Passion for the Heist, page 21
“I see you still think you’re the little comedian. How about I change the angle of that smile these women seem to love so much?” Prophet pushed back one side of his jacket and flashed the harness which held both a handgun and a hunting knife. He tapped a gloved finger on the hilt of the knife.
“You draw on me, you better be ready to go all the way,” Pain warned.
“When am I not?” Prophet shot back. His fingers had moved from the knife to the handle of the gun. “Time we finished this game once and for all.”
“Long overdue. Since you didn’t learn from the first time, let’s see what body part I’m going to take from you this go-round.” Pain retrieved the broken umbrella that he had previously been threatening War with. It would be no match for whatever Prophet was toting, but it would have to do. The two combatants watched each other, neither wanting to be the first to draw blood and both wanting to be sure it was he who drew the last. Pain had decided since he was outgunned the first strike may as well be his. Just as his muscles coiled to attack with the umbrella, he heard something that stilled his heart. It was a song.
“Your mama’s name was Lonely, and your daddy’s name is Pain,” a familiar voice sang. The owner of the voice stepped into view and drew the attentions of all assembled. Her black thigh-high stiletto boots clicked across the pavement as she approached Pain. Black leather pants hugged her long legs and on top she wore a white blouse of pure silk. Her hair was bone-straight and dark, save for the lone white tuft that fell across her pecan-colored face. Eyes the color of caramel candy held Pain motionless as she reached up and cupped his face in her delicate hands. “So, why you wanna fly? Blackbird … you ain’t ever gonna fly.” She ended the verse with a kiss to his forehead.
“My Queen,” Pain whispered, burying his face in the nape of her neck.
In Pain’s young life he had only loved three women. The first two were his grandmother and his mother; the third was the woman standing before him, the Outlaw Queen, Cassandra Savage. When he’d first met Cassandra he had been at a very low point in his life. His mother had been gone for a few years by then, but the pain of her passing still stabbed sharply at his heart. Ms. Pearl did as best she could to make sure he had a proper upbringing, but there wasn’t much she could do with the angry young teen. Before she even realized it, Pain was off the porch and had no plans of coming back on. Back then he and Case were heist partners, but his two closest friends were Shadow and Fresh. Outside of his grandmother they were the only real family that he had left. That was why he took it so hard when the trio split up over some bullshit that could’ve been avoided. Having suffered yet another loss of people close to him so early in life, Pain turned to the bottle to numb the ever-growing pain in his heart. The drinking took its toll, but it was nothing compared to when he started experimenting with harder substances.
When War finally brought Pain before the Queen, he was a far cry from the man he would become. He was a mess back then, and the Crows who were already in the murder made no secret of the fact that they didn’t want Pain in the crew. An addict, even a budding one, was a liability in their line of work. Cassandra, however, saw something different in him. What she saw that had softened her heart toward the troubled teen he wouldn’t learn until he had been with her for some years and had gained her trust. Over time, the rest of the Crows came to trust Pain as well, and embraced him as one of their own. They helped him clean up his act, and he made the transition from stickup kid to heist man. To the Crows, robbery was an art and Pain became their Picasso.
“It’s about time that the state saw fit to return you to me. I can’t tell you how much we’ve all missed you.” Cassandra gave him a tight hug for emphasis.
“Not all of us,” Prophet muttered.
“Prophet, you know that no one could ever take your place. Not even my Blackbird,” Cassandra assured him. Her eyes then turned to Case. He was standing inconspicuously behind Pain, pretending not to see her. “What’s up, Case? No love for the Queen?”
“Cassandra.” Case gave a curt nod.
“Show some respect!” Prophet demanded.
“It’s fine.” Cassandra waved the albino away. “I only expect my birds to acknowledge my crown. Same rules don’t apply to those who’ve had their wings clipped.”
“Clipped?” Pain was caught off guard by the statement. When a Crow had its wings clipped that meant that they had been excommunicated from the murder. Outcast. He looked to Case for an answer, but it was Cassandra who would give him one.
A smile formed on Cassandra’s black-painted lips. “You mean he hasn’t told you, Pain?”
“This isn’t the time or the place to have this conversation, Queen,” Case told her.
“Why not? It’s no secret to everybody else that you are no longer protected by the shadow of the Queen’s wings. I’m not saying anything that you didn’t make public when you spat in the hand that fed you for all those years,” Cassandra said. There was no scorn in her voice, but her eyes burned.
“Say it ain’t so?” Pain couldn’t believe his ears. He had been the one who brought Case into the Crows and begged the Queen to accept him as one of theirs. Before Pain got locked up, Case had been flying the black wings, just as proudly as Pain had. This didn’t make any sense. Pain waited for Case to tell him that it had all been a big misunderstanding, but the look on his best friend’s face said what his mouth could not: Case was out.
“It’s not as simple as that, Pain,” Case told him.
“Yes, it is,” Cassandra interjected. “You wanted to get out and do your own thing, and I let you. Albeit you were already knee-deep in your own thing while still taking your share of Crow prey. You can slap as much lipstick on a pig as you like, but it’ll still be a pig. A dirty, greedy pig.”
“I’m a pig for wanting to feed my people?” Case challenged.
“Not at all. What makes you a pig is the fact that you’re messy as hell. You called yourself embarrassing me on your way out, by putting that bullshit out about how I’m running this operation, like I’m doing anything but making sure every soul who rests in the shadows of my wings is eating.”
“Can’t a man want a healthier serving?” Case questioned.
“No doubt, once he’s earned it. Cutting corners, though.” Cassandra shook her head sadly. “I guess I just expected more from my little birds.”
“Well, since I ain’t your little bird anymore, I got no reason to care about your expectations,” Case capped.
“And that statement right there is why you and anyone who follows you will always find themselves left to pick over the scraps of their betters,” she said.
“Cassandra, we got history, so even though you out here trying to style on me, I’m gonna hold my tongue out of respect,” Case conceded. He wasn’t feeling the way she was speaking to him, and he was only going to keep himself in check for so long before he did something crazy.
“You holding your tongue has less to do with respect than it does the fact that with a snap of my fingers I can have Prophet cut that cunt-licker out of your skull,” Cassandra hissed.
“And a skilled tongue it is. Or so I hear from Shelly,” Prophet taunted, dropping the name of one of Case’s lady friends.
“Fuck that bitch!” Case barked. Prophet had him in his feelings by striking so close to home.
“You should’ve kept that same energy with them young boys from the Dog Pound. They clipped Charlie and y’all still ain’t slid for him, but I digress,” Cassandra added her two cents.
It was a low blow. Charlie had been a member of their misfit crew. He wasn’t a Crow, but he ran with Case, Tyriq, and Lil Sorrow while Pain was away. From the story Pain had gotten while in prison, Charlie had taken on an ill-advised caper with some local knuckleheads. They carjacked a woman for her Benz and ended up sending her to the ER in the process. Little did any of them know, their jacking would have some unforeseen consequences that would rock their crew. They would later find out that the woman Charlie and his friends had robbed had been an acquaintance of a man who had come to be known as the Beast. His birth name was Cain, but only a select few still called him that, as what was left of his humanity had long ago been swallowed by the dark thing that now fueled his soul. Cain had only recently reached drinking age, but had a résumé of brutality that would one day put him in the serial killer hall of fame. When Cain was done with Charlie, there wasn’t enough left of him for his mother to have an open casket funeral, and he had been the lucky one. Charlie had been fortunate enough to be allowed to die, but not his accomplices. Instead of death, Cain gifted them with his mark: melting half their faces off with a hot knife. For the rest of their days, all who laid eyes on the mutilated young men would know the consequences that came with running afoul of Cain. Not avenging Charlie’s death was a hard pill for Case and the crew to swallow, but it beat the alternative, which would’ve been Cain and the Dog Pound slaughtering all their loved ones, including children, before allowing their victims to die. Only killing Charlie had been a rare act of mercy on the part of the Beast, so they grudgingly accepted it.
“Queen,” Pain spoke her name. He saw where this was going. Case was a shiny pinball that was about to be slapped back and forth by the Queen’s personal flippers, War and Prophet. Pain knew what Cassandra was angling to turn this into, and he didn’t want to find himself caught between his friend and his Queen.
Hearing Pain’s voice softened Cassandra, and brought her back to why she had come in the first place. “Right, this isn’t about a few stray pigeons. You and I have some things to discuss. Walk with me, Blackbird.” She started down the street without looking back to see if he would follow or not. She didn’t need to.
Pain fell in step with her, while Prophet trailed them by a few feet. He gave them their privacy, but stayed close enough that he could reach her in an instant if he needed to. They walked in silence for about half a block before Pain spoke. “I didn’t know.”
“I figured you didn’t. Case has always been a man too proud to admit his mistakes. If his pride doesn’t kill him, I’m certain his ego will.”
“We don’t speak death over those we love,” Pain reminded her. It was one of the first things she had taught him: never to speak death or run the risk of inviting it.
“I know,” was her response. “So, why is it that I had to hear through the grapevine that you’re out of prison instead of from your lips?”
“It’s only been a few hours. To be honest, I didn’t want too many people to know that I was home just yet. I’m still trying to get my feet under me,” Pain told her.
“How’s that working for you?”
“Still too early to tell. I’ve only been gone a few years, but it feels like decades. I don’t know, it’s like everybody and everything is different now.”
“Because they are. The older you get, the faster time moves. When you boys go away, time stands still for you behind the wall, but out here in the world the show is still going on. Don’t rush yourself. Take your time with it and let things fall back into place naturally. In the meantime, War and some of the boys put together a little welcome-home package for you,” Cassandra told him.
“You know how I feel about handouts. My hands still work.” Pain curled his two index fingers and mimicked pulling the triggers of guns.
“I should hope so. Some people go into prison as one person and come out as another. Who are you? Percy or Blackbird?” Cassandra asked.
“I’m still trying to figure it out. I’d be lying if I said being locked up didn’t give me some serious food for thought. Some of the shit that goes on in there…” he let his words trail off as the memories played back in his mind. “I can’t see how some dudes treat it like a revolving door. I’m one and done on that jail shit.”
“You don’t have to tell me. I’ve been there and done that, so I understand what kind of hell it can be.” Cassandra reflected on her own experiences being locked up in her home state of Louisiana. “You know, my heart ached for a long time while you were away. I always wished I could’ve done more for you.”
“I mean, you dropped money on my books from time to time. You were one of the few who did, so I appreciate that,” Pain said honestly. He used to look forward to the few dollars and occasional flicks she would send him.
“I’m not talking about money. What makes me a good queen is that I pride myself on being able to protect all my little birds. You’re all men who are more than capable of defending yourselves, but the shadow of my wings spreads far and wide. During the first leg of your bid I was able to reach out to people loyal to me and make sure your issues were kept to a minimum. It was just shit luck that the last prison they moved you to was one of the few where there weren’t any of our people. It was like someone blinded me and I couldn’t see you anymore. By the time I could it was already too late,” she said emotionally.
“What’s understood doesn’t need to be said.” Pain could read between the lines. Cassandra always seemed to know his truth, whether he spoke it or not. “I’m in one piece and I’m alive. That’s what’s important.”
“You always could find the light in even the darkest of things, including me.” She smiled up at Pain before planting a kiss on his lips. They tasted of alcohol, and she fought the temptation to suck them until she was drunk. “So, now that the Blackbird has been freed from his cage, I assume you’ll retake your place at my side?”
“You’ve got Prophet for that. He’s much more qualified for the position than I am,” Pain told her.
“Oh, so now you’re leaving me, too?” Cassandra couldn’t hide her surprise. For her, Pain being anywhere but at her side was unthinkable.
“No, it isn’t like that. You and me have a connection that transcends the crew. We’ll be linked forever, Queen. Never doubt that. It’s just that prison gave me a lot of time to reflect on my life and some of the choices I made. I’ve seen where walking the path you’re offering me leads, and right now I want to move in a different direction.”
“And there it is.” Cassandra gave a slow, theatrical clap. Her face was now tight and her lips twisted into a wicked smirk.
“What?”
“The grudge you’re still holding against me for you getting arrested,” Cassandra accused.
“Cassandra, you sound crazy! My bid was never on you. You didn’t trick me into that car.”
“No, but my nephew did,” she countered.
And there it was. The elephant that had been lingering in the room ever since he set foot back in the old neighborhood. Pain had hoped to avoid this conversation, but he knew better. It was a part of all their shared histories. The night when the foundation of their thing crumbled.
FOUR YEARS PRIOR:
The night that would forever change Pain’s life was a cool one, somewhere in the low seventies. The reason this detail stuck out to him was because it had been hot as hell all that week. Not regular hot, but the kind of heat where the temperature was still dancing around eighty at sunset. It was one of the worse heat waves in recent history, so the cool night was a welcome change and brought everyone outside, including Pain.
Earlier in the day, Pain, Case, and a Crow, who went by the name of Dre, had hit a nice lick for some jewelry and their fence had cashed them out. Case and Dre wanted to go to the strip club and blow a bag, but not Pain. He wasn’t as eager as his friends were to give away the money he had just risked his ass for in exchange for some pussy. No, he would get his the old-fashioned way, with weed, liquor, and charm.
Pain had set up a rendezvous with a hood rat that he knew would get real nasty and was low-maintenance. She wasn’t the most attractive broad he’d bedded, but she wouldn’t ask for more than something to drink and something to smoke. He was coming out of the liquor store and about to try and flag down a taxi when he spotted a Crow named Ralphie. He was leaning against the whitest Mercedes that Pain had ever seen, chatting it up with two girls. Dripping in jewelry and with a confident swagger, Ralphie looked more like a rapper than a thief. He and Pain were more acquaintances than friends, but he was the Queen’s nephew, so he didn’t think twice before jumping in the whip when Ralphie offered him a ride to his destination. If he’d known then what he knew now, he’d had told Ralphie to fuck off and taken a cab.
The first red flag should’ve been the fact that Ralphie had been drinking. Pain knew dudes who could drive buzzed and not miss a beat, but Ralphie wasn’t one of them. He was riding through the city in a sixty-thousand-dollar automobile with an open container on a Friday night. He was asking for trouble and would get it sooner than later. They were maybe five blocks from Pain’s destination when Ralphie blew through a light that had just gone from yellow to red. A few seconds later they saw the flashing lights behind them. Pain wasn’t strapped, so he wasn’t worried about the police finding anything on him, and he doubted Ralphie was holding. Guns weren’t his thing, which is why Cassandra primarily sent him as a driver on capers. He had no heart for steel. The worst that Pain expected to happen was maybe the police would smell the liquor on Ralphie and maybe hit him with a DUI. In that case, Pain would park the car somewhere for him, as he hadn’t been drinking yet and had a valid license, and would notify their lawyer about what had happened to him.
The second red flag was the fact that Ralphie suddenly seemed to come down with a sudden case of the jitters. While they sat waiting for the cops to approach the car, he kept flexing his fingers around the steering wheel and his leg wouldn’t stop shaking. Sweat had even broken out across his forehead. From the way Ralphie was acting you’d have thought they had just been stopped with a body in the trunk. The officers were now out of their car and making their way up opposite sides of the car. The next thing Pain knew, Ralphie had swung the driver’s side door open and taken off running. Pain was left there, stuck on stupid and getting dragged from the car by the officers. He lay handcuffed on the ground as they tossed the car, and when one of them looked at his partner smiling, he knew why Ralphie had run. Under the passenger seat, where Pain had been sitting, was a plastic bag with cocaine in it. It wasn’t more than an ounce or so, but with Pain’s record and the fact that he was still on probation from a previous charge, the coke was more than enough to get him sent away for a few years. Pain would have several opportunities to tell the truth about who’s coke it had been, but he didn’t. Ralphie was an idiot, but he was still a Crow. More importantly he was the Queen’s nephew. Out of loyalty to her, Pain ate the charge.
