“I’m ready to live again,” Citi said. “I’m ready to do whatever.”
17
Lola laid a few outfits across Citi’s bed: skinny jeans, some summer tops, and a few blouses. She had just come from doing a successful boost with her girls at the mall. Knowing about Citi’s sudden hardship, Lola, the true friend she was, decided to share some of the clothing she’d stolen with Citi. The jeans were Citi’s size, as were the blouses.
“Girl, you know I got you,” Lola said.
Citi smiled, something she hadn’t been doing lately. “Thank you.”
The girls’ friendship had strengthened during the past weeks. Being parentless brought them closer together.
“You’re a true friend.”
“I’m always gonna have your back, Citi. Fuck that fake bitch Dana. When I see her in the streets, I’ma cut that fake bitch in her face.”
“Don’t worry about that bitch. She gonna get hers.”
Lola came to Citi’s place with a few shopping bags of stolen merchandise. She had Fendi, Gucci, Prada, Seven, and Levi jeans, dresses, hats, and a few shoes.
Citi stared at everything and was impressed. “You ain’t no joke, Lola.”
“Yeah, but shit is gettin’ really hectic out there. Security and the employees in the stores are starting to know my face. It’s becoming more difficult to steal shit from these muthafuckas. I had to shake this undercover detective that was on my ass. Fat fuck couldn’t catch me, though. I was too fast and smart for his dumb ass.”
Citi chuckled.
“Shit. I need help, though.”
“Help doin’ what?”
“Stealing.”
“You serious? I ain’t no fuckin’ booster, Lola. That ain’t my thing.”
“Me and your brother Chris was talking.”
“Talking?” Citi said with a raised voice, looking befuddled. “What the fuck y’all talking about?”
“I’m just sayin’, hear us out, Citi, before you start to judge shit. You got a fresh face, and I know you. You got skills. Ya smart and you can easily get over on muthafuckas,” Lola said. “You and me doin’ us in these stores. Niggas ain’t gonna know what fuckin’ hit ’em.”
“Did Chris put you up to this?”
“I got a plan that I know will work.”
“I ain’t no fuckin’ booster, Lola.”
“I’m just tryin’ to help you out wit’ your situation.”
“Just don’t!”
Lola sucked her teeth. “You stubborn, Citi.”
“You know what?” Citi walked out her bedroom and charged across the hall to bang on Chris’ door. She knew he was home. She banged on his door like it was the police knocking.
The door swung opened, and Chris appeared. “What the fuck is wrong wit’ you, Citi? Why you knocking on my door like that?”
“We need to talk,” Citi said gruffly.
Chris shot a steely glare at his sister. He then noticed Lola coming out her bedroom. “What? You ain’t down wit’ it?”
“I ain’t a fuckin’ booster, Chris.”
“Then what you gonna do? I stepped up, tryin’ to pull my weight around here now, and you need to do the same. We need some extra cash comin’ in.”
“Not this.”
“Then what the fuck else, Citi? Huh? You wanna go out on the corners and hustle with the thugs? That’s you. Or, better yet, let me put you out on the track and have you sell some pussy, or go strip in the fuckin’ club. You’re cute enough to get those tips.”
Chris had stepped up his hustle with the help of Citi. Chris had gotten three grand pawning the gold and diamond locket of her mother’s picture, a birthday gift from her father. It was enough cash to buy a package. Within the week, he was on the streets selling hand to hand. Within two weeks, Cane was right beside him, helping him hustle. They were determined to build their status back up. Slowly, they were beginning to replace what was sold off in the household.
“You gotta do this, Citi. You always talk that talk; now you gotta walk that walk. So, you gonna be real wit’ your words, or become a fuckin’ hypocrite?”
Lola and Chris stared at her intently and waited for her reply.
Citi sighed. “Fuck it, I’m down,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Now that’s a Byrne talking,” Chris said.
****
The plan was simple. Lola would walk into the place first and browse around. She was already known for shoplifting from the same store numerous times. When she stepped into the store, security was already alerted, and the uniformed guard and the employees began watching her like a hawk. She smirked at the chubby security officer that played her closely. Every move she made, he was on her. He didn’t say a thing. He only followed her around the clothing store. Lola moved slowly and carefully. She wanted his eyes on her.
Citi entered the store ten minutes after Lola. Her look had changed dramatically. She had gained weight. She appeared to be pregnant, but the look was a complete fraud. Citi wasn’t pregnant, but was wearing a pregnant suit underneath her clothing, giving everyone the impression she was pregnant. The suit was discreetly lined with deep pouches to stash any dresses, tops, jeans, and trinkets.
Citi played her role to perfection. She was a little nervous but moved throughout the clothing store like she was interested in purchasing a few items. She’d concealed a security tag remover on her person, and while Lola had everyone’s attention, she started to remove the security tags off the dresses and a few blouses. She had to be swift at it and watch out for the eyes in the sky—the security cameras.
When Citi was sure no one was watching, she quickly swiped a two-hundred-dollar Fendi blouse and stuffed it into the pouch. She dumped the security tag in the trash. She continued to walk through the store, while Lola distracted security. She picked up a pair of jeans and held them in her hands. Then she went for a couple of shirts on the rack.
Within fifteen minutes, Citi had over eight hundred dollars worth of items concealed in the hollow belly of the suit. She carried a pair of fifty-dollar jeans slung over her arm to the cash register.
“Excuse me miss, I need to search your bag,” the security said to Lola when she attempted to head for the exit.
Lola smirked. “Why y’all harassin’ me?”
“I’m just doing my job,” he responded with a stern look.
Lola sucked her teeth and caught an attitude with the security guard. While she was being hassled at the entrance, Citi was at the cashier paying for her fifty-dollar jeans. She grabbed her bag and strutted past Lola, and they both acted like they didn’t know each other.
The guard was disappointed that he didn’t catch Lola with any stolen merchandise in her bag.
“You happy?” Lola barked. “Always gotta be prejudice against a black woman. I can’t come into a store without being accused of a fuckin’ crime. Fuck y’all!” She purposely tried to cause a scene to embarrass the security guard.
Other shoppers turned to look at the spectacle.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized.
“Fuck you, bitch-ass nigga!”
Lola stormed out of the store looking like she was hurt and embarrassed. She laughed silently to herself and hurried to meet with Citi in the ladies’ bathroom.
Lola looked around and found Citi in the last stall. “Yo, that shit was crazy,” she said.
“I know. I know,” Citi replied, smiling.
“What you got?” Lola asked excitedly. She stepped all the way in the handicap stall and locked the door.
When Citi started to remove items from the pouch, Lola’s eyes lit up.
“Damn, Citi! You went in and you got some nice things.”
“I was so fuckin’ nervous.”
“But you did your thang, though. Shit, I
taught you well.”
Citi laughed.
“A’ight, let’s get the fuck outta here before security decides to be nosy and shit.”
Citi walked out the restroom first, still masquerading as a young pregnant female, and Lola walked out the restroom five minutes later. The girls met up outside the mall at the bus stop. They were relieved by what they’d accomplished. They couldn’t wait to hit the hood and start fencing what they had stolen.
****
A few days later, the two girls hit Green Acres Mall, implementing the same system. Lola and a friend walked into the pricey fashion boutique and started to browse around, catching the workers’ attention. Ten minutes later, Citi strolled into the store disguised as a pregnant woman. While Lola and her ghetto friend caught everyone’s attention, Citi was busy stuffing costly items into the pouches of the suit. The group exited at different times. Citi made it a habit to always purchase something at the cashier for fifty dollars or less, to throw off any suspicion.
The scheme was becoming very profitable. Citi and Lola were making good money from fencing the clothing and other items to the locals. Word had gotten around, and Citi’s apartment became the hangout spot for her clique. If someone needed something, they came to the apartment, where she had all kinds of merchandise displayed in her bedroom—jewelry, shoes, sneakers, hats—even electronics. She was hooked on stealing.
Within weeks, Lola and Citi had created an intricate system of stealing. They’d linked up with two thugs, Midtown and Flash, known for hijacking trucks on the highway and doing smash-and-grabs in stores out of state. Citi was running her own crew of girls, and she and Lola were teaching them the tricks of the shoplifting trade.
They implemented numerous schemes in various locations, creating a web of thievery from borough to borough. The stores in Brooklyn, Queens, Long Island, and Manhattan didn’t know what hit them. Sometimes it would be the pregnant suit, or one of the girls would cause a commotion in the store, picking a fight with an employee or shopper to create a diversion for their accomplice to steal a few things. Other times, it was simply a smash-and-grab, or an inside connection with a corrupt store employee helping them with their theft for a nice price.
****
It was a hot August day, and Citi lounged around in her bedroom, which was now overflowing with stolen clothing, shoes, and cell phones that Midtown had boosted from Best Buy. She fanned herself lightheartedly with the wad of twenty-dollar bills she had in her hand. The money was good. Her opulent lifestyle was gradually returning to her.
She had learned the ropes very quickly from Lola about the art of stealing, and she refused to be used any longer. She had a string of young girls working for her. They were daring enough to enter any store and steal for the crew. She grew tired of taking all the risk. Raised and groomed to be a boss bitch, she wanted to be like her daddy. She was meant to be running things, not taking unnecessary risks with her freedom.
The girls she had working for her ranged in ages from twelve to nineteen, and they all looked up to Citi and Lola as queen bee bitches. Her young crew of rebellious girls was lounging around in the living room smoking weed, drinking Grey Goose, and talking shit; mostly about dick and money.
Citi had locked herself in her room for a moment and was thinking. She just could not be poor. It wasn’t in her blood. She peered out the bedroom window and watched the traffic in the courtyard. It was a beautiful summer day. She had a fistful of cash and a priceless wardrobe in her closet. Her come-up was surely happening. She strutted around her apartment in a short miniskirt, exposing her meaty thighs and fresh tattoo, and a tight metallic plunging neckline that showed cleavage, making the room feel almost x-rated.
Knocking at her bedroom door made her turn around from the window and shout, “Who is it?”
“Cane.”
“What you want, Cane?”
“I just need to holla at you for a minute.”
Citi sighed. She wasn’t in the mood to see her brother. “Come in.”
Cane opened the door and stepped into the bedroom, clad in a wifebeater, sagging denim jeans, and Timberlands. A large bulky gold chain hung around his neck with a 9mm pendant, and the butt of a .45 could be seen in his waistband. Ever since the night he was robbed and beaten, Cane had become more aggressive and temperamental. His name was ringing fiercely out in the streets. He’d become a violent soldier for Chris. Where Citi and Chris had leadership abilities, Cane was the opposite. He was indecisive at times, impulsive in the streets, and bitter. Detectives had picked him up for questioning on a few shootings, but he was never charged.
“You got a cigarette, sis?”
“You always beggin’ for somethin’. Why don’t you go out and buy your own pack sometimes?”
“’Cuz I’m asking you for one.” Cane moved a pair of items to the side and sat on her bed.
Citi sighed and handed him a cigarette.
Cane lit up, took a few pulls and exhaled. He looked at his sister and said, “You tryin’ to do it big, huh, sis?”
“I’m doin’ me,” she replied quietly.
“I know. I see that,” Cane said, looking around her room at the abundance of merchandise spread out.
Citi had to watch Cane and make sure he didn’t leave her room with sticky fingers. He was known for swiping something and then selling it on the streets to make a profit. Cane was family, but he was also conniving.
Cane continued to remain seated on the bed and smoke. With an impish smile, he gazed at his little sister and asked, “Yo, what’s up wit’ ya girl, Misty?”
“She’s only fifteen.”
“So? That little bitch is bad, and she cute. You think I can fuck her?”
“Don’t be fuckin’ wit’ any of my girls, Cane. I know you. You a whore.”
“Yeah, and? I’m just tryin’ to get some pussy, and that bitch Misty, I’m feelin’ that bitch,” Cane said.
“She’s one of my best boosters. I don’t want you fuckin’ wit’ her head.”
“I ain’t tryin’ to fuck wit’ her head, just what’s between her legs.”
Citi shook her head at her brother. “You is so stupid, nigga.”
“Whatever, Citi. I’m still gonna try and get at that, wit’ or without your approval. I’m feelin’ that bitch.” Cane took one last pull from the cigarette and put it out in the ashtray on the dresser. He stood up with a creepy smile and looked at Citi.
“You an asshole.”
“Yeah, I know. But my dick is hard, and Misty, she can get it. Watch me work, sis, watch me work,” Cane said, grabbing his crotch while he made his exit from the bedroom.
Citi followed behind him. Her eyes stayed on Cane as he walked into the living room and went over to Misty, who sat on the sofa in her coochie-cutting shorts and tight top that highlighted her balloon tits. Cane stood over her, and Misty looked up at him with a sparkle in her eyes.
Citi scrutinized the conversation between Cane and Misty. Misty’s body language spoke loud and clear. She was ready to fuck Cane. Citi cringed at the thought of Cane getting involved with one of her boosters. She had a good thing going and was afraid that Cane’s affair with Misty would fuck up her flow and cause unneeded drama within her business.
Frowning, she watched her brother work his magic on Misty, who was eating his words up like cake. Cane took a seat next to her and threw his arm around Misty, and it appeared that she was ready to lay her head into his chest. Citi had to respect her brother’s game, but she was hoping he didn’t have to spread it so thick on one of her boosters. But she wasn’t a hater and didn’t plan to cock-block.
18
The September breeze was cool and comforting, and the sun was at its peak in the sky when Citi climbed out of Chris’ truck. Together they trekked across the cemetery lawn and walked somberly to their father’s gravesite. Citi h
eld onto his arm tightly, for confidence. She hadn’t been to the grave since the day Curtis was buried. She’d brought a batch of fresh flowers to place on her father’s grave.
Five months later, their father’s murder still lingered fresh in their hearts. His killer or killers were still out there. The family hated that those responsible for killing Curtis were still breathing. Maino had promised to be on the hunt for them, but he was now the shot-caller on the streets of Queens. Avenging Curtis’ death was no longer a priority for him, so the family was left on their own. It was becoming a cold case.
The siblings came to a stop at the laser-etched black granite tombstone that indicated Curtis Byrne’s final resting place. The grave was covered with flowers; some dying, others freshly placed there. The tombstone read: Curtis Byrne, beloved father, you will truly be missed. Gone, but never forgotten. It also showed the years of his birth and death.
The minute Citi rested her eyes on the grave, tears began to fall against her cheeks. She clutched Chris’ arm tighter as they stepped closer. She sighed heavily as she stood over her daddy’s final resting place. Her eyes were now in full-blown tears. She couldn’t help but to break out into a profound cry.
Chris consoled his baby sister, whispering to her, “It’ll be okay, Citi.”
The two stared at the grave. It was hard to believe it—their abrupt loss. Today would have been Curtis’ birthday. He would have turned thirty-seven.
Cane had refused to come with them to the grave. He didn’t want to be reminded of his loss. He was still bitter and angry. He also felt he’d disappointed his father by not finding his killers. He opted to stay home. He’d rather be in some warm pussy than face such harsh reality.
Citi leaned forward and placed the batch of flowers onto her father’s grave. She tossed away the dead ones and made sure his place of rest looked presentable. Chris hugged her and had a few tears streaming down his face. The two lingered at their father’s grave for a long while.
“I miss him so much,” Citi cried out.
“I do too, sis. I do too,” Chris said quietly.
Guard the Throne Page 16