Laugh Now

by Rahiem Brooks

  “So, I guess that makes you, Claire?”

  “And they say you can take the boy out the ghetto, but not the ghetto out the boy.”

  Dre raised his latest accounting test in the air with one arm, and held Amare with the other. “B-minus. Not an A, but better than the last C.”

  Tasha hugged him, completing the family hug and congratulated him.

  “Where’s the food at? A nigga is starving.”

  Tasha proceeded to the kitchen. “Right this way, sir,” she said, smiling. She used an English accent, extending her arm toward the kitchen. Life was grand.

  She placed a hot meal in front of him and he ate a baked potato with his hands,

  Tasha shook her head. “I guess, I spoke to soon. There is that ghetto-ness.”

  “Never leave home without it.”

  They both smiled, and he swallowed his meal like a starving American hostage in Iraq. When he was done, he tossed his dish into the washer, as Tasha cleaned the pots. He took them from her, grabbed a kitchen towel, and then dried her hands.

  “Enough of that Florence shit. Let’s put...” Dre nodded his head toward Amare, who beat the refrigerator with a truck. “To bed so, you know, we can...” Dre winked his eye and tugged on his dick.

  Tasha spied the erection unfolding like a movie plot in front of Dre’s pants, and eagerly snatched up Amare and put him to bed.

  ***

  Agent Lucas McKenzey was dog tired. He looked like a dog, with his tongue hung out, thirsty from trying to nail both Bezel brothers. He traveled to New York and sat with his gun trained on them from inside his car. He vowed to get even, but killing them was too easy. He wanted to be sure there was no inheritance. Besides, he was out to humiliate.

  He sat around for two years and allowed things to die down. He had not rested knowing Dre and an accomplice got away with killing Snobli. His narcissistic mental state, forced him to love watching the blood splatter from Snobli’s brain at the crime scene. Still, the monkey’s had to be punished for their crimes.

  So, there was McKenzey taking matters into his own hands. He was especially mad that he had to deal with a shortage of funds, as BG was no longer bringing in the bacon.

  The lights turned off in Dre’s home, as McKenzey looked on. I can get that pussy, now. He was enraged and eager to get revenge. No, I have to wait. They’re laughing now, but I will get the last laugh.

  CHAPTER 43

  Dre arrived at the post office at 33rd Street and 8th Avenue and wondered, why he continued a life of boredom. He envisioned being part of a more dangerous profession. Kareem had supplied everything that he needed with credit cards, so he did not complain about saving his cash. But Dre wanted to be free to get involved with handling his business in the Philadelphia drug game. Chino had things under control and the two were in constant contact. But Dre was a born hustler, and the 9-5 thing was becoming increasingly harder to deal with.

  With Kareem’s help, Chino and Dre had been able to cop a wide range of drugs and a distinct clientele of the baller persuasion, and Dre wanted to be hands on. Right in the mix.

  ***

  Kareem sat at his Chase desk with a seemingly wealthy couple: The Flemings. According to their account summary, they had been customers for ten years. They started with a $1,200 deposit from an income tax return. They now had an aggregate $680,271.04 balance among three accounts. They came into the branch to withdraw $250,000 in cash. Kareem was handed their New York driver license, several credit cards, and withdrawal slip signatures that matched those that the bank had on file.

  Mr. Fleming was a light hued man and sported a salt-and- pepper beard with more salt than pepper. He had a noticeable mole on his left cheek along side deep-set dimples. He was not obese, but fairly overweight. Mrs. Fleming, a petite 45-year- old, looked much younger than her husband. Her face sported a beauty mark above her silicone-pumped cheeks. She was perfectly painted to hide her true age.

  The Flemings expressed their desire to vacation in Mexico, as well as, buy a summer home there while on vacation. Despite their convincing alibi for the cash, Kareem called Ms. Warren, the bank assistant manager, to approve the transaction. He did not want to relinquish that much cash without a second set of eyes.

  Ms. Warren looked annoyed at their identification, credit cards, and signatures. She then took the materials over to her desk and pulled up their account on her computer. The Flemings had made a $3,000 withdrawal the day before at a teller’s window. She called Mr. Fleming’s job and found, he was on a vacation for two weeks.

  She returned to Kareem’s desk and asked Mr. Fleming the date and amount of the last withdrawal on the account. She needed to be further convinced.

  With one eyebrow raised, Mrs. Fleming decided to answer. “Yesterday. For $3,000. To purchase a vacation package. Is there anything else, we have a plane to catch?”

  Kareem spun around from his computer and removed his gold horn-rimmed Cartier glasses. “Mrs. Fleming we are trying to protect you and your money. We are sorry for any inconvenience, but we have to take these precautions with all of the theft and identity stealing going on in the world.” He gave her a curt smile and hoped that she was satisfied.

  “Everything is fine,” Ms. Warren said. “Mr. Bezel, follow me.” To the Flemings, she said, “We will be back with your cash.”

  CHAPTER 44

  Rhonda shuddered as she awaited Kareem’s return. Marquis had sweaty palms and was slightly lethargic. They both needed to calm down. Sweating would not be good for their costumes. Marquis had borrowed the extra thirty pounds, beard, and make up to pull off the heist from his theater program at NYU. Marquis and Rhonda morphed into the Flemings for hours, but they had a $250,000 reward for the work.

  When Kareem knocked on the room door on the 10th floor of the Helmsley Park Lane Hotel, Rhonda and Marquis was relieved. Rhonda hugged him and Kareem went to the window and looked out over Central Park. It was a lovely command center to coordinate how the money would be broken down.

  Marquis, the marketing and promotions director of Kareem’s company had graduated from NYU and now studied Fashion Marketing at the Fashion Institute of Technology. He had momentarily given up his acting career, well, in the traditional sense. He had thought about settling down with a woman, having been jealous of Kareem’s and Dre’s love affairs. Meanwhile, he was bogged down looking for the best location for Kareem to open a flagship store in New York. He also looked for the perfect venue to debut the fashion line. Marquis poured glasses of champagne and tapped his glass with a fork. “To a long and prosperous life,” he said, toasting the amazing theft.

  “You two were great. Just like a real husband and wife. I saw Rhonda about to attack you for snatching that duffle bag full of money.”

  “I missed the no nod,” Rhonda said, a little disappointed that she had missed Kareem’s cue at the bank.

  “Don’t worry, you were good for your first time,” Kareem said, and gave her an encouraging hug. To Marquis, he said, “How much did Men’s Vogue say a full page ad was?”

  “$90,000.” Marquis said after consulting his notes.

  “They have to be kidding,” Rhonda said. Her eyes bulging and mouth open at the amount.

  “Fine. Reserve six pages tomorrow. What do the contractors need?”

  “They’re waiting to quote until they have the square footage. Everything hinges on the size of the property.”

  “Let’s have that location list narrowed by Friday, so that we can make a selection and get production under way.”

  “Hello, I’m still here,” Rhonda said, rolling her eyes.

  “Sorry, Rhonda. $25,000 should send you on your merry little way,” Kareem said, smiling. Usually they split the profits, but the team was on a mission. Avariciousness could not be apart of the equation.

  “That money is fine, but I want to be apart of the company,” Rhonda said.

  “No problem. I need an advertising director.” “Looks like you have one,” she said.

&nbs
p; CHAPTER 45

  On Saturday, Kareem, Dre and Marquis sat at Planet Hollywood, just off Fifth Avenue. They watched a large wall- mounted plasma TV, waiting for the horse race at the Belmont Stakes to commence. Marquis had wanted to head to Long Island to watch the race, however the trio had to do a job the next day.

  “Gentleman, are we ready to order?” the waiter asked.

  Marquis sent the waiter to get three fruit punches. He needed the brothers sober. “What’s the deal with you?” He asked Kareem. “You look fucked up.”

  “To cut to the chase, last week I watched Toi slip some ugly nigga’s number in her pocket.”

  “You didn’t fuck her up?” Dre asked, quickly. “You better than me, ‘cause, I’d be on Rikers looking forward to death row.”

  “Where was she at?” Marquis asked, half-hearterdly believing his ears.

  “Relishing a wasted puffy shrimp appetizer, and white wine at Justin’s,” Kareem explained, and then gave them the full 411.

  “Damn. What the hell was she thinking?” Dre asked as he patted his brother’s shoulder.

  Marquis then said, “Doesn’t she realize how good you are to her. Not only financially, but mentally. I cannot believe that she was crazy enough to be cozened.”

  “Cozened! What the fuck is cozened?” Dre asked. “Ebonics, mutha fuckas.”

  “If you can’t keep up, stay out of the conversation.”

  Dre ignored Marquis. “I’m not sugar coating this. You’re a damn fool. When Tasha cheated on me, Jean-Mary warned us both to be aware of our girlfriends. She told us to play the field, not to get caught up with one bitch at our young ages. Now look at you, the smart one.”

  The waiter fluttered to the table and accidentally bumped into it. He placed flutes in front of them, filled with fruit punch. That gave Kareem a chance to gather a response and invite them to Atlantic City, New Jersey.

  CHAPTER 46

  In the sticky heat of August, Kareem seized the moment to invite Dre and Marquis on a trip to Atlantic City. During the drive, the three of them talked about the clothing line. Finally, Kareem turned off the music and made an announcement.

  “Yo! That was D-Block, fool,” Dre shouted from the back seat.

  “Calm down. I need both of your attention.”

  “Here we go,” Marquis said.

  “Look in my briefcase. There’s a manila envelope. Pull it out and take the folder that is yours, and give the other one to Marquis.”

  “What the fuck is my face doing on this ID?” Dre asked. He was puzzled.

  Kareem smiled. “That’s the new you. For the stay at the AC hotel at least.” When that sank in without any questions, Kareem said, “Study the profile. Once at the casino, you will use all that you have to be convincing enough to clear the accounts of its cash and at least double it gambling.”

  “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” Dre asked, having paid Kareem’s instructions no attention. He was still puzzled.

  Marquis understood perfectly.

  The troika pulled up to the Trump Taj Mahal and was ready to rock. Even though Dre’s stomach churned, he planned to pull off the job. They entered the lobby, side-by-side, in their power suits. All eyes watched them. They strutted to the music made by the slot machines and gamblers cheering. What a grand beat.

  Kareem had his left hand in his pocket, just far enough for the coiled Philippe Cherriol watch to show. Dre’s ears glistened with the four-karat Harry Winston studs in his ear lobes. The yellow diamonds shone like a block of frozen lemonade. Marquis had on a Barry Keiselstein-Cord belt with a gaudy crocodile buckle, which was brilliant against his all black attire. The three amigos, led by the fraud baron, Kareem, checked into their suites and then headed to the casino. Each of them took $20,000 in chips against their room accounts and hit the casino, prepared to triple the $20,000.

  ***

  Toi laid across the king-sized bed with her feet propped up on the leather footboard. She stared around, listening to Sade. Bored, she decided to call Tasha, who was busy chasing after the screaming Amare.

  “Dre needs to have his ass here,” Tasha said, provoking Toi’s anger that both brothers had left them alone.

  “Experiencing loneliness, huh? And I thought that it was only me?”

  “I understand my man’s mission, Toi. I just need to deal with it for now.”

  Is this bitch crazy? Toi thought. “Better you than me.”

  “Maybe I should have a hot...no...fervent, love affair,” Tasha joked.

  Toi had taken that into consideration. You have no fuckin’ idea.

  “You sound foolish,” Toi said, lying. That was a good idea to her at that moment. She heard Amare screaming and decided that she had better let Tasha go.

  Fed up with her imaginary neglect, she pulled out her cell phone and pushed SEND when she reached an entry in her phone book for Samira.

  “Hi, may I speak to Shimir?” He acknowledged that it was him, and she went on. “You may not remember me, but I’m the girl that you met at Justine’s a few weeks ago.”

  “Oh, I remember you. What, Don Juan dumped you?”

  “No. He’s away on business. Once again, leaving me alone.” She had a hint of anger in her voice. “And he’s no, Don Juan.”

  “Sounds like he’s gambling with his relationship. So, is that the reason you called me. Am I the rebound? To be used for sympathy sex, I hope.”

  “No...and no! To be honest, I do not know why I called. I guess I just needed to talk to a man.”

  “You have one.” He was sarcastic. Talk! He had no desire to converse. He was more in the mood for a good bedroom assault.

  “You have a real potty-mouth, sir.” She smiled.

  “No profanity, sis. That’s not ladylike.” He joked. “So, since he’s away, what do you say to me treating you to dinner and a movie?”

  ***

  After hours of gambling, something came over Kareem. Toi!

  In an instant their life together flashed before him. Kareem sat at a poker table daydreaming when the house intruded.

  “Mr. Gem, your bet,” the woman said, calling him by his moniker, Mr. Gem.

  “Sorry.” Kareem looked around the table to find everyone had folded except a vivacious woman and him.

  The cards shown for the table were a ten of hearts, a jack of hearts and an ace of clubs. Kareem had in the hole the ace and queen of hearts. The woman bet $5,000. Kareem called. He chased that royal flush; after all, he was not playing with his money. The house flipped the next card. The woman immediately cheered with her girlfriends. Kareem was not the least bit pressed when the woman bet $20,000. He saw her bet and raised her $5,000, to which she happily re-raised him another $20,000.

  “You silly man. A nice looking man, but silly,” the woman said, as the dealer flipped the river card.

  An ace of diamonds. The woman cheered and went all in. Kareem called her and the woman flipped over a full house: aces over jacks.

  “Laugh now,” Kareem said, and flipped over that royal. He collected his chips and then headed to his room.

  On the way there, he met his homeys at the casino bar, and informed them that he was going for a massage. He reminded them to meet him in the lobby of the hotel by 6:15 a.m. to get to the Philadelphia International Airport by 7:30.

  ***

  Toi and Shimir exited the elegantly decorated Junior’s Restaurant and Bakery after dinner. Toi was impressed with the legendary cheesecake, and felt good being out on a regular date.

  “I really couldn’t believe Bucktown, Brooklyn, had such a delicious cheesecake,” Toi said, as they walked to Hoyt and Schermerhorn Streets toward the A and C trains.

  “It’s crazy that you’ve never been there. You being a five- star chick and all.”

  “I am a classy bitch. Thank you so much, for noticing.”

  “I guess it must be nice to be in a relationship with a high- class toy?”

  “No, he’s my boyfriend and far from a toy.”

&nbs
p; “If you’re so proud, why are you walking from Junior’s with me, after dinner and a movie? And only God knows where lover boy is.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, and paused. She gathered herself and said, “He’s into some shit and I fear that he may get locked up, but I lie to him to make him think that his hectic schedule is my problem. If he don’t get locked up, it may be worse.”

  “What is he a man-whore, ‘cause I know he ain’t a dope boy. None of that sort of shit.”

  Toi chuckled. “You have such a sense of humor.”

  “Word? He’s probably rich.” He could use the third party information. “That brings me to my original question. Why are you out with me? He’s a prissy, soon-to-be-millionaire.”

  “You seem to think that you have him all figured out. He’s far from prissy. More like well appointed.”

  “You seem to be doing nothing but complimenting him, so I do not see what seems to be the problem with him that has you in Brooklyn with me. Nevertheless, I enjoyed my night with you. Baaadassss! was a good movie pick, too.” He stopped, then added, “So, I guess I can call you later, friend?” he asked, glad that she had distanced herself; otherwise, he’d be kissing her good night.

  “No, I’ll call you. He’ll be home tonight.”

  “Okay, Get back to your prissy man in Manhanttenville safely.”

  They both chuckled and smiled at each other, as she disappeared underground into the subway.

  CHAPTER 47

  Bright and early, Kareem, Dre and Marquis jumped into the back of a limo, and took another step closer to their dreams. An hour later, they boarded an American Airlines flight headed to Miami. After an hour layover, they boarded another flight to Medellin, Colombia, headed for the Medellin Jose Maria Cordova International Airport. After they cleared customs, they were greeted by a sedan driven by the workers of Salazar Ramirez. They drove for what seemed like hours, and watched the lively city civilization morph into jungle and then mountains.

  Salazar’s castle-like home looked like it dated to the Renaissance era and was located up in the hills. They parked along the side of a Benz and a Hummer, and Salazar met them in a rotund driveway. The man stood at five-feet-four-inches, with thinned hair tied into a ponytail. He had a Mexican mustache and a five o’clock shadow.