by Glenn, Roy
“What’s up, Me’shelle?”
“Bruce, where have been? I was worried about you. Is everything all right?”
“Worried about me, huh? But not worried enough to help me out, huh, Me’shelle? Anyway, I’m fine. We’re all fine. We’re down south.”
“Down south? Down south where?”
“We’re in Columbia, at Grandma’s house,” Bruce replied.
“Good. That’s where you should stay. It might keep you out of trouble for a while.”
“Yeah, maybe. But we’ll just be down here for a couple more weeks until I get my shit back to where it needs to be.”
“So, you’re coming back?”
“Yeah, Me’shelle, I’m a New York City boy, and it’s a little too country down here for me. Some of these niggas still rockin’ Jheri curls. The women are cool, and fine as hell, though.”
Me’shelle laughed. “Maybe slow and country is what you need to slow your ass down. Give yourself a chance to get yourself back together. Stop smoking that stuff before it kills you or gets you killed. And what about Brandy? Is she in school?”
“No,” Bruce said flatly.
“Don’t you think she needs to be?”
“Yeah, but she wasn’t goin’ to school too tough while she was up there.”
“That’s why you should have let Aunt Juanita get custody of her. Brandy doesn’t need to be livin’ that life with you and your dope fiend wife. She needs a chance, Bruce. Don’t you see that she’s on the wrong path now?”
“Yeah, yeah, sister Mary-Me’shelle. I understand all that. But I didn’t call you to get a lecture. I just called to let you know where we were, that we’re all right and that we’ll be back in a couple of weeks.”
“Well, thank you, Bruce. You know I was worried.”
“You worry too much, Me’shelle. You should worry about findin’ you a man before that pussy dries up and nobody wants your ass,” Bruce said jokingly.
“You are so gross, Bruce, but you always have been. And for your information, I had a date last night.”
“You’re kiddin’. Well, it’s about time you stop waiting for big head Trent to realize he made the biggest mistake of his life, leave the tittie woman alone and come back to you. It’s time you get on with your life. So, who is this nigga?”
“His name is Travis Burns.”
“Travis Burns—Travis Burns. Where have I heard that name before?” Bruce wondered aloud.
“I doubt you know him. He’s not like the lowlifes you run around with. He’s a programmer,” Me’shelle said.
“Whatever, Me’shelle. Look, I gotta go. I don’t wanna run up Grandma’s phone bill.”
“Okay, Bruce. Kiss Brandy and Grandma for me and tell them that I love them. And snatch the pipe out of Natalie’s mouth and slap her upside the head for me,” Me’shelle said.
“Bye, Me’shelle.” Bruce laughed, thinking that she was right. Natalie did smoke too much and was the reason they were in the spot they were in.
“Bye, Bruce.”
When Me’shelle got home, she took a long, hot bath and got ready for bed. Once she had made herself comfortable in bed, she called Travis. “Hello, Travis?”
“Yes.”
“This is Me’shelle. How are you?”
“I’m fine, Me’shelle. How are you today?”
“I’m fine. Did I catch you at a bad time?” Me’shelle asked.
“No, not at all. I’m glad you called,” Travis said, thankful that he told Mystique he was tired and didn’t let her come get in the bed with him as she requested. “I was just sitting here working out the bugs in a program I’m going to run in the morning.” He was actually working on the final details of the grocery store robbery that they planned on running in the morning. “But I was really just keeping myself busy, sitting by the telephone waiting for you to call.”
“You know, Travis, you say the nicest things. Do you say things like that to every woman you meet?” Me’shelle asked.
“No, I don’t. I don’t meet women like you every day. There’s something special about you, Me’shelle. I can’t quite put my finger on it or give it a name, but it’s something.”
“So, tell me about these dreams of yours.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re silly.”
“Last night you said those dreams were the reason you were sitting there with me.”
“They are, but they’re still silly.”
“Come on, Travis. I promise I won’t tell anybody about them. It will be our little secret.”
“Okay,” Travis said sheepishly. “But you have to promise to share a secret with me. You promise?”
“Yes, I promise.” Me’shelle giggled. It felt so good to laugh again.
“Okay. Don’t laugh, okay?”
“I will if it’s funny.”
“After you attacked me with your cart, I used to have these dreams where I’d try to talk to you but something would always keep me from getting to you. So, one night I dreamed that I was on the D train and it’s rush hour. You’re on the train, too, but you’re sitting across from me.
“There’s a man sitting next to you. The next stop is Times Square and the man gets up and goes for the door. You say, ‘Come sit next to me, Travis,’ but when I get up, the doors open up and everybody rushes on the train and I can’t get to you.
“So, when we get to Thirty-fourth Street, the doors open and some of the people get off, and now there are these two white girls sitting where you were. I look around for you and you’re standing on the platform. I try to get off, but I run into the guy from the seafood counter at the grocery store. Once I get around him, the doors close in front of me. But even though the doors are closed, I can still hear you saying, ‘Well maybe you should look where you’re going.’ ”
By then, Me’shelle was laughing all over herself.
“Then you laugh, like you’re doing now, and the train pulls off and your image fades away.”
“You have got to be kidding me, Travis. You’re just making this up, right? Tell me you just made that up,” Me’shelle said, still laughing.
“I swear that I actually dreamed that about you,” Travis said, laughing along with her.
Me’shelle tried to compose herself, but it wasn’t happening. “You know, when you said you dreamed about me, I thought that you were going to say it was something sexual. You know, like we were doin’ it on top of the Empire State Building or something like that. But I really wasn’t prepared for us on the train,” she said, still laughing.
“See, I knew you would laugh. And just so you know, some of my dreams of you were very sexual in nature, but they were far more creative then doin’ it on top of the Empire State Building.”
“Tell me about it.”
“No.”
“Why not?” Me’shelle laughed.
“Because you promised to tell me a secret about you,” Travis said, hoping that was his way out of this conversation.
“You’ll know all my secrets soon enough, Travis.”
As the night wore on, Travis and Me’shelle talked. They talked about a little of everything. They had impassioned discussions on the state of black America. Like most black people, they agreed when identifying the problem, but came down on different sides of the fence when the conversation turned to a solution. Me’shelle, who had a somewhat liberal ideology, felt that the government should play more of a role in resolving some of the issues. Travis believed that black people, especially black men, should take personal responsibility for their condition and look inward to resolve those issues.
“There should be more programs to help people make their lives better,” Me’shelle argued.
“You’re talking about this government, right? This government do something to help black people? Live in reality. We need to stop going to Massas’ house, tappin’ on the back door, beggin’ Massa ‘please, give your niggras something.’ No, Me’shelle, we as a people need to d
o it better, smarter and for ourselves. Take responsibility for our destiny.”
“You’re right. We should be doin’ it a lot better than we are. But they caused our condition and maintain the environment where it is permitted to exist unchecked. They should do something to reverse it,” Me’shelle pleaded, but Travis would have none of it.
“Where are your eyes, those beautiful eyes? Are they so clouded that you can’t see that it’s permitted to exist, as you say, by design? Do you think that politicians don’t realize the impact of some of their decisions on black people? You think they don’t know what’s going on? That’s why revolution is the only way.”
“Revolution, Travis? Don’t you think that’s just a tad radical?”
“I’m talking about revolution of the mind. Free our minds of the slave mentality. An economic revolution; take control of the money that flows so freely out of our hands and into somebody else’s, never to be seen or heard from again.”
“That’s right. Hit them where it hurts. Take money out of their pockets. It’s the only thing they understand anyway.”
Travis smiled. “Until we can look them in the eyes and trade greenback for greenback, we gets no respect.”
“We’re gettin’ pretty intense for our first telephone conversation,” Me’shelle said, but she loved it. Their conversation was stimulating her in more ways than just intellectually.
“I know how to end any discussion on the state of black America. Guaranteed to work without fail every time,” Travis said.
“How’s that?” Me’shelle asked.
“What should we do about it?” Travis asked.
Me’shelle didn’t have an answer to that question. “You’re beginning to interest me, Travis.”
“Really? Tell me why.”
“I don’t know. You’re not like most guys I’ve met. Not that I meet a lot of guys, but they’re not at all like you.”
“Yeah, but why, Me’shelle? What makes me so different?”
“You’re very confident and self-assured, but not to the point of being arrogant. You know what I mean? It’s like you know what you know and that’s enough for you. It’s not like you need to prove it to the world. You understand what I’m sayin’ now?”
“I think I like that. I think I like you, too, Me’shelle, my belle.”
“What did you call me?”
“Me’shelle, my belle. It’s a line from an old Beatles song. The next line is in French, but I don’t remember how it goes.”
“My mother used to call me that when I was younger.”
“I’d like to meet your mother some day,” Travis said.
“She died when I was seven. Both my parents are dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My father died a few years ago,” Me’shelle said with some sadness in her voice. Then she remembered what her aunt said about him being happy to get back to his Sabrina. “But they’re together in a better place. What about you?”
“I lost my father a few years ago, too. My mom’s lives in Florida.”
Me’shelle glanced at the clock by her bed. “Ooh, Travis, it’s after one in the morning.”
“Really?”
“Yup. We’ve been running our mouths for four hours.”
“I guess we have a lot to talk about,” Travis said.
“I guess we do. I guess we should say goodnight. I have to be at school at seven forty-five. I got spoiled last week.”
“Really? Why was that?”
“We had a teachers’ work day and I didn’t have to be there until nine, but I ended up not going at all because I hurt my leg.”
“How’d you manage that?”
“I slipped and fell off the treadmill,” Me’shelle said. That answered Travis’s question about why she was at the store at 8:45 that past Monday. And then the conversation took off in another direction. This happened twice more before Me’shelle said, “Look, it’s almost three in the morning and I have to get up in three hours.”
“But you are going to school in the morning? I mean, you’re not going to fall off the treadmill and skip school, right?” Travis asked to be sure he wouldn’t have to abort the job again because Me’shelle came to the store.
“No, I promise to be more careful this time and make it to school. I won’t be any good, but I’m going.”
“Good. So I’ll let you go to sleep.”
“Good night, Travis.”
“Goodnight, Me’shelle,” Travis said and hung up the phone. The next sound Travis heard was Jackie yelling, “Yo, Travis! Wake up! You gonna make us late.”
“What?”
“Get the fuck up out the bed, nigga, and let’s go do this,” Ronnie screamed.
“Damn. What time is it?”
“It’s almost eight, man. We gotta go,” Jackie said.
“Yo, Travis, what’s been up with you?” Ronnie asked. “It’s like lately you haven’t been up for it like you used to be. You ain’t losin’ your nerve, are you?”
“Where did that come from? Because I overslept, now you think I lost my nerve and shit? Give me a fuckin’ break,” Travis said as he got up and began to get dressed.
“It ain’t just that, Tee. You been second-guessin’ yourself, and you panicked last week,” Jackie stated. “We just wanna know what’s up.”
“I did not panic. It just didn’t feel right to me, that’s all.”
“Well, today I think I should call the job,” Ronnie said. “Me and Jackie will go after the bagman. You set the jammer and cover the driver.”
“So, it’s like that?”
“This how it gotta be, Tee,” Ronnie said. “Something ain’t right about you, man. Maybe you lost your heart, maybe not. But this just how it gotta be today.”
“What do you say, Jackie?”
“I think Ronnie’s right. You have been actin’ kind of funny lately. And whether you wanna admit it or not, you did panic last week. It didn’t get no better than we had it last week, but you yelled abort. And you still can’t say why, other than it didn’t feel right.”
Travis looked at his partners for a moment. He started to protest and proclaim that he had to call the job like he always did, but he knew they were right. He had aborted the job because he saw Me’shelle walk across the parking lot. He could have and probably should have waited to see how her presence was going to play into the mix of the job. After all, they had planned for the contingency of some customer entering their field of operations. He could have remained calm, but he panicked and called abort.
“Okay, if that’s the way it’s gotta be, then that’s the way it is,” Travis said. Besides, Me’shelle promised to be careful on the treadmill and go to school. No reason to abort the job this time—I hope.
Just as they had a week earlier, they arrived at the store and assumed their positions adjacent to the front of the store, waiting for the armored truck to arrive.
“Sound check. Mr. Blue?” Ronnie said.
“Sound check, one, two.”
“Acknowledged. Mr. White?”
“Check, two, three, baby.”
“Time check,” Ronnie said with authority in his voice.
“Eight-thirty,” Jackie replied.
“Eight-thirty, check,” Travis said.
“Acknowledged. Weapons check,” Ronnie said.
“Two loaded nine millers, check,” Jackie said.
“One AK-47. Two nine millimeters check,” Travis said.
“Acknowledged. One pump shotgun. Equipment check,” Ronnie said.
Travis turned on the C-Guard. “C-Guard engaged,” he said.
Jackie took out a cell phone and checked the screen for a signal. “Signal at one hundred percent.” She tried to make a call. “Call cannot be completed.”
“Acknowledged. Maintain operational silence,” Ronnie said and they waited.
At 8:45, the armored truck turned into the lot and parked in front of the store in perfect position. The bagman exited the vehicle and went into the store. Tra
vis engaged the jamming device. “C-Guard engaged,” Travis said.
“Acknowledged,” Ronnie said.
Travis looked out the window of the Geo Prism Jackie had stolen, waiting for the bagman to exit the store. He looked over at Ronnie and Jackie in their Pontiac. He checked his watch and thought, Any second now. The bagman came out with four bags. “Subject exiting store.”
“Acknowledged, Mr. Blue. Assume cover position one and stand by,” Ronnie said.
“Acknowledged, Mr. Green.” Travis exited the vehicle and moved on the armored truck, as Ronnie and Jackie moved to intercept the bagman approaching the rear of the truck. Once Travis was in position, the driver saw him and attempted to call for back up.
When the bagman reached the rear of the truck, he saw Jackie and Ronnie coming toward him with guns drawn. He dropped the bags and reached for his gun. As he pointed the weapon, Jackie fired from both nine millimeters over the head of the bagman, hitting the truck. The bagman dropped his weapon and took cover on the ground behind the truck.
Meanwhile, the driver, who was unable to get anybody at the base station, started to get out of the truck. He jumped down from the truck with his gun drawn.
Travis stepped up. “Drop it!” He pointed the AK-47 at the driver. Ronnie, however, did not wait to see if the driver was going to comply with Travis’s order. Ronnie raised the pump and fired, hitting the driver in the chest.
Jackie quickly kicked the bagman’s gun under the truck and got the four bags. “Objective secured, Mr. Green,” Jackie said and went for the Pontiac. Both Ronnie and Travis maintained their cover positions.
Travis kept his AK-47 trained on the driver. There was a big hole in the vest he was wearing. From where Travis was standing, he couldn’t tell if the bullet went though. The driver was still moving, but that didn’t mean anything.
