by T. Styles
Saturday, November 10th, 2012
7:00 pm
BAMBI
We are standing in the living room. Dressed like men. I’m wearing Kevin’s black jeans, and his oversized black leather bomber jacket. Nothing but my nose can be seen with the cap on.
Scarlett’s wearing Camp’s blue jeans and his black NorthFace coat. A red cap is pulled down over her eyes.
Denim is wearing Bradley’s black jeans and his heavy burnt orange custom-made leather jacket, a black Orioles baseball cap is also over her head.
Race is wearing Ramirez’s jeans, navy blue pea coat and a grey brood hat. Her stomach looks chunkier then it normally is, and I wonder why. Although Scarlett and Denim are wearing the half mask prosthetics that Race created to look more masculine, Race’s entire face is covered with a mask. When she isn’t speaking it looks so real, but the moment she opens her mouth, they will know it’s a fake and that scares me. But, it was the only way that she would agree to go.
As I look at all of their stances they look real. Hard, and stiff just like men. Sarge did a good job with them…well…all accept Race.
“Race, you gotta take your polish off,” I tell her noticing how her fingers are red. “You gonna get us late.”
“I’m not taking my nail polish off,” she says through her stiff face. “I’m just gonna keep them in my pockets.”
“That’s so dumb, Race,” Denim says looking at her. Denim tugs the cap she’s wearing. “If you forgot to keep them in your pocket just like you did now, you gonna do the same thing later on tonight. If you get us killed I’m gonna hurt you.”
As we all considered what she just said, we couldn’t help but laugh. It was the first laugh we had in a long time too. How was she going to kill her, if she gets us killed? It was too funny for words.
“You know what I mean,” Denim says falling back into man mode.
“Okay enough of that, I need ya’ll to walk to the back of the living room, and then walk back toward me. I need to see how you move.”
Using their girly gait they walked toward the back of the living room. I hated that about them. If they stayed in character all the time, they wouldn’t have to worry about falling out. Please, God just get us through this day.
When they were on the other side of the room, they finally walk toward me. Denim and Scarlett look so good walking it gives me chills. Their hands stuffed in their pockets, and stiff shoulders give them the thug appeal. As long as they don’t have to speak, we’re in the clear. But, Race on the other hand looks abnormal. Like she’s Faggy Freddy from Virginia.
“Race, don’t swing your upper body so much. Everything from the hips up should be stiff. Now do it again.”
Denim and Scarlett take a seat, and Race walks back to the other side of the living room. She walks toward me again, and this time she looks like Faggy James from uptown. “Race, it’s not working,” I say frustrated with her. “You gotta be stiff! You floating too much in the upper body.”
“I told you I don’t wanna do this shit,” she screams through her man face, before running up the stairs.
“Fuck,” I yell hitting the wall. “She gonna get us killed!”
“Don’t worry about it, things are going to work out,” Scarlett says.
“Shut the fuck up,” Denim tells her. “You always saying shit that don’t make no fucking sense. If the four of us are not there, this plan is going to fail.”
As they argue back and forth I remember how just three months ago, life for us was grand. We were married, had husbands, money, respect and love. Now we were falling apart and it didn’t look like we would ever get things back together.
“I need for everybody to calm down,” I say looking at the two of them. “Whatever beef you have with each other can be settled later. Right now I have to make this call.”
I pick up the phone on the wall, take the number from my pocket for the cocaine delivery, and dial it. When the person answers I say, “Same.”
He responds with, “Okay,” and hangs up.
Thirty minutes later the front of the house lights up and we hear a large vehicle pull up in the driveway. When I look out of the window, a white truck with the sign FRUIT DELIVERY is parked outside. My heart rate increases. What are we doing? The person driving it hops into an awaiting silver car and pulls off our property.
I walk away from the window. “It’s here,” I say in a low voice. “Are ya’ll ready?”
Scarlett and Denim look at me and shake their heads. Race is still upstairs. “Let me go get her.” I take the elevator upstairs trying to think about what I was going to say to her in my mind. When I get into her room, she is on the phone and I stop before walking inside.
“Don’t cry, I’m gonna do what I can to take care of you, baby,” Race says in a low voice. “Okay, okay, I understand. Just let me come up with a plan.” She pauses again. “Well how much money do you need for rent?”
As I ear hustle I realize that I’m stuck. Race is cheating. Or is she, since Ramirez is dead? Out of all of us I would’ve never thought that Race would carry on the extra-marital affair. Instead of being angry, I’m kind of proud of her. It makes me think she has an edge I didn’t know was there. My only thing was, why was she taking care of a nigga? Shouldn’t he be taking care of her?
“I love you too,” Race continues. “Bye.”
Here I am thinking I had to put in a big speech when it looks like the work was done for me already. Race was in need of some dough, so she had to come with us. “Race, the package is here,” I say standing in her doorway. “You rolling with us or not?”
She jumps up off the bed. “Uh…I…don’t know about this,” she says.
Instead of begging her like before, I play on the newfound information I have. Judging by the conversation, she needs the money. “Race, I’m not going to beg you anymore, but if you want to give up twenty-five million dollars, that’s on you. I want you to understand though, that if we pull this job off we not sharing it with you.”
When I turn to walk away I wait on her footsteps to follow me. They don’t come. I turn around and the light is still on in her room. Why didn’t it work? I just heard her say she needed money. We stood to make enough to put us up for the rest of our lives. So what was the deal?
“Where is Race?” Scarlett asks me when I finally make it back to the living room. “She not coming?”
Denim rolls her eyes when Scarlett speaks.
“I really don’t think so, ya’ll,” I say biting my lip. “We gonna have to go at it alone.” Just the sound of my words makes my stomach spin.
“But I thought you said they were expecting four men. We need her,” Scarlett continues.
I look up the stairs and at the elevator. Race still hasn’t come down. “We got each other,” I reply looking at them both. “For now that’s going to have to be good enough.”
We leave out of the house, and walk slowly to the truck. It’s a large commercial white truck, but I’m use to driving vehicles this size from when I was in the army. I feel light headed. I get in the front and for some reason; Scarlett and Denim climb in the back. I think its weird until I see the front door of our house open. Race rushes out of the house. They must’ve been waiting on her to come, so they left a seat for her.
“Wait,” Race yells running up to the truck. “I’m coming! I’m coming!”
I didn’t know it until I saw her man-face, but before she came out I wasn’t breathing. When she climbs into the truck I exhale. “You almost had us,” I say. “Thank you so much for coming. We really need you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” she says under her facemask. “I may be the one who fucks this up for everybody.”
“I doubt that,” I say hugging her.
I pull out of our driveway and into traffic. My hands are shaking until Race places a soft hand over one of them. “Don’t worry, we gonna be okay. I know it. I believe in you. That’s why I’m here.”
I feel confident now. I love the optimis
tic side of her.
“Can you please move your leg over,” Denim yells at Scarlett in the backseat. Aww shit, here these bitches go fighting. “I don’t even know why you touching me.”
I continue to drive, and leave them to it.
“Denim, please stop,” Scarlett begs. “I don’t feel like arguing with you and shit. We got a lot to do tonight, and we need each other right now.”
“Bitch, don’t talk to me about shit. Like I said, when this is all said and done I’m writing you off for good. And, that’s on everything. You lucky I don’t bust you in the mouth right now, for what you did to Jasmine.”
I remember that Scarlett is pregnant. For some reason she didn’t tell the others, and it wasn’t my place to let them know. So I look through the rearview mirror and say, “Denim, you not gonna hit nobody. What you gonna do is sit back there, and relax. Why you wanna act all crazy when we almost at our destination?”
“What is up with you, Bambi?” Denim says to me. “You seem obsessed with taking up for Scarlett suddenly. She’s a grown woman. She don’t need a protector. What are you fucking her or something?”
“And if she was, what difference would it make?” Race asks. “People kill me worrying about what other people do in the bedroom.”
I look at Race and then back at Denim through the rearview mirror. “First off you know I’m not about that life. The only thing I’m pushing up on is dick, and don’t ever insult my sexuality like that again. I don’t even associate with mothafuckas who get down with other chicks. I barely talk to my mother.”
Race sighs real loudly and I wonder why.
“Anyway, I’m not taking up for Scarlett,” I continue. “I’m just tired of you arguing with her over something she may or may not have done. You don’t have proof she hurt Jasmine on purpose. The girl said it was an accident so it was an accident.”
“It’s gonna come out that she hurt my baby one day, and when it does I’m gonna beat this white bitch’s ass everyday for the rest of her life.”
“Don’t talk about the future, Denim,” Scarlett responds. “Do the shit now!”
Why would Scarlett say that when she knows how Denim is? Through the rearview mirror I see Denim pull back her fist like the string on a crossbow, and slam it into Scarlett’s mask and face. The next thing I see is Scarlett’s wild arms hitting anything in reach. I used one of my hands to reach back and grab Denim, while trying to steer the truck with the other. The truck moves awkwardly from left to right, and I almost crash. Shit couldn’t get any worse until I saw the red, blue and white lights of a police car spread across the back window.
Here I am driving a truck full of cocaine estimated at a street value of about a billion dollars, and these bitches are back here fighting. If we go to jail with this type of shit we going for the rest of our lives. Who’s gonna take care of our children? Stupid!
“We are being pulled over,” I say calmly. “Thanks a lot, bitches. And, I need everybody to get themselves together now.”
Scarlett looks behind us at the cops and says, “Oh my, God. I can’t get locked up! I can’t get locked up!” She is more hysterical than average.
“None of us can get locked up, bitch!” Denim says. “We all in the truck with a stack of cocaine. They not just taking whites to jail. Niggas going too.”
“But I got warrants,” Scarlett clarifies. “Warrants for stuff I never told ya’ll about. If they lock me up I’ll never see any of you again.”
I heard Scarlett, but my thoughts go elsewhere. Suddenly I can smell the scent of bananas, and apples behind me. I didn’t notice it before. I’m not sure why, but it was the first time I realized that they actually packed the truck with fruit. I’m hopeful that we can get out of here now. If…we…are…cool.
I pull over and park. I quarterback the situation. “Anybody but Scarlett got papers on them?” Everyone shakes their heads no. “Good, now I need everybody but Scarlett to take off your facemasks and jackets,” I tell them. “Try to look as feminine as possible.” Like the picture on your driver’s license.
“Why?” Denim asks me.
“Just do it,” I say biting the inside of my lip again. “And, do it quicker.”
I take off my coat, and hat to allow my hair to fall at my shoulders. I wait patiently. From the left side view mirror I can see a tall black cop approaching. It isn’t until he is at my side that I see a serious glare on his face. This isn’t going to be easy I know it.
He shines a flashlight into the truck. I don’t look at my sisters to see how they react. I’m trying to be normal. “License and registration please,” he asks me. He’s no nonsense.
Oh shit. Is this truck even registered? I didn’t stop to think about what we would need if we were pulled over. Now it’s too late. I pop open the glove compartment and pray for a miracle. When it opens a folded sheet of paper with Fruit Delivery stamped on the side falls out. I search deeper into the compartment and locate the registration card. I dig in my pocket, hand him my license and the registration.
“Thank you,” he says to me. “I’ll be right back, ma’am,” he says as he nods and walks away.
“What’s going on?” Race asks. When I look over at her not only do I see she’s still wearing the mask, but her hair is out and her neck is sweating. So she looks like a very strange man on dope.
“What the fuck, Race,” I say looking out the side view mirror to make sure the cop isn’t coming back. “Why didn’t you take off the mask?”
“Oh shit,” she pawns the mask, “I forgot. You want me to do it now?”
“No,” I yell. “He already saw you like that. Just wipe the sweat off of your greasy ass neck.” She quickly does it.
Damn this girl acts like she got shit for brains sometimes. I unfold the paper that fell out of the glove compartment. After reading it for a few seconds I smile. It appears that Mitch thought of everything already. So when the officer comes back, I feel half prepared.
“Where are you ladies, and gentlemen going tonight?”
“We have a fruit delivery for a hotel. Apparently there’s some big Hawaiian themed party tomorrow and they need the fruit.” I flash the papers at him showing the order from the hotel even though I know it’s not required yet.
“What are the rest of your names?” he asks everyone else shining his light into the truck again.
“Race,” she mumbles in a voice so low it’s hardly audible.
“And you are?” He asks them in the back.
“I’m Denim, and this is my fiancé Turner,” Denim turns Scarlett’s face toward hers, and places a heavy kiss on her lips. To really add to the scene, she straddles Scarlett. I guess Scarlett decides to play along because she runs her hands up Denim’s back and pulls her closer. They look like a man and a woman and the scene heats up quick.
When I look at the officer he looks stuck and embarrassed. But, more importantly, his dick is hard. “Well…I see,” he clears his throat, “well let me let you people handle your business,” he hands me the registration card, “you all have a good night.”
When he leaves Denim wipes her mouth, plops back in her seat and crosses her arms over her breasts. She looks angrier now.
“That was smart as shit,” I tell her. “You probably just saved Scarlett’s life.”
“Yeah, thank you so much, Denim,” Scarlett responds. “I mean I know you mad at me, so you didn’t have to do that.”
“Shut up, bitch,” Denim replies. “That move was for Bambi because we was fighting and almost fucked shit up. Like I said, when it’s all said and done, you and me still got a problem. You better be ready for that day too!”
BAMBI
When I pull the truck up to a warehouse, the lift gate opens automatically. I look back at my girls and say, “This is it, ya’ll. The moment we’ve all been practicing for. I have faith in all of you that we can pull this off. We have to show and prove tonight. We make it out of this alive, we are millionaires for the rest of our lives.”
“And if we don’t?” Race asks.
“Then it’s been nice knowing you all. And I love you very much,” I tell them.
We hug each other, and I take a deep breath. I slowly roll the truck into the open warehouse. I park and hop out. My sisters follow my lead. As practiced they lean up against the truck and pose like men. They look strong and confident.
There are about ten men inside holding semi automatic weapons. Although me and my girls have something strapped to the inside of our right legs, we wouldn’t be a match for this type of weaponry if something real kicked off. This means I need to outwit them with my mind instead.
Some men rush through our shipment and one checks the package, using a knife and his tongue.
“It’s good,” he yells out.
After five minutes, from another door to the right, came two white men walking in our direction. One has brown hair and he is holding something in a clear plastic cup. The other is taller, about five foot seven I guess, and he tugs his right ear. I wonder if that was some sign to take our drugs and kill us. Suddenly my plan seems stupid. I’m sweating, and I quickly wipe it off of my face, before they see it.
The taller one is applauding the entire way until he is standing in front of me. “We finally meet them, brother,” he looks back at the shorter one. “The Kennedy Kings. Live, in person.”
“Your product is legendary,” the shorter one says with an accent pointing at me before taking a sip from his cup. “What you call it?”
“Virgin Pussy,” I say in my deep voice. “Now are you ready to do business?”
“This one’s straight to point,” the taller one says. “I like that about you.” He may have said he liked it but his eyes told me differently. “Anyway I am Arkadi Lenin, and this is my brother Iakov. And you are?”
