Larceny

by Jason Poole

  “Jay, you ain’t gotta thank me for that shit. Back then was outta love, and until the day my casket drops, everything I do for you is outta love.”

  Bilal and Jovan gave each other a strong hug, just like they had nine years ago.

  “Look, Jay, what’cha gonna do? You gonna get this money with me or what?”

  “Man, for real, you know I ain’t too good at hustling. Every time I hustle and get a few dollars, something always go wrong,” Jovan said, thinking back.

  Jovan told Bilal about his fifty thousand getting stolen back in ’88, and he told him about his New York connect and how shit went wrong.

  “Face it, Jay, the hustling thing ain’t me. Plus, I’m tryin’ to go to law school and get my license so I can represent niggas like you and get a free two hundred fifty thousand for doing nothin’,” Jovan said, laughing.

  “Yeah, right. I forgot you’re supposed to be some lawyer. Damn, picture that: a lawyer/killer. Jay, you a mu’fucka. You’re the tightest nigga I know.”

  “Go ’head with that shit.”

  “Naw, Jay, I’m serious. This is the move, and you’ve got to be a part of this team. I do all the hustling and you do the killing; the same position we played nine years ago. You can still do the lawyer thing. I like that shit, but when it’s time to lay a demonstration down, I’ma need you,” Bilal said seriously. “Jay, you know I ain’t never killed nobody. I ain’t saying I won’t, but from hearing your stories, I don’t think I’m that smart to be pulling moves like that. Plus, Li’l G is locked up, and even if he was still home, I wouldn’t fuck with him on that tip no more ’cause he ain’t shit compared to you.”

  “Yeah, Lal, I’m flattered,” he said, laughing. “But for real, I ain’t trying to be no killer for hire. You ain’t gotta pay me to put in no work. If a nigga fuckin’ with you and I see that I can help, then I’m there, slim. I owe you. You’re my best friend. But one thing, Lal.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Man, you know we can’t be hangin’ together in the streets. The feds is gonna be watching you now; especially the one that was in the courthouse today.”

  “Yeah, he’s a piece of shit, Detective Tony Bridges. That white mu’fucka wants me bad.”

  “You’ve got to do your thing on the low, Lal.”

  “Yeah, I understand. Hey, c’mon in the house. I’ve got something for you.”

  Bilal went downstairs for a minute and came back with a gym bag.

  “Here, nigga,” he said as he threw the bag at Jovan.

  “What’s this?” Jovan asked.

  “Open it.”

  When Jovan opened the bag, all he saw was stacks of money.

  “How much money is this, Lal?” Jovan’s eyes damn near popped outta his head at the sight of all this money.

  “That’s only two hundred and fifty thousand. I really can’t hit you off like I want to yet. You know Los and me only got three point five mil and our connect won’t sell us nothing under two hundred bricks.”

  “Damn, slim, what the fuck was Los doing while you were in?”

  “He held shit down, got rid of the remaining shit, and laid low for a minute. The fact that I was locked up had niggas trying him, and we got one nigga now I’ma have to go see tomorrow. I gave this nigga thirty bricks before I got locked up, and when Carlos went to holla at him about the money, he started acting shady, talking ’bout he only dealt with me.”

  “Yeah, you’ve got to get that up off him. Thirty bricks is a lot of money,” Jovan said, instantly calculating the price in his head.

  “Yeah, I’ma see slim first thing in the morning. Jay, where you staying at?” Bilal asked.

  “I’m chilling with Grandma for a minute.”

  “Man, I wanted to get Grandma Price a house so bad, but I didn’t know how to ask.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t ask, because she probably woulda cursed you out. You know she’s been living there ever since my pops was born, and she ain’t going nowhere,” Jovan said, laughing.

  “Yeah, Jay, what’s up with your pops anyway?” Bilal asked.

  “I dunno. I ain’t seen him, and I’m not trying to, either.”

  CHAPTER 17

  “Sky’s The Limit”

  Jovan went back home to his grandma’s house and kicked it with her for a while. He wondered what Grandma would say if he asked her if she wanted a new house. Since she was in a good mood, he figured now would be the proper time.

  “Hey, Grandma,” Jovan said.

  “Yes, baby?”

  “What would you say if I told you I wanted to buy you a new house?”

  “Well, baby, first thing I’d tell you is that you must be crazy and that I’ve been living in this house for almost forty-five years. This house is sentimental, and it is the landmark for our family. This is home, Jovan; always was and always will be. Second, I’d tell you to keep your money and put it to good use to buy some business or something, and after that, if you have some money left over, then you could give me some so I can fix up this raggedy-ass house that we call home,” Grandma said.

  At that, Grandma and Jovan both laughed so hard. It was cool chilling with her because after all the shit he’d been through today, she sure knew how to make a nigga feel good.

  “Hey, Grandma, it’s getting late and I’m a little tired, plus I gotta go to work tomorrow. I’m going up to bed now.”

  “Okay, baby. You want me to wake you up in the morning?”

  “Naw, Grandma, my alarm is already set.”

  “Okay. Oh, Jovan, your daddy called today. He asked about you and told me to tell you he loves you.”

  “Okay, Grandma, next time he calls, tell him I said what’s up.”

  “Okay, baby.”

  “Oh, Grandma,” Jovan said before going upstairs to bed.

  “Yes, baby.”

  “I love you, baby girl. You know you my world!” Jovan said, kissing her on the cheek.

  “Boy, take your silly butt upstairs and go to bed,” Grandma said, hugging Jovan.

  Grandma loved whenever Jovan expressed his love for her, because it always made her day. He went upstairs to his bedroom, then sat and thought for a moment about his life and what he just committed himself to do. Bilal had pulled him right back into the streets, right back into the game. Well, not really Bilal, but standing on his principles of his loyalty to Bilal had pulled him back. Plus, he still felt responsible for Mal-Mal’s death, which in turn made him feel obligated to his best friend, and besides, there was a whole lotta bank involved.

  Jovan opened up the gym bag full of the money Bilal had given him. This was the most money he’d ever had at one time: two hundred fifty thousand. The sight of it made his dick hard, but this wasn’t shit compared to what Bilal had. Even in his broke stage this nigga was still rich.

  Before Jovan went to bed, he checked all his pants pockets to make sure he didn’t have anything in them before he sent them to the cleaners the next day. He reached in his right pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with Sonya’s work and home numbers on it, placed it on his dresser, then lay back on his bed and began to think about her. Damn, she was pretty. He wondered if their friendship would blossom into something special. He wondered if she liked him or not. He looked good and dressed well; he had a job, and now he was two hundred and fifty thousand dollars richer. What the fuck did he have to do to get this broad? He fell asleep thinking about Sonya.

  Sonya

  Damn, it was 10:00 p.m. and I still hadn’t gotten a call from Jovan. I wondered if he liked me, because most niggas I met and gave my number to called me at most an hour later. I hoped I wasn’t too much for him that day at lunch. I had told him about my past—well, not everything—but I was sure our conversation went well. I wondered if I had said anything wrong, or maybe he didn’t like the way I looked. Why hadn’t this man called me yet? I wondered as I lay back on my bed, thinking about Jovan. How was I going to get to this man? I decided he must not have wanted me because if he did, he would h
ave given me his number.

  Ring, Ring, Ring.

  “Hello!” I said into the phone, praying it was Jovan.

  “Damn, girl, you answered the phone like you just won the lottery.”

  “Oh, hi, Germain. I thought you was somebody else,” I said, disappointed that it wasn’t him.

  “Somebody else? Girl, who’s gonna be calling you at ten o’clock at night? Ain’t like you got a man or nothing,” Germain said, laughing.

  “Fuck you, Germain. And why are you calling me this time of night anyway? You couldn’t wait to see me at work tomorrow?” I asked her.

  “Girl, my husband and I had an argument tonight, and his stupid ass stormed outta the house like a fucking kid.”

  “So what am I supposed to be, some marriage counselor or something?” I asked Germain.

  “Shut up, silly. Just talk to me until he gets back.”

  “Look, Germain, I’m not gonna be on this phone all night long, but I’ll talk to you for a while. You know you my girl.”

  “Good. So what’s up, and why weren’t you at work today?” Germain said, prying.

  “Now you wanna be my mama. Well, if you must know, I had an appointment at the courthouse today.”

  “What did you have an appointment at the courthouse for?”

  “None of your business, nosey.”

  “Okay, go ahead with you li’l secretive self.”

  “Anyway, while I was at the courthouse, I met this fine-ass brotha.”

  “What, you finally gave somebody the time of the day?”

  “Yeah, girl, and we went to lunch together and had a nice time,” I said, smiling, remembering our lunch date.

  “What’s his name? Who the hell is this mystery man?”

  “His name is Jovan.”

  “Jovan?”

  “Yeah, girl, he’s tall, light brown, with dark wavy hair, physically fit, he dresses nice, and guess what, girl?”

  “What?”

  “He’s got a job.”

  “Stop lying!” Germain yelled.

  “Yeah, and he’s got a good job too.”

  “What does he do?”

  “He’s a paralegal, and he works at this big law firm. He’s gonna go back to law school and finish up so he can become a lawyer and get his own office,” I said proudly.

  “Damn, girl, how old is he?”

  “He’s twenty-four.”

  “So you got yourself a youngin’?” Germain said, laughing.

  “No, girl, I only got him by less than two years.”

  “Damn, Sonya, twenty-four with a job like that. That’s wonderful. So did he call you yet?” Germain asked.

  “No, actually when you called, I thought it was him.”

  “Hold on, Sonya. My stupid-ass husband just walked in the door. Where the hell you been?” Germain asked her husband.

  “None of your fuckin’ business!” Kevin, Germain’s husband, said.

  “What? Sonya, let me get off this phone before we get to fighting up in here. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”

  “Germain, you need to stop acting like you a nun and give that man some pussy,” I said, laughing.

  “Mind your business. This is married life, and when you get married, then you can say something. Until then, keep your damn mouth shut,” Germain said.

  “Girl, you so silly. I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Bye-bye, Sonya.”

  “Bye, Germain.”

  Jovan

  When I woke up, Grandma was already downstairs cooking breakfast. She had made egg and cheese omelets, toast, grits, and hash browns.

  “Jovan,” Grandma called from downstairs.

  “Yeah, Grandma,” I answered, sitting on the side of my bed.

  “You up, boy?”

  “Yeah, Grandma, I’m up.”

  “Come on down here and get this breakfast.”

  I went in the bathroom, got myself together, and went downstairs.

  “Good morning, baby girl. What’cha cook for the ole boy?” I said, giving Grandma a kiss on the cheek.

  “Sit down and eat your food with your silly self. You act just like your damn daddy.”

  Grandma loved it when I joked with her. I just wished she would stop throwing my pops all up in my face, but I knew why she did it. Grandma missed him, and the fact that I resembled him so much made her happy and sad at the same time.

  “Grandma,” I said.

  “Yeah, baby.”

  “Remember last night when we talked about a new house?”

  “Yeah, and I told you no.”

  “Well, look, I’ve got a few dollars tucked away so you can go ahead and fix up the house,” I told her.

  “Oh, no, baby. Keep your money. You need it for law school.”

  “Grandma, believe me. I’ve got enough money for school.”

  “Well, then, why aren’t you in school yet?” Grandma asked me.

  “’Cause.”

  “’Cause what?”

  “’Cause right now I like my job, and I’m learning more working with Mark than I would if I was in school. When I get it all down pat I’ma go to school and come out two steps ahead of everybody in my class.”

  “Well, it sounds good, but keep your money, baby.”

  “Grandma, you must not have heard me. I’ve already got enough money for both of us.”

  “Okay, baby, but it may cost a lot to get the basement redone and my ceiling fixed,” Grandma said, still not sure I would be able to afford to pay for school and get her house fixed.

  “Whatever it cost, you got it. Just call the people today and get an estimate and let me know.” It felt good to be able to give Grandma some money.

  “Okay, baby.”

  I went back upstairs to get myself ready for work. Today was nice, not too hot or too breezy. It felt good. I went into the closet, pulled out some cream-colored Armani slacks I had never worn. I then grabbed a cream-colored Armani mock neck T-shirt. I had bought it one size bigger so it wouldn’t be fitting all tight like them gay mu’fuckas be wearing their shit. I also grabbed a pair of light tan soft-bottom Caesar Picotti slip-ons with a matching belt.

  I took myself a good long shower, brushed my hair to let the waves pop out, put on some Giorgio Armani cologne, and got dressed. I reached on my dresser to put on one of my watches. I had three: a Movado, an 18k white gold Cartier, and a Rolex. I chose the Cartier, and I also put on my 18k white gold bracelet.

  As I was reaching for the bracelet, I saw Sonya’s number. I put it in my pocket, went downstairs and kissed Grandma, then headed for the office.

  I got to the office at least ten minutes early. As soon as I came through the door, I saw Cindy in a tight-ass plaid skirt looking phat as hell.

  “Hey, Cindy,” I said.

  “Morning, Jovan. You look nice today.”

  “Thank you, Cindy. You look nice yourself.”

  Lately Cindy had been complimenting me on my style. I think she wanted a nigga to put some dick in her. I didn’t fuck with white girls, but if she offered me the pussy, I wouldn’t turn it down.

  “Hey, Cindy, is Mark here yet?”

  “No, he hasn’t gotten here yet. You know he might be late being as though he doesn’t have to go to court today,” Cindy said. Then mark came through the door. “Hold on, Jovan. Speak of the devil; here he comes now.”

  “Morning, Mark,” she said to him.

  “Morning, Cindy. Look, Jovan, we don’t have much to do today but knock off a few briefs. Most likely we’ll be done around noon. After that you can take the day off,” Mark told me.

  Yes, I loved my job. Work for half a day and still get paid for a full day.

  “Cool. Just tell me what you need,” I said.

  “Well, I need two motions drawn up, one for faulty and deficient indictment. This kid got convicted for a gun that wasn’t even in his indictment.”

  “Okay, that should be easy.”

  “The other is for a Brady material violation. The gover
nment didn’t give the defense the fingerprint lab’s report on the gun before trial started.”

  “All this is on the same case?” I asked Mark.

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, that’s light. I should be finished in about an hour or so.”

  “I already know that. That’s why I told you you could take a half a day,” Mark said sarcastically.

  “So you’re telling me you know my work like that?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Jovan. You’re good, but you’re not a lawyer yet.”

  Mark was always letting me know when I was advancing, and I could tell he was proud of me. Almost every motion that was filed and came out of that office had my name on it right under Mark’s. It read: On the brief for Appellate, Attorney Mark Rohon and Paralegal Specialist Jovan Price of Rohon and Robinson law firm. Mark’s partner, Michelle, already told me how Mark would be down at the courthouse braggin’ on me, telling other lawyers that I’d be taking their business soon.

  After I finished the briefs, which took me way more than an hour, more like two and a half hours, I took them straight to Mark for him to go over them.

  “Here you go, Mark,” I said, handing him the motions.

  “So you finally finished, huh?”

  “Yeah, it took me a minute to put up a good argument for the Brady violation.”

  “Sit down, Jovan. Let’s go over them right now.”

  Mark read my motions then placed them on the desk, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his legs. He was silent for a moment.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t like the briefs?”

  Mark pulled his chair to his desk and looked me straight in the eyes and said, “No, I don’t like the briefs, Jovan; I love ’em. Look, I’ma give it to you raw. Most of the work you do for me is better than some lawyers who’ve been practicing twenty years. Jovan, you gotta get into law school and finish up so you can take your bar exam. There’s a lot of money out here waitin’ for you. You’ll be the perfect lawyer; you’re young, smooth, and plus you know some of these fools who keep going to jail. Face it—you’d be the perfect attorney. Shit, if I got into some trouble, I’d hire you.”

  “Why, thank you, Mark. So if I pass the bar exam, does that mean I can get a partnership in the firm?”