by Brick
My office needed cleaning. Empty oil containers were strewn about. Gas cans sat idly in the corner. It smelled of an auto shop: oil, grease, gas, and grime. The heat in this place was sweltering. But it was something I was used to. Only the waiting area in the front for customers was cool. We always wanted our customers to be satisfied on all fronts.
“It’s hot in here,” Smiley complained, then looked around like she was looking for something. When she spotted the fan, she stood up, walked over to it, and then turned it on high.
She sat back down, then looked at me.
“Why didn’t you stay in the house, like I told you?” I asked her.
She quirked a brow, then fixed her mouth so it looked as if she smelled something that stank.
“I’m grown. Nobody tells me what to do,” was her response.
“It was for your safety.”
She made a show of looking around. Stood up and checked her body for what I could only assume were injuries.
“I look fine to me. What about you?” She was being sarcastic.
I grunted, then leaned back while I looked at her. There was still something about the way she and Code had been speaking secretly as of late that bothered me. Since the night we’d seen Mouse’s demise, they’d gotten closer, it seemed. I’d walk in and find them whispering. Code would seem to be fussing at her about something. Smiley would be adamantly trying to get her point across.
“Don’t be facetious, Smiley. You know shit is hot around here for us. Especially since we don’t know who targeted us in the first place. I need to know all my people are safe. Is that so hard for you to comprehend?”
She sighed, then picked up a backpack from the floor. The black backpack had a small lock on the zippers, locking them together. Smiley reached up in her hair and pulled down a small trinket made like a key. She then took her time unlocking the lock. Once she was done with that, she stood and dumped the contents of the backpack onto my desk. Rolls of money fell out of the backpack so fast, it looked as if the backpack didn’t have a bottom. It was never-ending. Once she had emptied the backpack, she looked at me.
“The Vikings owed us, right? Well, when you sent me to wipe them out financially, I took the liberty of wiring some funds to myself. Been doing it over the past few days so it didn’t seem suspicious. What I don’t have in cash, we have in Visa debit cards. There is a limit of three hundred a day on each one for fifteen days, max. Figure if we disperse enough of your people around the city and some in Vegas, where you say you have more people, we can recoup a big chunk of what y’all lost.”
“How many cards in all?”
“About thirty.”
I did quick calculations in my head.
She kept talking. “The Vikings had an elaborate setup. According to the info your boy Pascal sent over, they had accounts in their kids’ names, deceased grandparents’, wives’, and other faceless people’s names. They must have had someone inside the bank too, so tell your people to be careful.”
I locked my sights on the money covering my desk, then gazed back up at the criminal-minded spitfire in front of me. After taking a wad of the money that was rolled and bound with red rubber bands in my hand, I popped the bands. In the roll was about fifty ten-dollar bills. I took another roll, saw it consisted of twenties. Saw rolls of fifties and hundreds.
“When in hell did you have time to do all of this?” I asked, wanting to know.
I knew she had been with me for a few days, and while I hadn’t kept track of her twenty-four hours a day, the times I’d gone back home to check on her, she was there.
“You weren’t always home. First day I timed your movements. Was easy to slip out when you weren’t around. Most times you stayed gone for two hours or so. So, it was easy to cop that over the past five days. All I had to do was make sure you weren’t going to double back, and then I slipped out to handle my business for the team. Code came to check on me from time to time too. Got her to take me around. And you’re welcome,” she responded.
I didn’t know how I felt about her timing my comings and goings like she had. It made me feel like somebody else could easily do the same thing if they happened to find out where I lived.
“What’s in the other backpack?” I asked her as I nodded my head at it.
She looked a bit uncomfortable. Her eyes darkened a bit; she scowled. Then, just that fast, her stoic look was back.
“Nothing,” she answered blandly.
I looked at the way the backpack was bulging. It was clearly overstuffed with something. “That’s a whole lot of nothing.”
She didn’t respond. Just picked up the backpack and put it on her shoulder. I could see that she was still behind that shell. She didn’t really trust me, even though she was trying to earn her place on the team. Which was weird to me, since she had opened up to Code, when I was the one who had kept her out of prison. It had to be a female thing. Or Code could have called dibs on her. It was no secret that Code could pull women better than any dude I’d been around. Yeah. Maybe that was it.
I didn’t press the issue, though. If she didn’t want to talk to me, I wouldn’t force her. Didn’t want to make her recoil even further. I clicked on the security cameras and checked our surroundings. I’d been a bit paranoid as of late. I couldn’t front about it. Having somebody with no name and no face gunning for you had the tendency to do that. I’d always been the one to sit back and think before I acted. Bruce Lee was the reason for that. He’d been the only figure that I had looked up to at times when I was a kid. I’d been so thirsty for knowledge about my mother’s origins, about where she had come from, that I had latched on to anyone and everything positive that resembled me. He had taught me that a quick temper would make a fool of you soon enough.
I had to learn that at an early age and still took it with me everywhere I went. So as I watched the screens and pondered our next move, I kept the need to kill a motherfucker in check. I hadn’t heard from Code in almost twenty-four hours and had to wonder what she was up to. Last time she’d gotten this quiet, the old man had forbidden her from leaving the house. At least that was what she had told me. When she had finally come back around, she’d been despondent. She’d been closed off and hadn’t said much to anybody. It was always hot as hell in the shop, and yet Code had walked around with her workman’s jumper damn near zipped to her neck, and that had told me the old man had struck again. I didn’t like what he did to her, but since Code would never let me speak out against him, and since I didn’t know where he laid his head, there was nothing I could do about it.
That thought brought me back to Smiley. She was now sitting at my desk, doing a search of eBay on one of the computers, as I’d asked her earlier to look on eBay to see if there were any new skimming machines she could use. It was easy to see she was in her element when it came to stealing credit card information. She was like a geek at a nerd convention.
“You heard from Code?” I asked her.
She glanced at me, scratched the shaved part of her head, then answered, “No.”
Something about the way she averted her eyes told me she was lying.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I ain’t heard from her.”
“You’re lying,” I said.
She smacked her lips. “How you gone tell me I’m lying?”
I sat back in my chair and looked at her. “I’m good at reading people, Smiley.”
“Or so you think.”
“So I know. Just like in the interview room at the jailhouse when I came to visit you, you avert your eyes when you’re lying. You scratch your head and bite down on the corner of your lips too.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. I do that all the time.”
“Which means you lie a lot.”
She looked offended. If she’d been a snake, her eyes would be in slits, as they narrowed and she shot daggers at me.
“You got a bad habit of acting like you know me,” she spat.
“And you have a bad
habit of lying.”
“Kiss my ass is what you can do.”
I chuckled. Logged off the desktop, then stood. “I’m heading out to lunch. You should join me.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Come with me, anyway. Need to keep an eye on you.”
“Why?”
“Need those cards you talked about.”
Since I saw she still wasn’t willing to put her full trust in me, I’d be a fool to put all mine in her. There was a reason she was so standoffish, and until I found out what it was, I’d be keeping a keen eye on her.
We hopped in my old pickup truck, a 1958 Chevy Apache. The only thing new in it was the engine. The red paint wasn’t new, but it wasn’t old enough to draw attention, either. There were many ways to get caught when doing illicit activity. If distinctive body markings or scars didn’t give you away, then your vehicle might. If your car was too new or too old, you would be ripe for the picking.
People remembered vehicles with fresh paint, rims, and other prominent features. Those same people remembered old cars. Cars that made a lot of noise or looked to be rusting and falling apart. People rarely remembered a vehicle that was neutral: No color that stood out. No rims spinning and reflecting the sun. No distinctive noises, and no booming system.
Growing up in the hood was like being in a jungle. As always, you were either going to get with the program, or the program was going to get you.
Once Smiley and I crossed over Mt. Zion, we hopped on Southlake Circle and made our way around to Southlake Parkway. We drove down Southlake Parkway until we got to the empty building where a Bally Total Fitness used to be. Next to that building was a shopping center that housed something called Monkey Joe’s, a temp agency, America’s Best Contacts & Eyeglasses, and the diner I was headed to.
Colleen’s Diner was a cheery restaurant that sold traditional soul food in a family setting. That was what they boasted. In reality, it was a little hole-in-the-wall joint, but it wasn’t run down. There was a small seating area outside, surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. About four round wrought-iron tables were there, with pale chocolate-brown umbrellas that shielded you from the sun. It wasn’t that hot out. Wasn’t cool, either. It was the kind of weather that Georgia was used to. An equal mixture of hot humidity and wind. You either wanted to stay inside or out. The parking lot surrounding the area wasn’t that full. Most of the cars belonged to the families at Monkey Joe’s, which was an inside play area for kids.
I walked inside the diner, with Smiley trailing behind me. The green-, brown-, and cream-colored décor kind of made you feel as if you’d stepped into an episode of The Mod Squad. The square tables on the right side of the room had chairs turned upside down on them, as if the diner would be closing soon. In the buffet-style serving area on the left, steam rose from most of the food. On the same side were six green and brown booths.
Employees rushed back and forth between the front of the diner and the back like they had a full house. The place was empty, minus the few people sitting outside. That wasn’t unusual, and I often wondered how they stayed in business. Still, the food was good, price was decent, and it was a good place to handle business. I got turkey wings, cabbage greens, sweet potatoes, and cornbread flapjacks. Smiley got the same, minus the flapjacks. I paid for both our meals, said a few words to the cashier, and then took a seat in one of the booths.
Smiley sat across from me. She kept that backpack close to her.
I looked at my phone to see if any of my runners had gotten my message. Thirty cards times three hundred dollars times fifteen days would give me one hundred thirty-five thousand untaxed dollars. We had never been hurting for that kind of money. Just a few months ago, that would have seemed like chump change to my operation. Now it would be a godsend.
Smiley’s phone kept beeping. She kept checking it, then looking at me to see if I was watching her.
“That Code?” I asked her.
She pulled her curly locks to the side, then gave me a look that said she wanted me to mind my business.
I said, “Tell Code she needs to check in with me and let me know what the fuck is going on. Otherwise, the lines between enemy and friend will start to get blurred.”
Smiley wiped her mouth, then looked down at her plate. “I ain’t talking to Code. Told you I ain’t heard from that girl.”
I thumbed my nose and went back to my food. I placed my issues with Code to the side for the moment, then started to pay attention to my surroundings. Three white guys and a black girl walked in. The males sported Confederate flag tattoos and bald heads. They were dressed like they had just come from the backwoods of West Virginia. Dirty coveralls and brown boots. The black girl sported a ’fro with a black power T-shirt. Green, red, and black tights covered her thick thighs. The girl sat behind Smiley, while the males sat in a booth on the other side of the wall opposite me.
I looked at the cashier. He nodded at me. I went back to my plate. Five more people of different racial backgrounds walked in. Each time one took a seat, the cashier nodded. That went on until I had finished my plate of food. All those people were in some way a part of my crew. They would keep the cards for fifteen days. Draw out as much money as they could, then drop it at an undisclosed location for pickup.
Once all the people who had come in had exited, Smiley and I were left alone once again. For some reason, I found myself attracted to the girl physically. But I’d never been one to let my dick guide me. Hadn’t been in many relationships, but I prided myself on not being one of those niggas who thought the more pussy he got, the more man it made him.
There was something about a woman who had some mystery to her. I liked that shit. Liked the fact that while I sat with her, although mostly quietly, she gave me peace. It had been a long time since peace had been my friend. So I’d take the little bit, even though I could feel it would be interrupted soon enough.
Smiley looked up at me like she was about to say something. Then something she saw behind me gave her pause. Her eyes widened. She got the “deer in the headlights” look right before she snatched up her backpack and the empty plate. She made a beeline to the trash can in back, then rushed into the bathroom.
I always sat with my back to the door when I ate at Colleen’s, as I was in a friendly zone. Even still, you could never be too careful or too comfortable. I gripped the butt of my gun and then slowly stood. I turned to face the entrance just as an elder male—couldn’t really tell if he was black or not—walked into the establishment. He was tall, well over six feet. Gray suit had been tailored to fit his broad shoulders and muscular frame. The salt-and-pepper hair was tapered on his head. Gray beard was shaped to fit his square jawline. And a fresh pair of square-toed dress shoes added to his diabolical appeal. Something about the man’s stony gaze told me the gun in my hand should have the safety off.
Flanking him were two males of equal stature. The one on the left had an eerily similar look to the dude Code had called Freddie.
“Auto is it?” the man said to me.
The air in the place seemed to get cooler. My throat had tightened with tension. The possibility of an imminent threat had me on edge.
“Who wants to know?”
“My name isn’t of importance at the moment. All I want to know is if I can talk business with you, sí?”
“I don’t do business with nameless people, my man.”
The man chuckled. It wasn’t a chuckle that showed he was in a happy mood or that something was funny to him. His chuckle was demented. Put ice in my veins. The fact that he had the same Cuban accent that Code mimicked when she was upset told me I might be in the presence of the old man.
“She said you would say that,” he commented.
I squared my shoulders. My legs were shoulder width apart, and I had no qualms about not hiding the gun I held at my side.
“Who the hell is she, and why does she think she knows me so well?”
For a few tense moments, he simply gazed around the re
staurant, his lips turned down into a frown, as if something had offended him.
“Maybe if you do business with me, sí, you can afford to eat in cleaner eateries than this one, no?” he asked. “No more time for bullshit. I am a businessman, sí? As are you. I come to you with a proposition that will benefit us both. Word on the street is that you specialize in a business I can use. Those same lips whispering about how good your business is also tell me you’ve been experiencing some difficulties.”
I kept quiet. To know oneself is to study oneself in action with another person, I thought.
He continued, “Those difficulties I can help you with, but only if you help me, sí?”
I started to think about all the things Code had told me about the old man. I’d asked her why she stayed under his thumb so much. Asked her why she still worked for him but was dead set against anybody else doing so. It was around the time when she and I had first met. I had been a green nose in the game, a rookie. So when I found the old man had power, I’d toyed with the idea of asking Code if he would be good to do business with.
“He’s not somebody you want to go into business with because the money looks good. You can’t trust him, and he isn’t to be taken lightly. His only true loyalty is to family. When you’re not family and you do something he doesn’t like, you’re done. Once you go into business with him, he owns you. He owns your family. He owns your friends. He owns your kids. You will never be able to walk away,” she’d told me.
I’d never forget the passion and fear mixed in her eyes. It was then that I’d figured out her weakness. She loved the old man and loathed him all at the same time.
“I don’t know who you’ve been talking to or why they would tell you such bullshit, but I assure you, I don’t need your help. Didn’t ask for your help. Don’t want your help,” I said to him.
“So assured of yourself, sí? You do know I can pretty much make this as difficult and as easy for you as I please? It would take nothing for me to crush you like the Asian beetle you are. I can make your shop, your friends, all of it disappear.”
