The Take

by L. Brown

  Schemes shrugged his shoulders. He really didn’t know where he was going to go yet either. But he knew it was far away from there.

  “Grab what you’re going to grab. You can roll with us,” Frog told Smitty.

  Smitty nodded before disappearing to get his things together to leave.

  “What are we going to do?” Frog, then, asked his cousin.

  “I will come up with something,” Schemes assured him.

  “Go get the car ready. We’ll be right down,” he added.

  Frog stood to leave as Schemes went upstairs where Smitty was.

  “Come on, Smitty. We’re out,” Schemes yelled as he climbed the steps.

  Frog was just on the other side of the door when he heard a single gunshot. He paused, about to go back inside. But his intuition told him to go start the car. He already knew what had taken place. Schemes had blown Smitty’s head off.

  CHAPTER 25

  SCHEMES AND FROG WERE riding down the street in silence for a few minutes before Schemes finally said something about killing Smitty.

  “I had to do it, cuz.”

  Frog just nodded. He didn’t care too much about Smitty being dead, but he was worried about still being broke. It had been awhile since he’d hustled, and the few grand he had was running low.

  “I know I’m going to have to hear Feeq’s mouth,” Schemes continued. “I didn’t want to fuck with that cop-ass nigga anyway. I had to do it, cuz. He would have told.”

  Frog nodded again. “Fuck that nigga!” he said. “Now what?” “I don’t know. We gotta put something together, though,”

  Schemes told him. “First things first. I gotta go grab a lawyer ‘cause them boys are gonna be on my heels.”

  The thought of that gained a sigh from Frog. “Listen, cuz. I’m fucked up. I know you got paper still. We can’t do shit with the money we just got, so you may have to give me something to lean on until we get right.”

  “I got you.”

  “Should we tell Ghost and them?” Frog asked, looking at him with his brows raised.

  “I was thinking the same shit. We have to. We can’t leave them in the dark about this shit. They might be hot now, too,” Schemes said. “I wanna say fuck ‘em, but I gotta tell them.”

  “We still gotta get some paper, though.”

  Schemes ignored Frog’s statement and said, “We gotta stop to grab some new phones.”

  Frog persisted, “Man, what we gonna do. I can’t live off you.” “I’ll put something together,” Schemes said, squinting his eyes and shaking his head.

  The stolen minivan crept down the same street for the third consecutive time. Still, the bystanders and early-goers paid the van no attention as it disappeared and reappeared several times.

  Schemes sat behind the wheel of an inconspicuous Chrysler Town and Country minivan. Glued to the passenger seat, Frog peered out the window, clutching a handgun inside the pocket of his hooded sweatshirt. They both watched consumers enter and exit the Wells Fargo bank. They stared at the bank like hunters leering at game in the woods.

  Because they wanted to be cautious, this was the third time they had circled the block to watch the financial institution and its surroundings. They were moments away from making their move to take the bank. The van was drowned in silence as the two of them focused on the task a hand. The only sound inside was the chatter coming from the police scanner they had for police detection.

  “What are we waiting for?” Frog asked. He was anxious and ready to go, but was following his cousin’s lead.

  After the botched robbery a few days ago, they decided to take another crack at it. Without the third body as a getaway driver this time, things would be a little more complicated, but they were sure they could pull the sting off. With Reem and Ghost being self-made millionaires and claiming retirement, they only had one another and more innocent victims were about to be victimized.

  “Chill, we’re going to spin the block one more time and then we’re going in,” Schemes responded. He was being more meticulous this time. The last time things went terribly wrong: dye packs, the lost phone, and Smitty ending up in the morgue. He was attempting to avoid any of those mishaps on this job. They had the FBI in pursuit, so one slip up could lead to being housed at the Federal Detention Center in downtown Philadelphia.

  As they passed the bank the fourth time, they were stopped by a red traffic light. Traffic began to get heavier as the time dug deeper into the morning. A gold Buick Sedan came to a halt next to them at the light. Though the windows of the sedan were tinted, two male figures wearing baseball caps could be made out inside. The men inside the Buick glanced at them in the van several times, but were trying to hide the nosey looks.

  Schemes instantly grew suspicious. “What the fuck are they looking at?”

  Frog took a look and kept his eyes locked on the sedan and now the men matched his stare. The light seemed as if it would never change.

  “Man, who the fuck are these dudes? I swear this is the second or third time I seen them.” Frog eased his gun out of his pocket. Schemes was already nervous because they were about to rob the bank, but now the stand-off was adding to things. He put his hand on Frog’s.

  “Relax,” he told him. He knew Frog wouldn’t hesitate to open up on them, but he didn’t want to lose focus and spoil what they came to do.

  The tension eased up once the light turned green and the cars pulled off. The sedan switched lanes, getting behind the van. Schemes peered through the rearview mirror at the car behind him, but dismissed his paranoia when they made a right turn and the car didn’t follow.

  “We’re good. They kept going,” he told Frog.

  “I was getting ready to let loose on them,” Frog said. His weakness was moving without second-guessing. He considered it going hard, but, one day, his go-hard philosophy would bite him where the sun don’t shine.

  They spun the block one more time.

  “All right. You ready?” Schemes asked.

  Frog nodded. They eased up the block and got ready to pull into the bank’s parking lot when chatter erupted on the digital trunk scanner. A call shot across the airwaves with a description of the van, including its license plates. The two men in the sedan were undercover police officers, and they became suspicious of the van after seeing it circle the bank several times. The Chrysler was described as a suspicious vehicle with two male occupants in the vicinity of the Roosevelt Mall.

  “That’s us!” Frog said, his eyes popping out his head.

  “No shit, Sherlock!”

  They broke out into sheer panic. They had been detected and had no clue how. They had guns and all kinds of accoutrements for a robbery in their possession, so a confrontation with police was the last thing they wanted. Shooting it out was before prison on the option list.

  They turned down a side street to escape the busy avenue and, as soon as they did, they saw the gold sedan again, this time, coming out of the plaza. Immediately, they put two and two together and knew the men in the car were undercover cops. They had called them in and requested back up in the vicinity.

  Schemes eased his Timberland boot down on the accelerator, and the car flew down the small block. He whipped the car into a parking spot, and the two of them emerged from the car as if it was about to explode. Just as they were walking up the street, the gold sedan turned the corner nearly on two wheels. Schemes and Frog stopped dead in their tracks.

  Trying to remain calm, they pulled their guns out and held them down by their sides out of sight. It was about to turn into a heated scene.

  They refused to go to jail. The streets would turn into a warzone before they allowed that to happen. Surprisingly, the sedan regained its composure and rode right by them. They figured the cops didn’t know they were made and wanted to wait for backup to arrive before they revealed their identities. Little did they know, thanks to the police scanner, they were already made, and Schemes and Frog were a step ahead of them.

  Sirens could be heard a
pproaching. The heat was on. The Buick stopped at the corner before slowly turning. Schemes and Frog knew they would be back. But when they did, it would be too late.

  The suspicious men would be gone.

  Terry was sick. Not literally, but he couldn’t believe he was down for a body. He was jammed up this time. The police had found him at the scene in the car that he ran Tough Guy over with.

  Luckily, he wasn’t charged with first-degree murder. He was fortunate enough to be facing third-degree murder charges. The district attorney’s office wanted him to cooperate with them to find his accomplices, but he wouldn’t budge.

  He was in the hole for cursing out one of the correctional officers. He’d only been down a weekend, and, already, he was on lockdown.

  His cell was popped open for his hour of recreation. A few other inmates were out for their recreation as well, but he didn’t know any of them, so he didn’t kick it with them. He showered and went back to his cell.

  Meanwhile, Rico and Shiz were out for their hour of rec, too. They both got ninety days in the hole for the rumble they got in. Time flew in the bucket. They spent hours passing time by reading books, playing cards, and talking shit. They had managed to get in the same cell in the hole, so that was love.

  Although they didn’t know Feeq too well, they knew him. They all were from uptown, too. Feeq had been holding them

  down since they were in the twist. He sent them countless books, something to smoke on, and commissary since they were on commissary restriction. They knew he didn’t have to do that, but, ever since Rico had seen him in the hallway, he had been showing love. They grew love for Feeq, so, when he sent a few novels down the other day with a note in it asking for a favor, they were on it.

  The short letter was stuck inside Rahiem Brooks’s, Die Later. Feeq wanted them to put some work in on someone named Terry. According to Feeq, Terry was in the hole with them. They didn’t know who he was, but it didn’t take long for them to find out. It was the quiet one who’d been in the hole for a week or so. They didn’t know what the beef was over, but it didn’t matter. No questions asked, it was time to move.

  Rico was down for attempted murder. He’d stabbed a guy eighteen times with a kitchen knife. Luckily, the dude had lived, so it was still light at the end of the tunnel for him. He lived by the sword, and the one he was strapped with right now was about to be put to work.

  Shiz, on the other hand, was down for a body. He was trigger-happy and pulled it on anyone for anything. He didn’t have a shank at the time, but Rico did, so he was moving with him. He picked up a floor brush as they made their way to Terry’s cell. They’d just watched him get out the shower and go inside his cell. With the element of surprise on their side, a shank, a floor brush, and Terry’s dumb ass in shower shoes, Terry didn’t stand a chance.

  Terry was standing in the mirror, putting grease in his hair, when he saw the two men approach his cell door. From the looks on their faces, he knew they weren’t coming to say what’s up. Besides, the banger and floor brush in their hands gave them away.

  The one with the knife approached first. Terry got off one clean punch, catching the dude square in the jaw before they could attack him.

  That made Rico madder. They beat him relentlessly.

  Ghost was back from Cali. Life couldn’t be sweeter. Shareef had gotten the money cleaned up while he was away, so he was officially a millionaire.

  He and Reem were riding in his brand new Audi A8. He brought two—one for himself and one for Kia—when they came back. Kia had settled for the smaller A4.

  “I’m done, Reem. It’s over for me, man. We up now. You should leave the game alone, too, dawg,” Ghost advised his man.

  “I know, dawg, but this is all I know. I mean, think about it. What are we gonna do now? It ain’t like we can just up and leave the game alone,” Reem retorted.

  “Why not?”

  Reem was at a loss for words. He didn’t know why he couldn’t leave the game alone. He hadn’t even given the option much thought until now.

  “You got a good girl, Reem,” Ghost said, referring to Toya. “We’re rich, dawg. Who would have ever thought we would

  have been here? It’s time to be smart about things.” “You’re right. So what are you gonna do?”

  “I’m not sure, but I know it’s a wrap for me. I’m getting married. That’s enough for me to fall back right there, dawg. Me and wifey have been talking about buying into some franchises or something. You should do that with us. We can pull Schemes and Frog in, too, and then we can all leave this shit alone,” Ghost said.

  “Man, Schemes is hot right now,” Reem said.

  Schemes had told them about the fuck up he had made. All except the part about Smitty’s involvement.

  Schemes knew they would never forgive him for riding with Smitty.

  Not only was he from outside the circle, he was a CO. He didn’t want to tell them he rode with a cop and that he had to blow his head off. Smitty had made the crucial mistake of dropping the phone, but Schemes lied and told them he dropped it. He only told them that he and Frog had participated in the job.

  Schemes didn’t know whether Smitty’s body had been discovered yet, but he was laying low anyway. He had hired a lawyer. The lawyer told him the feds would be looking for him, if not to arrest him, at least for questioning. Either way, Schemes didn’t want any parts of that, so he and Frog were laying low. Besides Reem and Ghost, they didn’t call anyone else. Schemes didn’t even bother to call Rita. Not even Ghost and Reem knew of their whereabouts.

  “I know Schemes fucked up, but that’s still our boy, so we have to look out for him,” Ghost asserted. Loyalty was everything to him, and he refused to turn his back on his childhood friend. “When this shit blows over, we can put him on something legit,” he continued.

  Reem knew he was right, so he nodded in agreement. “So what kind of franchises are you talking about investing in?” he inquired.

  “I’m not sure yet, but I was thinking about some Subways and Rita’s Water Ices,” Ghost told him.

  “That sounds good. Just let me know.”

  Ghost nodded and pulled his phone out his pocket to answer it. The caller ID said it was a blocked number.

  “Yo!” he answered.

  “Nigga, you thought this shit was a game?” the unknown man on the other end said.

  “What? Who the fuck is this?” Ghost asked.

  “Watch your mouth, nigga. I got your bitch, nigga!” the man said.

  “What?” Ghost asked, not sure if he had heard him right. The man on the other end sounded like he was disguising his voice.

  “You heard me! I got this stinking-ass bitch here, and, if you don’t do as I tell you, I’m gonna blow her fucking head off! You’ll never get any of this sweet pussy again!”

  “Who the fuck is this? Stop playing wit me, nigga!” Ghost still didn’t believe what he was being told. He thought someone was playing a prank on him. But talking about kidnapping his fiancée wouldn’t be humorous.

  “Nigga, you think this is a joke?” The unknown man’s voice sounded like he had a cold or his nose was stopped up or something. Ghost tried to make out his voice but couldn’t.

  “Baby! Help me! Please!” Kia’s voice erupted into the receiver. “All right. Shut up, bitch!” the man said, snatching the phone back from her head.

  “Who is this, Reese?”

  “You guessed it. The devil in the flesh.”

  Ghost instantly got dizzy. He couldn’t even think straight. Reem stared at him. He knew something wasn’t right. Ghost pulled the car over because he couldn’t even drive anymore.

  “If you hurt her, I will kill you!” Ghost contended. “Shut up, pussy! I’m running the show. Now, listen—” “Reese, I swear to fucking god. If you touch—”

  “What did I say?” Reese shouted into the phone. “I will kill this bitch right now. Say something else, nigga.”

  “All right. All right. Don’t hurt her, man,” Ghost pl
ed. “What do you want? Anything! I’ll give you anything you want, Reese. Just don’t hurt her.”

  “Stop bitching, nigga!” he told him with a wicked giggle.

  Ghost knew the person responsible for this had to be Reese. He was the only person who would want to do something like this to him. He silently vowed to stop at nothing to avenge the kidnapping of his fiancée.

  Ghost took a deep breath before asking again, “What do you want?”

  “I want a quarter million. I want it by tomorrow, or you can say goodbye to this bitch for good.” He sounded serious. “I’ll call you back with the time and location.”

  “All right. Just don’t hurt her, man,” Ghost begged.

  He was talking to thin air. The line went dead.

  CHAPTER 26

  “THEY GOT HER, MAN,” Ghost said and turned to Reem.

  Reem knew what it was. He was so angry that he couldn’t even say anything. Just like Ghost, he was silently blaming himself. He knew he should have pressed more to kill Reese and Mar. Not getting at them sooner had come back to bite them in the ass. First, they had tried to kidnap Toya, and now they had grabbed Kia.

  “So, what are they talking about, man?” Reem asked, concerned.

  “This nigga talking about he want a quarter million.” “When and where?”

  “He didn’t say. He said he would call me tomorrow with the place and time.”

  “I’ll put half of the money up, man,” Reem told him.

  Ghost just nodded. He knew Reem was just showing his loyalty because they both knew the money wasn’t an issue. The quarter million was peanuts. The safety of Kia was more of a concern. They both knew Reese and Mar were dangerous, so it was no telling what they would do.

  Ghost thought back to the conversation he’d had with Shareef. He had told him the only rule to war was to win, and Reese and the crew were showing they were trying to come out on top. The ransom demand was the only good sign. At least, it didn’t appear that Reese was going to kill Kia because he called with a ransom. If he wanted her dead, she would be gone already. Ghost hoped he was right. Of course, the possibility of them killing her after getting the money remained.