by Kiki Swinson
CHAPTER 3
THE BEST LAID PLANS
“Aghhh!” Amy Gaines, the youngest loan clerk at EZ Cash, let out an ear-shattering scream that threatened to burst my eardrums. I was standing right next to her, but my back was turned toward the store’s door. Amy was the first one to notice them. Her screams startled me. I whirled around on the balls of my feet just in time to come face-to-face with the barrel of a shiny, silver, long-nose Desert Eagle.
“Don’t move, bitch!”
My heart sank and my stomach curled into a tight knot. I gasped and clutched my chest. Amy would not stop screaming.
“Shut the fuck up!” the masked man snarled at her. She quickly clamped both of her hands over her mouth to stifle her screams. I swallowed a hard lump that had formed in my throat.
“Y’all bitches better get down right now before I put one of these slugs in your fucking heads!” the masked, gun-waving assailant barked. He was so tall I had to crane my neck to look up at him. I didn’t have any trouble seeing his gun though. It was leveled in my face.
I was the manager at the EZ Cash so I felt like I was responsible for everyone’s safety.
“Just do what he says,” I instructed. Immediately, the two loan clerks I was in charge of got down on the floor like they had been told. Both started begging and pleading for their lives. It made me cringe to see them so scared. For some reason, I wanted to yell and tell them to shut the hell up, but the words just wouldn’t come. I guess everyone handled fear differently. Since I was a kid, even when I was scared, I’d always pretended to be tough.
“Bitch, did you hear me! This ain’t the movies. I will lay all y’all asses down with no problem!”
Those words snapped me back into reality. My hands were shaking. I swallowed hard as my eyes darted around wildly. There were two gunmen in my immediate sight. All sorts of things ran through my head, but my thoughts were quickly interrupted when I noticed the third gunman barreling toward us, his gun waving out in front of him like he was nervous.
“Please don’t kill me,” Amy begged, tears streaming her face. Amy was a young black girl from North Carolina who attended Norfolk State University. She was a junior in school and had taken the job to help her with her books and her small bills.
“Yes, please let us live. I have kids. You can have it all. My kids ain’t got nobody else. I can’t die,” Trina Long, the other clerk, rambled pitifully. I could hear the fear rattling through her words.
Trina was a twenty-four-year-old single parent of two kids. She always expressed how much she needed this job to pay her rent and make up for the no-good baby daddies she had chosen to procreate with.
That was it. Amy had a future ahead of her. Trina had kids to take care of. I was the manager. I was their boss. I was responsible for them. I had to step up. It was my duty. With sweat beads dancing down the sides of my face, I moved forward apprehensively. I was trying to find the softest voice to speak in.
“Listen, leave them out of this. Please don’t hurt them. I . . . I am the supervisor here, and no one is going to call the police if you just take what you want and leave us be,” I said, raising my hands in surrender to let the masked gunmen know I wasn’t going to resist. “There is a safe. I’m the only one who can get you inside,” I offered, nodding my head toward the back of the store. Maybe too easily when I thought of it, but I offered nonetheless.
“I want every fuckin’ thing you got in here! Every dollar, bitch!” the second assailant growled through the black material of his mask. A strange feeling flitted through my chest. I swore I saw the devil dancing in his eyes. A shot of heat engulfed my body, and for the first time since they had burst through the doors, I felt a dizzying mixture of anger and fear grip me tight around the throat.
“Look, all we got right here is fifteen hundred dollars. It’s in my top right drawer. That’s all we keep in the immediate vicinity. The safe is in the back. So, just take it all and leave,” I said, my tone a little testy. It was a bold move and I instantly regretted it.
“Oh my God, Karlie, please don’t make them angry,” Amy whispered from the floor, her fingers laced behind her head like a hostage in some movie. “Take them to the safe. Give them everything,” she whimpered.
“Oh yeah?” The biggest of the robbers took three steps toward me and pointed his pistol toward my head. “Bitch, you don’t run shit in here right now! I do. Now, get the fuck over here before I kill you in this motherfucker!” he boomed. His words reverberated through my chest like the booming bass of a party speaker. I swayed on my feet a little. I hadn’t been expecting that.
“I’m only trying to . . .” I began but before I knew it, the monstrous, gorilla-sized assailant lunged forward, snatched me from behind the counter, and shoved his gun into the small of my back.
“Shut the fuck up and show me where the safe is!” he barked, pushing me forward. I stumbled toward the back office with my hands over my head. My insides were churning so fast I just knew I’d throw up.
This nigga doing too much! All of this ain’t even called for. You just wait!
Once we were in the back office, I quickly went to the safe, which was wedged between two tall, old-school grey filing cabinets. I got to my knees. My hands were shaking so badly that I didn’t get the combination on the first try.
“Don’t fuck around! Open that safe or else,” the gunman ordered, swiping his gun across the back of my neck. I let out an exasperated breath as I fumbled with the ancient combination dial again. This was one of the times I resented how cheap my bosses were. What thriving business didn’t have an electronic keypad safe these days? What thriving business kept its old-school safe just sitting on the dusty, torn-up tile floor too? I went to work on the combination lock again with my hands trembling. Left. Right. Left.
Click.
Finally.
I breathed out a long, unsteady breath of relief. It has taken me six fuck-ups to finally get it right.
“Move,” the gunman demanded, pushing me aside so hard I scraped my knee on the raggedy, ripped-up linoleum tile on the floor. He was definitely working my last nerve. Gun or no gun, I wanted to spit in his damn face.
“Jack-fucking-pot! Yo, bring that duffel bag,” he called out to the others.
The other two assailants herded Amy and Trina into the back office, where I was just easing myself up off the floor. Amy was shaking like a leaf in a wild storm. Trina moved clumsily, her nerves clearly muddling her movements.
“Sit the fuck down,” the tallest and meanest of the gunmen commanded. Both girls flopped to the floor without hesitation. Me, on the other hand, I had had enough. I just wanted this shit to be over. My knee was itching with pain. I had a headache. And, I was thinking, Just take the damn money and get the hell out already!
“Okay, I gave y’all everything we have in the store. Just please go,” I said sassily.
“What, bitch?” the mean one snarled. “You don’t tell us what to do, we tell you,” he growled, getting close to my face. He was so close I could smell his cologne. It was a scent I had smelled before.
He can’t be fucking serious. I’m trying to keep it together. I’m about to lose it up in here. My mind raced and my jaw rocked feverishly. Trying to pretend to be scared was wearing me down.
“I’m just trying to . . .” I started. I never got a chance to finish. Before I could react, I felt metal connect with the bone of my skull. My teeth clicked, and my eyes snapped shut on their own.
Crack. Crunch.
The gunman had swung the butt of the pistol at me and cracked it over my head. Flashes of light sparked behind my eyes like someone had set off a round of fireworks in my brain. I smelled the blood before I tasted the metallic, tinny flavor on my tongue. The scent and the taste only lasted a few seconds. My ears went deaf. I remember emitting a mousy squeak right before the impact from his strength and the blow of the gun knocked me out like a light. After I hit the floor, everything in my world went black.
* * *
“Miss Houston. Miss Houston. Can you hear me? Let me know if you can hear me.” The sound of the strange voice filtered into my ears. It sounded muffled, like it was coming through some kind of cone or funnel.
I groaned and tried my best to open my eyes. “Let me know if you can hear me,” the strange voice came again.
I wanted to tell the voice that I could definitely hear it, but I couldn’t move or speak. I tried in vain to force my eyelids up, but the daggers of pain that shot through my skull each time I tried were like little elves were using my head as a dartboard. I quickly snapped my eyes shut again. It hurt too much to open them. My temples throbbed, seemingly with every beat of my heart. My ears were ringing now too.
“Ms. Houston? Let us know if you can hear us,” a different voice shouted this time. I wanted them to stop speaking. The voices were fading now, but I could sense that there were people circling around me on all sides. Their presence made goose bumps rise on my skin.
A crowd? Strange voices? What the hell is going on?
Then I heard the crackle of a police radio and a dispatcher’s voice. “Robbery and crime unit needed at Newtown Road and Baker.” The cops!
Someone had called the police to the store. The thought sent a cold chill over my entire body. My head hurt even more now. My first thoughts went to Amy and Trina. I wondered if they were okay. If I was in this condition, what about them?
“Mmm,” I moaned. It was all I could muster.
“She’s conscious. Let’s get her in the ambulance and take her to the ER. Maybe a precautionary MRI is best,” I heard a man’s voice say levelly.
“You may want to run a line,” a woman replied, her voice slightly more frantic.
“Ms. Karlie! Oh my God! I’m so glad you’re alive!” I heard Amy cry out. I couldn’t miss the squeal of her annoying high-pitched voice anywhere. That prompted me to fight to open my eyes again. Pain or no pain, I needed to know what was going on. Had Amy and Trina already spoken to the cops? Had the robbers gotten away? All kinds of thoughts ran through my head, and my entire skull was pounding even more fiercely now.
“I’m so glad to see that you’re okay,” Amy went on, rushing to my side as the EMTs pulled the stretcher upright onto its retractable legs.
“Wh . . . what . . . happened?” I croaked through dry, cracked lips. I was going to pretend I didn’t remember for as long as that would work. Why be bothered with answering questions?
“It was so terrible. They just came in with guns waving, and the next thing I knew we were all being . . .” Amy rambled, her arms flailing like an animated character’s. Amy’s story was suddenly interrupted by loud voices. She stopped in mid-sentence and turned.
There was a small commotion to my left. I had a hard time turning my head toward the confusion, but Amy’s eyes darting in the direction of it was enough to speed my heart rate up.
“Excuse me. Ms. Houston,” a tall, bald, kind-of-fine black guy finally wedged himself between Amy and me, interrupting our little reunion. Amy eyed him suspiciously. My face crumpled in agitation as soon as I realized where he was coming from.
“I’m Detective Castle. I need to speak to you about what happened here this evening,” he said, flashing his shiny, gold badge in my face. My heart throttled up in my chest even more. Suddenly I couldn’t catch my breath. I waved my hands wildly and started coughing uncontrollably.
“Hyperventilating. Pulse skyrocketing over one hundred. Let’s get her to the ER now,” a female EMT shouted, brushing past and shooting Detective Castle a dirty look. The detective stumbled back a few steps as the other EMTs rushed to my side. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. Not only was he gorgeous, but something about the determination in his eyes made my entire body tremble with live-wire nervousness.
“Catch her at the hospital. When she’s in better condition, Detective,” the female EMT grumbled. With that, they hoisted me into the back of the waiting ambulance and slammed the double doors right in Detective Castle’s face. I closed my eyes tight. This was far from over. I could just feel it. Even the best laid plans could go awry. If only I’d known then just how much that would ring true.
CHAPTER 4
SEE NO EVIL, HEAR NO EVIL
“Oh my God, Karlie!” Miley rushed into my hospital room with tears streaming down her face. “When I heard that you were hit in your head with a gun, I was so scared. Are you okay? Look at your head.”
“Shhh. I’m fine. In a lot of pain . . . but fine,” I comforted, reaching a weak, shaky hand out to my sister. That’s when I took a good look at her face too. She had a vicious green, blue, and purple ring around her left eye. My eyebrows rose to the middle of my forehead.
“Oh my God! What the hell happened to you?” I asked incredulously.
“They hit up my store too. One of them punched me right in the face,” she relayed, roving her head around to make sure we were alone. “So fucking unnecessary,” she whispered harshly.
I closed my eyes. My jaw rocked feverishly.
“Fucking idiots,” I mumbled.
“It was over the top. Too fucking much,” Miley said, disgusted. “I mean, make it look . . .”
“Shh. Not here,” I warned. I knew my sister, and she was about to go off. Good thing I shushed her because as soon as I did, my room door swung open. The polite nurse stuck her head in first. She had a kind, caring face. Kind of like the motherly face I had missed all of my life.
“Ms. Houston. You have a visitor,” the nurse said, her tone kind of suspicious. “It’s a detective. Are you feeling up to it? I can always tell him to come back tomorrow.” She winked. I inhaled deeply and exhaled.
“No, it’s fine. I might as well get this over with,” I replied. Miley immediately raised her eyebrows at me.
“Why don’t you wait, Karlie? They know what happened. I mean shit, look at you. You are in no condition to be trying to remember anything,” Miley said, a tinge of nervousness lacing her words. I knew my sister all of her life, so I definitely knew she was uncomfortable at that moment.
“If I keep putting it off, he will just keep coming on more aggressively. Let him in. I don’t have anything to hide,” I told the nurse and my sister at the same time. I could hear Miley blow out a defeated breath.
Detective Castle came through the door with the kind of sexy authority that reminded me of Denzel Washington in the movie Training Day. His coffee-bean skin was clean, smooth, and well taken care of. His pants were so neat and creased so sharp he could’ve cut something with them. Everything he wore was starched and pristine. I could tell the detective had swagger. He looked more like a GQ model than a cop. I could just imagine how he looked in regular street clothes.
Snap out of it, Karlie! He’s not your friend. He’s definitely not fuckable.
“Ms. Houston.” Detective Castle nodded at Miley. “Ms. Houston,” he repeated, this time turning his head toward me. Miley responded with a grunt. I didn’t respond at all.
“I’m sorry to keep bothering you, but the best information in cases like these is obtained within the first couple of hours after the crime,” he explained, cautiously regarding a brooding Miley. It was curious to me that he didn’t have a partner with him. Didn’t they usually come out in pairs and play good cop/bad cop?
“It’s all good. I can only tell you what I remember,” I rasped, my throat suddenly gravelly and dry.
“That’s a start,” he said, digging into the inside pocket of his obligatory sand-colored trench coat and pulling out a miniature composition notebook. “Tell me how your day started . . . I mean, before the robbery.”
“It was a regular day. I came in at my usual time of nine A.M., I opened the store, counted the cash up, and set everything up to start business for the day.”
“And then what?” Detective Castle asked, looking up from his little annoying notebook.
“And then what, what?” I repeated rhetorically and sarcastically. Detective Castle shot me a knowing look. I inhaled and exhaled. “L
ike I said, I came in, took care of a few customers.”
“Anything strange or different about any of the customers?” he interrupted. I rolled my eyes.
“No. The usual broke-ass people borrowing against their paychecks so that they will be in the same broke predicament next paycheck. But you wouldn’t understand that, I’m sure,” I answered with much attitude, eyeing him up and down. I just got a stomach-sickening feeling about him for some reason.
“Listen, Ms. Houston. I’m on your side. I want to find out who did this and who assaulted you,” he replied, his voice pacifying. I had to catch myself. He was right. He was on my side.
Yeah, right. Me, trust the cops. Never.
“Well, I was in the store with my back turned. I had just finished doing the count when I heard my employee scream. Next thing, I saw a masked man with a gun pointed in my face. Everything else happened fast after that,” I said evasively, closing my eyes as if the memory itself was causing me great pain. Miley shifted in her seat garnering a glance from the detective.
“Details. I need to know details. What you saw. What you heard,” he replied, agitation underlying his words now. I guess his good-cop act was wearing thin along with his patience. The heart monitor to my left began beeping a little faster. My temples began throbbing again.
“It . . . it . . . all happened very fast. One of the men was yelling, my employees were crying, and I was trying to stay calm. I told them to just take what they wanted and leave us alone. I guess that pissed one of them off. I saw the gun. I saw more masked men. I got hit. No. I got knocked out,” I countered with urgency. “It is one of those ‘see no evil, hear no evil’ situations for me, Detective. I didn’t want to see or hear the evil that stormed into my store. I saw my life . . . all of our lives, flash right before my eyes. I’m sorry. I just want to put this all behind me. All I know is I’m glad we all made it out of there alive,” I told him, closing my eyes again. I wanted that to signal that this was the last of this conversation. He sighed.
