by Zach Tate
I stood nodding while remembering the order of instructions. I was cut off when he pointed across the street. “Go over there and see what the winning lottery ticket numbers were for Saturday. Take a dollar and play those exact numbers. Lift a pencil when you leaving the store. I’ll be right here.”
I did what I was told, but couldn’t figure out what I was going to do with a ticket whose numbers were already played. I busted my brain trying to pre-play how the hustle was going to go down, but I just couldn’t come up with the way an old lotto ticket was going to get us paid.
I returned with the lotto ticket. Yoda stood with his hands folded behind his back. By the looks of him, it was obvious that he was indeed the real king of the square.
“What type of foreigner can you pass for?” he asked.
“What? What you mean?” I replied while handing him the ticket and the pencil.
“Well, you too light and pretty to be African. Too Indian looking to be Chinese or a Latino. So what can you be besides Black? Think like an actor.”
That breakfast must have worked in my favor. The light bulb quickly went off in my head. “Jamaican. I can speak like a Jamaican…a little.”
“Hell naw, cuz. Back in the early seventies I had a drag partner named Jamaican Charlie who was too tight with his ends. Plus, Jamaican’s act too smart for they own good. We need somebody like that, but pick another country.”
I was about to protest that there wasn’t a big difference, so I said, “Trinidadian.”
“Okay, that’s a twist. Let me hear you talk like them so we can see.”
I remembered a friend I went to school with—Darron Burch. I mimicked the way he spoke. “Wha de ass de mother scunt question me boat bwoy? I true Trini, you Yankee scunt.”
Yoda smiled. “Damn, cuz, you had me fooled for a minute. You sure your old man ain’t from down there?”
We laughed at my weak impression, and then Yoda ran the eraser over the lotto ticket smoothly, then wrinkled it up in his hands. He sat on the edge of a lamppost, carefully dotting something on the ticket. When the ticket was to his satisfaction, he looked up at me. “Come on.”
During the walk to Third Avenue, Yoda explained exactly what I had to do to line up the mark. I was to touch my lapel with two fingers when I found a suitable mark, and if he touched his lapel, then it was safe to start my pitch. Over and over he laid the whole plan down. When we reached Third Avenue on 42nd Street, the plan would be under way.
I followed Yoda’s instructions by standing in front of the Chase Manhattan Bank. The bank was across the street from the liquor mart that sold lottery tickets. I quickly assessed each individual that entered and exited the bank. I signaled for four potential marks, but Yoda turned all of them down. So, I sat waiting for the perfect mark to come through. Eventually, a flat chested, long haired, slender blond with designer wears exited the bank. I gave Yoda the signal, he gave his signal, and I was off and running.
“Ey gal, excuse de I. Me need a likkle help fe a minute,” I said in my best Caribbean accent.
She looked me up and down without making eye contact. “I beg your pardon?” she asked in a conceited voice. “I have nothing to give you.”
“No, no misses. It is I I whant give you if you ‘elp me?” I replied, holding the lottery ticket in my hand.
“You want to give me something? What? This some kind of scam or something?”
“Scham? What is scham?” Yoda crept up behind the woman and me. With his back to the bank’s wall he pretended to read the new“paper. "I just come a dis countree, and I hit de rass lot-tree. De I, have no Green Card cause the I is an illegal alien. Me can’t cash in de rass ticket.”
“You did what? You hit the lottery?” The woman asked with a newfound interest in my spiel. “Let me see?” she demanded, reaching for the ticket.
“No—no—no. Me no know you. But if you tink me lie, den you can check de number dem across de traffic,” I said, pointing at the small liquor mart.
Before I was able to get the last words out of my mouth, she grabbed me. “Let’s go.” The slender woman dragged and manhandled me across the street.
I held the ticket on the top and bottom half, only showing her the numbers. I then showed her the winning numbers that hung in the window. Her eyes popped out of her head. She jumped up and down yelling, “We won! We won! It says six million dollars! We won!”
I was trying to figure out who the we she was talking about, but she took the bait. I folded the ticket just like Yoda told me to do. I placed it in the woman’s hand. “You hold it and cash it fe me in de bank over deer.”
“It doesn’t work that way. We have to go inside and find out where the lotto headquarters is.” She seductively put her palm on my chest. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything for you.”
“Oh really?” I asked, gently holding her elbow and guiding her back to the bank. “Me no want chat over here, come we go back by de bank.” Without hesitation, she closed her hands in mine, pulling me across the street. I stopped within earshot of Yoda, and then whispered, “You try cash ticket fe me in de bank.”
Her face shriveled like a prune and she flipped out. “No-no-no. You idiot! It doesn’t work that way,” she said bitterly.
I followed Yoda’s script. “Yes, you have me ticket and you have to cash it in de bank,” I said, on the verge of screaming.
“Whoa—whoa—whoa.” Yoda held out the newspaper, separating the woman and me. “What’s your problem, buddy?” he asked aggressively, turning to face me. He then looked over his shoulder. “Miss, this guy got a beef with you?”
“No, he’s trying to take something from me,” she said while firmly holding onto the ticket.
Yoda turned to her. “You two lovers? I saw when he handed you a ticket and you guys looked fine across the street? What happen that fast?”
“Damn,” she uttered. A witness observed me handing her the ticket.
Time for scene two. “Me win de lottree, and me need she to cash de ticket in de bank fe me. Me want me rass money!”
Yoda feigned surprise and looked at the lady and me. “The lottery? The New York—six-million-dollar lottery from Saturday? That lottery?” he looked at me and shook his head. “I’ve been trying to hit the lottery for years,” he said in disbelief.
“Look, I got the ticket,” the woman said, stating the obvious. “It’s mine now. He can’t get the money out of the bank, and this idiot won’t understand that.”
Yoda put his hands back up, separating us from fighting. He then turned and winked at the lady. “Of course he can,” he announced like a professional on the issue. He whipped out business cards that said he was an attorney of law and handed one to the both of us. He turned to me. “Boss, you come from Trinidad? I used to go to Port of Spain.”
“Port of Spain? Port of Spain? Which part?” I asked with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Dat is me home town. Yes mahn, talk to de lady fe me. Me hire you right now as me lawyer.”
Yoda winked back at the lady and then turned to me. “Wait here, Trini man, I’ll talk to the lady for you. I take care of everything okay?”
“Yes, you chat to de scunt!” I leaned over Yoda with a smile on my face. “Me have lawyer now. Now you have to cash de ticket.”
As we rehearsed, he pulled the lady to the side—safely away from me. He then asked her in urgency, “Listen. Do you have the ticket on you?” The lady nodded and attempted to pull it out, but Yoda stopped her. “Don’t. Keep it there.” Quickly, she placed the ticket back into her purse. “If this guy thinks the money is in the bank, then give him the money in the bank. All you have to do is make a sizable withdrawal, say six figures. Get it in small bills and that will be more than this guy has ever seen in his life. Then later, you tell him you’ll send his payment to my office where he can pick it up. Whatever you send, you send. Who can he call? Like you said, he’s an idiot right? You spend a small amount to get rid of him, and go cash that. You have nothing to lose. By this afternoon you�
�ll be a millionaire.”
The woman studied the ticket. Her eyes left the stub, darted at me, and turned to slits when she looked at Yoda. “Okay, so what’s in it for you?” she asked suspiciously.
“Me? I can be dis-barred for telling you this,” he slid in and held her by the waist as he whispered, “You got my card, sweetheart. Drop off a small amount. Like say—a million. Take it to my office later, and everything is set. He won’t be able to call the cops or the people from the lottery by then. With me on your side, you can’t go to prison for stealing. Just think, six million dollars. Right in your hands. This is an opportunity of a lifetime. Unless you want me to take it off your hands, I’m gonna tell this guy another story while you go into the bank. But hurry up before he calls the cops.”
Her wheels were turning. She was probably calculating what she was going to do with all those millions. As soon as we thought our work was over, she called Yoda back over.
“Half of the money in the bank is my fiancé’s. I want to check with him before I do this.”
I thought we were finished, but she wasn’t hooked yet.
Yoda said, “Well, give him a call then, but make it quick. There’s only so much about Trinidad I can talk to this guy about while you’re holding his millions in your hand.” Yoda pointed to the pay phone on the corner in front of us. “Call your man, but make it quick.”
With her back turned to us, she placed the call. After her call connected, she turned and faced us with her heel hanging out of her designer shoes. She was explaining to her soon-to-be husband how she had the opportunity of a lifetime, but wanted his permission before she made the move. I’m not sure what he said, but her facial expression changed. Then she yelled, “Well I just wanted to check with you first that’s all. Okay. Okay, I’m going right now.” She slammed down the phone. While Yoda was waiting for a response, she walked right past him. She jogged into the bank like we weren’t standing there.
“You see. You see? Lotto ticket come outta de bank yes. Modder scunt try fe lie to de I.” I yelled out, putting more emphasis on my role. Yoda found that comical, and pulled me out of sight from the bank employees.
Twenty minutes went by before the woman exited the bank with a large manila envelope in her hands. She walked out of the bank smiling like a snob. She threw the heavy manila envelope at me and said, “Here. You’re rich. You can buy your freedom now. America is very, very good to you people.”
“Don’t lose my card. Take the money the lady give you now,” he said, before celebrating. “You rich, Boss. You come to my office and I give you the rest when the rest come.” The woman smiled, pleased with his advice.
Yoda smacked me on the back, continuing his celebration. “Alright Trini man. I told you I would make you rich. Hurry home and take a cab, so no one can rob you in Brooklyn.”
“Thank you, thank you,” I said, then jumped into a cab heading for the Carter Hotel.
I was instructed not to open the envelope until Yoda reached the Carter. I was going crazy. I was thinking about how I had just made over a hundred thousand dollars before noon. When Yoda knocked at my room, he closed the door behind him.
“Bust the envelope,” he instructed.
I poured the contents out of the envelope. There were five, equally sized banded stacks of new, crisp $20.00 bills. The loot came up to $50,000. Yoda saw the disappointment on my face.
“Cuz, are you insane? What the hell you looking all down for?”
“I thought you pushed her on the send for over a hundred thousand? She beat us.”
He slapped his forehead. “Foolio, you spent a dollar and made fifty grand. There ain’t no way in hell we got beat. She beat us? Cuz, you crazier than a naked Negro walking through a Klan meeting. Come on, we got more work to do.”
Before we left the hotel, Yoda gave me $20,000 from the stack. We were headed to see Proverb. On the way, he explained to me what went down. He said she told him that she played me by emptying only half of her account. He laughed hysterically and complimented her before setting up a time for her to drop his million off at his office. Yoda knew full well she wouldn’t show, even if she had the money.
$$$
“Proverb, what’s the word?” Yoda asked with a smile on his face as he kissed Proverb’s elderly mother.
“In the multitude of words sin is not lacking, but he who restrains his lips is wise.”
Yoda responded with his usual response, “Ain’t that the truth? You can say that again.”
Yoda slapped the cash down, and I did the same. Proverb wasn’t impressed with the cash Yoda dropped down, but lit up when he saw my stacks.
“You coming up in the game for real, for real.” He turned to Yoda. “This makes your fourth plate, so we start from scratch the next time.” He then turned to me and called his family over. “Twenty-six. He’s the best we seen yet. Brand new, and twenty six.” Proverb’s mother smiled and congratulated me in a dialect that I didn’t understand.
Our business was wrapped up, and I was ready to call it a day. I beamed as we were leaving Proverb’s shop. Instantly, Yoda’s eyes locked onto a passing charter bus like it was a super-sized pocket.
“Oh! Hot damn! Come on, cuz. Come on!” Yoda called out while frantically waving his hands at me.
In a flash, he ran back into the store. He grabbed two, white I love New York hats, a container of pens that had New York written on them, and two saucer-sized I love New York souvenir buttons. He showed Proverb what he snatched, and ran to the corner of 42nd and Seventh Avenue. I was right behind him.
When we raced to the corner he yelled, “Put that hat on, and attach the button to your suit lapel.”
Like a mad man, Yoda ran across the street while barely saving himself from the zooming cars. By the time I reached the other side of the street, the giant, City Tours bus was parking on the corner. As a group of Asian tourists exited the buss, Yoda handed out pens while lining up the group of fifty.
He pointed with his chin to get my attention, and then he pointed to a theater nearby. “Go to that movie theater and tell Ozzy I got a group of fifty or more coming in to do my thang. Hurry back.”
The old Selwyn Theater was a small Kung-Fu movie house right next to the Show World triple X peepshow. If one didn’t pay close attention, they would think the entrance to the Kung-Fu Theater was the entrance to the peep show.
I ran to Ozzy like Yoda told me. The scruffy Jamaican manager of the theater told me to stall the crowd for five minutes. I shrugged my shoulders and ran back to Yoda.
“Welcome to New York. The greatest city on earth!” Yoda yelled out to the Asian men. As soon as Yoda saw me, he called me over. “Dig fast with finesse. Every one you can get. I’ll get the rest as they check in the door. Right now, tell them about the naked New York women they about to see. Keep it as graphic as possible. Just keep yelling. When I call you over, run them through the movies, alright?” he whispered before leaving.
“Welcome to New York! Welcome to New York!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. I described the shape of a woman with my hands. “Nice lady. Naked New York ladies. Sticky-sticky. Licky-licky. You like, you like?”
The group cheered when they heard my false advertisement. Yoda called me from the entrance of the theater, and I called the men over to line up. Once they were in formation, Yoda told me to send in the first two.
The anxious men rioted into the darkness of the theater. Yoda greeted them with orders to leave their cameras and weapons in a box at the door. Before they had a chance to protest, he placed the men against the wall.
“No weapons papa-san!” Yoda yelled as he frisked each man, lifting their wallets at the same time. Once the smiling men were frisked, Ozzy directed them up the stairs and into the pitch black movie theater. I froze in shock. “Cuz, just don’t stand there. Give me a hand frisking them,” Yoda instructed.
Fast doesn’t describe how I lifted the wallets and placed cameras into the box. The biggest problem I had was keeping all the wal
lets I confiscated, which were in my waist, from sliding down my pants leg. I was up to the last man in line when Yoda signaled for me not to take his wallet. I shrugged my shoulders asking why. He raised his hand for me to wait.
We walked the group into the theater while Yoda yelled, “Have a seat! Have a seat!” He tugged his ear and the film started to roll. It started off as a Kung-Fu flick, and then the actors got undressed. Two women stripped off their Ninja outfits, triggering a martial artist orgy.
“I luv New York!” one of the Asians yelled with his eyes locked on the screen. His buddies soon turned his words into a chant. As the men began to clap, Yoda grabbed me and we crept out of the theater.
Back at the entrance, Yoda pulled out $500, handed it to Ozzy, and then dumped the box of expensive cameras into a garbage bag. He handed me another garbage bag. Right at the counter, he stripped cash, traveler’s checks, and credit cards from the wallets and made them into three different stacks. Whenever he emptied a wallet, he threw it into the bag I held. We had over forty-seven wallets. I held onto the bag while he pocketed the cash. He then put the checks and credit cards into a small brown paper bag. After we collected all of the evidence, we shook hands with Ozzy and left.
Yoda walked around to the huge tour bus parked on the corner of Seventh Avenue. He tried the baggage compartment in the belly of the long bus, and it was open. He stood on the tips of his toes and looked up into the bus window. A heavyset Black bus driver was snoring away. With a free pass, Yoda pulled open the baggage compartment. A pile of luggage was inside. He threw the garbage bag full of ID’s into the bus, along with the two I Love New York hats and pins. Yoda’s pupils bounced over every piece of luggage before stopping at a Louis Vutton briefcase. He removed the case and gently closed the baggage compartment.
With the goods in hand, he raced across 42nd Street to Camera World. Yoda walked into the place like he owned it. The Arab owners didn’t respond to his rapid movements, so I followed him like I was suppose to. Yoda led me to a small office in the back. He heaved the heavy garbage bag onto the desk. We counted out thirty-nine 35mm cameras, ten video cameras, and four Polaroid cameras. After everything was laid out, an Arab walked in.
