Passion for the Heist, page 17
“I get that, and I’m not knocking it.” Case draped his arm around Pain. “Bro, you’re fucked up in the pockets right now. Come on one job with us, and if you still feel like flying straight then this is a dead issue. Worse case, you can go out on those job interviews with some money in your pocket instead of lint. One and done, Pain. One and done.”
Pain wanted to argue with Case, but he couldn’t. His friend had pointed out something that Pain already knew, but was reluctant to accept. He could work three jobs and it could still take years for him to dig his grandmother out of debt. If Case and the crew were still getting to it like they had been before he went to prison, he’d be able to settle his granny’s tab in a fraction of that time. What he needed was literally there for the taking. All he had to do was reach out and snatch it, but what about his promise to his grandmother? It wouldn’t have been the first time he had vowed to her that he would go straight only to turn around and get arrested again, but this time had been different. His last bid had really taken a toll on him and he wasn’t sure that he had any more years left in him to give the state, and there was a fifty-fifty chance that more prison time awaited him on the other side of that door Case was tempting him to walk back through. Still, it was only one job, right?
“Man, why y’all over here all huddled up like a football team instead of enjoying this party?” Tyriq interrupted their conversation. There was a blunt tucked behind his ear and one dangling between his lips. From his low-hung eyes, you could see that the young man was already faded, but the beer in one hand and shot glass in the other said he had no plans on slowing down. “Pain, you get on some new pussy yet? Or ol’ girl wore you out before she kicked us out?” he asked louder than necessary. When he draped his arm around Pain, he reeked of liquor.
“Your ass is drunk.” Pain shrugged him off and fanned the stench.
“And you should be, too!” Tyriq countered. “This is your coming-home party, baby boy! We gonna drink good, fuck some bitches, and blow a bag in your honor. Then we’ll hit you with your welcome-home gift.”
“What gift?” Pain asked suspiciously. Tyriq opened his mouth to answer, but Case cut him off.
“A surprise. Nothing too crazy, just something me and bro felt that you deserved for all you’ve been put through these last few years,” Case said with a sly grin.
“C’mon, man. Y’all have already done enough. Some new clothes, a few dollars in my pocket, and good drink in my liver. I’m good, fam. Really.”
“If you say so,” Case said and left it at that.
“There this fool go.” Jay walked up on them. His hair was freshly spiked and dyed a shade of green so dark that it almost looked black. A thick gold chain hung from his neck, swaying back and forth across the broad chest of his fitted black T-shirt. Tattoos covered just about every inch of his exposed arms, telling the story of his life and his struggles. “Riq, how you gonna spin off with my blunt and then cuff yours?”
Tyriq plucked what was left of the blunt from his mouth and looked at it as if he was seeing it for the first time. “My fault, Jay. I was trying to check on my man and got caught up in the moment. Yo, this is big bro that we been telling you about, the homie Pain.”
“What up? They call me JK-47.” Jay extended his hand.
“Is that right?” Pain gave the Asian kid the once-over. He talked like a rapper, but looked like a K-pop artist. Pain was always cautious of new faces—some old ones, too—and as far as he knew, Jay was a new face.
“Word life. My name is ringing off out here a lil something, but nowhere near as loud as the Blackbird.” Jay flipped his hands, thumbs hooked and fingers spread to mimic a bird with its wings spread. He meant it as a sign of respect, but it wasn’t taken that way.
“Homie, your feet ever leave the ground?” Pain asked. It was an odd question, but only to those who didn’t know the correct answer.
“Huh?” Jay looked from Pain to Case in confusion.
“Meaning you with the shit you representing?” Pain looked at Jay’s hands. “You a Crow?”
“Crow?” Jay asked with an amused smirk. Pain’s face remained cold. Jay looked to Case, who wore an uneasy expression. “Nah, I’m just a business man.”
Pain didn’t like Jay’s response. The dismissive chuckle irritated him more than the fact that Jay was playing with something that he clearly had no understanding of. He also caught the exchange between Jay and Case when he asked if the boy was a Crow. There was something there that he couldn’t see yet, but he would.
“J.K.’s people have the line on hardware. He hits us with some real friendly numbers when we need to tool up. That’s why we call him JK-47,” Case explained.
“True indeed. I got shit for all occasions, Glocks, 9’s, rifles. Shit, I can even get you a slingshot if that’s your weapon of choice,” Jay joked. He was trying to lighten the mood between him and Pain, but fell short. Seeing that making nice with the Blackbird was pointless, he turned his attention to Case. “Yo, I need to get in your ear about that thing you asked me about.” He paused, waiting for Case to say it was okay to speak in front of Pain.
“That’s my brother. Whatever is said here will never leave this circle,” Case assured him.
“Nah, it’s cool. I’m about to see about the bar. I probably don’t wanna hear whatever else ya man has to say out his mouth anyhow,” Pain told them and walked off.
Case waited until Pain was out of earshot before turning to Tyriq. “What the fuck is wrong with you? How many times do I have to tell you about running your damn mouth all the time!”
“Case, stop that bullshit man. You know I ain’t never had no filter and I ain’t gonna grow one overnight. That’s just that,” Tyriq said flatly. “And why the fuck is it all of a sudden a secret? He’s gonna find out at some point.”
“And that point ain’t until I deem it so!” Case snapped.
Tyriq saw where this was going with Case. For the briefest of moments, he had considered entertaining his big homie’s bullshit and blaming it on the liquor later, but instead he took the high road. “Whatever you say.” He walked off.
“Damn, Case. It seems like all your people overdosed on testosterone tonight. I’m picking up on a lot of hostility, especially from that Blackbird joker. From the way y’all been chatting him up the last few years, I expected something different. Someone who is less of an asshole, feel me?” Jay had picked up on the shade Pain was throwing his way. Had it been anybody else he’d have popped on them. He was hardly a sucker, and not used to people coming at him sideways without a little bloodshed.
“Don’t read too deep into it. Pain just crawled up out of a hole, so it’s gonna take him a minute to re-sharpen his social skills. He’ll come around, though. What’s good?” Case turned the conversation back to business.
“I spoke to my guys, and they’ll be able to provide most of the stuff from your list. At least the major shit,” Jay told him.
“Bet, what’s the number looking like?” Case was already working out the figures in his head.
“For everything? I got the number down to twenty grand even. Half on delivery, the other half when you get right.”
“Since when did we have to start making deposits on orders instead of settling the tab after the score, same as always?” The change in their normal terms threw Case.
“Since word started getting around that you might be living on borrowed time,” Jay told him. “Told you trying to burn that sour old man was a bad idea.”
Indeed, Jay had warned him, but it hadn’t stopped Case from putting himself between a rock and a hard place anyway. Case had done a transaction with some older joker from Harlem for some pills. His regular connect was out of town, so he went to this dude he had been turned on to through a friend of a friend. He was a chili pimp, but he also had a line on some pills that were supposed to be pretty good. The old head was one of those arrogant cats who always tried to talk down on young gangsters like Case. Had Case not been in a bind he’d had never fucked with him. The drugs ended up being high-powered, so Case went to cop from him again. This time the old head tried to put points on the price. He hit Case with a line of bullshit about inflation, but Case knew that he was only playing with the numbers because he thought that because Case had come to him twice that he was his only source. Case made three more transactions with the old head and always came with straight money, so he got comfortable. On Case’s last order he tripled down, agreeing to give the old man half up-front and pay the rest in a couple of days. Of course the old man added points on that order too, because it was on consignment. Case paid his asking price with no problem, because he knew that he was getting over on the old-timer with the funny money. As it turned out, Case had just bitten the hook that the old-timer had been baiting for weeks. He had been a small fish who set Case up to be eaten by a shark. Because of Case’s greed, he was now caught in a dangerous web and the only way out of it would be to compromise his morals, or find a way to kill the man who was currently holding his feet to the fire. That had seemed an impossible task, until recently. Pain being back in the fold might’ve been just the edge Case needed to tip the scales back in his favor.
“Old nigga had it coming,” was Case’s response.
“Maybe, maybe not. Right and wrong isn’t the issue here. It’s the dirt on your name that you should be concerned about,” Jay told him.
“I ain’t never gave a fuck about what niggas thought about me.” Case was dismissive.
“Whatever you say, big dawg. Look, me and you have always had a good relationship. You’re my guy. So, if you want I can go back and holla at my people. If we gotta scale your order back a bit then it ain’t no thing.”
“I ain’t gotta scale shit back. Tell your people they’ll get their money. I just need a little bit of time to scrape it together. Just have my hardware ready when I come calling for it.”
“Fosho. And what about manpower? I know y’all not too long ago lost a man or two and your ranks are looking a little thin. If you need, I know a few capable guys I can reach out to. They’ve only been in the country a few weeks, so they’re clean and ain’t shy about blood,” Jay offered.
“Thanks, but you know how I feel about working with outsiders,” Case reminded him. He wasn’t opposed to bringing in freelancers when a job called for more men than he had with him, but didn’t like straying outside his unit. They were loyal to him, and not a payday.
“You might wanna rethink that, Case. As far as I can see, you only got two, maybe three solid dudes you can count on, and that’s only if you include Lil Sorrow’s troublesome ass. I got no illusions as to whether he’s willing to bust his gun. In fact, he’s probably too willing for something like this. I’d go five deep on this at minimum, just to be safe.”
“Then we should be fine. Blackbird by himself is worth any two outlaws I can pay to ride on this,” Case said proudly.
“Who? The jailhouse dude with the attitude problem?” Jay thumbed in the direction Pain had gone off in. “From what I’ve seen tonight, prison got that dude fried. I wouldn’t bet my freedom on him.”
“That’s because you don’t know him. When that cage finally pops open, that bird is gonna fly.”
CHAPTER 13
“I’m so flyyyyy…” Passion sang along with the Lloyd Banks song, while doing a little dance in place. It was an older cut, but one that had grown on her over the years. This was thanks to Bo. On those occasions when she got dolled up and stepped out, it would be her theme song. She would roll all the windows down in her car and play it on blast. It was her message to all the younger girls who now felt like they were her competition, that she was still the baddest bitch! That’s how Passion felt at that moment, like a bad bitch.
When Passion discovered that the spot Juju had planned for them to hang out was located in the backyard of a repair shop, she had expected some ghetto shit. Juju was her best friend in the world, but the girl had some serious hood rat tendencies. It showed in the company she kept and sometimes the places she chose to frequent. Whenever she was allowed to pick the spot it was hit or miss, with more misses than hits. To Passion’s surprise, The Yard was not at all what she had expected. The garages they had seen when they were coming in was where the gambling went on. Inside the men sat around two card tables, both covered in piles of cash. Beyond that, through the waiting area and out the back door, was the actual Yard. It was a decent-size space with neatly trimmed grass with a fig tree planted on all four corners. A young cat with dreads sat under one of the trees in a lawn chair with his laptop across his lap. His fingers worked nimbly across the keyboard which controlled the music being broadcast through the Bluetooth speakers that were placed strategically throughout the yard. Small, solar-powered lights lined the outskirts of the big grass square. They provided enough illumination so that the party didn’t have to stop once the sun went down. Their version of a bar was three folding tables pulled together in the shape of a horseshoe, manned by a girl who looked like she was younger than Passion. For as raggedy as the setup may have looked, Passion did spy some high-end booze behind their pieced-together bar. She couldn’t front, the place was lit.
From the time the girls walked in, dudes were on them. Especially Passion. She was still technically a kid, but she carried a grown woman’s weight on her. The tight-ass pants she’d borrowed only made what she had stand out more. It seemed like every few steps some thirsty joker was trying to grab her hips. The attention was a bit much, but secretly it felt good. Passion always felt like she was moving through life overlooked, unless it was for the wrong reasons. Prior to Professor Higgins, the teachers in school didn’t see her. The social workers didn’t see her. Even when her parents were alive they couldn’t seem to see what was right in front of them until the damage had already been done. Passion didn’t fool herself into thinking that the guys pushing up on her didn’t see her as more than just a piece of meat, but it still felt good to be the center of attention just once.
While Passion busied herself kung fu–blocking the hands pawing at her, Juju slid to the build-a-bar and grabbed them two drinks. Passion wasn’t a big drinker because she didn’t have the head for it. She knew how she could get when she was too faded, so she kept her intake limited to celebrations and funerals. When she expressed this to Juju, her friend replied, “Bitch, we celebrating your liberation. Tonight is the night we start laying the foundation for your emancipation from Uncle Joe’s plantation!” Normally it would’ve taken heavier peer pressure for Passion to fold, but after the day she’d experienced, she deserved to let go. At least for a time.
The quick minute Juju had promised they would spend at the underground spot was now rolling into hour number two. Passion didn’t mind so much. By that point she had a nice buzz going on. Likely from the few drinks she had let Juju gas her into having. She wasn’t bent, just nice. This was thanks to the fact that she made sure to chug a bottle of water between drinks. Staying hydrated was a trick she had learned from Bo. Juju, on the other hand, was a little past nice. She wasn’t quite drunk yet, but another drink or two might push her across the finish line. Passion watched her as she worked the room, being the social butterfly that she was. Juju was just one of those people that you could drop into any circle amongst any class of people and she could adapt. Despite the hood-chick persona that she projected, the girl was no dummy. For almost every hug or handshake she passed out, there was a weed sale attached to it. No matter how tipsy Juju was, her focus hadn’t shifted from her paper.
While Juju did her thing, Passion went to find herself a seat. She lucked out when a dude who had been occupying one of the few folding chairs spread across the yard vacated his seat to speak to someone he knew. Passion didn’t even wait to see if he was coming back before sliding into his spot. She wasn’t really used to walking in heels of any kind, and Juju’s shoes were giving her soles and ankles a workout. Nursing what she promised herself would be her last drink, she scrolled through her cell phone. She had two texts from Bo, and one from Uncle Joe. Both of them wanting to know where she was. Passion left them both unread. She’d get around to answering them at some point, but not then.
She continued scrolling through her phone. Still no texts from Birdie. She had hit her up twice to see if she was okay, and hadn’t received an answer. Her first instinct was to ditch Juju and go back to the house to check on Birdie, but she decided against it. She thought about what Juju had said about not being able to help anyone until she helped herself. Birdie was probably still sleeping off her drunk, and Passion going home would’ve only succeeded in ensuring that she would be sitting in the house right along with Birdie and getting stressed out again. That wasn’t something she wanted to deal with. She would probably hear Uncle Joe’s or Bo’s mouth when she got home anyway, so she figured since she was already out she might as well try to enjoy herself.
The drink started getting good to Passion, and she figured it’d be even better if she washed the last bit of it down with a cigarette. She removed one of her stash of loosies from the zippered part of her purse and placed it between her lips. She was in the process of fishing around for a lighter when she noticed a shadow cast over her. When she looked up, she found herself confronted with a tall drink, with rich brown skin and a fade so crisp that it looked like he got it touched up every day. He didn’t wear a lot of jewelry, just a thick gold bracelet and two diamonds in his ears, but he had the serious eyes of a man who was about a dollar. He pulled up a foot or so short of Passion. She looked up at him with questioning eyes, waiting for him to state his business, but he only stared.
“Can I help you?” Passion asked, feeling uncomfortable under his gawking.
“You can’t smoke that in here,” the drink told her.
Passion looked around. There were people smoking either joints or blunts throughout the backyard. “I guess none of them got the memo, huh?”
“Bud is cool, but cigarettes gotta be smoked out front,” he explained.
