I took my last paycheck and paid all the bills, including the rent. But that left me with virtually nothing.
I called my father, hoping he would loan me a couple thousand dollars to hold me over until I got another job. He asked me if I was still with Santana. When I said yes all I heard was the dial tone. I threw my phone in anger.
I was so stressed that when Santana walked in the door, I was sitting on the couch in tears rocking back and forth.
“Babe. What’s wrong now?”
“I lost my job, Santana.”
“Man, fuck!” He sat down across from me.
“I don’t know what to do, Santana. I can keep looking for a job, but there really is nothing out here right now because of the recession.”
“I can try to get a job, Alexis. I know I won’t make much and I will have to drop out of school, but fuck it.”
“No. I don’t want you to drop out of school, Santana.”
“Well, shit, I gotta do something, baby. We gotta eat. We gotta pay these bills somehow. I can always go back to work for those Jamaicans.”
“Santana, are you crazy? No.”
“I’m the nigga. I have to think of something. You don’t want to live in the Carmelitos no more. They fucked up your car. Shit! Man, this is frustrating! And I hate how you always unhappy.” He stood to his feet.
“Wait! Where are you going?”
“I’m going to try to make some money. Buy some dope to sell or something. Do a lick.”
“No.” I stood and ran in front of him, trying to block him from leaving. I didn’t want him to go out and do anything stupid that would land him in jail or dead. He simply shoved me out of the way and went out the door, despite me yelling his name and begging him to come back.
Despite the fact that I blew up Santana’s phone, he wouldn’t respond. I cried and threw things out of frustration. I continued to call and constantly peeked my head out the door to see if he had come back. I wished I hadn’t been so upset about losing my job. I should have lied and said I had other prospects. I had stressed him to the point where he felt he had to go out and do something stupid. I wrung my hands together and called his number again. He didn’t answer. It had been about four hours since he had left.
I looked outside again and saw him pull up.
I ran outside toward him and waited for him to get out of his car, with my arms crossed under my breasts. Once he did, I punched him in his chest. “I told you not to leave!”
“Stop, baby.”
I shoved him. “Don’t you understand that I love you! I would kill myself if something happened to you.”
He opened his arms for me to slip in them. But I shook my head and backed away.
“Calm down. I didn’t do shit. I just went for a drive. Come on. Let’s go inside and talk.”
I obeyed and followed him.
Chapter 30
“Look, babe. I know how you feel about me doing anything illegal. But right now, let’s face the facts. We are in a bad position. And we got to do something about it. Before you start frowning your face, just listen.”
I tried to relax.
“We can come up off a few licks.”
“Licks?”
“Yeah. Licks. Where you rob someone.”
“Santana—”
“Shut the fuck up. Damn! Listen to me first.”
I clamped my mouth closed.
“Babe. It’s not what you think. We can just do it for a little while until we get up enough money to move and enough money to get us by the next couple a months. We gonna at least need two Gs to move and at least some thousands put away to pay our bills until you get a job. And then when I finish school, we Gucci. We good. Listen. I know a nigga, he lives in LA. He got the hookup with the DMV. You bring him a hot car he will give you seven Gs for it. Ten Gs if it’s something like a Benz, BMW, or Escalade. They know how to change the VINs and shit so the car is not traceable. All we got to do it get you dolled up, go to a bar, scope out a sucka-ass nigga who got pussy on the brain. Like a square-ass nigga. You can act like you selling pussy. Tell him your price. Go get in the car with him, ride to the motel. I will trail you guys. Then when you go in the room, I’ll bust in with a gun, take his keys, and we out. When I get them, you can bounce with me.”
“What if the guy calls the police on us?”
“I thought about that. The targets have to be married men who got something to lose. I’ll scare his ass. Take his license plate, threaten to pay his wife a visit. He won’t call the police on us. And we will only do this a few times until we get up the money we need. Then we can move the fuck up out of here to a nice place; we can even get your car fixed and put some away. How it sound, baby?”
Really it didn’t sound too bad. No one was getting hurt and he was merely taking the person’s car. My only fear about the whole scheme was being in the room with the guy until Santana got there.
He saw my hesitation, so he said, “You can have a gun for a precaution. But, babe, as soon as y’all get in the room I’m busting in with a gun to scare his ass. And we’ll just make sure the tricks we pick are chumps, for added protection. Don’t trip, baby, I got you. You know I’m never going to let anything happen to you. You trust me?”
I looked into his convincing eyes, took a deep breath, and thought about how fucked up my car was and the hell I had experienced with those two bitches. I didn’t want any more of that. I wanted peace of mind and to enjoy my days without stressing about the people I had to work with. And, like Santana said, we would only do this a couple times.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
He got on his knees, crawled over to me, and kissed my lips.
We decided to do the scam in Newport Beach because it was far away from home. I questioned my chances in a white bar. But Santana said that as pretty as I was, I shouldn’t have a problem snagging someone. He also said that a lot of white man secretly wanted to bed a sista. I knew that Newport was where very wealthy people lived. The parking lot was filled with luxury and designer cars.
We went to Duke’s Place, on West Coast Highway. I replayed the steps in my head over and over again as I settled at the bar with a skin-tight dress and heels. I ordered a Midori Sour. I had on heavy makeup and my hair was flat ironed, so it hung silkily around my shoulders and down my back.
Step one: look around for someone showing interest. Give him continuous eye contact. If they come over and offer to buy me a drink, I am to be super witty and charming, willing to buy them a drink. Show my thighs and keep my chest pushed out. Continue to engage them in a conversation. Step two: if they bite and make a move on me, offer my services to them and give them a very reasonable quote. Forty for head, seventy for sex, and one hundred for both. Step three: leave with him in his car. Continue to talk to him in the car to keep him distracted and he doesn’t notice he is being trailed. Step four: go into the room, start stripping down.
There were plenty of men who were giving me the eye. But the one I kept my eyes on was a thin-looking white man who was shorter than me and didn’t look like much of a threat. He was sitting three seats down from me and his eyes continued to float over to my way. Then he would fearfully look away. I didn’t. Every time he looked my way, he saw that my eyes were still on him and I gave him a pretty smile. Finally, after a couple minutes, he made his way over to where I was.
“Hey.”
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“Pretty good. Now that I’m talking to a pretty lady like yourself.”
I blushed. “That was so sweet, thanks.”
“Tim.”
“Lola.”
“What are you drinking?”
“Midori Sour.” I had just finished mine.
He bought me another. I sipped on it while he drilled me. “So did you come here alone?”
That’s when I remembered to check and make sure he had a wedding ring. He did. Shame on him. “Yep. How about you?”
“Yeah. Wanted to get out of the house. I did
n’t want to hear my wife’s mouth tonight. Our two kids are bouncing off the walls. No one seems to understand that sometimes I need a break too.”
“Trust me, honey, if anybody understands it’s me.” My right hand rubbed against his as it rested on the counter. I gave him a sexy look, hoping I was convincing him.
He paused and stared at me for a moment as if he was shocked I was even talking to him.
“So. What do you do?” I asked. I took a sip of my drink, and my other, free hand kept rubbing his hand on the counter.
“I flip houses.”
“Oh, really . . .” I stopped myself before I blurted out my personal business about my dad owning property. “That’s impressive.”
“So what about you?”
I chuckled, making him laugh as well. “Let’s just say I’m in the people-pleasing business.”
His brows furrowed together. Then he laughed and shook his head. “And all this time I thought it was because you were really interested in me. I mean you’re beautiful. I know I’m not much of a looker. So I should have known there was a catch.”
I laughed. “Everything costs, right?”
Without hesitation he said, “How much?”
I recited, “Forty for head, seventy for sex, and a hundred for both.”
He nodded and looked around before turning back to me. “When you looking to get out of here?”
“When you looking to get out of here?”
“Meet me outside in five minutes.”
True to Santana’s words, the shit was so damn simple. I kept him engaged in his car, which was a black Audi. I talked nonstop in the car. I told him that I was a singer and I even belted out an Alicia Keys song.
“Wow,” he said, looking at me as he drove. “You have a beautiful voice.”
“Thank you.”
“Amazing,” he said. He pulled into a motel that was a few minutes from the bar.
“How about you? Do you have any hidden talents?”
“Nope, not really. I never had any type of artistic talent. I’ve just always been good with money.” As he spoke I looked in the rearview mirror. Santana told me he wasn’t going to be directly behind the car.
“Well, that’s definitely a talent!”
He laughed, parked, and got out of the car. “Be right back.”
I waited in the car as he went and paid for the room. When he came back to the car with a hotel key, I swallowed hard and got out of the car. His hands continued to rub up and down my butt as I followed him to the room.
I discreetly looked behind me for Santana as he unlocked the door. I saw his car parked and his headlights off.
We went into the room. He tried to hold the door open for me, but slyly, I bent over and pretended I was fixing my shoe and said, “Go ahead.” He did and I went in last. This was deliberate so I could make sure the door was kept unlocked for Santana.
He wasn’t paying any attention; he was too busy making sure the curtains were closed.
Then he turned to me, smiled, and said, “First things first.” He reached in his wallet and handed some money to me.
“Thank you.” I slowly counted it and put it in my purse.
He started unbuttoning his shirt. He had managed to get his shirt off, when Santana came busting through the door.
The guy jumped.
“Aye, my man. You don’t want to get hurt. Just give me your car keys, money, and you good.”
His eyes were as wide as saucers. Before he could stop himself, he peed. I looked away, embarrassed.
Santana shook his head. “Give it up.”
Without hesitation, he gave his wallet and car keys to Santana.
Santana smiled menacingly at the man, pulled out his driver’s license, and showed it to the man. “You call the police and trust and believe someone will be paying you a visit real soon.” He looked at Tim’s left hand. “Oh, and you married.”
“With kids,” I added.
He looked at me, surprised. “You set me up?” he demanded.
“Shut the fuck up,” Santana said. “Come on, baby.” Santana walked backward, keeping his eyes on the guy. I gave the guy one last look before rushing out of the room.
I didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until we dropped off the car and Santana hopped in the passenger seat of his car (because he drove Tim’s car and I drove his) and we were on the way home, $10,000 richer.
Chapter 31
These “licks” were super easy. And, in all honesty, since the men we planned to hit up had money, I didn’t feel so bad stealing a car from them. Our plan was to do four more licks and be done.
We always waited a day in between doing our next one and used that day to figure out what spot we were going to hit up next. I suggested that we do the city of Brentwood and Santana was with it. People out there had money and it was a distance from where we lived and our last setup.
This time, we went to 760 Cigar Lounge. With the place being filled with busty blondes I didn’t think I was going to have any luck there. In fact, after waiting for forty-five minutes and not really getting any attention from anyone I decided that it was best to pick another spot before it got too late. But as I made it to the exit, brushing past several people, someone curved an arm around my waist and said, “You’re not leaving. I just got here.”
I turned and looked at a tall, lanky-looking blond guy. He had sparkling blue eyes and was handsome. He was a few inches taller than I was. I wagered Santana would be okay with him. And plus we both carried guns. But I knew with how skillful we acted and how well we had planned this I would not ever have to pull out my gun.
I chuckled. “Well then, handsome, I guess I’m not leaving.”
He gripped my hand in his and walked me over to the bar. He pulled the stool out for me and I sat down. He sat down as well.
“So what’s your price?”
“Excuse me?” I was taken aback by how bold he was to assume I was a prostitute.
He chuckled. “Come on. You know what I mean. Why else would you be in here?”
Now that racist-ass comment pissed me the fuck off. I was happy we were jacking his ass. “Forty for head. Seventy for sex, and one hundred for it all,” I said tartly.
“Let’s go.”
As cocky as he was, I expected him to be in a damn Phantom. But he instead had a Porsche. I slipped inside and as soon as he started driving, I tried to start a conversation.
“So what do you do?” I asked him.
He ignored me and weaved through traffic. I looked in the mirror to make sure Santana was close. He was.
“Well?” I asked him, chuckling.
“Do me a favor. Shut the fuck up. I’m not paying you to talk,” he said causally, like he’d said to pass the butter.
I was pissed but I had to go through with this. But when that gun was in his face and he peed on himself like Tim had done I was going to laugh in his face.
We pulled into a seedy-looking motel called El Dorado. I waited for him to get the room. He was so distrusting he took his keys out of the ignition and walked to the office to get a room.
I spied Santana, parked.
He came back to the car, so I got out and followed him to the room. Since he didn’t bother to let me go in first I didn’t have to worry about playing it off. He walked in and I walked in after him.
I stood in the center of the room.
He turned around, looked at me, and said, “Well, what are you waiting for? Take off your fucking clothes.”
“Can I have—”
“You’ll get the fucking money when I’m done.”
The bastard was so damn rude. I couldn’t wait for Santana to come in the room.
He starting stripping down. I reached for a button on my shirt as I watched him. Damn, where was Santana?
Once he was nude, he placed his clothes on a corner of the bed and sat down.
I worked my way down all my buttons until they were all undone. I took it off and still, Santana wasn’t in the room. I
started to panic, thinking I was going to have to get nude in front of this man because he was taking so long.
“Let me see your ass,” he ordered as I unzipped my skirt. I turned so my back was to him. I bent over and put my butt in the air and heard his sharp intake of breath.
“Now take it off.” I strategically stayed with my back to him and reached for my spandex skirt’s zipper. At this point, I figured I could get things started, then hopefully Santana could come in. I mean I had the gun; so what if I was a woman? I held the power. Although I would never fire it.
While tugging down the skirt with one hand with my free hand I reached in my purse for the gun. I pulled it out, spun around, and pointed it at him. “Give me your keys and wallet.”
He gave me an evil look. Man, if looks could kill. “Bitch! So this was a setup?”
“Shut up!” I looked behind me quickly to see if Santana was going to come walking into the door. Still nothing.
“I can’t wait for my man to come in the door and fuck your ass up, bitch!”
“I can’t wait either.” His voice was steady while mine was shaky. “Give me the fucking keys like I said, and your wallet.”
He pulled his clothes toward him and reached in his pocket saying, “I hate ghetto scum like you. A typical nigger.”
His words enraged me. “Shut up!” I yelled. I pulled the safety like Santana had taught me and continuing to aim the gun at him. Damn, where was Santana?
He got scared all of a sudden, by the sound of the safety.
“Okay. Relax. All I wanted to do was have a good time with you. I had never been with a colored chick before.”
I shook my head at him.
He eased the wallet out first and held it up.
“Put it by my feet,” I ordered.
He obliged. I bent down to retrieve it, all the while holding the gun on him.
I stood up. “Now toss the keys near my feet.” “Okay. Whatever you say. I don’t want you to kill me or anything.” His tone was so sarcastic.
“Just do it! Stop fucking talkin’—”
In a flash, he tossed the keys toward my face. I jumped back to avoid getting hit in the face, and that was when he took a leap toward me. In the millisecond that he leaped toward me, I made the worst choice I could have ever made. It was a choice I made without thinking. It was pure panic, and in that pure panic I fired the gun.
The Demise of Alexis Vancamp Page 17