Larceny

by Jason Poole

  “You’re just gonna leave me here?” he asked with a devilish grin.

  “No, not at all, baby,” I said.

  “I was just playing. I know you probably have something to do, and I have to be at the courthouse by three o’clock to meet my boss. So what time should I call you?”

  “Call me whenever you think about me.”

  “Okay, then by the time you get home, you should have about fifty messages from me.” We both laughed.

  “Jovan, you have such a good sense of humor. It was so nice meeting you,” I said sincerely.

  “It was nice meeting you too, Sonya. You just don’t know how much you made my day,” Jovan said, meaning every word of it. “C’mon, let me walk you to your car.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “Untouchable”

  When Jovan got to the courthouse, it was three o’clock on the dot. He rushed into the building, got on the elevator, and headed to the second floor where Bilal’s hearing was being held. As he was getting off the elevator, he assumed that the hearing was already over and that his plan must have worked because Mark, Bilal, and a female that looked like she came straight out of a magazine were walking out of the courtroom headed his way. They all had big-ass smiles on their faces. The female looked like a Hawaiian or something, and she and Bilal were hugging so hard that it was obvious that this was his girlfriend. Damn, Bilal had a nice bankroll and a fine-ass bitch to go along with it.

  “Hey, there’s my assistant. Bilal, you remember Mr. Price, don’t you?” Mark asked once they reached me.

  “Yeah, I remember him. He’s the one who worked so hard on this case. How you doing, Mr. Price?” Bilal asked, pretending like he didn’t know me.

  “Fine, Mr. Davis. Glad to see that everything worked out for you,” Jovan said.

  “Yeah, the government was trying to put shit in the game, but Mark batted that shit down.”

  “So, Mark, what did you do this time?” Jovan said, acting as if he didn’t know what was goin’ on.

  “Well, I just went in there and showed my ass. I think the judge is pissed at me.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “’Cause the government kept talking about they had a witness, but he never showed up, so I got up and asked, ‘Where’s the ghost?’”

  “He got mad at that?”

  “No, I think he got pissed because the whole courtroom was laughing,” Mark said, laughing himself.

  Bilal said, “Yeah, Mark, you did your thing like a real pro.” Little did Bilal know that Mark didn’t do a fucking thing. The reason why he was standing there was because of Jovan’s work, and Jovan planned to tell him that later on.

  “Mr. Price, let me introduce you to my fiancée, Meeka.”

  “Hello, Meeka, nice to meet you.” Damn, she was a pretty-ass bitch Jovan said to himself.

  “You too, Mr. Price,” Meeka said with a slight grin.

  Meeka looked at Jovan as if she already knew him or had heard about him from Bilal. Jovan hoped Bilal wasn’t putting this broad down about him, ’cause he didn’t want nobody to know his business but Bilal and him.

  As they continued to walk down the hallway, a little white man with some tight jeans and a Penn State sweatshirt came over to them.

  “Bilal Davis, you think you got away, but let me tell you something, man. I’ma be on your ass day in and day out, and the next time I get your ass, I’ma make sure I catch you good,” the man said.

  “Yeah, well, thank you, detective, but let me inform you about something. Investigating me won’t do nothin’ but waste your time.”

  “We’ll see,” the detective said, walking away. Damn, he sounded pissed.

  “Who was that, Mark?” Jovan said with an inquisitive look.

  “Oh, he was the detective who wrote up the bogus warrant to go into Mr. Davis’s house,” Mark said.

  “Well, Mr. Davis, it looks like you gotta keep your nose clean,” Jovan said.

  “Huh? My nose is clean, Mr. Price. Always was and always will be,” Bilal said.

  “Jovan, you coming by the office or what?” Mark asked.

  “No, I think I’ma head on home and get me some sleep.”

  “Okay, see you later.”

  “A’ight, Mark. You too, Mr. Davis, and congratulations on your freedom.”

  “Thank you, Mark. Thanks for everything. I’ll have somebody drop the rest of that off to you tomorrow,” Bilal said as he eagerly wanted Mark to hurry up and leave.

  “Sounds good to me, Mr. Davis.”

  With that, they all got on the elevator and headed out of the courthouse to where their cars were parked.

  “Bye, see y’all later,” Mark said as he headed off to his car first.

  As soon as Mark got in his car and left, Bilal jumped out of nowhere and said, “What’s up, my nigga!” He then gave Jovan such a tight bear hug that he almost lost his breath. “Meeka, this here is my best friend Jovan I’ve been telling you about.”

  “I kinda figured that, boo. So, Jovan, I heard a lot about you. You know Bilal loves you like a brother. I can never get him to stop talking about you,” said Meeka while she looked at Jovan as if she knew things about him that she shouldn’t.

  “Yeah, well, I hope it was all good stuff.”

  “Believe me, Jovan, it was.”

  Jovan wondered if Bilal had told this broad everything. Naw, he thought, Bilal’s too sharp for that. He’s a real nigga. Jovan knew that he kept his females out of his business. He probably just talked about some childhood shit to her; that’s about it.

  “Look, come on with me. We got a lot to talk about,” Bilal said.

  “Bilal, I thought you and me were gonna be alone tonight,” Meeka said, whining.

  “Meeka, this is my family, my only family, and he’s coming with me whether you like it or not.”

  Meeka was so mad that Jovan could sense the jealousy as she stormed off to get into Bilal’s silver 850 BMW.

  “Look, Lal, go ’head home with your woman. We can talk tomorrow. Go get some pussy, nigga,” Jovan told Bilal.

  “Man, fuck that. I got all year to fuck. Plus, I’m getting tired of her ass anyway.”

  “Bilal, that’s a bad piece you got. You’d be a fool to let her go.”

  “She’s a’ight, but I’ve had bitches who looked way better than her. The only thing about it is she’s real, and she’s the only one who pulled through and stayed down with the ole boy when I got that thirty years, so I owe her.”

  “I can respect that. A nigga always need a soldier in his corner.”

  “What you driving, Jovan?”

  “I still got the MPV I had back in Ninety-one.”

  “Damn, you still pushing that bullshit?” Bilal asked, amazed.

  “Yeah, but the real reason I’ve still got it is because it has a hydraulic stash that can hold eight bricks,” Jovan told Bilal.

  “Yeah, you better keep that joint. It might come in handy. Look, go get your van and follow me out to my house so we can talk,” Bilal said then asekd, “Oh, Jovan, how’s my baby Grandma Price doing?”

  “She’s a’ight, but her legs fucking with her though. You know she got arthritis,” Jovan said sadly.

  “We’re gonna have to get her to one of those expensive hospitals so she can get rid of that,” Bilal said, as if it would make me feel better.

  “Yeah, Lal, I feel you.”

  Jovan followed Bilal and Meeka to their house, which was about a 45-minute drive out to Potomac, Maryland. This spot didn’t have nothin’ for under $600,000. All types of celebrities lived out there: Sugar Ray Leonard, Chris Webber, Juwan Howard, Peabo Bryson, Johnny Gill, and a few other no-names with a rack of bread.

  As Bilal and Meeka pulled up into their driveway, Jovan couldn’t believe that this was their house. The last time Jovan saw a house this big was when they interviewed Puffy, the owner of Bad Boy Records, in his home on MTV. Now he was witnessing the truth behind all the lavish jailhouse stories he had heard about his best friend while
in Lewisburg.

  In the front driveway, there was a black Range Rover, a green Lexus coupe, a white 600SL, and in his garage there was a blue Mercedes V12 600S coupe, the new joint, plus the silver 850 BMW they were in. Here Jovan was stuck with this old fucking van, but for what he did earlier, this van had come in handy.

  When Bilal and Meeka got out of the 850, he told her to go in the house.

  The first thing Jovan said was, “Nigga, I see why you got locked up. What the fuck you doing with all this shit layin’ on your lawn?”

  “Oh, Jay, this ain’t nothin’. The Lex and SL is Meeka’s. The rest of that shit is my toys.”

  “Your toys?” Jovan said.

  “Yeah, nigga, my toys. In case you haven’t heard, Jay, I got the city locked. Ninety-four is my year. Better yet, our year, ’cause whatever I got, you got,” Bilal said as he looked at Jovan with all sincerity. This was the same look he had given him nine years earlier when he first talked about makin’ this dream come true.

  “Damn, it feels good to be a part of some real cash, but for real, whatever position I play, it’s got to be low key, ’cause I ain’t going back to jail,” Jovan said as he admired his best friend’s lavish lifestyle.

  Bilal showed Jovan around the house. He started with the living room; then he took him see to all seven bedrooms, the kitchen, and then downstairs, where he had a miniature movie theater, pool tables and all. This nigga had Versace curtains, bedspreads, and paintings. He even had Versace dishes lying in the china closet.

  “Damn, Lal, I see you went Versace crazy. I thought I loved the shit, but after seeing all this, you must own the store,” Jovan said, laughing.

  “Naw, Jay, Meeka did all this crazy-ass shit. When we moved in, I gave her a mil to play with and the bitch went crazy,” Bilal said, laughing also.

  “How long you’ve been fucking with her, Lal?”

  “Shit, ever since I came home off the juvenile life bit.”

  When Bilal mentioned the juvenile life, Jovan felt a little fucked up. He had never thanked Bilal personally, but he knew where his heart was at, and Lal must have sensed it also.

  “Hey, Jovan, c’mon out back on the court. We need to sit down and talk. Meeka,” Bilal called.

  “Yes, sir master?” Meeka said sarcastically.

  “Cut that shit out, girl.”

  “Okay, what’s up, baby?”

  “Get us a bottle of Cristal, will you, baby?”

  “Like I said at first, yes, sir master,” she said as she stomped off.

  “Damn, Bilal, why she acting like that?” Jovan asked him.

  “You know how they get. Shit, Jay, the bitch ain’t had no dick in almost eight months.”

  “Well, from the way she’s acting, I think you need to hurry up and give her some.”

  “I’ll deal with her later, slim. Right now I’m wit’ my man.”

  When Bilal and Jovan went outside to talk, Jovan saw that he had a full court basketball out back, weights, and a pool with a Jacuzzi. “Hey, Lal, how much you pay for this house?” Jovan asked him.

  “With all the accessories, about a cool four mil.”

  At that, Jovan started counting Bilal’s bank in his head. He had lost 3.5 mil in the raid, and he told him he still had 3.5 mil plus four mil for the house, and at least one mil for the cars. Jovan hadn’t seen his jewelry, but he guessed that may be worth about a mil or half at least. Bilal had to have had at least thirteen million at one time. Damn, this nigga really was the king of D.C.

  “Damn, Bilal, I see you spend a lot of money.”

  “What’s the use of having it if you can’t spend it?”

  “You got that right, slim, but you know you gotta find a way to wash that shit.”

  “We’ll worry ’bout that when we get there. Right now I’m broke.”

  “Broke! How the fuck you broke and you still got three point five mil?”

  “Jay, half that shit isn’t mine. Half of it belongs to Carlos.”

  “Yeah, I heard about Carlos. Give me the reading on him,” Jovan said, wondering what Carlos was really like and how Bilal got hooked up with him.

  “Well, Carlos and me were down Oak Hill Youth Center together. Carlos ain’t no sucker, but you know he’s Spanish and niggas used to try him all the time. I taught Carlos how to box, and after that we became cool.”

  “Yeah, I heard you were down there on the boxing team knocking niggas out.”

  “Yeah, I was like that at one time. A nigga a li’l rusty right now, but believe me, I still know where my ass at.”

  “Finish telling me ’bout Carlos.”

  “Well, Los and me became real close.”

  “Like you and me?” Jovan said, knowing deep down inside that no one could ever take his place. He just wanted to hear it come outta Bilal’s mouth.

  “Naw, Jay, there will never be another you. Anyway, some uptown niggas put a vicious press game on Los ’cause they knew he was getting some money. Los wasn’t going for it, but he was outnumbered. One day they came in his room, about six of ’em, pulled knives on him, and they had him, too. They were ’bout to burn his ass up. I peeped the move and busted in the room before they could do anything and knocked three of ’em the fuck out. When I did that, the other three flunky-ass niggas ran. I hear these same niggas down Lorton right now getting fucked.”

  “For real, Lal?” Jovan asked him.

  “Well, not all of ’em; just two of ’em. Two are behind the wall going hard, and the other two got killed when they came home.”

  “Damn,” Jovan said as he thought about Bilal and how hard it was for him growing up in the system.

  “Well, ever since that day, Carlos vowed to me that he’d never forget that, and that whenever I came home, he had a spot for me on his team. So when I came home, he gave me two bricks for twenty-five thousand, and I have never looked back. Jay, Carlos is a good dude, I want you to meet him,” Bilal said as he looked Jovan in the eyes.

  “Naw, that’s a’ight, Lal. I ain’t really trying to meet too many new niggas,” Jovan said.

  “He ain’t just no new nigga, Jay. He’s my partner—our partner,” Bilal said.

  Jovan could tell from the way Bilal was looking that he was beyond serious.

  “In that case, I guess I do have to meet him. Look, Bilal, I gotta tell you something. I never could find the dude Li’l G. I searched everywhere for him, but come to find out he got locked up out in Maryland for three bodies,” Jovan told Bilal.

  “Yeah, so who you get to lay the demonstration down?” Bilal said, curious as to why Fat Mike never made it to court.

  At that moment, Jovan looked Bilal straight in the eyes and said, “I did it.”

  Bilal laughed and said, “Get the fuck outta here!”

  “Yeah, slim, I gave it to him good like the bitch-nigga he is, or better yet, was.”

  “How you do it, Jay?”

  “Man, I had the perfect plan. I laid on this nigga, peeped his every move, then went to Sunny’s Surplus and bought a gas uniform.”

  “What!” Bilal said, looking surprised.

  “Yeah, nigga, I was disguised as a gas meter inspector,” Jovan said, smiling.

  “Get the fuck outta here!”

  “Man, listen, I laid this shit out so tight, covered all my tracks, and then went about my daily routine.”

  Bilal was shocked by how Jovan put his murder game down. “How the fuck you think about being a gas meter inspector?”

  “Lal, I’m a paralegal, and if I’ma commit a crime, I’ve got to know how to get away with it. And guess what? You ain’t gonna believe this shit.”

  “What?” Bilal said, looking at Jovan as if he wasn’t telling the truth.

  “It’s hard for me to believe this, but I did all this while taking a broad to lunch at Phillips Seafood restaurant,” Jovan said, smiling as he thought back to his lunch date with Sonya.

  “Hell, nigga, you ain’t that tight. You’ve been in jail reading too many Donald Goines books!” Bi
lal said, laughing.

  “C’mon, Bilal, how the fuck a Donald Goines book gonna teach a nigga how to contemplate a murder like that?” Jovan asked.

  “Yeah, you right, but damn, Jay, this shit is unbelievable. What broad did you take down to Phillips today?” Bilal asked, amazed.

  “I met this bad-ass broad in the courthouse this morning. We went to lunch and I kicked it with her for a while. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. She’s an assistant producer at BET and bad as fuck, slim. Man, this the baddest broad I’ve seen in years.”

  “How you get away from her to go lay your demonstration down?” Bilal asked, still finding Jovan’s story hard to believe.

  “I faked like I had a conference call from Mark.”

  “Damn, nigga, I ain’t never heard no story like that. You tight as shit, Jay. Outta all the killers I know in the city, I ain’t never heard a nigga put it down like that. That’s some professional Mafia-type shit. Damn, now you’ve got two bodies under your belt.”

  “Naw, Lal, now it’s three bodies,” Jovan said.

  “What!” Lal yelled as his eyes opened wider.

  “Yeah, I had to punish a New York nigga while I was up in Lewisburg,” Jovan said.

  “You killed a nigga in jail and got away with it?” Bilal asked, totally shocked by this new admission.

  “Yeah, Lal, I had to.”

  “Okay, let me hear it. I’m dying for this one,” Bilal said with a smirk on his face.

  Jovan told Bilal every detail of how he killed Shorty, and Bilal was in such a state of shock that he didn’t believe Jovan.

  “So you on some old James Bond shit, huh?”

  “Naw, slim, I just learned my lesson nine years ago. If you gonna kill a nigga, make sure you do it right so no one but the nigga you kill suffers.”

  Bilal put his head down and said, “Jay, what you did nine years ago was outta love, nigga.”

  “What I did a couple of hours ago was still outta love, and there’s one thing I wanna say to you that I wasn’t able to say in nine years,” Jovan said as he held his head down, not wanting Bilal to see his eyes water.

  “What’s that?” Bilal asked.

  “I’m sorry for not telling you I was strapped, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the beef.”