Repeatedly, the high-adrenalin scenario ran through my brain, and each time, I saw us coming out on top. I visualized counting up my money. I mean, how hard could it be to run in the place unannounced and gangster all that cash from them old wannabe players? Even if we had to dust a few just to let them know we were serious, I ain’t have no issues with doing so. As long as we got up out of there with them dollars, then it all made sense.
Earlier, I had got up with Briscoe, and he put me down on all the old gamblers that would be in the house. It was mostly regulars, he said. He gave me their names and let me know what they drove so that I’d know who’s who when they pulled up to the club. Briscoe was thorough about earning his payout. He even blessed me with a two-way radio so I could listen in on the game. Since Briscoe was familiar with the flow of the night, we decided he should give us the signal to go.
He handed me the two-way radio. “There’s always a point in the night when everyone lets their guard down a little, and then they are most vulnerable. When that point comes, I’ll say ‘pit bull’ into the radio. That’s when you come in a-blazin’.”
I was convinced this would be like taking candy from a baby. Melody didn’t feel that way. But I had enough courage and optimism for both of us.
* * *
Melody and I parked across the street, facing the main entrance of the small brown cobblestone building. To me, it looked like an old storage facility for bread or something. There were no windows, no signs—nothing. Just the simple brown paint, a lone camera pointed down at the entrance, and the club’s name where the address should have been: Xclusive Daze.
“I don’t know about this, Bags. That old motherfucker tryin’a get us killed this time around,” Melody firmly insisted. “Something don’t feel right. We need to fall back and go home.”
“Shhh, chill with all that extra scary chatter in my ear.” I was trying to listen to the two-way radio and what Briscoe was saying, but Melody was making that damn near impossible. “If you wanna bounce, go ’head. I’m all in on this.” I wanted that 100K so badly that I’d risk going in solo, guns blazing.
We sat back in the stolen van, watching various club members pull up in Benzes, Caddys, Beamers, and Lexuses. Each carried in a bag or briefcase at their side. My heart was racing, knowing they all had at least a $100,000. I was looking at it like it was my money they were just borrowing. After tonight, it would be home with its “rightful owner.”
Once inside, the men didn’t waste any time cranking up the dice game. Briscoe was putting me on point to every move that was made over the two-way radio. When he said it was go time, Melody and I had to be ready to act. Mr. Brooks had already informed us we were working inside a small window of opportunity, so stay alert for Briscoe’s signal.
My palm grew sweaty, holding the radio. It was as if I could feel my inner soul trembling in anticipation of what was to take place next.
“Hell yeah. Point fucking made,” one of the players shouted loudly enough for me to pull the radio back some from my ear. Seconds later, Briscoe gave the signal: “pit bull.”
I moved fast. I put the radio down and grabbed the door handle. “Come on, girl. You heard him say ‘pit bull.’ It’s go time. Let’s get ’em while they’re celebrating.”
Melody reluctantly got out of the van as I was already on the move with my weapon at the ready. She trailed me across the dark street. I could hear her mumbling something, but it didn’t matter. As long as she was behind me ready to make this major money move, her comments mattered none.
“Girl, I’m telling you one last time. Mr. Brooks on some bullshit. He trying to get us killed,” Melody whispered.
She kept protesting but still closely followed. Her yapping was pissing me off, and at the same time, making me feel grateful she had my back.
“Bitch, shut the fuck up and stop putting that bad Karma in the air.” I pulled my mask down over my face preparing for battle.
“Sonya, will you look at all those Benzes and Beamers and other expensive-ass whips? Some serious niggas are in there. Probably killers.”
“I don’t give a shit. I’m a killer too. The only difference is I pee sitting down.” I could see Melody’s soul when I looked into her eyes. She was shaken, which concerned me. I was solid, ten toes to the ground. Nothing was going to deter me. Reassuringly, I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Just be cool. This is our come-up, so don’t let nobody come in between it. If a dude looks like he’s about to make a move . . . simple . . . blow his back the fuck out. You can do it. Just pull the damn trigger. Now, I need you right now. So, is you with me or not?”
“Yeah, I’m with you,” Melody exhaled, still full of uncertainty.
“Good. Now, let’s get this money and remember not to let nobody get up close to you. Stand back so you can control the room and everyone’s movements.” I waited for Melody to pull her mask down, and then we slid up underneath the camera. Briscoe was on point and waiting. As soon as he spotted us, he buzzed us inside the building.
He pointed to a hallway. “Yo, they all in the back, right around that corner,” he whispered. “And ain’t none of them strapped.”
That was all I needed to know. I took the lead with my gun ready to bang. Melody was right on my heels. The voices of the men grew louder and clearer the closer we got. The room would soon be ground zero. Cautiously, I peeked in through the crack of the door and squinted through the smoke lingering high in the air. Taking a deep breath, I turned, nodding to Melody. Her eyes were bucked wide open, revealing her fear. It was too late for her to back out now, though. It was much too late to turn around or have second thoughts.
I was ready to get the party started and let our presence be known. And that I did. With attitude, I barged into the room, letting a single round off into the ceiling. I wanted complete silence and swiftly got my wish. All the slick talking instantly ceased, and they all snapped their heads in the direction of the gunshot. The shooter dropped the dice onto the table as his jaw dropped open.
Once I had everyone’s attention, I tossed the duffel bag on the pool table. Melody did the same with hers. “Okay, y’all know what this is, so let’s make this bullshit quick, fellas. I got things to do later on.”
“Oh, hell naw. What the fuck is this shit?” one of the elder members dressed in a royal blue velour tracksuit yelled.
“Look, old man, you can either put all your money in that bag, or I can put yo’ ass in it—dead. Your choice,” I forcefully warned. “Matter of fact, strip down. All of y’all.”
The members all looked at each other in disbelief. Two masked females were holding guns on them. I guess they waiting to see if somebody was going to grow a set of balls and buck the play.
“Whoa, slow down, you little bitches. I don’t know who sent you or what in the fuck this about, but I ain’t never been robbed a damn day in my life,” a man fumed, not ready to give up his cash that freely.
“Okay, and good for you. That was then, and this is now. Today, you ’bout to lose yo’ virginity. So, yeah, I’ma need that money.”
“You hoes got the game fucked up. Do you know who we all are?” a drug dealer nicknamed Black Walt calmly asked with his chest stuck out.
Up to that point, Melody had yet to say a word. With her gun pointed at a cluster of members, she said, “Listen, all you hardheaded motherfuckers. You heard what was said. Fucking strip and live, or else you can die wearing them clothes. Your damn choice.”
“I don’t know about y’all niggas, but I’m not giving these once-a-month bleeding pussies jack shit.” Black Walt made a move for the gun in his waistband. At the same time, his homeboy Zack did the same. Although they may have been quick in the streets, luck was not on their side tonight. They never made it to draw.
I split four shots between them, hitting them each in their upper chest area. I then spun around. With no effort at aiming, I caught the old man in the tracksuit in the back of his head as he attempted to get to the rear door. There’d be no run tow
ard freedom tonight.
Some of the members turned directly to face us, hoping for mercy. Others stood frozen, staring at the dead bodies. Expressions of sheer panic, definite fear, and certain regret for past sins filled their troubled faces. There was no way out. Three of their comrades had already given their lives in defiance of giving up their coveted 100K. So it was clear they’d have to relinquish theirs or suffer the same fate.
“Okay, you two, calm the hell down and listen to reason,” one man stuttered. He took a few aggressive steps toward the girls, which caused all hell to break loose.
“Start fucking shooting,” I ordered Melody. I couldn’t tell if she was letting them bullets fly or not because I was too busy dropping Negroes where they stood.
When the shots stopped, the only person alive in the building besides us was Briscoe. There was smoke in the air, blood flowing on the floor, and the only sounds were Melody and I breathing heavily. For the first time in weeks, I felt some sort of mixed emotions because of my actions. I looked around at all the carnage. I was shaken. I don’t know what came over me. I can’t lie. I was gone.
Suddenly, I heard a crunching sound behind me, and before I knew it, I had whipped around and shot Briscoe between the eyes.
Melody had to grab hold of my arm to break me out of my zombie-like trance. “Bags, Bags, hold the fuck up. Chill. That was Briscoe you just killed. You hear me? Briscoe.”
“Fuck, I know.” I was trembling with the gun in my hand. Briscoe was lying facedown in a pool of his own blood. “Damn, dude, my bad.”
“Come on, Bags, we gotta go—now!” Melody insisted and pulled me toward the door. “I wish Mr. Brooks’s old ass was lying here.” She stepped over Briscoe’s dead body.
“Okay, okay, you right. We gotta get ghost.” I pulled away from her. “But not until we get what we came for. You get all the jewelry, while I get the money. If anyone else is still breathing, ’kill ’em. It’s the only way if we don’t wanna get knocked for murder. Don’t leave any witnesses alive able to tell the tale.”
We finished loading the duffle bags with money, jewelry, car keys, and cell phones to smash and toss later. Then we zipped the bags shut and threw them over our shoulders.
“So, you got everything, right?” I inquired, looking over at Melody, who looked stunned and dumbfounded.
“Yeah, girl, but what about all these damn bodies?”
“What about them? Not our problem. Is any of them still living?”
“Nah, I don’t think so.” Melody shook her head at the dead men sprawled across the floor.
“Cool, then we out. We finished our job. We got the cash, and the rest don’t mean shit,” I said, returning to the old Sonya . . . confident, with no remorse, and ready to get hers.
Chapter Eighteen
Mr. Brooks
Mr. Brooks was sitting in a leather club chair in the study eagerly waiting for news from Briscoe. The stickup should have been in progress at that moment. He tapped his right hand on the arm of the chair, and with his left, he sipped Cognac. Once he got the money from this lick, he’d be set. He planned to pay off all his gambling debts and loan sharks, then buy as much coke and pussy as he wanted. The phone rang, snapping him out of the fantasy playing in his head. He eagerly picked up the receiver.
“What’s good?”
“It’s Herb. We need to talk.”
Mr. Brooks slumped into the chair, disappointed that it was his attorney calling and not Briscoe. “I don’t really have time right now. Let me get back to you tomorrow.”
“No, we have to speak now. I just got off the phone with the Feds,” Herb stated.
“The Feds? For what?” Mr. Brooks’s spine stiffened.
“They were asking questions about you. Letting me know that they were looking into you. I tried to get more out of them, but they were evasive and vague.”
“Come on now, Herb, are you serious?” Mr. Brooks chuckled.
“Yes, as serious as two heart attacks. They on to you.”
“I have no idea what they’d want with me.”
Herb sighed. “Look, Phil, me and you go way, way back.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And we’ve been through some really tough times and came out on top, in most cases.”
“Herb, I know all of that.”
“Then you know how this thing works between us. If you want me to do my best, then you have to give me something to work with.”
“I know, I know.”
“Okay, then start with the truth. And don’t leave shit out. Because trust me when I tell you, this ain’t no regular state investigation bullshit going down. This the damn Feds. And if they come knocking, nine outta ten times, they already have an airtight case to convict.”
“This is so fucked-up. I’ve got plans.”
“Plans? You’ve got plans? No. What’s so fucked up is you being so desperate for money. In between gambling, women, and snorting, you’ve been spiraling out of control. I tried to warn you.”
Brooks knew his attorney was right. He did warn him, but Brooks ignored it, hoping he could somehow keep up with his lifestyle.
“You’re right, you did warn me. But believe me, I have no idea what they want with me. I’ve got some things in the works that will solve everything. Just hold them off for as long as you can.” Brooks didn’t want to say any more than that. His plans had suddenly changed. He would get the money and leave the country. Fuck the gambling debts and bookies. He was officially on the run. Beads of sweat dripped from his forehead. “Come on now, Herb, things can’t be all that bad.” He tried to sound relaxed.
“Brooks, just sit down, and I’ma tell you completely what I’ve heard they know thus far. It would be better if we get a jump on some sort of defense. But to be brutally honest, my old friend, you about done for.”
* * *
Not ready to give up, Mr. Brooks drove around a good hour or so playing back in his head what his lawyer just told him. For years, he’d dodged the bullet, so to speak. He lived life on the edge, moving and shaking. He’d been broke, then rich, then broke again. This time around, the various businesses he had his hand in weren’t paying off as he felt they should. In his eyes, if money wasn’t making more money, then what was the point? Those business alliances were no longer beneficial and became expendable. Although he felt that he was smooth in the crimes he’d put into motion, his business partners saw through the plots and schemes.
When some of the stolen cars and parts showed up at a local chop shop that had got raided, the FBI was called in. Upon investigation and threat of serious jail time to everyone involved, they all quickly gave up Mr. Brooks’s involvement as the mastermind. And if that wasn’t enough to bring down his house of cards, when they came sniffing around the check-cashing business, Sal was already nervous and folded without much pressure. These, along with several other petty crimes and the murders at the check-cashing shop, pretty much guaranteed Mr. Brooks a long life in prison. He had to come up with a plan . . . quick.
Chapter Nineteen
Melody
“I can’t believe things had to go down like they did. I swear I feel sick to my stomach. I feel like I can’t breathe.” I paced the floor of the loft. There was no settling down. There was already a strong sense that things were doomed before we even drove to the club. Why didn’t I listen to my gut?
Sonya may have drunk the Kool-Aid, but not me. Now, we here with not just the two bodies from the check-cashing place but a vicious, all-out massacre to avoid getting charged with. It was only a matter of time before the crime scene was discovered, and they’d have the entire police force looking for the people responsible. No amount of money was worth that. I’d allowed Sonya and Mr. Brooks jointly to ruin my life. And now, it was what it was.
Damn, my mother is going to be so disappointed in me. Why did we ever move here from Chicago? Shit been fucked-up ever since.
Sonya
“Oh my God, I can’t believe we made it. We did it. We p
ulled it off. Look at all this fucking money. Not to mention this damn jewelry.” I tossed a huge handful of bills up into the air and walked over to the mirror, where I slipped one of the stolen gold rope necklaces around my neck. As far as I was concerned, I was about to be living like a hood rock star. “You need to stop being so damn sad around this motherfucker, Melody. We rich. Did you see all that shit in both duffels? I’ma buy me a new car. Maybe a motorcycle or some shit like that.” I checked myself in the mirror. I liked what I saw—a playa who gets shit done and takes no shit.
I walked out onto the balcony and stared at the Detroit River. All my dreams had come true. I’d never had this much money or even seen this much money in person. The only place I’d seen it was on TV or in movies. But the most important thing to me was that I’d come through for Mr. Brooks, and I knew he’d be proud. We were going to make a great team and own this city.
At night when I was alone, I’d lie awake knowing I’d eventually meet the devil for all the wrong I’d done. There was no reason whatsoever to make those two women at the check-cashing place get down on their knees. It was true. They had complied, and I did have the money. But something felt empowering to hear them plea for their lives to be spared. I knew that any other time our paths crossed, the two women would have looked down on me. But that day, they had to respect me. I finally felt like I had control. For now, I was living my best life. My day of reckoning would come when it came.
Chapter Twenty
Mr. Brooks
It didn’t matter what time it was. I’d thought long and hard about what my next move would be. Herb had me shook. He said the Feds were more than likely watching the dealership, the check-cashing spot, my house, and the restaurant. I kept looking in my rearview to see if anyone was tailing me. I didn’t feel comfortable going anywhere, at least not now.
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