by K'wan
She gave the spot a good stomp and the floor caved in. The stacks of money that were once piled neatly in the floor were yanked out and thrown into a pillowcase. Inside the dresser drawer, Paul had watches and other accessories lying out in plain sight. This was definitely a kid who wasn’t used to money. Within an hour, Eve and Bullet had taken nearly everything that wasn’t nailed down and stacked it neatly next to the front door. There were CD players, the TVs that were small enough to carry, and some more odds and ends. A very nice haul, but the real kicker was when Eve went into the deep freezer. There were at least four and a half kilos stacked next to some ice cream.
“Whoo-weee!” Bullet squealed and rubbed his hands together greedily.
“This is what I’m talking about,” she said, hefting one of the birds. “See, Bullet, I told you this would be a sweet run!”
“You sure did,” he said, picking her up and spinning around. “Eve, I could kiss you.”
“You do and I’m gonna knock your ass out,” she warned. “Quit playing and put me down. We got stealing to do. Go get the van, while I get the stuff ready.”
Bullet went for the van, while Eve prepared their haul for transport. In less than a minute Bullet was pulling the Rent-A-Center van they borrowed in the driveway. As they were loading their items, some of the neighbors watched as Paul had a good amount of his furnishings repossessed.
Eve beamed like a girl after her prom night as she thumbed through the bills again. “This was a big score.”
“It’s a’ight,” Bullet said casually, steering with one hand and lighting a dangling cigarette with the other.
“A’ight?” She raised her eyebrow. “Nigga, we caked off!”
“We caught a good lick, Eve, but once this shit gets split up the take’ll be mediocre.”
“I don’t believe you.” She sat up. “This shit was like taking candy from a baby, but you’re throwing jabs at it. Oh, I suppose you would’ve cleared more preying on tourists by the Metro North station?” she asked, her tone challenging.
“That’s small change, Eve. I’m talking about hitting a big score. Bigger than the few thousand we’re gonna pull in for this stuff.” He nodded toward the cargo compartment.
“If you got something on your mind, I’m listening.”
“Eve, what I’m about to run down to you is for your ears only. Understand?”
She nodded.
“I know a guy who’s tied in with some guineas downtown. They need a caper done, and they commissioned me for the job. It’s paying big bucks, baby. Bucks that I’d split down the middle with you. Now, I got a bunch of lil niggaz that I could call on and they would help me pull the job off for next to nothing…”
“So why are we having this conversation?” she asked suspiciously.
“I was getting to that, speed racer. Like I was saying, I got a bunch of youngsters that’d come along for the ride, but they ain’t dependable. They lil niggaz smoke too much damn weed. The last thing I need is for some high-ass joker to fuck the situation up. You don’t smoke weed and you hardly drink. You’re one of the sharpest people I know, and more importantly, I trained you.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “What’s the score?”
“A truck is supposed to be coming into the city carrying portable CD players,” he began. “Not them cheap shits. I’m talking about high quality. I don’t know how much these mobsters are pulling off em and I really don’t care. What I do know is that the job pays close to six figures.”
“For some damn CD players?” she asked.
“Like I said, not my concern. All I’m worried about is what we’ll be walking away with. Look, I didn’t even want to bring you into this at first. We won’t be the only people trying to swipe this truck. There might even be some gunplay involved. I know you ain’t got no plans on being a career criminal, but this might be my shot at the big time. I need someone that I can trust with my life to pull this off.”
“And that would be little old me?”
“Baby girl, I’d bet on you to win any day.”
Eve thought about it momentarily. She had robbed people and establishments, but never a moving object. She knew that the Italians were relentless about things like hijacking. Whereas the Blacks and browns made most of their illegal cream by hustling or other such vices, the mobsters were thieves. Most of them would rather steal till the end of their days rather than taint themselves or their families with drug affiliation. Then she recalled what he said about possible gunplay. Who else wanted the truck badly enough to shed blood for it? Rival crews? Another mob family? There were too many variables for her to decide right away.
“Give me some time to think on it,” she finally said. “I got something else I gotta take care of tonight, but you’ll have my answer soon.”
“Sure, Eve. But don’t think too long. I gotta take this, with or without you, baby.”
A few hours after the robbery, Eve found herself making yet another quick change. Seemed as if she was doing that a lot as of late. The constant switch between Evelyn and Eve could be dizzying at times, but it was necessary. The way she had chosen to live her life made it so.
She touched a delicate finger to one of the bags forming under her eyes and frowned when she noticed her nails. They were chipped. She doubted that anyone else had noticed, except maybe Cassidy. Her friend was always concerned about appearance and material possessions, but they weren’t as high on her priority list.
People never really knew what to make of Eve. Even as a little girl, she’d rather play cops and robbers with the boys than jump rope with the girls. She felt that men were simpler and easier to figure out than their complicated opposites. Women were always so fickle and conflictive. That was the reason why she was referred to as hard. She always figured it was easier to embrace the rough nature of her larcenous comrades than try to adapt to the femininity of her sisters. It was hard for a little girl to really understand what it was to become a young lady without anyone to teach her. From the time her mother died, there was never an elder woman for Eve to confide in or learn from. All Eve had around her were men.
As Eve got older, she noticed something within her began to change. With the development of her body and mind came the development of certain feelings. She felt somehow different since her return home. She had tried to explain it to Cassidy, in hopes of getting some type of insight, but her best friend simply laughed it off and told her, “You’re finally discovering the bitch, trapped under all that nigga.” Eve had mixed emotions about the half joke, but she let it go.
She pushed the trivial thought from her mind and focused on business. She pulled a stocking cap over her braids, which were beginning to fuzz up, and put a fitted one over that. Checking her scowl once more in the mirror to see if it was passable, she dubbed herself ready. It was time for phase two of the plan.
Cassidy sat and watched Carlo gobble down his second piece of cobbler. He had attacked his entrée as if ribs and collard greens were something totally alien to him. For the better part of the night they had been feeling each other out. Cassidy told him about her mother and fast-ass sister, and Carlo talked about life growing up in a Sicilian household. He didn’t talk too much about his family, and whenever it came to his father, he changed the subject.
“So, Cassidy, how come you hang around with Butter if he isn’t your man?” Carlo asked out of the clear blue.
“I don’t hang around,” Cassidy corrected him. “Butter and I are see each other sometimes.”
“What’s the difference?”
“The difference is, he and I aren’t exclusive. Why, does the fact that I was seeing someone bother you?”
“Nah.” He wiped his mouth. “You’re grown. See who you want. I just got a problem with you seeing someone that I’m doing business with.”
“Well, I don’t see either of your names on this pussy,” she whispered to him.
“Really? And how would I go about getting my name on it?” he asked.
“Play
your cards right and time might tell,” she teased. “It takes a certain kind of man to handle me.”
“Baby, cut the game. I got money and power.”
“So?”
“So, that makes me the best man for the job.”
“Let you tell it,” she shot back.
“Cassidy, cut it out. I’m working with some long dough and you know it. Anything that Butter’s ever given you, I can buy four of em. Money talks and bullshit runs a marathon.”
“Let’s get something straight,” Cassidy said, sitting up straight, “I ain’t no hoe. True, I like nice shit and I like to be papered, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let any nigga waving some cash taste this. It ain’t that kind of party, boo.”
“Whoa, don’t take it like that. I didn’t mean no disrespect,” he said, trying to recover. “All I’m saying is, you’re a dime, Cassidy. A girl like you needs a guy that can take care of her. I’m not talking about letting you hold a car or spending a little dough on you. I’m talking about letting you see how the other half lives.”
“You talk a good one,” she said, relaxing again.
“Yeah, but I can back it up. Come on, baby, don’t act like you don’t know what I’m about.”
Cassidy and Carlo talked for a little while longer, then called for the check. After they ate, he took her to a nice lounge in the village for drinks. She was turned on by the kind of attention they got. Everywhere they went people treated Carlo like he was a VIP. Nothing was too much for Franko De Nardi’s kid. Cassidy had decided that maybe she had finally hooked the big fish with Carlo. If he kept moving the way he did, his name would be etched on her pussy sooner than she thought.
The line of people waiting to get into The Lab was ridiculous. People were staked out from the entrance all the way to Throop. A rapper from the neighborhood, who had managed to make it big, was taking the stage. The jam was going to be the place to be for the evening.
The line being so long was something Eve hadn’t counted on. If she waited, her vic would be gone by the time she got inside. Not bothering to try her luck, Eve made her way over to the VIP line. The bouncers were checking credentials, waving in the somebodys and sending the nobodys to the regular line. The hundred-dollar bill she palmed and handed to the bouncer made her somebody that night.
This part of the plan had almost been scrapped. They had pillaged the vic’s house for all its valuables and were sure to get a good chunk of change from the fence. Robbing the young hustler himself really wasn’t necessary at that point, but Eve figured all or nothing. Now she found herself slithering through the Bed Stuy underworld.
She was surprised to see that the inside of the club wasn’t that crowded. The bouncers were probably making people wait so they could claim they were overcrowded and charge more money. This was something that worked in Eve’s favor. She would be able to retrieve her package without drawing much attention. She parked herself and waited for the bartender to notice her uplifted hand.
The girl pouring the drinks was a shapely young lady with a round face. Her spandex top advertised her large breasts to everyone who had eyes. She swaggered over to Eve and leaned in so that her cleavage would be exposed.
The bartender, asked “What you drinking?”
“Gimmie a shot of Henny,” Eve said, trying to sound as manly as possible.
The bartender winked at Eve and strutted over to fix her drink. Before she could get to pouring, one of the staff caught her attention and whispered something in her ear. Eve figured she could get what she had to get and come back for her drink. With her order already placed, she ambled over to the bathroom.
When she opened the bathroom door, a cloud of smoke hit her in the face. A few guys were standing around, smoking or using the urinals, but no one spared Eve a second look. She walked over to the mirror to give herself the onceover. She was wearing a black leather blazer over a red button-up. She had quite the time tying her breasts down so they didn’t bulge through the material. The matching leather pants were two sizes too big, so as not to show too much of her ass. As usual, her braids hung down her back from beneath her black fitted cap. She looked like one of the boys.
Using the mirror, as opposed to turning around, she scanned the stall doors. On the third stall from the door, she found what she was looking for. A “Live on Lenox” sticker was plastered to the closed stall door. Without attracting too much attention, Eve made her way to the stall.
To her disappointment, it was occupied. She went back over to the mirror, started fixing her braids, and tried to wait out the occupant. Fifteen minutes had passed and still nothing. People had started to look at her funny, so she knew she had to make a move. Getting fed up, she knocked on the stall door.
“Occupied!” someone shouted from inside the stall. Eve waited another minute or two and knocked again. “I said, occupied!” the same voice shouted.
“I need to get in there,” Eve said, trying to sound masculine.
“Use another stall,” the occupant responded.
“Look, I’ll give you fifty dollars to let me use this stall,” Eve offered. After another minute, the door sprung open. A Black dude in a pink button-up and matching cap came out of the stall, followed by a skinny white dude. From the inflammation around the white dude’s nose, Eve guessed what they were up to. Eve handed the Black dude the fifty and closed herself inside the stall.
She slammed the seat down and dropped her pants to her ankles, giving anyone who might be looking the impression that she was using the bathroom. She reached behind the toilet and found just what she was looking for. She ripped the wad of tape loose and came up with a .25, just where Keisha said it would be.
Keisha had come down to the club earlier that day to plant the gun. She was fucking one of the bouncers, so it wasn’t hard for her to get into the club before it opened. She gave him a shot of head as payment and went about her business. She was going through all this just to set a nigga up. Eve made a note of how dangerous an enemy Keisha could be if it came down to it.
Butter and Felon arrived to pick up Steve right on time. To their surprise, he wasn’t alone. There was an Italian cat with him, sporting a black ponytail. Steve informed him that Sal was one of Carlo’s men and had to go along. Butter didn’t like it, but Felon just shrugged. They parked Butter’s car and climbed into the truck, with Steve behind the wheel.
On the way to the pier the only sound was the radio playing low. Each man was locked in his own thoughts. Steve watched the road, while Sal sat in the back next to Butter, playing with a switchblade. Felon was going over the plan again, while Butter tried to keep his eyes on everyone at once. After a few miles of driving, the pier came into view.
“When we get in there, let me do all the talking,” Felon said to the occupants of the car.
“Who made you boss?” Sal asked.
“Carlo, that’s who,” Steve spoke up. “Sal, be cool and let Felon handle this. We’re just the muscle.”
Sal didn’t like the idea of taking orders from Blacks, but if this is what Carlo wanted, this is what it would be. The truck pulled up to a wire fence and flashed its high beams twice. There was a brief pause and the gate began to slide open. Steve navigated the truck to the back of a storage area and parked next to an identical one. Five Spanish cats got out of the twin and awaited their guest. Felon got out and motioned for the other three to stay in the car.
“You Felon?” asked a Spanish kid with a curly Afro.
“You Tito?” Felon shot back.
“Who your friends?” Tito asked, without bothering to answer Felon’s question.
“Those my peoples,” Felon responded shortly.
“Why they no get out?”
“Same reason you probably got niggaz stashed all throughout this bitch.” Felon looked around cautiously. “Come on, papi, you ain’t here to do business with them. I’m the man to see.”
One of the men mumbled something in Spanish and Tito waved him off. “You tell them to get out of the
car, or we no deal,” Tito demanded.
“What kind of shit is this?” Felon asked. “You trying to pull something?”
“We no pull nothing. We just wanna see who we’re dealing with. Tell them get out and we deal. No trouble.”
Felon stared Tito down for a long minute without moving. He didn’t like the way it was going down, but he held his face. Tito and his boys could just be downright paranoid, or it could be a setup. Felon shrugged it off, telling himself that the Spanish crew wouldn’t be stupid enough to cross Carlo. Even if they did try something, he knew he and his partner were strapped. And even if he didn’t show it, Felon had a good idea that Sal was holding too. He looked over his shoulder and motioned for the others to join him.
One by one they filed out of the truck. Steve posted against the truck while Sal flanked Tito’s crew. Butter came and stood by Felon’s side, with the shotgun tucked in the arm of his full-length leather jacket.
“So we gonna do this or what?” Felon shrugged.
“Okay,” Tito nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Sorry about that. Can’t be too careful. We do business now.”
Felon motioned to Steve, who popped the rear of the truck. One of Tito’s boys, followed by Sal, went to inspect the cases carrying the money. After a long moment he gave Tito the nod.
Felon held the keys out to Tito, but snatched them back when he reached. “I believe you have something for me?”
Tito made a face and handed Felon the keys. He tossed them to Butter, who went to inspect the cargo. At first Butter couldn’t find anything, but one of Tito’s men showed him how to work the false floor. Butter quickly sifted through the packages and nodded in approval to Felon. Without another word, the two crews switched trucks. Felon and his people waited a full fifteen minutes after Tito had gone to pull out of the lot and hit the southbound traffic. Each man wore a broad smile all the way to the Bronx. The deal had gone off without a hitch, but Felon was just barely forcing down the lump that had crawled into his throat.
