The Take

by L. Brown

  Reem halfheartedly took the phone, fumbling with it before saying,

  “Yo, cuz. What’s good?”

  “Ain’t shit. They booked me for a warrant I had on an old drug case yesterday.”

  “What’s your bail?” Reem was relaxed now, knowing Feeq wasn’t down for robbery.

  “I can’t make bail because they dropped a dipsy on me before I could see the warrant unit. They had me in the receiving room all night, but I got Smitty to get me up to the block ASAP.”

  “Smitty? Who that?”

  “You know the CO that mess with my little cousin Taniesha.” “Right. I know who you are talking about. You need something?”

  “Yeah. I just need you to get with D when he calls, all right?” Reem knew that Feeq was referring to Smitty by his street name. Smitty was his nickname at CFCF because his last name was Smith.

  “Yeah, give him my number, and I’ll lace you something nice, cousin.”

  It was understood that Smitty was a horse, and Feeq wanted them to give him a package to smuggle into the prison. It would contain a phone, drugs, and some cigarettes.

  Smitty was from the hood, but they didn’t deal with him like that because he was a correctional officer. He was a square who tried to act like a gangster.

  After making some more arrangements and small talk, they hung up with Feeq. The coke Schemes was whipping was dry and rock hard. They took half of brick out of the one they cooked and broke it down into two nine-ounce batches. Reem called Frog, and told him to meet him at the McDonald’s up Stenton Avenue.

  After hopping in the Marauder, Schemes found his phone on the side of the driver’s seat.

  “Damn! Here goes my shit right here,” he mumbled, stuffing the phone in his pocket.

  “Tighten up,” Reem joked.

  As they pulled up in the McDonald’s parking lot, Reem and Schemes were both startled by the presence of a marked police car parked in front of the adjoining gas station entrance. Frog’s car was, also, parked beside one of the gas tanks. Both cars were empty, so they must have been inside the gas station or restaurant.

  They kept it moving, driving straight out the parking lot and parking on one of the back blocks. They called Frog and told him to meet them on Beverly Road. There, they would do the pass off.

  A few minutes later, Frog parked his Buick Lesabre behind them and jumped in the car with them. Reem handed him the work.

  “That’s a half of joint in there. It’s broke down into two fifties. One for you and one for Snook. They’re already fried. Y’all need to learn how to cook, or get Pops to do it for y’all next time ‘cause we ain’t going to keep doing it for y’all,” Schemes said. “All right. I got it. Stop bitching,” Frog said in a throaty voice.

  He started scratching the back of his throat—his signature.

  “Stop that irritating shit with your throat!” Reem snapped. “And like he said, learn how to cook, or you’re assed out.”

  Frog was Schemes’s little cousin. The relationship they shared was tight. Schemes only had Frog by two years, so they had been pretty close coming up.

  Frog had a raspy voice, and he always scratched the back of his throat, which irritated the shit out of Reem. His voice and scratch sounds resembled those of a frog, so that was where he got his nickname from.

  “Y’all need to stop playing and put me on some real paper!” Frog threw his opinion out there to see what their responses would be. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful for the work that they had just fronted him, but, in the last week, he’d watched both of them upgrade cars and clothes, and now they were passing off work. He knew they had come up on a sting, but he wasn’t sure who or what they had taken down.

  “Goak, goak, goak..."

  “Man, we’ll rap!” Reem said, wanting to get him out the car. Frog bounced, feeling good. Nine ounces wasn’t much, but

  shit, it was more than he had when he got into the car.

  Ghost was sitting on the bed, trying to quickly count the money he wanted to put aside for his plans tomorrow. After the family night at Jillian’s, he had stopped down Gratz Street to get some sour diesel. The exotic haze had him and Kia on cloud nine. She was in the shower freshening up.

  Ghost was in a hurry to count out $35,000 of the money, so he could hoard it away in a safe tucked under the bed. Copping the exotic smoke had given him an idea. Gratz Street was one of the only blocks that always had the good smoke on a consistent basis. Hustlers from all over the city traveled to Gratz Street to cop off that block because it was so tough to find it anywhere else.

  Ghost figured, if he set up a shop uptown, he could take a lot of the clientele from down there and, also, gain his own. He called a Jamaican named Smoke, who always had various loads of weed on deck. Smoke gave him a deal he couldn’t refuse: ten pounds of weed for thirty-five thousand. Ghost was hesitant at first to purchase that many pounds because he was starting from the ground, but the offer was too good, and he knew, if things didn’t take off right away, he could always get the pounds off wholesale.

  Just as he was tucking the safe under the bed, Kia entered, her succulent body cloaked in a towel. Ghost jumped up from the bed suspiciously, drawing the blanket over the stacks of bills on the bed that he’d yet to put in the bag.

  Kia squinted her eyes, looking at him suspiciously. Apprehensively, she asked, “What you hiding, boy?”

  “Nothing,” Ghost said with a guilty smile.

  Now Kia wondered about his sneakiness, so she became persistent.

  “What you mean ‘nothing’? What you pull the covers over?” She snatched the covers off the money before he could

  squeeze another lie between his teeth.

  “What the—”

  Kia threw her hand over her mouth, alarmed at the sight of money scattered on the mattress. “Where the fuck you get all of that money from?”

  “Listen, babe. I can explain,” he said in a soft voice.

  “You fucking right you can explain! You got a lot of explaining to do!”

  Tears filled her eyes as she glared at him. Kia didn’t care about money. Keeping Ghost with her was all that mattered. She despised the game he was in—the same one that had taken her baby’s father.

  Ghost started explaining things to her down to the T. Initially, he had planned to hide the money from her and keep her in the dark about his recent endeavors, but now he was compelled to reveal things to her. Either that or lie to her, and that wasn’t an option. He always kept it real with her.

  Kha was sound asleep in the other room, so Ghost immediately defused the situation, so they wouldn’t awaken him. Kia was stuck in an ambivalent state. She had mixed feelings about what he was sharing with her. A part of her was happy he got away, and they had a hundred thousand. But the caring side of her was more concerned about his bad decision, and the risk he took on almost leaving her again. She couldn’t believe that he was fresh out of jail and already headfirst back in the game.

  “Please, Ghost. Don’t do this tomorrow. Please don’t leave again,” she begged softly.

  He took her into his embrace and warmly whispered in her ear that he would never leave them again, trying to soothe her. The relaxing words subdued her. Before they knew it, they were kissing and gyrating against one another. Longing passion overcame them, and they made intense love on top of the big-face money.

  Following the sexual episode, Ghost put the money up in a bag and laid there with his queen’s head buried in his chest.

  Men never listened to their women when they knew they should. His decision was made. The game was calling his name, and, when it called, he had to go.

  CHAPTER 6

  A MONTH FLEW BY. TIME seemed to move at a rapid pace when enjoying life, and life was definitely good for everyone. Ghost’s haze-house, which he’d set up on Boyer and Locust Street, at a fiend named Pop’s house, was booming. The house was running through over two pounds a day, which brought in roughly twenty grand every day. Dubs of haze moved out the house quic
ker than Ghost expected. All the hustlers were grabbing on a daily basis, so, after breaking Pops and the youngins he had sitting in the house off, he was pulling in a few grand profit each day.

  Schemes and Reem’s hustling was reaching new heights as well. They were grabbing five bricks at a time. The strip was moving the work briskly. Frog and Snook were working with half a brick each now. Things looked pretty good for everyone.

  Tonight, they were at the strip club, Onyx, down on Delaware Avenue, balling out of control. They almost had to drag Ghost to the club with them. Things with him and Kia were on good terms. She had become more comfortable with his sources of income once he proved how limited his risk of getting caught up was. He spent countless hours with her and Kha, so she was grateful for that.

  Meek Mills’ House Party came blasting through the speakers. The partygoers went crazy as the classic banger played. Two adjoining tables were occupied by their crew. A few dancers surrounded the table, entertaining them.

  Bottles of Patrón, Ciroc and Nuvo sat, half-emptied, on the tables. The entire club seemed to be high and tipsy. Smoke permeated throughout the club, creating a fog-like atmosphere. Reem and Schemes were enjoying themselves the most. While Ghost sat back cracking up at them, Reem had an exquisite redbone giving him a lap dance. The redbone worked her hips and ass to the rhythm of the beat like a pro. Reem’s face was balled up from the ride she was giving him. He imagined himself inside her the way she was going at it. He could only imagine how her performance would be behind closed doors.

  A stripper was on top of the table, working her body like a snake. The caramel table dancer wiggled and popped her ass to every bit of snare and bass in the song. Schemes was making it rain on her ass with stacks of ones. The bitch had a mouth-watering body, and she was working it like she was doing it for TV. When she did her signature move, the club went nuts. She sat on the table and pulled one leg behind her head, holding it with her arms. Flexible was an understatement. While holding her legs in the awkward position, she made her ass clap with a thunderous sound.

  “Damn!” the crowd shouted in unison as she performed. “Oh, shit!” Schemes blurted as he threw the entire stack of

  bills at her rigorous ass.

  He had to have her after that move. He needed just one shot of her. After her show came to an end, he propositioned her. He wanted to have a quickie in one of the private rooms. Without hesitation, she agreed and took him by the hand. She pulled him toward the secluded rooms. He tapped Reem, giving him a head nod, indicating that he should grab his chick and head to the back with him.

  Ghost, Frog, and Snook laughed at them as they watched them slide to the back of the club. They were pissy drunk, throwing ones at some strippers in front of their table.

  All the women were putting on that night. They were so caught up in the production that they were unaware of the angry faces across the club, staring in their direction. A thick waitress slid up with a bottle of champagne and approached Ghost.

  “This is for you, handsome,” she said flirtatiously, licking her lips.

  Ghost smiled from ear to ear and, somewhat in shock, asked, “For me, pretty girl?”

  “Yeah, from the gentleman over there,” she said while pointing across the foggy room.

  Ghost squinted his eyes and surveyed the area, looking for the niggas who sent him the bottle. His eyes roamed the room until he found some familiar faces he hadn’t seen in a while. He was sure it was them who sent the bottle. Who else would make an audacious move like this? Then, he locked eyes with one of them. Ghost smiled deviously, popped the bottle, and raised it to his mouth.

  In the private room, Reem had the redbone giving him a private dance. Her hair fell down the side of her face and swung wildly as she popped her body in ways Reem had never seen a woman do before. He drained his stack of ones, paying her for her body-popping performance.

  He took her by her hand and said, “Come here, girl.”

  She obeyed his command by climbing onto his lap. She had to admit to herself that Reem was a cutie. His light skin accentuated his dark black hair. Facial hair sprouted from his round cheeks, taking away from his, otherwise, baby face. Since playing football on Germantown High’s team, his body had maintained a nice tone from the countless hours spent in the weight pile. Because of their similar features, people always said he and Ghost looked like brothers.

  “How much for some of this pussy?” he asked while rubbing her soaked thong.

  “For you, two hundred,” she told him like he was getting a bargain price.

  Reem knew she had probably been driven up in by Mack truck after Mack truck; however, her gyrating lap dance had blown his mind, so he needed a shot of that.

  He peeled five Franklins off his knot and handed them to her. “That’s for everything, baby girl.”

  Without further dialogue, she dropped to her knees and whipped his rock hard dick out. She tore open a condom and used her mouth to put it on. She took his whole eight inches in her mouth, rolling the condom down his entire shaft.

  Redbone was a beast.

  Reem watched in awe as she sloppily gave him some of the best head he’d ever had. His entire manhood disappeared into her mouth, and she bobbed her head at the bottom like she wanted more to come from his pelvic bone. As she came up to the tip, water flooded her eyes and excess saliva drooled from her mouth, sliding down his shaft. He clawed at the seat as she drove him insane. Her green contacts looked like her real eyes, and Reem was mesmerized by them.

  He grabbed her by her hair, twisted her around, and said, “Turn that ass around.”

  “Oh! You like it rough, daddy,” she cooed, using the same words she had used on hundreds of tricks before him.

  After ramming his dick in from the back, her ass wobbled up and down. He rushed in and out of her, chasing her as she ran from him. Her light ass turned red as he smacked it. Screams of ecstasy echoed off the four closed in walls.

  “Harder, harder, harder!” she cried in excitement.

  Reem submitted to her demands, and, for a second, he almost forgot he was pounding a whore. That was how good the pussy was. Mesmerized he thought he was falling in love, but those thoughts evaporated as soon as his scrotum tightened, and he shot his load. Reese and his crew sat across from Ghost and his homies in the hazy club and stared at them. He was amazed at how long they had been watching them without them noticing or feeling the tension in the smoggy atmosphere.

  Initially, Reese and his team had been enjoying themselves. Then, Reese spotted the man who had put scars on him months ago. Flashing back, the sounds of the shot rang in his ear, and he could vividly see the grimaced face Ghost wore that day in his head.

  Tapping his man C-Note, Reese said, “Look at these niggas.” He nodded discreetly in the direction of Ghost and them. In domino effect, C-Note alerted Mil, who in turn made Mar aware of their enemies’ presence. The good mood instantly turned sour.

  Mar tried to defuse the situation before anything went down. “Fuck them niggas.”

  “Naw, homie! That nigga has to pay for what he did,” Reese retorted with hatred in his eyes.

  “What you want to do, homie?” C-Note asked sternly. His tone implied that he was going along with any plan that Reese thought of.

  The strippers, who were putting their thing down at the table, felt the attention divert elsewhere. The ones had stopped flying, so the asses stopped shaking. Reese had yet to see Ghost on the streets since he’d been home. People labeled him a rat because of his initial statements to the law about Ghost shooting him. For those reports, Ghost spent six months locked down, but, with the three no-shows to court, Ghost ended up being released.

  Word traveled through the streets that Reese was saying he would hold court in the streets. His wish was about to come true. The defendant was sitting there, behind the other end of the opposite table.

  Reese tapped the waitress as she strutted by with confidence. “Send those guys over there,” he said, making it clear who h
e was referring to without pointing, “a bottle of Krug Grande Cuvée champagne. Make it clear to them who it was compliments of, would you?” He gave her a thousand dollars in all twenties. The champagne was $900. “Keep the extra as a tip for you.” He winked at her and smacked her on the ass when she spun around to walk away.

  “That was some boss shit.” Mil liked the style of his man. The rest of them nodded in agreement while keeping their eyes focused across the club.

  They all sat there and watched the waitress take the bottle to Ghost’s table. She seemed to move in slow motion as she served the bottle. They smirked at the puzzled look on Ghost’s face as he accepted the bottle.

  Ghost’s eyes quickly examined the club until his eyes met with Reese’s. After their eyes locked, they stared at one another. The long glare seemed to last forever.

  The tension was thick enough to cut through with a steak knife as the same thought raced through everyone’s head: Now what?

  Schemes was in another secluded room, receiving private service from the thick caramel chick. Her body bounced to the Big Sean and Nicki Minaj song that came rumbling through the speakers. She moved rapidly to the fast-paced beat. Her body was flawless. Well, her knees were a little ashy from the dancing, but Schemes didn’t care.

  He quickly grabbed her and threw her on the couch. He hadn’t come back in the private room for a dance. He had seen that shit on the floor. He threw her a few bills which must have satisfied her price tag because she didn’t object to him pulling her thongs over her heels.

  He pinned her head in her chest and her legs back as far as he could. Surprisingly, she cocked her legs back willingly, locking them behind her head and holding them in place with her elbows. The position was absolutely ridiculous. Schemes was brick hard. Access to her pussy was wide open with her legs so far back. He traveled in and out of her tunnel, reaching her stomach. She whined in pain and pleasure as he fillede her insides with his girth.