Larceny

by Jason Poole

  “You a’ight?”

  “Physically, yeah, but mentally I’m fucked up, Jay.”

  “Look, I’m on my way, but first I gotta call the office.”

  Jovan called the office and lied to Mark.

  Ring, Ring, Ring.

  “Good morning. Law office of Rohon and Robinson,” Cindy said.

  “Cindy, this Jovan. Is Mark in yet?”

  “Yes, Jovan, he just came in.”

  “Mark, Jovan on line one,” Cindy said to Mark.

  “Jovan, what’s up, buddy?” Mark said.

  “Hey, Mark, I’ma be a little late today.”

  “Okay, Jovan, what time will you be in? You know we have a new case.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m going to be working on that while I’m out anyway.”

  “What are you going to do?” Mark asked Jovan.

  “Well, you know the case we got where the guy was supposed to be selling drugs within a thousand feet of a school?”

  “Yeah, Jovan, that’s the new one.”

  “Well, I don’t think he was within that distance, so I’m going to go out and measure it and take a few pictures.”

  “That’s good, Jovan. Take your time.”

  “Okay, Mark. I’ll see you later.”

  “All right, buddy.”

  Jovan kissed Sonya and told her he was in a rush and that he wasn’t gonna be able to stay and eat breakfast. She kissed him and told him how proud she was of him for taking such pride in his job. Little did she know Jovan’s duty right now wasn’t to the law firm; it was to and for his loyalty to his truest friend, Bilal, his nigga for life.

  As Jovan drove to Bilal’s house faster than normal speed, he got there around nine o’clock. As soon as Jovan came through the door, he knew something terrible had happened.

  “C’mon downstairs, Jay,” Bilal said, heading downstairs. Bilal’s eyes were bloodshot red, and Jovan could tell he didn’t get any sleep.

  “What’s up, Lal?”

  “Jay, shit done got twisted. I should have listened to you from the jump,” Bilal said, pacing.

  “What happened?”

  “Well, last night, you know my carriers missed the first flight, or at least that’s what we thought.”

  “Man, Lal, don’t tell me them bitches rolled out with the money.”

  “Naw, Jay, just listen, man. I stayed up all night, and at two a.m. the second plane landed, and my connect tells me ain’t nobody get off the plane but some old people.”

  “What?” Jovan said, still not understanding.

  “So what I did was called around looking for my carriers, and nobody gave me any information, so I stayed up pacing the fucking floor all night, wondering what the fuck happened. I even called Customs to see if them bitches had gotten locked up. Then I get a call around seven thirty this morning from the precinct.

  “Come to find out these bitches never made it to the airport. That bitch, mu’fuckin’ Detective Tony Bridges, was following me when I gave them bitches the suitcases,” Bilal said.

  “Man, Bilal, I told you that mu’fucka wasn’t playing.”

  “I know, Jay. That white cracker had it out for me ever since I took Orleans Place over.”

  “Did the bitches tell?”

  “Naw, not yet, but who knows what they’ll do?”

  “Lal, we gotta go.”

  “I know, Jay, but now ain’t the time.”

  “The fuck you mean now ain’t the time? Man, in the next twenty-four hours them people’s gonna be swarming the streets looking for your ass. Nigga, fuck that. Pack your shit and let’s go!” Jovan told Bilal.

  “Jay, I gotta—I mean we gotta do something fast.”

  “What? We already got three million, and I know you still got something stashed in the cut for hard times. Let’s go, Lal. I know how these people play.”

  “Yeah, I got like three hundred thousand over Meeka aunt’s house, but that’s around Orleans Place.”

  “So fuck it. We’ll send for it when we get to Atlanta.”

  “Jay, I can’t leave now. Meeka’s pregnant, and I still gotta get that money, and—” Bilal started, but Jovan cut him off.

  “And what? And what, Lal?”

  Lal looked Jovan straight in the eyes with all the sincerity he had ever seen and said, “Jay, you gotta kill Detective Bridges.”

  “What!” Jovan said, shocked by Bilal’s request.

  “Look, Jay, I ain’t never ask you for nothing. I’ve never asked you to kill nobody for me. You killed them other niggas outta your love for me. Jay, I’m asking you outta love and loyalty. If you want me to do it with you, I’ll do it, but you already know I ain’t no killer, Jay. This mu’fucka stole our dream from us, and if we don’t take care of him now, then he’ll haunt us forever.”

  “Lal, you trippin’. That’s a fucking police officer. Do you know the feds will be on your ass for that?”

  “Jay, I know we can get away with this. I know we can, man.”

  When Jovan looked at Lal, he had tears in his eyes and he was looking at the tattoo on his arm which read: In loving memory of Mal-Mal, my truest love. At that moment, a sense of guilt came over Jovan.

  After all these years, Jovan still felt responsible for Mal-Mal’s death. Bilal showed his loyalty to Jovan at the tender age of fifteen, and Jovan had failed him when he let his little brother die. He had always wanted to do something in return; he had always wanted to fix that void in their relationship, because he knew that deep down in Bilal’s heart, he held him responsible for Mal-Mal’s death. Bilal just loved Jovan too much to show it.

  Bilal and Jovan had never talked about what happened that night when Mal-Mal died, but Jovan knew Ms. Cookie went to visit Bilal before she died, and whatever was said on that visit, Jovan would never know. He owed this nigga. He stood on principles of loyalty and honor, and plus, he loved this nigga. He was his only friend. They were like brothers. They made a vow at a young age that would never be broken.

  “Okay, Lal, listen good. I’ll make a deal with you.”

  “What, Jay?”

  “After I handle this business, we’re getting the fuck outta here. Fuck that waitin’ around to see what happens shit. We’re taking the three million plus the two hundred thousand I got, and we’re going to Atlanta, you and me. We’ll leave Meeka up here to sell the house and get the three hundred thousand from over her aunt’s. Let the house go for three million to get an easy buy. Altogether that’s six and a half million plus assets. We sell my BMW, and that’s about fifty thousand, plus the jewelry that’s about two hundred, and I know you got some jewelry too.”

  “Yeah, Jay, I got about half a mil in jewelry.”

  “Okay, altogether that’s seven point two million. We take that shit to Atlanta, legalize all of it, and live comfortable and peaceful for the rest of our lives. Lal, that’s a one-shot deal, and if you ain’t try’na do that, then I’m gone,” Jovan told Bilal seriously.

  “But, Jay, the feds don’t even know who you are. Why you try’na leave?”

  “That’s good they don’t know who I am, and I ain’t try’na stick around so they can find out either. So, you in or what?”

  “Nigga, you’re my best friend and I love you. Jay, you my only family, and I got no choice but to be in,” Bilal said.

  “Okay, and when we get to Atlanta, ain’t no hustling,” Jovan said to him.

  “It’s a deal, Jay.”

  “Okay, now I gotta put this shit together.”

  “How you gonna do it, Jay?”

  “I dunno yet. Where’s that Desert Eagle?” Jovan asked Bilal.

  “It’s upstairs in the room.”

  “Go get it.”

  Bilal went upstairs to get Jovan the gun, and when he came down, Jovan was still in a daze, wondering why the fuck he had just commited himself to do this crime. Damn, Bilal was trippin’ like shit, but Jovan laid the deal on the table, and Bilal had agreed with his plans. If everything went as planned, then they wouldn’t have nothing
to worry about, and plus, Bilal was right; if they left now, Detective Bridges would track them down. He had to be dealt with.

  Bilal came downstairs with the biggest gun Jovan had ever seen, a silver .357 Desert Eagle—one shot, one kill.

  “Jay, this here is my house gun. I keep it at home for protection.”

  “How many bullets does it hold?”

  “Ten.”

  “This big-ass gun only holds ten bullets?” Jovan asked, amazed.

  “Yeah, Jay, but that’s the most powerful gun out there. One shot will send a mu’fucka straight to la-la land.”

  “Okay, Lal, you got any money on you?”

  “Nigga, my name is money. How much you need?” Bilal said.

  “About five thousand in big bills.”

  “You got that, Jay.”

  Bilal went upstairs to get the money, and as Jovan was downstairs still contemplating his next move, he heard Bilal and Meeka arguing about something. Jovan knew Meeka wasn’t trippin’ about the money Bilal was giving him. If so, then Bilal didn’t have his people in check.

  “Here you go, Jay. That’s six thousand in case you need extra.”

  “A’ight thanks. Look, Bilal, I’ma lay these demonstrations down proper. Tomorrow morning get all your things together, and when I call you, be ready to leave.”

  “Okay,” Bilal said. “Oh, Jay.”

  “Yeah, what’s up, Lal?”

  “What’s up with that girl you’ve been spending all your time with?”

  “Man, Lal, for real I’m diggin’ the shit outta her, but right now I got a more serious situation to deal with, and if I gotta leave her behind, then she’s staying behind.”

  “Damn, slim, I wish I could leave Meeka behind, but she’s pregnant.”

  “Bilal, that’s your decision. If you think it’d be better for her to stay, then don’t bring her.”

  “I’ll think about it, Jay.”

  “Yeah, well, by tomorrow morning I hope you come up with an answer. Look, I’m gone. I’ll talk to you later.”

  It was 10:00 a.m. when Jovan left Bilal. He drove back to the city so fast that he got there in half an hour. Jovan went straight to Sunny’s Surplus and purchased a blue police department T-shirt and hat. He also bought two Metropolitan Police Department stickers and two envelope folders.

  Jovan drove down Benning Road to the automobile shop that sold old taxicabs and unmarked police cars with the big spotlight on the side. The dealer was an old man who didn’t care if you had ID or not. He just wanted to see cash.

  Jovan bought a late model 1986 Caprice Classic, white with black interior, and shiny hubcaps for $4,000. He parked his van on the side street next to Club Chateau and took out all of the things he had bought from the supply store. He put on the T-shirt and hat, took out an ink pen, and wrote Bilal Davis on both folders. Jovan then placed a Metropolitan Police Department sticker in the back window and one in front, on the left side by the spotlight.

  Jovan was about to drive around to Orleans Place, but before he did, he rode through Eighteenth and D’s drug market to test his disguise. When Jovan rolled through the strip, niggas immediately scattered like roaches, and he was satisfied with his disguise. He rolled through Orleans Place looking for any signs of Detective Bridges, because he knew for sure he was out there looking for Bilal.

  Jovan spotted an unmarked police car sitting in the alley. He rode past and entered the alley from the other side so that their cars would be opposite each other and that both driver’s sides would meet.

  As Jovan drove up, he could see that everything was working out perfectly. Detective Tony Bridges was sitting in his car, looking at something in his lap, sipping on some coffee.

  Jovan pulled his hat down and pulled up alongside Detective Bridges’ car and said, “Hi, how are you? I’m Detective J. Newman from the seventh district.”

  “Well, Newman, what brings you into my territory?” Detective Bridges said.

  “Well, I’m investigating a case of some big drug dealer who’s controlling drugs in certain southeast neighborhoods.”

  “What’s his name?”

  Jovan held up the two folders with Bilal’s name on them. “Bilal Davis. Don’t know much about him, though.”

  “Well, Newman, I think you just hit the jackpot. I’m here looking for the asshole. I just popped two of his carriers this morning,” Detective Bridges said.

  “Are they talking?”

  “Well, yeah, they’re cooperating, but I think I need a little time with ’em.”

  “How long you been out here, Detective . . . Bridges, is it?”

  “Tony Bridges. Well, I just came out here about ten minutes ago,” he said.

  “Yeah, me too. I’ve been cruisin’ up and down these streets. I haven’t even stopped to get a bite to eat yet.”

  “Well, Newman, the best thing I can do for you is a Snickers bar,” Detective Bridges said.

  “Well, hell yeah. That beats nothin’ at all.”

  As Detective Bridges went into his glove compartment to get the candy bar, Jovan pulled the .357 Desert Eagle from under his leg. This was the only time he was paranoid and nervous. With butterflies creeping in his stomach, he was in a state of oblivion.

  Detective Bridges was bringing the Snickers bar up, and as soon as he turned back in Jovan’s direction, exposing his face into the barrel of the gun, Jovan shot him one time right between the eyes. Boom! The impact of the bullet was so powerful Jovan could practically see brain matter scattered all over the inside of the car.

  Jovan then wiped off the gun and threw it in Detective Bridges’ car. He pulled off slowly and headed back down Benning Road at a normal speed.

  Once Jovan got back to his van, he parked the car, took off the temporary tags, and set the title and registration on fire, because even though it was in a bogus name, he still didn’t want to take any chances. He took off the T-shirt and hat and threw everything in the garbage. He then parked the car right behind the dealership so that if the police were ever looking for a white Caprice, they wouldn’t bother to look at this one, because the dealership had about twenty white Caprice Classics.

  Jovan walked across the street to his van and drove back to work.

  “Hello, Cindy,” Jovan said, walking into the office.

  “Hi, Jovan. How are you?” Cindy asked.

  “Fine, thanks. Cindy, is Mark still in his office?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jovan left Cindy’s desk and walked into Mark’s office, where he was sitting at his desk, going over some paperwork.

  “Hey, Jovan,” Mark said, looking up from his work.

  “Hey, Mark, how you doing?”

  “Well, everything’s going okay, but I still gotta get this kid’s motion straight. Did you measure the distance?”

  “Yeah, and from where they’re saying he was standing, he was definitely within a thousand feet. It was more like seven hundred feet, to be honest.”

  “Shit, Jovan, we gotta find some kinda technicality for this kid, because if not, he’s a goner.”

  “Don’t worry ’bout that, Mark. Just give me a little time in the library.”

  “Okay, Jovan. Do your thing.”

  Jovan went into the library, but he could hardly work because the thought of what he had just done and the anticipation of going to Atlanta was putting him in a state of confusion. He sat back for a moment and got his thoughts together. He then realized that what he had just done was for the better and that from now on his life would be at peace.

  Jovan got all the motions ready for Mark. It was a rush job, but it was complete. Mark read over Jovan’s motions and asked him to change a few things, so he went back and put his all into them and delivered the best motions he had ever put together, just like the motion that helped set him free when he was in Lewisburg. Mark liked the motions so much that he made copies and placed them on the desk of all the associate attorneys.

  Before Jovan left work, he called Sonya at home. He missed her bad
ly and he wanted to ask her to leave with him, but he couldn’t.

  Ring, Ring, Ring.

  “Hello,” Sonya said.

  “What’s up, baby?” Jovan said.

  “You, Jovan. I miss you so much.”

  “Sonya, I’ve only been out of your sight for a few hours.”

  “I missed you the moment you walked out that door this morning, and I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Sonya said seriously.

  “Me too. You’ve been on my mind so much I couldn’t even work.”

  “Jovan, we gotta do something about this.”

  “Ain’t too much we can. Or do you got any suggestions?” Jovan asked.

  “Yeah, come stay with me tonight,” Sonya said, hoping Jovan would agree to spend another night with her.

  “I was planning on doing that anyway.”

  “I bet you were. What time you coming?”

  “I’ll be there right after work.”

  As soon as Jovan got off from work, he went straight to Sonya’s condo. When he came in, Sonya was butt-ass naked with a pair of red pumps on. His kinda girl, she wanted it morning, noon, and night, and he gave it to her.

  While Sonya and Jovan were lying together cuddled up after a long session of lovemaking, they began to talk.

  “Hey, my king,” Sonya said.

  “Yeah, my queen,” Jovan answered.

  “Have you ever felt something but was scared to address it because of what the outcome may be?”

  Jovan wanted to say yes in relation to what he did earlier, but instead he said, “No, boo, if there’s something I feel that needs to be addressed, then I’ma shoot my shot.”

  “Well, Jovan, in that case, I don’t know what the outcome of what I’m about to say is gonna be, but I’m prepared.”

  “Is it something that I need to know?” Jovan asked, curious about what Sonya was about to tell him.

  “Maybe, maybe not. Depends on how you take it.”

  “Well, go ’head and shoot your shot.”

  “Jovan C. Price, I think I’m falling in love with you,” Sonya said, smiling.

  “Well, Sonya C. Duncan, I feel the exact same way about you,” Jovan said, taking her into his arms.

  They hugged tight and kissed as Jovan wiped tears from Sonya’s eyes. He knew that he was filling in that missing spot in her life, and he accepted it. They made love again and fell asleep in each other’s arms.