Page 31 of Witch
“Hey! Help! What are you doing? Someone help!” he yelled. Women laughed as a man rifled through his pockets, pulling out the stack of bills.
“Listen here, bitch. This is mine. Mine. You took something that didn’t belong to you while takin’ a piss this morning. You shouldn’t touch shit that ain’t yours.”
“It is mine!” he lied, shaking with fear.
“Boy, you ain’t no more got this kind of money than the man in the moon. Don’t lie to me. You wouldn’t be stayin’ here if you did. Don’t touch shit that ain’t yours, and don’t be talkin’ shit about my bitches. They’re good girls workin’ hard. You want a piece of ‘em, you pay for it.”
He thought about saying something smart, something about them all being witches, driving men to madness. But he wasn’t completely stupid. He knew that if he said anything at all, this man would sooner kill him and bury him than look at him. He needed more time to get to the Robicheaux women.
Then he had an idea.
“Maybe we could partner on something,” he said calmly.
“What the fuck would I partner with you on?” he laughed.
“There are at least six women that I believe are evil. Pure evil,” he said sincerely.
“Brother, please,” he said, shaking his head. “All bitches are evil, but we can’t live without ‘em.”
“These six are truly evil. I believe they are practicing witches. Six sisters. The Robicheaux sisters.”
The man froze, staring at him, and shook his head.
“You lost your damn mind. Ain’t nobody gonna help you with that task. Them girls are good girls. The best. Believe it or not, they’ve even helped my girls on occasion, and I don’t forget shit like that. Even if I thought they were evil, you’d have to be stupid to go up against their family. Especially their brothers. You, my friend, are about as stupid as they come.”
He walked away, leaving Marcus fuming once again at the refusal of anyone willing to believe his story. When he stepped inside, he stripped down and took a shower.
“He’s wantin’ the Robicheaux girls?” asked one of his ladies.
“Yep. Boy’s got a death wish.” Beck took out his phone and dialed a number.
“Beck, you ain’t gonna help him, are you?”
“In a manner of speakin’,” he said. “Pierre? Yeah, it’s Beck. I have some information for you.”
“Thanks, Beck. We owe you one, brother,” said Miller.
“You don’t owe me shit, man. I appreciate y’all helpin’ my girls when they need it. Don’t have to agree with what they do, but most are just feedin’ their kids and stayin’ alive.”
“We know, Beck. Just send them this way if they need any help,” he said calmly. He hung up the phone and started walking toward the offices.
Beck was a pimp in every sense of the word, but he at least tried to keep his women healthy. Everyone was drug tested, as well as tested for STDs, once a month. If the women were sick, the clinic saw them for free.
Many had children, and the kids were seen for free as well. The foundation, one of many funded by the Robicheauxs, provided school uniforms and lunches for their children. If they didn’t break the cycle, who would?
“Jean? You remember Beck?” he asked his brother.
“Of course, I do.”
“He said our boy is at the motel where his girls are staying. Tried to get Beck to join with him to come after our sisters.”
“Is that right?” he smirked.
“What are you thinking?” asked Miller.
“Maybe it’s time we gave him a taste of what’s real. A taste of some ghostly visits. I mean, we have all this spiritual power here, shouldn’t we show him what that really feels like?”
“It could be fun,” laughed Miller. “First, let’s go up to the clinic. They’re about to do a press conference, announcing that Linda’s been found. That should send him into a tizzy.”
