***
When Ayana woke up the next morning, she noticed that the bed was empty. Quickly jumping up and looking around, she saw that Tramar had left. Without giving it a second thought, she grabbed her phone. Just as Tramar’s phone was ringing, each ring causing more tension to build in Ayana, she heard keys at the motel room door. She quickly dropped her phone and hopped out of bed. A second later, Tramar entered the room. A bag of Denny’s carryout dangled in his hands. Tramar looked at Ayana, seeing the worried look on her face.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tramar asked. “Why you lookin’ like you done seen a ghost or some shit?” He stepped further into the room and set the Denny’s bag down onto the table. “I went and got us something to eat. I tried to wake you up, but you was over there being Sleeping Beauty and shit. I had to shake you ‘cause I thought your ass was dead and shit.”
Ayana giggled and calmed down. She joined Tramar to eat the Denny’s before there was a knock at the door. Ayana jumped up, startled, as Tramar quickly lifted out of his seat. “Who is it?”
“Nigga, it’s me,” they could hear Jackson say from the other side of the door. “Open the fuckin’ door.”
Tramar quickly opened the door, and Jackson entered the motel room. He joked about how they hadn’t gotten him anything to eat. “Nigga, I’m ready to do this shit when you are,” he said, holding up his gun. “Let’s go get this money.”
For the next several minutes, they debated about whether or not they’d wear the same suits they’d wore to rob the bank downtown yesterday. Tramar debated over it for a moment. He liked how the bank workers downtown didn’t even see it coming, as they were so used to professional black men coming into the bank. Then again, he thought about how banks in small, Indiana towns might not be used to such a thing. Furthermore, if they were really making the news like Byron had said, then the banks in the area would be on alert for black male robbers in suits. In light of this, he decided against it.
After some discussion, they decided they’d wear normal clothes with sunglasses and hats. The plan was to ditch the outfits after they got the money, and quickly get back to the motel room. Tramar and Jackson each grabbed a change of clothes, stuffing them into a used Kroger bag that Tramar had. Once they’d gotten ready to go, with their Glocks stuffed in their pockets, they walked toward the motel room door. Quickly, Ayana jumped up to speak to Tramar before he walked out the room.
“Be careful, okay?” Ayana said, hugging Tramar.
Tramar hugged her back. “I swear, baby,” he said. “As soon as all this shit is over, we can start our new life or some shit. I promise.”
Ayana looked into Tramar’s eyes, knowing that he meant every word he’d just said to her. After the two hugged and kissed, Tramar filled her in on how he’d messaged Precious earlier in the morning when he was on his way to get Denny’s. Ayana looked over at the food, telling him that she’d eat it and be waiting right there until he got back. Tramar kissed her again and playfully slapped her ass. In return, Ayana grabbed his bulge through his pants. “Once all this shit calms down,” she said, softly, “we gotta get back to doing what we do, okay?”
Tramar smiled and grabbed both of Ayana’s ass cheeks. “Okay,” he said. “Bet. I’mma hold you to your promise, okay?”
Tramar exited the motel room. Ayana closed the door behind him and went back to eating her breakfast. For the next hour or so, waiting on Tramar to come walking through the door with the money and his son, Ayana’s mind took her on a wild rollercoaster ride. Her heart and soul would sink into the pits of her stomach in a way they hadn’t done when they’d been downtown yesterday. When she was in the car, in the parking garage, she was at least a part of the situation. Now, sitting in the hotel room, not only was she not a part of the situation but she also felt like a sitting duck. While she sat in the motel room alone, she watched the door, thinking that she’d be prepared should anyone come busting through it. This may have been a fantasy, but she had nothing else to think about, as she was there alone with no transportation and not within walking distance of a bus or train line.
When Tramar and Jackson climbed into their cars and headed out of the motel parking lot, they looked at one another before pulling out onto the main road. They nodded, signaling to the other one that they wanted things to go as smoothly as possible. Tramar mouthed the word “control” to Jackson, who nodded in response.
***
Tramar pulled into the bank parking lot in Chesterton, Indiana and sat for a moment. He watched as small white families walked into the bank. They smiled. The women’s air flung about in the wind. He noticed some of their shapely, white bodies. He’d never been into white women the way a lot of his boys in the hood were. However, he’d admit that some of them were indeed pretty and attractive to look at.
Tramar sat in his Dodge Charger, watching from the edge of the bank parking lot as the September sun sat directly above. The weather outside was the perfect temperature, making the bank the perfect hit. It had been relatively quiet today, as families in the area were no doubt out enjoying the day, be it going to the park or having the final barbeque before the Midwest weather turned cold for the fall season. Once the parking lot had basically emptied out, with only what appeared to be the employee cars parked to the side and far back, and one bank patron’s car parked up by the door, Tramar headed across the parking lot.
Today had been different compared to yesterday. While Tramar was indeed nervous when he and Jackson had robbed the bank downtown, it was certainly different robbing the bank with your best friend at your side – with your best friend watching your back in case anything should go wrong. Today, Tramar felt very vulnerable. He couldn’t help but look around, feeling that his nerves were on edge. Once he’d taken his surroundings in, he walked into the bank, holding his suede bag at his side. Upon entering the bank and noticing that there was only one patron up at a teller window, he was immediately greeted by one of the bank employees. A perky white woman, who he guessed to be about thirty years old and reminded him of a younger version of Angelina Jolie, walked up to him and asked him what had brought him into the bank today.
Tramar smiled, knowing that he was about to bring the look of terror out of the woman’s face. While he didn’t think of himself as that kind of criminal, and he certainly didn’t think the woman deserved what was about to happen, he knew he had to do what he had to do to get his family back. Before he smoked, he glanced at the clock on the wall behind the teller stations. He wanted to be in and out of this bank within two minutes and head down the country road into the wooded area that would take him around the southern edge of the Chicago metropolitan area so he could come back up north. From there, he’d get onto the highway and head into the city to pick up his son.
“Hello,” Tramar said, in a very professional voice, “Here’s what I need you to do.”
Just as Tramar was handing his bag to the woman, he slid his gun out of his pocket and pointed it in her direction. Instantly, the woman gasped and covered her mouth. She shook her head as she begged him to not shoot her.
“Shh,” Tramar said, glancing at the teller station. From where he stood, the tellers didn’t appear to be paying any attention to what was going on over where he stood. “I’m not gon’ shoot you bitch unless you make this shit harder for me then it has to be. Here’s what we gon’ do. We gon’ go up to these drawers, and I want all the money. Then, moving as fast as you can, bitch, I want you to put all the big bills in the safe in this bag. Stuff that shit. Whatever don’t fit, you’d better get somebody’s bag and fill that shit up before I get outta here. Let’s make this shit quick, okay?” He smiled as he ended his sentence.
The woman did just as Tramar had instructed. As she walked around to the side door of the teller station, Tramar rushed up to the counter and pointed the gun over the top. Instantly, both tellers, a Hispanic woman and an older black guy, backed away from their drawers with a frozen look of terror on their face.
“K
eep quiet, people,” Tramar instructed. “Fuckin’ keep quiet.” He then pointed the gun toward the bank patron who’d been standing at the second teller station. The older woman let out a scream, causing Tramar to quickly grab her shoulder and drag her down to the ground. “Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he told her before turning back to the tellers. “Don’t y’all move,” he told them. “Put your hands where I can fuckin’ see them. Anybody move and your mama is gonna be burying their child today, understood? Understand that shit?”
Both tellers nodded their heads, not making a single move. Tramar told them to stay in their place as he adjusted his sunglasses and walked around to the side door. “Open this shit right now before I kill everybody up in this bitch.”
The black male teller rushed over to the door and opened it, quickly backing away as Tramar walked behind the counter. “Thanks, brotha,” Tramar said. “Now, put all the money in that bag that bitch got and if anybody pull the alarm, this is gonna be one step away from the morgue, do y’all mothafuckas understand?”
Nodding their heads again, the tellers quickly grabbed their keys and opened their drawers. Tramar stood behind them as the woman who had been standing out in the lobby helped them to pile their money into the bag. Once their top drawers were empty, they opened their second drawers, where tellers kept extra money in case they ran out in their first drawer. Once those were emptied, Tramar demanded that the three of them go into the back.
“Move real smooth with the shit, okay?” Tramar said. “Move real smooth with the shit. No sudden moves, okay?”
The three tellers, looking as if they wanted to break into tears like babies, walked into the back room. Much like the bank downtown, there was a vault that had mini-vaults inside of it. However, unlike the bank downtown, there was a drive-thru vault and a safe that connected to the ATM machine on the side of the building. Tramar immediately smiled, realizing that there would be more sources of money. He glanced at a clock above the microwave and could see that he’d already been inside of the bank nearly two minutes. Tramar grunted, saying, “Hurry the fuck up so I can get out of here and nobody loses their lives.”
The three tellers rushed as they emptied the various vaults into the bag. The Hispanic woman looked up at Tramar when she saw that the bag he’d given them was filled to the max. “It’s full,” she said. “It’s full.”
“Okay, bitch,” Tramar snapped. “Find another bag around here and put the rest of the fuckin’ money in it, okay? Damn bitch, is you stupid? You act like this shit is rocket science. I know one of y’all came to work with a bag or something.”
The male teller spoke up, saying that he’d come to work with a book bag. He quickly rushed over to a corner of the room, lifted his bag up and emptied it out onto the employee break table. Once that bag had been filled with money, and Tramar had just about all of the money the bank had, he saw that he’d been in the bank for about three minutes.
“All right, everybody,” Tramar said. “Let’s all walk in a single file line, no sudden moves, back out front so I can go on about my day. Thank you all for your cooperation. You’ve done a good job today, thank you very much.”
The three bank employees did as they were told, walking back out front and moving over to the side. As Tramar walked out behind them, he heard a voice shout, “Put the gun down! Put the gun down!”
Tramar looked up and out into the bank floor. There, his eyes met with the eyes of a security guard. “Fuck,” he said, to himself, the words slipping out of his mouth. He quickly lifted his gun up and pointed at the security guard, an older white man with big, thick glasses.
“Put the gun down!” the security guard yelled again. “The police are already on their way.”
Tramar held his gun steady, feeling beads of sweat begin to pop out of his skin. A security guard hadn’t been part of the plan. In fact, with the size of the bank and where it was located, he really hadn’t thought that the bank would even have, let alone need, a security guard. Nonetheless, Tramar was determined to get out of this situation alive, even if it meant that he had to kill somebody.
With the three bank employees ducking off to the side, trying to stay out of the line of fire for their own sake, Tramar looked at the man. “Not today, old man!” he said. “Not today. You don’t wanna die in here, not like this. You put your gun down.”
“No!” the security guard yelled. He then glanced out of the glass window of the bank, looking out at the road. “In just a few minutes, you’ll be in prison with the rest of your kind where you belong. Put the gun down or I’ll shoot you. Put the gun down!”
Tramar, feeling as if his back were against the wall, knew he had to do something that he’d never thought he’d do. He held his gun steady, closing one eye ever so slightly, as he aimed at the security guard’s chest. Within the blink of an eye, he fired his gun. The ping of a silenced gun seemed so loud to him. The shock from the gun firing caused his hand to hurt more than he expected.
The bank employees shuddered as the security guard fell to the ground. His gun fired, the bullet hitting the ceiling. Tramar knew that now was his time to make a run for it. He quickly grabbed the bags of money, told the employees that if they made a move, he’d come back and kill every one of them at their drawers. Backing out of the teller station, he rushed across the bank floor. He kicked the security guard as hard as he could in his head, watching the old man go unconscious from the blow.
Once Tramar got out into the parking lot, he could hear the sounds of police sirens off in the distance. They still sounded as if they were far enough away to where he could get away, if he was smart about it. Tramar ran as fast as he could across the parking lot and jumped into his car. In one smooth move, he took his car out of PARK and put it into DRIVE. He pulled out of the parking spot, where he’d backed his tail end into a bush so that his license plate wouldn’t be showing directly on camera and hurried out onto a side street. After rolling through a couple of intersections, practically ignoring the stop signs out front of the small town, corner store buildings, he turned into an alley. He knew he needed to get out of sight. The sounds of police sirens swarmed around him, causing him to feel as if he were trapped in a maze.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tramar said, thinking about how he’d just possibly killed the bank security guard. He hit his steering wheel hard, barely missing the center where he would have caused his horn to blow. “Shit, shit.” He looked around, realizing just how much he was out of his element. While the town was indeed one thousandth the size of Chicago, Tramar felt as if he’d lost his direction. Needing a little time to think, and even more time to get out of sight, he rolled on until he found a couple of closed factories that bordered both sides of an alley. At the rear of one of the factories was a parking lot. Tramar quickly turned his Charger into the parking lot and pulled in as far as he could, making a U-turn. When he’d pulled up to the edge of the parking lot, just barely being able to look down the alley, his heart jumped. Two police cars, with their sirens blaring, raced down the street, probably going seventy miles an hour through the small town streets.
Tramar pulled his phone out. He needed to look at a map before he made any more moves. He needed to know exactly where he was going and how he would get back to the road that led to the southern edge of the Chicago area. At this very moment, he regretted coming over to a small town in Indiana to rob a bank. He felt, deep down in his soul, that all of this would have gone more smoothly if he’d robbed a bank in the city, where he already knew countless ways to get back to where he needed to be.
The sirens continued to consume the town, telling Tramar that the sooner he could get out of town, the better. Pulling up a map, he zoomed in to see where the bank was in relation to where he was parked, and where he was parked in relation to the road. After zooming in and looking around the town, Tramar found a way out to the north of the town. A road led north, past what had once been a fairground. He then saw that if he took that road north, it led to a bypass sort of road that trucks
would use to get around the town and into Chicago.
“Fuck it,” Tramar said. “A nigga is gon’ have to do this shit. I’mma have to. Ain’t got no other choice.”
Tramar also decided that he would drive just as slow as the people who lived in the town. Because his car had tinted windows, he would definitely roll around with those up. When Tramar felt brave enough, he pulled out from behind the parking lot and made his way to the road he’d seen on the north side of the town. The further he got away from the side of town where the bank was located, the better he felt. The palms of his hands still sweated profusely, and he constantly checked every mirror in his car. By the time Tramar got to the road and was quickly heading out of the town and into a wooded area, he felt more at ease. There was no doubt in his mind that he would have to get rid of his car after today. It would only be a matter of time before the police had his make, model, and year, as well as his license plate.
As Tramar headed toward the Illinois state line, he contemplated what he would do to get his car off his back. He thought about reporting it stolen to the police. However, he also knew that he’d have to be careful with how he went about doing such a thing. In fact, he knew that if he were going to report his car stolen or any other form of missing, it would have to happen as soon as possible. Time was ticking for him and he knew it. He also knew that time was ticking for his family. They were his main concern right now. There was no doubt that Byron was the kind of guy who would put a bullet in their heads if he didn’t get his money. Tramar, deep in thought, continued to think about how he’d put a bullet into Byron’s head as soon as he got the chance. Once he made it to the state line and crossed it, seeing that no police or Indiana sheriff cars were on his bumper, he was able to relax. The next part of his journey was picking up his son and getting back to the motel room. However, first, he decided that he’d pick up his woman, Ayana, to ride to Precious’ apartment with him. He needed to see her badly, especially after what he’d just done at the bank – taking a man’s life when he saw no other way out.
When It All Falls Down 2 - Strapped Up: A Chicago Hood Drama (A Hustler's Lady) Page 11
