by RJ
“So, you wanna take all of our product, guns, and real estate to sell it to Big Dog’s gang?” Tyris asked once more with each word put exactly as before implying that the idea seemed silly to him.
“You got it right. Again…”
“It’s madness!” the associate resented.
As a response JB took a sip and shrugged.
“Whatcha gonna do with da paper?” Markus asked.
“Giving it to the men.”
“The men?” Markus wondered.
“Yeah. We have twenty-five dudes, it’s gonna be about ninety-two large for each. Look at it as dismissal pay. It has to be enough to stay low for a while.”
Tyris and Markus looked at each other evaluating shared dislike of the situation.
“You’re the boss…” Tyris pushed through his teeth.
It was new for them. They both were under an impression that all the money was meant to be divided among three of them as gang’s superiors. But they wouldn’t dare to argue, JB wasn’t a kind of guy to argue with.
Bridgers got up.
“Oh, one more thing… Leave your phones,” he said on the way out.
“What? Why? What about the connection?” Tyris asked perplexedly.
“To ride a few miles over the city you don’t need a ‘connection’ yo!” the boss emphasized the word ‘connection’ especially. “It’s too much of a risk. No phones on the mission.”
Tyris and Markus exchanged vague looks once more. The suspicion in their behavior was growing. JB took it almost as a personal insult to himself.
“Yo, J!” Tyris called him up. “What about the money for the real estate and the credits?”
“All for the men!”
Over the years, JB proved himself as a mastermind crook who had thousands of diverse ideas that brought the gang a significant income. So whenever he suggested something extreme, or insane, or just silly, they learned to take his word for it. But this time it was a different story, he needed to throw a solid bone to the pack of wolves to get away while they tear each other apart over it.
By that time, a gray van arrived. The car was covered in a telephone company’s ads as a camouflage. But that cover looked unrealistic enough so that anyone could see it as a ‘masked van,' that’s why gangsters thought no one would believe such obvious vehicle to be what it seemed. Besides the van, there also was JB’s Ford with the backup to come along. As for JB himself, he was going to keep some distance, following the convoy on his bike. There were enough guns and drugs in the van for several decades of prison. The big guy didn’t want be the one to arrest in the case of a bust.
If someone is getting busted, make sure it’s the expendable ones.
The plan looked flawless, but still, something wouldn’t let JB breathe easy. He felt like this exchange might be a significant peril to his endurance. The thought of leaving everything and running away appeared to him more and more often. He already had several bank accounts with enough money in it to disappear and live a long life somewhere on a beach. Such a sweet dream of his. But the idea of unfinished business was corroding him from inside. An ‘Achilles’ heel’ of his. Despite the gangster’s greed, adrenaline addiction affected him more strongly than all the prudence in the world. And he knew that someday one of these qualities of his was going to be the reason for his fall. But it was stronger than him. Nothing he could do about that. Perhaps he just hoped that everything would go smoothly.
It was noon, time for business. The gang had prepared for an operation: they had loaded the product, armed up and got ready to follow the order. JB went to the truck for a short word with Tyris.
“JB,” Tyris opened the window.
“Make a few spins around the block, then follow them to the docks. The place is under the South Bridge.”
“Got it. Will do.”
The vehicles went on. JB himself walked to his bike.
“You know, B,” Chris pronounced thoughtfully, holding a cup of hot beverage in his hand, “animals, like Tyris and Markus, are unpredictable. Let me go along for support.”
JB thoroughly scanned that skinny black man from head to toe. Chris had more food stains on his robe and t-shirt than a two-year-old.
“Your job is pushing the ‘buttons’ today, Chris. And put on fucking resp when leaving the house, yo!”
“Got it, boss,” the guard responded and took a sip.
JB got on the bike and looked around suspiciously as a matter of habit. While the engine was warming up, he pulled out his cellphone to make a call.
“Yeah,” Big Dog’s voice sounded.
“Southbridge,” JB said and disconnected right away.
Let’s ride.
Bridgers decided to take a shortcut to get to the rendezvous point first. He wanted to make sure that it was clear there. Although the crew of his had moved out a few minutes before, the boss had more agility with his bike. When the big cars were sluggishly crawling through main streets, JB was used to narrow paths. Disregarding all standards of safe driving, the bright colored biker was flying through the alleys and courts of the dirty boondocks of LA. Even when crossing the roads he didn't slow down speed, driven only by his high skill of riding and gaming instinct. Anyway, it was a perfect time for that. The cocaine cloud accident had cleaned the streets, so it was more or less easy.
Not far from his destination, when crossing another road, an unexpected car came out in front of the biker. It appeared suddenly, just before the entrance of the alley where he was heading. In the moments going around that vehicle JB noticed two men inside. It looked like they were looking for a parking spot. The gangster wasn’t sure why, but that Impala seemed familiar. The speed took back his attention, and that sudden thought of suspicion got lost among hundreds of others.
The industrial water channel appeared in a few more blocks. JB moved along it now. Soon that way led him to the spot of the agreement. Despite some inconvenience on the road, the gangster got to the bridge first. He came from the sideway in case the main entrance was under surveillance.
After switching off the engine he pulled out his phone to watch the GPS location of the rest of the group. JB's eyes got glued to the screen, everything looked right: the cars made a few spins around their block after which they went on their way towards their destination. Mostly both vehicles kept together, but at one point, suddenly, the Ford stopped near some alley, leaving the van alone. It waited for a few seconds, then went on to catch up.
It was one p.m. already. The van’s front appeared from the corner of main entrance. The product arrived. The pickup truck went in right after. The whole of JB’s team was there, and Big Dog’s men seemed to be late. It took a lot to make JB nervous, but that time he was pretty close. While his boys were parking the cars properly, Bridgers took out the gun and charged it up. Then he took out the holder to put an extra bullet in it. The clip went back into its place, and the gun went behind JB’s back.
The cars’ engines stayed active all the time. The only person who didn't come out was the van’s driver. He had even never even loosened up the grip on the steering wheel. The gangsters grouped up to wait for other gang. Jerry checked Tyris’ eyes thoroughly, something was worrying him in that look. Somehow he felt wrong about that Ford's stop. But he didn't say a thing, all of them were quiet.
Ten minutes passed. The Lincoln Navigator showed up from the main entrance, the Hummer was right behind it. Big Dog’s crew arrived. The SUVs stopped, keeping some distance from JB’s guys. The gangsters left their vehicles. All of them wore respirators, so it was hard to recognize any of them. Dog went forward.
After JB made sure that all of them were out of the cars, he stepped forward too. They shook hands and the deal went on.
“Everything ready?” Dog asked.
Jerry nodded at the van.
“Full and loaded, all yours. Green?”
As a response Big Dog gave a look to one of his men to come along.
“Shall we?” Dog said.
They w
ent to the van where Big Dog had to check the content. Markus opened the side door. Dog looked inside, lingered for a while. He was counting. Then he turned back to JB.
“All there. Cool,” a slight smile appeared on his face.
“Your turn,” JB said.
“As we agreed,” Dog nodded to his associate.
The guy passed the suitcase. The boss-gangster landed the case on the Ford’s hood, opened it up and turned to JB. The money stuffed the case fully. JB took one of the lowest packs, somewhere in the center, unpacked it and looked through the bills to make sure they were genuine. Then he put it back and nodded in agreement. The black gangster closed the suitcase and passed it on.
“Two point three?” JB asked.
“Two point three,” Dog answered joyfully.
The biker took the case with his left hand and knocked on the van twice with his right. That was a sign for a driver to give up the vehicle, so he did. The deal was done.
“Nice having business with you, Dog,” JB offered his hand to shake.
“Same here, B. Take care.”
They shook it. Big Dog put on black shades and returned to his crew. JB stepped closer to his bike to take a folded leather backpack, which was hanging on the side of it. He put all the money from the case into the bag and threw in on his shoulders. Meanwhile the van along with SUVs had left. JB passed the empty case to Tyris.
“That’s it. Let’s move.”
The big guy mounted his motorcycle, everyone else got in the Ford. Before leaving he wanted to make a call. Bridgers didn't save work numbers in his phone and didn't keep them written down. All of them he knew by heart. That effort was supposed to shorten the evidence in case of an arrest. The call passed through.
“Yeah, JB?” man’s voice responded.
“Yo! Mike, sup?”
“We have all of it. Will be at the base soon.”
“Cool. See ya.’”
JB shoved the phone where it belonged. He put the helmet on and rode closely to the truck. Tyris lowered the window.
“All of ours gotta be in the crib by six p.m.”
“Done,” Tyris said.
The biker moved and, in a blink of an eye, was far gone. Several minutes without the helmet and respirator showed up in JB's condition. The cocaine that he had breathed jumbled his clear thinking a bit. His moves got more sharp and the movement speed went much higher. One task was ahead of him – to dissolve the gang. Then he had to disappear, as soon as possible. He had to put it together. Bridgers knew from the very beginning what the end would be like. The business had to close at some point. It was inevitable not because of JB’s fear or weakness. But because nothing lasts forever, especially the careers of the criminals. Three years in lies and deceptions were ending that day. It was time to find a new cover. The deal with Big Dog was planned as a huge performance, and it wasn’t the last one. JB needed a short break to prepare for next act.
The flight was set for that night. A cargo plane with humanitarian aid heading to Ukraine had been scheduled to launch from L.A. JB was supposed to fly on it, to leave Los Angeles, the best place for him on Earth.
The biker arrived at one of the tall houses in a prestigious neighborhood. His home was there. No one would suspect a young man from such peaceful place to be connected to the drug business. JB went to the underground parking space. He passed an empty guard booth, craftily driving around the barrier. The parking spot was not far from the entrance. A white Cadillac Escalade waited for him there.
The big guy turned off the Ducati, took off the helmet, and took a short breath, checking if the air was clear. It was. Then he put down a kickstand and stepped on the ground. After checking that no one was around, JB took off the bag and unlocked the car. On the backseat, he found a brand new vest, just like one that he was wearing. Also there was another bag, under the driver-side seat, with some money in it. He moved all things from the backpack to that sports bag, except the money for the crew.
Suddenly his hand reached back inside, to get the cash. The man was stunned. His head was full of thoughts that he had all the money and got rid of the evidence, nothing was holding him. He could take it all and go to any other state, no one would find him. That wish was intoxicating his mind. The doubts sounded louder and louder. But a moment after that weakness was gone, a sanity took over. Jerry closed the bag and moved it beneath the seat where it had been before. Then he sealed the backpack and threw it on the shoulders.
He locked the Escalade and the gangster rode his bike out of the garage. This time the helmet stayed fixed on the back seat, JB had chosen to move the rest of the distance holding his breath. Right behind the corner was the front door to the building. JB stopped and went in.
A concierge looked at the resident kindly. He had to have had a slow day since no one was allowed to come out. JB's arrival surprised him.
“Hello, Mr. Bridgers,” he welcomed the tenant respectfully. “What are you doing out there, sir? Haven’t you heard about the curfew?”
“Yo! Dave! Curfew? No, I must have missed that,” Jerry said and rushed to the elevator.
Five hours passed. The concierge was still there, going through some automotive magazine. He seemed mostly interested in motorcycles section. From time to time he threw glances at Jerry’s Monster. He was drilling the machine with his stare that very moment when suddenly JB appeared in front of the guy.
“Yo! Dave!” JB shout out.
The concierge flinched.
“Yes, yes, sir? How can I help you?”
“Yo! I told you to call me ‘JB,' man.”
“Yes, sir. You definitely did,” Dave said. “Excuse me, I couldn’t miss that you ride that Monster now. May I wonder, what happened to the 996?”
More than anything JB loved his Ducati 996, the loss of it was not easy on him, and now he was sick of that question from everyone around him. So he just ignored the concierge’s curiosity.
“Look, man. I’m going somewhere for a while, not sure for how long. Hopefully not longer than a year.”
“Okay…”
“I need someone to look after my place. Can you do that?”
“Sure, JB!” Dave nodded. “Anything else?”
“How much more do you need?”
“Excuse me?” concierge wondered.
“To purchase a motorcycle? How much?”
“Uh-hm…” Dave scratched his neck awkwardly.
“Here’s some gratitude for that favor,” JB handed a yellow envelope to him and shook his hand. “Stay outta trouble.”
The big guy in biker clothes went out. Dave was following him with his eyes all the way to the parking lot, then he looked inside the envelope. There was approximately five grand inside. He glanced at the motorcyclist once more then shoved the money into his pocket and looked around suspiciously. Being more than happy the man sat down in his chair to take back the magazine. The concierge’s widest smile illuminated the entire hallway.
JB was moving through the city to the crew’s base, noon was far gone, but the sun was still up. The road appeared clear as never before in the rush hour, just the rare car showed up every now and then. Most of them sped up; each driver had to have his own urgent reason to break the curfew.
Everything looked proper, the gangster was almost there. When, suddenly, he noticed a car via his side vision. The vehicle was parked in one of the alleys. Something odd felt about it. JB hit on the brakes, leaving a black trail behind him. The trick had almost turned his motorcycle. The point he stopped at was about ten yards from that car. Bridgers turned around to take a closer look. The men inside had probably noticed him, but he didn’t care. He tried to remember where he might have seen that car before. The grey Impala, nothing was too suspicious about such a car in that neighborhood. Then it hit him. Jerry supposed that might be the issue, the car was exactly suited for that place. Developing the thought, he thought of the particular spot where it was parked.
On his way to the gang meeting, he passed by that place.
And he had to drop his speed to drive around the Impala, which blocked the road when parking. It was the same vehicle. JB didn’t pay much attention back then, but now it was like a storm inside his head. Bridgers felt dizzy. The smartphone held all the information of the van's and Ford's movement. He looked through the whole pass from the base to that very spot. The answer was there. The van was moving straight, but the security truck stopped near the mysterious Impala.
That brief stop had captured JB’s attention back then, he didn’t know why they had done that. Now he had a pretty good idea. A big piece of the puzzle got in its place and the whole picture revealed itself. Bridgers told them to leave the phones, in case Tyris or Markus informed D-Kay about the place of a meeting. So they had to pass the information in a different manner. These men in the Impala were an enemy, JB was confident of that.
Any intelligent foe could not imagine a better timing to attack. The gang had already given up their heavy arms and the recent accident had ended all of the support by former allies. There was no shelter left for JB or his people. It was time to stop playing around; the choice had to be made: whether he was going to leave everything and disappear or risk his life along with the others.
Yet, such high-profile gangster couldn’t just drop that and leave without saying ‘goodbye.' Bridgers felt offended, so he had to make a precedent for everyone to remember him. He had to kill all of those who decided to cross him. And make the others witness that. For JB it was a matter of honor.
After a decision was made, JB pulled off his helmet and took a deep breath. Microscopic cocaine particles filled his chest with incoming air. That night the streets of Los Angeles were going to turn into a bloody massacre. One thing he knew for sure, he made the right call when putting on a vest that morning.
JB kept sitting still for few more minutes, thinking, watching his breath. It was time to move on, to the base, to encounter his enemies face to face, to finish them. He pulled a phone from his pocket and dialed Mike's number.
“Yeah.”
“Yo, Mike!”
