Moved?” I parrot, not following. “Where?”

“To the man who claimed you across the hall,” Ebony surmises. “Duh.”

It takes a hot second for Ebony’s observation to sink in.

My mouth drops, anger replacing worry. “Him?! He did this?”

Red hums nervously, twirling a lock of her hair in her shaky hands again.

In denial, I shake my head. “Butch wouldn’t dare, not while I’m pissed at him.”

“Maybe Butch thought, since you’re already mad, what would it matter to make you a little madder?” Red suggests innocently, shrugging her shoulders.

I balk at my friend, my temperature rising. “A little madder?!”

Protective as always, Ebony steps in front of Red, shielding her from my wrath. It’s sort of comical, since Ebony is a half-foot shorter than our leggy friend, as well as shorter than me.

“Cool your tits, babe. Red is the messenger, not the culprit.”

My nostrils flare, recalling Butch is behind this. “You’re right.”

Fists clenched at my sides, I stomp off to Butch’s suite, with Ebony and Red trailing behind me. I vaguely hear them telling me to “calm down,” “take a deep breath,” and “hear him out.” The blood pulsing in my ears grows louder as I near his room, drowning out my friends’ pleas.

All good advice wasted on deaf ears. I’m in no position to think rationally. A dude upped and moved me without asking me.

Fuck being the bigger person—I’m fuming.

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