by RM Johnson
“What are we doing over here?” Toomey said.
“I don’t know,” Bug said. “Maybe he got some little shorty who live there.”
“Why doesn’t he just tell us?”
“Don’t know that either,” Bug said.
Before they came here to the apartment complex, the three boys had stood across the street from a house they had been watching for the last few days. It was across the street from Bug’s apartment. Bug told Jahlil that he had seen the man who lived there move in a brand-new sixty-inch LCDTV the other night. Bug knew the guy had other nice things in there too. He didn’t know what the man did for a living, but he knew he lived alone and was often gone for hours during the night. Jahlil made it known he wanted to rob that house tonight.
Now Bug watched as Jahlil approached the car with some pamphlets in his hand. Bug turned to Toomey. “You gonna tell him you want out of the crew?”
“Don’t know.”
“You gotta tell him.”
“I know,” Toomey said.
Jahlil pulled on the door handle and jumped into the back seat. He was smiling, damn near jubilant.
“You got a shorty in there, don’t you?” Bug said, grinning up at Jahlil through the rearview. “You just got you some?”
“Nope.”
“Then what?” Toomey snapped.
“Damn,” Jahlil said. “Somebody funky today.” He passed up the pamphlets he was holding. They were informational brochures from the complex. Inside were floor plans, prices, and a list of amenities the community offered.
“What’s this?” Bug said.
“You see that two-bedroom floor plan? I’m gonna be living in that in like a month.”
“What are you talking about?” Toomey said.
“You see that park? You see? There are little kids out there playing, not like where we live. My kid gonna be playing out there.”
“It says it’s like nine hundred dollars a month,” Bug said, reading the pamphlet. “You can’t afford that.”
“Why you think I got us doing all this work?” Jahlil said. “I’m gonna give them a crazy down payment and have my old man sign the lease, and then—”
“Thought you said your old man has bad credit,” Toomey said.
“He does. That’s why I’m saving up the big down payment.”
“And what if you don’t have enough?” Toomey asked.
Jahlil looked at Toomey with attitude. “Like I said, that’s why we putting in all this work.”
“I can’t do it no more,” Toomey said.
Jahlil looked at Toomey like he had no idea what his friend was talking about.
“It’s not worth it, Jahlil, and you know it. For a few hundred bucks here, and a few hundred there, it’s not worth the risk.”
“What risk?” Jahlil said. “You see how easy we took that five hundred off that dude last night? We do this in our sleep.”
“He right, Toomey,” Bug said.
Toomey shot Bug an evil look. “That’s the attitude I’m worried about. What if we think we’re so good that one night we slip, and something happens? It just isn’t worth it.”
Jahlil fell silent. “Toomey, don’t do this to me, man. I need this money. I really need this money to get that place.”
“Is it so important that you’re willing to risk your life?”
“Ain’t nobody dying, Toomey. Damn!”
“What if we get caught?” Toomey said. “You want to be locked up? Is it worth that?”
“Yes!” Jahlil said, without even having to think about it. “My girl is having our baby. She depending on me. Yes, it’s worth it!”
Toomey shook his head. “I would do anything for you, Jahlil. You and Bug my best friends. I’ve known you for more than half my life, but—”
“Then this last one,” Jahlil said. “This one, tonight. Bug said the dude got some expensive stuff in there, and he never home. It’ll be easy. We get in, get out, sell the stuff, make the money, and you can be done.”
Toomey shook his head silently.
“You said you’d do anything for us, Toomey,” Bug said.
“Shut up, Bug,” Toomey said.
“You did say that,” Jahlil said. “This last time, and I promise. No more.”
Toomey looked up seriously at Jahlil. “You will never ask me to do any of this stuff with you again?”
“Never. I promise.”
“Okay,” Toomey said. “Then tonight will be the last time.”
47
Daphanie had been handcuffed and driven to the nearest police station. There, all her property was taken from her, and she was fingerprinted and stood before a bond hearing officer, where her bond was set at $5,000. She then received a court date a month out.
Finally given the opportunity to make a phone call, Daphanie called Mr. Harris. He came to the station, paid her bond, and she was released.
In his car, after starting the ignition, Austin turned to Daphanie and said, “Now tell me exactly what happened? Kidnapping charges?”
“I picked up Nate’s son from day care and took him out for the day.”
“You did what? Why? I told you I would handle this, and you go and kidnap—”
“It wasn’t kidnapping. That’s what I was trying to explain to the cops. My name was on the pickup list. Tricia, at day care, gave him to me. How could it be kidnapping when Nathaniel was given to me?”
Pulling up to a stop sign, Austin said, “Fine. We’ll argue that on your court date, but it still makes absolutely no sense for you to have done that. What were you thinking? That man has no control over this situation.”
“He’s the one that stole my baby from me,” Daphanie said softly, slumping in the passenger seat.
“Well, he can’t get him back.”
That was an hour ago. After a good cry and a hot shower, Daphanie decided she needed to get out, drive down to Water Tower Mall, buy a pair of shoes or a dress—do something to try to make herself feel better.
Finding a pair of cute, peach-colored, open-toed heels, Daphanie walked the box up to the counter to pay for them.
She had been wrong about Nate. She thought she had reached him, but she had not. She should’ve known she hadn’t when he said she might have to pay for taking little Nathaniel. But to have her arrested?
As she set the shoe box on the counter, she gave a quick smile to the associate in front of her. While reaching in her purse for her credit card, Daphanie asked herself what she could do to get back at Nate for the embarrassment, inconvenience, and money he had just cost her.
“Debit or credit?” the woman asked, taking Daphanie’s card and punching numbers on the register.
“Credit,” Daphanie said, realizing she’d best take Mr. Harris’s advice and leave Nate alone. She had tried playing his game to get even with him and lost. Daphanie just wasn’t evil enough, calculating enough, at least not by herself.
“Ma’am,” the associate said, “I’m sorry but your card has been declined.”
“Run it again, please, will you?” Daphanie said, having had the same problem with this card being declined on the first swipe, then accepted on the second, in the past.
The associate did as she was asked.
Daphanie heard a short buzz from the register.
“I’m sorry. Would you like to try debit?”
“Sure,” Daphanie said, entering her PIN on the punch pad in front of her. Again, she heard the buzz, and again the associate said the card had been declined.
Daphanie tried the two other credit cards she had. They were also no good.
“No,” Daphanie said, worry starting to consume her. She took the third card from the associate with a quivering hand and hurried toward the store’s exit, which led her into the mall. Walking fast, almost trotting, Daphanie rushed toward the first ATM she saw, praying, begging under her breath. “Please, don’t have done this. Don’t have done this to me, Nate.”
She pushed her bank card into the ATM slot, stabbed her
pass code into the machine, then pressed the Balance Inquiry option.
Daphanie was living off her 401(k). After losing her job, she had taken the money, stuck it in her account, and she had been living off that. She had a little over $22,000. It was all she had to her name.
“Don’t have done this to me, you bastard,” Daphanie said one last time, brushing a tear from her cheek.
The balance screen popped up. She stared, mouth open, at the figure displayed in red. That figure was $0.01.
48
Lewis slid into the opposite side of the booth in the downtown café. He was wearing khaki pants and a button-down shirt. He must’ve just been getting off work, Monica thought.
“Hey,” Lewis said, smiling. He picked up the plastic menu, glanced at it. “Surprised to hear from you after the last time.”
“I apologize for that. You know I love Layla, it’s just …”
“No problem. I know you didn’t mean it,” Lewis said, the smile still on his face. “What’re you eating?”
“That’s not why I called you here,” Monica said. “I thought you should know, I just spoke to Freddy Ford.”
Lewis dropped the menu to the table, the smile disappearing from his face. “What do you mean? You called—”
“I went there, to the institution, to see him.”
“Why? What for? He shot you,” Lewis said, flustered. “What in the world would you have to talk—”
“I was having nightmares. I needed to confront him, but that’s not important. Lewis, I’m not supposed to be telling you this, but he blames you for everything that happened.”
“Me?” Lewis said, surprised. “Nate was the one—”
“He blames Nate the most. Says he’s going to get him, Nate’s brother, and you.”
Lewis sat still, quiet for a moment, his eyes steadily focused on Monica. “What do you mean he’s going to ‘get’ me?”
“That he’s going to come after you when he gets out.”
Lewis remained silent for another moment, his eyes focused on his thoughts, then he chuckled some, as though suddenly not worried at all.
“What? What’s so funny?” Monica said.
“He can’t get me. He’s never gonna get out of there, and even if he does, I would like to see him try coming after me. He will get his black ass whupped.”
“Lewis, I think you need to take this seriously,” Monica said. She wanted to tell Lewis that Freddy had mentioned his little girl, but she didn’t want to worry Lewis more than necessary. “You see what he did to me, to Nate.”
“He won’t do that to me,” Lewis said, standing up from the booth seat. “I appreciate you telling me this, but it ain’t nothing I have to worry about. Okay.”
“Look, just sit down so we can talk about this more. Have something to eat, my treat,” Monica said.
“You said that ain’t why you called me here. Besides, I ain’t hungry no more. You told me what you had to tell me,” Lewis said, sounding almost angry. “I appreciate it. Now I’m gonna go.”
“Okay, Lewis,” Monica said, not wanting to let him go. “Just be careful, okay?”
Lewis forced a confident smile, then said, “Yeah, see you around.”
49
Eight forty-one p.m., and Jahlil wished he had listened to Toomey’s warnings.
Jahlil crouched behind a long sofa inside the dark house they were robbing, his hands shaking around his gun. He felt he couldn’t breathe. He pulled the mask up over his face, stared at Bug, who was crouching beside him. His face covered with sweat, the boy looked more frightened than Jahlil had ever seen him.
“Where’s Toomey?” Jahlil whispered harshly. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know!” Bug whispered back.
It wasn’t supposed to have gone like this.
Jahlil, Toomey, and Bug had pulled up forty minutes ago, at the exact time the owner of the house was backing out of his driveway.
They waited half an hour, made sure there was no movement inside, then the boys approached the house from the back entrance. All the windows had bars on them, but after breaking one of the small glass squares on the back door, making more noise than Jahlil would have liked, Toomey was able to fit his hand through and unlock the door.
Jahlil, Toomey, and Bug, black ski masks pulled over their faces, walked slowly through the dark house.
“Where does he keep the TV?” Jahlil whispered to Bug.
“I don’t know. We gotta find it. Maybe upstairs.”
“I’m not liking this,” Toomey said from behind them.
“Shut up,” Jahlil said, looking over his shoulder. “Just come on.”
They walked through a narrow hallway that opened into the dining room. There was nothing of value, just the table and chairs.
The boys came together at the doorway of the living room.
“I can check upstairs,” Bug whispered.
“Maybe we should just get out of here,” Toomey said.
“No!” Jahlil said. “We ain’t—”
Just then, they heard the sound of a chair skid across the hardwood floor and topple over. There was a flash of orange fire and a cannon-like explosion. The window to their left shattered. Toomey threw himself behind a chair on one side of the room. Bug dived behind a sofa. Jahlil fired two shots in the direction of the shotgun blast, then dived behind the sofa with Bug.
“What happened?” Jahlil said, frantic. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know, man. I don’t know!” Bug yelled.
Jahlil looked around but couldn’t locate Toomey. He peeled up his mask. “Where’s Toomey? Where is he?”
“I don’t know!” Bug yelled back.
There was another shot. It tore through the middle of the couch, sending splintered wood and cushion stuffing into the air. Bug threw his hands over his ears. “What the fuck! What the fuck!”
A second later, Jahlil heard the sound of shifting, as though whoever just fired at them was trying to find a better position to take a better shot. Jahlil knew if they stayed too much longer, they would all wind up dead or in jail. He didn’t want to experience either.
He scooted over closer to Bug. The boy looked as though he was about to cry. “Listen,” Jahlil whispered. “We gotta get out of here now! We gotta go. You got your cell.”
“Yeah.”
“Pull it out. Text Toomey. Make sure he ain’t hit.”
Bug did what Jahlil told him. Seconds later, Bug’s screen lit with the return text.
“He’s okay.”
“Tell him on two, we breaking for the back door. Okay. One, two—we going.”
“Okay.”
Jahlil looked at Bug’s trembling fingers as he quickly pushed the buttons. They were shaking so badly he could barely type. But they would get out of this. Toomey would know what to do, and they’d all get out fine.
Toomey’s text came in. Bug looked up at Jahlil. “Okay. He’s ready.”
“Are you?” Jahlil said, a hand on Bug’s shoulder.
Bug swallowed hard. “Yeah.”
Jahlil pulled the mask down over his face, gripped the gun tighter, and pointed it in the direction of whoever fired at them. “One … two!” he yelled, loud enough for Toomey to hear.
Bug was up faster than Jahlil had expected and was around the sofa. Jahlil sprang to his feet and was right behind him. He heard furniture toppling over and saw Toomey appear from behind a chair.
They were halfway into the dining room when Jahlil heard the cock of the shotgun.
“Hurry up!” Jahlil cried, pushing as he looked over his shoulder. He saw the eruption of fire behind Toomey. He heard the blast of the big gun, and almost at the same time he saw Toomey’s mouth fall open, his face go blank, as the fire from the shotgun opened up his best friend’s chest.
Droplets of blood sprayed Jahlil’s face, as Toomey’s body flew forward, dropped at Jahlil’s feet, then slid, lifeless, across the floor.
The world went silent that moment. For that second
, Jahlil was deaf, and all he could do was stare as the shadowy figure in the dining room cocked the shotgun again, and took aim.
50
After knocking on Nate’s door, Daphanie told herself not to throw herself at him and claw out his eyes for what he had done. She didn’t have proof, but she didn’t need it.
After seeing that she had a balance of one cent in her account, she called the bank. Whomever she spoke to said Daphanie herself had electronically transferred the money out.
“I’m telling you, I didn’t take out that money!” Daphanie yelled into the phone. “Why would I be calling, telling you the money was missing if I had taken it out myself?”
The representative took a moment to answer, then finally said, “I don’t know, ma’am.”
She had also found out that her bank-issued credit card had been maxed out, along with her two other credit cards.
No, she didn’t have proof, Daphanie thought, her fists clenched at her sides, hearing the locks on the other side of Nate’s door being undone. But this was his work, him “making her pay” for taking Nathaniel.
When the door opened, Daphanie was surprised to see not Nate standing in front of her, but Nate’s private investigator, Abbey Kurt. She was a short, stout woman, with hair pulled back into a bun and a stern look of business on her face. She wore a pantsuit and square-toed, black, low-heeled shoes.
“May I help you?”
“I’m here to see Nate.”
“Mr. Kenny is unavailable.”
“Tell him I need to speak to him. I know what he did. He can’t just act like he didn’t do it.”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to, Miss Coleman, and I’m sure Mr. Kenny doesn’t either.”
Daphanie stared at Ms. Kurt. Her teeth clenched, her eyes narrowed, she searched her mind for a way to appeal to this woman. “I don’t know how he did it, but he maxed out all my credit cards. He stole all the money I have and left one fucking cent in my bank account. I have nothing. Please, let me see him.”