The Take

by L. Brown

  have something I have to take care of, but I promise I will get you sometimes.”

  Kha nodded his head and showed a little disappointment. Ghost felt bad, but he knew, with the plans today, he couldn’t make that promise. If he got booked, that would be one thing, but to let his lil man down would be even worse.

  After exchanging hugs and kisses, Kia pulled off in her Chevy Malibu. The simple and modest car was a reflection of her personality.

  Inside the Park Avenue, the radio was turned on. Ghost let the radio play on the local morning station. Diggy Simmons eased through the speakers. He cracked up as Lil Kha sang along.

  “They be tryna copy and paaaste me...I’m on my job.”

  “What the hell you know about that, little man?” Ghost was getting a kick out of him singing the song.

  Kha chuckled. “They be tryna copy and paste me in school.” His voice was filled with confidence.

  After dropping Kha off, Ghost met up with Schemes and Reem on Widener Place to discuss things before they made their move. They agreed to run down on the bank that morning.

  Ghost felt like he was rushing things, but he decided to chase Benjee anyway. When Ghost pulled up, he noticed Schemes and Reem standing by Schemes’s car, talking. He could tell they were feeling themselves by the way they were gesturing their hands, putting an emphasis on a conversation that was probably about nothing.

  Ghost parked and hopped out. He was draped in all black attire. He was carrying a black, rolled-up ski mask in his hand, and a pair of black cloth gloves overlapped his back pocket.

  Reem tapped Schemes and nodded at Ghost. “Look at this nigga,” he said with a chuckle. Ghost smirked as he walked up. “What’s good?”

  “What’s up with all the black?” Donnie Schemes asked, pointing at Ghost up and down, wearing a grin on his face.

  “What you think is up, nigga?” Ghost retorted with a frown. “Dummy, we robbing a bank! Not doing a cat-burglary.” They all laughed at that. Ghost was in all black like they were moving in the middle of the night. It was broad daylight, and the all black could have attracted unwanted attention. At least, it was cold out, and the wind was blowing at a rapid velocity, so he could blend in.

  They hopped in the wheel and peeled off. Silence drowned the car as they rode. The radio was off, leaving the sound of the traffic seeping through the cracked windows.

  Ghost pondered over Kha and Kia, his freedom, and, of course, that money. The thought of the money still outweighed everything else pulsating in his head. He had to provide, and that was by any means necessary.

  The bank got bigger and bigger as it finally came into view. The avenue was paved with cobblestone, and trolley tracks were embedded in the streets. The ride was bumpy, but it was their road to the riches.

  The plan was to spin around the bank once to map things out before making a move. They were stuck at the light when they saw the unexpected. The sight wasn’t part of the plans. It would definitely affect things.

  In front of the bank was a parked armored truck. Two armed guards jumped out the back of the truck with two big-ass bags of money.

  Reem rubbed his hands together. “Oh! Look what we have here.”

  The armored guards scanned the area with a cautious eye as if they could feel danger lurking nearby. Ghost, Schemes, and Reem watched intently as they slid by. One of the guards peered at the car as it went past, and Ghost could have sworn he made eye contact with him. He dismissed his nervousness because there was no way the guard could see through the gloomy-tinted windows.

  “Yo! We should jump out on their asses right now,” Reem blurted. “I know that truck got something nice in it.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Schemes replied. “But we ain’t ready for that right now.” Reem sucked his teeth. He was ready to make a move.

  “How much you think we can get out of there?” Ghost asked. “Man, did you see those bags? Those joints were husky!” Schemes said excitedly.

  The bags were stuffed with paper, but the million-dollar question was, how much? The plan was unfolding even better than they had anticipated.

  After parking on a back block for several minutes to allow the armored truck to make its drop and keep moving, they spun the block to scope things one more time.

  Things appeared to be just right. Everything was just in place: the truck was gone, commuters were in their own world, and the bank didn’t look too crowded.

  They parked on the small block at the end of the adjoining driveway. Ghost put his ski mask on his head, but kept it rolled up, so it would look like a skull hat. Schemes and Reem both wore skullies and cut sleeves from a black t-shirt around their necks tucked in their collars.

  “Y’all ready?” Schemes asked, releasing a deep breath.

  “Ain’t no question.” Reem was all in.

  “Yeah, let’s do it.” Ghost assured them. He was ready. Butterflies flew through Ghost’s stomach as they walked down the dirty driveway. Anxiety flooded his veins as they straddled across the rear parking lot toward the side door of the bank. Ghost searched for any signs of nervousness from the others, but found none.

  “Here we go,” Schemes mumbled, pulling the sleeve from his collar over his face. Reem followed suit, and Ghost pulled the ski mask down.

  They moved in and burst through the doors. The bank’s security guard was startled by the masked men. A customer was exiting the bank as they were coming in.

  “Get your ass down!” Schemes snagged the dude by his collar and threw him to the ground.

  “Get down! Get down!” they shouted in unison.

  Fright struck the hearts of the bank occupants. Schemes waved a Mossberg shotgun like a madman. He was a madman. The bank customers and employees dropped to the ground as if he was letting the pump rip.

  Ghost leaped over the teller’s station while Reem made his way to the vault.

  “Where’s the manager?” Reem shouted.

  Schemes pointed the long weapon at an older white man. “Right there.”

  The manager looked up, and his head jerked with a bemused look on his face. The thick glasses he wore made his wide eyes look like a fish peering out a fish tank. How much do they know? How’d they know I was the manager? he wondered.

  Reem read the nametag pinned to his shirt and demanded, “Let’s go, Steve!”

  Meanwhile, Ghost was behind the counter, collecting the bank scraps.

  “No alarms! Take the dye packs and bait bills out! Let’s move!” he snapped at the tellers.

  The tellers complied without hesitation. Tears trickled down the face of a young black female teller. Her hands trembled as she unlocked the drawers. She quickly removed the dye packs and bait bills. The other tellers followed her procedures.

  “Relax. No one is going to get hurt,” Ghost assured her, as if that were going to give her some relief.

  Relief would come once he took the chrome handgun out of her face. Then, just like that, it was. Ghost jumped back over the counter, giving her the relief she silently prayed for.

  Reem was in the vault in awe. Stacks of money were stacked to his midsection. Somehow, he managed to keep moving despite the sight of the money. Carts were filled with the money the truck had just dropped off, but the manager hadn’t had a chance to put it up.

  Forming his arm in a V-shape, Reem clumsily scooped the money into a large duffel bag. A stack of bills crashed to the floor, scattering all over the vault. Reem greedily started snatching the bills from the floor.

  Schemes appeared in the vault’s doorway.

  “Leave it. Let’s go!” he demanded of his man in a shrill tone. “Everyone have a nice day. Thank you for your cooperation,” Reem said sarcastically as they fled the bank.

  The three of them removed their masks to avoid detection by the outside early-goers. They moved with swiftness across the rear parking lot and vanished down the rubbish driveway.

  Doom! Doom! Doom! The doors of the Marauder closed subsequently as they jumped into the bombed out machine
. The engine came alive, and the dual exhaust roared with authority. A nebula of smoke and dust billowed from the screeching tires as they peeled out the parking spot, disappearing from the scene richer than they had come.

  The take was on!

  CHAPTER 5

  THE GREY EXPEDITION swerved through the wooded county roads. The tree-covered trails were deserted as Feeq whipped the truck through the curving lanes. Tia, Feeq’s wife, was reclined in the passenger seat and exhausted from a long day at work. Feeq picked her up from work every day. She worked as a home aide out in the county. They, also, resided out in the county shrubs, a nice way from the hood.

  Feeq catered to his wife like a real husband was supposed to. He knew he had to buy her some wheels soon because it was tedious picking her up every day after dropping her off in the mornings as well.

  But Feeq was as tight as they got. He could squeeze a penny and make it holler, so imagine what he could do to Benjee.

  He glanced over at his wifey and asked, “What’s up, baby cakes? You’re quiet tonight.”

  “It was a long day. Mrs. Johnson ran me like a race horse today,” she complained. “I need a hot shower to relax.”

  “Daddy will take care of you, baby cakes,” he said, rubbing her thighs.

  “Ummm...I bet you will.” Tia licked her lips seductively. “Have you heard from Reem or Donnie lately?” she asked.

  “Naw, I haven’t been down that way.”

  “Good,” she mumbled. Feeq just glanced at her for the remark.

  By them residing so far away from the hood, Feeq had limited time to be in the ghetto, getting caught up. But trouble followed Feeq wherever he went. It always stayed close by, even in the county where things were covered by trees and land. If Feeq was there, trouble sprouted there as well.

  Blue twilight enveloped the sky as the sun crept past its setting. Feeq pushed the pedal to the floor, ignoring the dangers of the curvy roads. Without street lights, the area was a dark forest with roads.

  Suddenly, the trees were lit up with red and blue flashing lights. The horn of a police car demanded they pull over.

  “Ah, shit!” Feeq snapped.

  Feeq pulled the SUV to the shoulder of the road. In what felt like twenty minutes, but was more like two, two uniforms finally got out the car, shining bright flashlights through the tinted windows as they inched closer.

  “License, registration, and proof of insurance,” the officer said, rapping one hand on the window. He tucked his flashlight and held his pistol.

  Feeq mumbled something unintelligible as he leaned over, reached in the glove box, and shuffled through papers. The cop pulled his flashlight back.

  “What you say, boy?” the chubby redneck officer said with a dragged accent.

  “I have registration and insurance, but I don’t have my license.”

  The officer ripped the door open. “Step outta the car, son.” The police violated every constitutional right Feeq had. They

  searched him, the car, and even violated procedure by frisking his wife, instead of calling a female officer to the scene.

  “Yo! Don’t touch my wife!” Feeq snapped.

  “Shut up, boy!”

  The cop rammed Feeq’s chest into the truck. Before he knew it, the cuffs were on so tight his hands went numb. He was dragged to the back of the cop car.

  Fortunately, they allowed Tia to get back in the truck. After verifying she had a valid driver’s license, they decided to let her drive the vehicle home.

  They ran Feeq’s government through the system. “Looks like you have a bench warrant pending in Philly, son,” the cop said as he glared at Feeq.

  Feeq tried to talk his way out the back of the car, but the rednecks weren’t trying to hear his slick talk. Defeat overcame him, and he sighed, dropping his head to the window.

  His mind shut down to all but one thought.

  I’m going back to jail.

  The latest robbery proceeds tallied a little over $290,000. Ghost, Reem, and Schemes divided the money three ways, leaving each other with nearly a hundred a piece. They hadn’t expected to get that much money from the small branch, but, because the hit was right after the armored truck drop, the bank was loaded.

  After the take, they hit King of Prussia mall and tightened up their wardrobes. Ghost really needed the upgrade after the skid bid.

  Ghost promised to pick Kha up from school. He vowed to himself to never leave him and Kia out on the streets alone to fend for themselves again. A real man stayed on the bricks, taking care of his family, not in jail depending on them.

  Ghost knew he was playing with fire by indulging in the bank robbery only a couple days out on the bricks. Even worse, now he was even contemplating flipping the paper in the drug game.

  He wanted to take the legitimate route, but the streets were all he knew. Besides, getting into business wasn’t as easy as it sounded. A person from the streets with a record had barriers in front of him. Fuck the red tape, more like a red brick wall with graffiti on it saying, “No felons allowed.” That was what he believed anyway.

  Besides Kha and Kia, Ghost knew he was alone out here. He had so-called homies, but they were just that—so-called. He had lost his mom a few years ago to a heart attack, and his pop was a loser. The only time he’d ever been close to his dad was during a bid where they were in the same facility. He found himself taking care of his pop when things were supposed to be the other way, but he understood his pop had lost the same game he was playing.

  Ghost pulled up to the school and saw Kha talking to some little girl. Kha hopped in, smiling ear to ear.

  “What’s up, little man?”

  “Nothing. What’s up, Ghost?”

  “Why you so happy?”

  Kha just smiled and looked out the window. The light-skinned girl he was talking to was still standing there. She waved and blew Kha a kiss. He returned the gesture.

  “Damn, little man. I see you got the chicks on you already, huh?” Ghost said, tapping Kha and snapping him out his daze.

  Kha just blushed and sunk his small frame into the folds of the seat. Ghost reminisced over his days as a youngin'. He had gone wrong somewhere down the line by getting into the streets. He dreaded that decision and was determined to make sure Kha didn’t follow in his footsteps.

  “Where we going?” Kha asked, noticing they were headed in a different direction than home.

  “Chill. We gon’ take a little ride.”

  Ghost did not want to reveal the secret and ruin the surprise. Ghost and Kia agreed to meet at Jillian’s up Franklin Mills. With the arcades, pool tables and bowling alley, they would have a ball. It was family night out.

  Schemes and Reem wasted no time investing their money in the game. They had Boyer and Locust rocking. They went half on three bricks. After coming up on two robberies, they both were sitting on well over a hundred a piece.

  After fucking up a lot of the money from the first robbery, they decided that they needed to go hard. They had their own block, youngins, and guns, so with the additional money they came up with, they felt untouchable. They asked Ghost if he wanted to chip in, because he was conservative, he said he had to think about it. It was nothing to think about for them—money came first.

  “So, how do you want to do this?” Reem asked Schemes, who was standing over a hot stove, watching a pot of water rise to a boil.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you want to give Frog and them some weight or nine-packs?”

  “Come on, man! They’ve been out there with us for a minute, so it’s only right we break them off right,” Donnie said, a little irritated by the question. “We’re going to serve them weight, so they can get all the way on their feet.”

  The question irritated Schemes because Reem was on some tight shit, and he wasn’t feeling that. Frog was Schemes’s little cousin, so he wanted to make sure he ate.

  “We’ll serve Frog and Snook weight, and let them break it down how they wanna do it. We’ll
break them off equally, and everyone else is separate,” Schemes said.

  Reem just nodded. He was watching Schemes whip the work in a transparent pot. “Schemes, we should have the old head Pops cook that shit up ‘cause it look like you about to fuck that money up.”

  “Chill! I got it, nigga,” Schemes responded, whipping the work like he was pro.

  Reem’s phone slid across the kitchen table from the vibration of it ringing.

  “Yo! Who this?” he answered since he didn’t recognize the number.

  “You have a pre-paid call ...” the automated machine said “Feeq.” Feeq’s voice chimed in.

  “Oh, shit! Feeq is booked, Schemes,” Reem whispered.

  His heart was in his ass. The first thought that came to his head was that Feeq somehow got locked up for the first robbery they did. He took the phone away from his ear and looked at it like Feeq could see him.

  Reem, hesitating to accept the call, looked at Schemes with an uncertain look.

  “Accept the fucking call, dickhead!” Schemes snapped, snatching the phone out of Reem’s hand.

  He accepted the call. “Yo, unc! What’s good?”

  “Damn, neph. I’ve been blowing your jack up like crazy! What’s up with you?” Feeq shot, sounding agitated.

  “You didn’t call my phone.”

  “Yes, I did. Check your missed calls.”

  Schemes patted his pockets, but couldn’t find his phone.

  “Where the fuck is my phone at?” he mumbled to himself.

  “What happened? What? You booked?”

  Reem stared attentively at Schemes, wanting to know why Feeq was locked up. His nerves started to become jumpy because all he could think about was Feeq being booked for robbery.

  “Yo! What he say?” Reem asked in a whisper, a bit jittery. Schemes put up his index finger, indicating for him to hold up. “Holler at Reem for a second. I got some grits on the stove right now,” he said in coded language, referring to the coke.