When It All Falls Down 2 - Strapped Up: A Chicago Hood Drama (A Hustler's Lady)

by Tamicka Higgins

  “Whatever,” Tramar said. “Stick with the bail bondsmen dude, okay? Wasn’t nobody lookin’ at that…nothing.”

  “No, what?” Precious said, marching over. “What? What was you gon’ say, Tramar? Go ahead and say it. Be a real nigga bout your shit.”

  “Precious, what I was gon say is,” Tramar said, raising his voice, “is that you know we coulda had something together, but you was too busy being materialistic, like just about every other hood chick I know. All you wanted was somebody who could take you shopping and shit. You ain’t really want no nigga that really loved you.”

  “There you go,” Precious said, snickering and shaking her head as she walked over and into the dining room area. “There you go talkin’ that ole stupid shit. You know damn well I loved you, but all you focused on was that kind of stuff.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Tramar said. “And you the one who was always startin’ shit. All you wanted was some dick, Precious. Ooh, wee. I tell you, you really is a piece of work, ain’t you.”

  Quan came running out of his room. He had a big smile on his face, letting both of his parents know right away that he was ready to go with his father. “Mama, I’m all ready to go,” he said, pointing at his book bag. “See?”

  Precious rolled her eyes at Tramar as she forced herself to smile then looked at her son. “Okay,” she said. “That’s good. Come and give Mommy a kiss before you go, okay?”

  Quan ran over to his mother and hugged her. Precious told him that she loved him, and that she could not wait until he got back. Tramar opened the door. He was so ready to leave the apartment that he could have cut out running down the stairs like the runner Usain Bolt. When Quan came over to the door and walked out into the apartment building hallway, Tramar looked back at the mother of his child. “I will talk to you later,” he said. “I hope you have a good weekend.” He smiled. “I’ll tell Ayana that you said hello and that you send your love to your long lost half-sister. And be sure to tell the bondsmen that I said hello, and that I also wish him the very best of luck.” He looked her up and down and shook his head. “And I really do mean that, okay?”

  Precious rolled her eyes and rushed over to the door, slamming it just as Tramar followed behind Quan in the hallway.

  “What’s wrong, Daddy?” Quan asked. “Why is Mommy mad?”

  “She’s not mad,” Tramar said, wishing that he could tell his son that his mother was one crazy bitch. “She’s just in a rush so she can get her weekend started.”

  “Oh okay,” Quan said. “So, is Ayana gonna be around this weekend or what?”

  Tramar looked down at his son as they headed down the stairs. “I don’t know,” he answered, in a playful way. “Maybe you’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Tramar walked Quan out to his car. Just as they were walking across the sidewalk and into the parking lot, a huge smile came over Quan’s face. From about twenty feet away, he could see Ayana in the front passenger seat of his father’s car. He ran up to the car and hopped in, excited to see Ayana. Ayana greeted him as he climbed into the backseat, asking him how everything had been going and what had been going on with his friends around the neighborhood and whatnot.

  Tramar climbed in behind the wheel and headed back south, slowly heading out of the inner city. Still on high alert, he struggled to be involved with Quan and Ayana’s conversation. He was too busy looking around for police cars, thinking that any one of them that passed him on the highway was going to be the one who knew that he’d been a part of the two bank robberies in the Chicago area in the last two days. Once Tramar had gotten so far, he’d figured he’d better go ahead and mention to Quan that they were going to a motel. The plan was still to check out of the motel and go stay in another one, but they needed to get some things out of the room first.

  “You still like staying in hotels?” Tramar asked Quan. “Huh, little buddy? You still like stayin’ in hotels?”

  Quan spoke up quickly. He always liked hotels because of the endless channels, the nice, big beds, the continental breakfasts down in the lobbies, and, of course, like any kid, the swimming pools. “Yeah, Daddy,” he said. “I do. Why?”

  “Well, I got a little surprise for you,” Tramar said. He glanced over at Ayana. “We gon’ go stay at a hotel tonight and maybe tomorrow night, okay? But first Daddy gotta go to this one motel and get some stuff first, okay?”

  “Okay!” Quan said. “What hotel we stayin’ at, Daddy? We gon’ stay at one of the big ones downtown?”

  “I don’t know just yet,” Tramar said, deep in thought. With how he was feeling right now, he was nearly tempted to drive the few hours over to Iowa and stay in a hotel in Davenport or somewhere like that. Anything that would get him as far away from Chicago as reasonably possible would be perfect right about now. In fact, Tramar was feeling like as soon as this weekend was over, he was going to smoke a nice fat blunt to calm down. He needed it now more than ever.

  Just as Tramar was changing highways to get onto Interstate 80, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. Ayana noticed and looked over at his jacket. The two of them were alarmed, more than they’d ever been before about a phone ringing. When Tramar pulled the phone out of his pocket, he saw who was calling. “It’s Jackson,” he announced. “Let me see what he want.” He answered the phone: “Wassup?”

  “Nigga, where you at?” Jackson asked.

  Tramar could hear Jackson was whispering and wondered why. “Shit, I’m headed back to the motel right now so we can get the rest of the stuff and check out,” he answered. “Why? What the fuck you whispering for, nigga?”

  Whispering? Ayana thought. Hearing such a statement caused her to look over at Tramar and become truly alarmed. She listened in, wanting to know what could be going on.

  “Man, we got a fuckin’ problem,” Jackson said. “Hurry up and pull over so I can talk to you and shit in private. Trust me, nigga. You gon’ wanna hear this shit.”

  “Okay, okay,” Tramar said. “Let me get off of the highway and call you right back.”

  Tramar hung up the phone as he changed lanes. Ayana looked at him, wanting some sort of explanation. “That was Jackson,” he said. “He said he got some shit to tell me that I’mma wanna hear.”

  “What’s wrong, Tramar?” Ayana asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know, Ayana,” he said. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m pullin’ over to call him back and see. I’mma stop at a gas station or something and talk to him on the phone there.” Tramar looked in his rearview mirror at Quan. He then lowered his voice and looked back at Ayana. “You think you can keep him distracted while I talk to this nigga and see what’s goin’ on?” he asked her nicely.

  “Of course, Tramar,” Ayana said. “Of course.”

  Tramar got off at 162nd Street and made a right. About a mile or so ahead, he came to a cluster of commercial development. There, setting in front of a Value City, was a Shell gas station. Tramar pulled into the lot and hopped out of the car. He went inside and put ten dollars onto his pump. As he walked back out into the parking lot, making his way across it, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Jackson back.

  “Yeah, nigga,” he said when Jackson answered the phone. “I’m alone right now. What’s up? Why you talkin’ on the phone, whispering and shit? What the fuck is goin’ on?”

  “Nigga, you betta stay away from the motel,” Jackson warned. “Stay far, far, far away.”

  Instantly, Tramar could feel his heartbeat surge. “What the fuck you talkin’ bout, nigga?” he asked Jackson. “What the fuck you talkin’ about?”

  “Nigga, when I turned around as I was gettin’ close to Michigan City and shit, when I was talkin on the phone with you earlier,” Jackson began explaining, “It took me like an hour to get back over here. I don’t know when you got here and picked up Ayana, but I guess they wasn’t here yet.”

  “Who?” Tramar asked. “You guess who wasn’t there yet? Nigga, what the fuck is you talkin’ bout? Why you talkin’
in code and shit? Who the fuck is at the motel?”

  “The police, nigga,” Jackson said. “My black ass is sittin’ in that parking lot across the street. You know, in that old, abandoned strip mall where them white people park they car and go downtown and shit with the shuttle and shit. I’m parked over there, in between two trucks and shit. When I got back over here, I was just about to turn up into the motel parking lot when I saw that the place was swarmed with police cars. Like ten or twelve of them or something. I hurried up and turned into the parking lot across the street, moving real slow and smooth and shit. When I did, I watched them kick in the doors with their guns and shit drawn.”

  “Fuck,” Tramar said, as he began pumping gas. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He kicked his tire. “Nigga, how the fuck they know where we was?”

  “Nigga, how the fuck am I supposed to know?” Jackson snapped back. “Mothafucka, you act like I work for the goddamn police or something. Fuck if I know how they know. All I know is that when I got back to the motel and pulled into the parking lot across the street, the place was swarming with the fuckin’ police, man. I swear, man, this shit is bad. I mean, they up in that shit deep….so deep, I don’t even wanna move because they might notice my black ass and think I’m who they lookin’ for.”

  “Nigga, you is one of the people they lookin’ for,” Tramar said.

  “Exactly, nigga,” Jackson said. “That’s why I’mma sit here and wait until the scene is clear or some shit. Man, this changes everything.”

  “Fuck,” Tramar said. “The money we got from the bank downtown is still in there, you know? Fuck, fuck, fuck. They got the money. We need that shit.”

  “Well, they done found it now,” Jackson said. “I seen them carrying stuff out the room and shit. From across the street, I really couldn’t see everything they was carrying. But no matter how good you hid that shit, I can fuckin’ guarantee you that they done found it now. Nigga, stay away from the motel. Just go somewhere else. We gon’ have to go with the plan b.”

  “Yeah,” Tramar said. “We gon’ have to set that nigga, Byron, up and just take his ass out. All this runnin’ around and bein’ bank robbers and shit is gon’ wind us up in prison. I swear to God man, once I get my family back, I wanna fuckin’ disappear. I don’t care if I gotta change my name and go live in Alaska, up in some mountains or something. I just wanna get outta here. And now I got my son with me, so I gotta take him somewhere.”

  “Well, nigga,” Jackson said. “Wherever you go, you betta hurry up and get there and get there fast cause they probably lookin’ for us and shit. And we gotta hurry up and get rid of these cars, especially that thing you drive.”

  “Why you say that?” Tramar asked. “I mean, I know why, but why you say that we gotta hurry up and especially get rid of mine?”

  “Cause, nigga,” Jackson said. “Ain’t your shit in your name?”

  “Fuck, you right,” Tramar said. “My shit is in my name.”

  “Exactly, nigga,” Jackson said. “You really gotta watch out. My shit is in my dead grandma name and shit, so for now I’m good. Man, watch your back. I’mma get a room somewhere else when I roll away from here, and I can let you know whenever I get there.”

  “Bet,” Tramar said, shaking his head as he was still filled with determination. “I’mma get Ayana to get whatever hotel room we got to in her name since they not gon’ know that she is with us.”

  When Tramar ended the call, he realized just how much his life had changed with that phone call. First and foremost, he was happy that his boy Jackson had called him and given him a heads up. The last thing he needed was to run into a shootout with the police while he was carrying his son.

  Then, Tramar began to look at the world around him. He knew it would only be a matter of time, if he remained out in public, before his face would be on the news. He’d be wanted for the robberies, and, possibly, a murder. Tramar’s heart throbbed in his chest when he looked around, thinking that any pair of headlights coming down the road could be a police car – any pair of headlights could be his ride to prison for the rest of his life.

  Trying to keep his cool, Tramar finished pumping the gas and climbed back into his car. As he pulled out of the parking lot, he turned up the music and looked at Ayana. “Shit done changed now,” he said, softly.

  Ayana looked at Tramar then back at the road ahead. She realized exactly what Tramar meant. There were no further questions on her part.

  ***

  Tramar decided to get back onto the highway. For whatever reason, he felt a little safer driving on the highway because there were more cars that sort of boxed him in. This was especially true on a Saturday afternoon when people were out and about and enjoying the day. Tramar knew that he’d better take his boy Jackson’s advice. Talking to Quan to distract him, as he didn’t want any of this to affect him, he got off of the highway and got back on. He was now headed north. The thought sat at the back of his mind that whatever money he’d gotten at the bank in Chesterton, Indiana would have to be enough for him to live off of until he and Jackson figured out how they were going to deal with Byron and get his family back.

  “I know what we can do,” Tramar said.

  Ayana looked over at him, her face somewhat more somber than usual. “What you mean you know what you can do?” she asked. “What’s going on? What you try’na do?”

  “I need to ask you to help a nigga out, Ayana,” Tramar said. He glanced back at Quan, trying to make sure that his focus was elsewhere. Like so many other children of his generation, his eyes were glued to his phone. Normally, Tramar would have asked him what he was doing on his phone, but he had bigger things to worry about right now. If he wasn’t paying attention the right way, he could be taken down by the feds and tossed into a jail cell.

  “What?” Ayana asked, wanting to know what Tramar needed for her to do.

  “I need you to get this hotel room in your name,” Tramar said. “I wanna find a decent hotel, somewhere up north or something, and I’mma give you the cash and I wanna know if you can go in and reserve the room, since, you know, they don’t know that you even involved in this stuff.”

  Even if Ayana wanted to say no, she knew that she couldn’t. She was in the car with him and already had been an accomplice in aiding him and Jackson to rob the bank downtown. Furthermore, the people at the motel would have seen her going into the room. This meant it could only be a matter of time before somebody, possibly, could make the connection.

  “You know I will,” Ayana said. “Let’s just hurry up and get there so we can get outta sight. What you think you gon’ do with your car?”

  Tramar bit his bottom lip. “That’s the thing,” he said. “A nigga don’t know yet. I at least need it for a couple more days.”

  “Well,” Ayana said. “Just make sure that you find a hotel where you can park somewhere that the car won’t be noticed or something. Maybe like one in a wooded area.”

  Tramar reached over and squeezed Ayana’s thick thigh. “Yeah, you right,” he said.

  The next thirty minutes in the car were rather quiet. Normally, Tramar would soak up all of his time with his son by talking to him and asking him any and everything about life. However, at this moment, too much was on his mind. His eyes remained glued not only to the road ahead of him but also to his rearview mirrors. Every car had become a possible police cruiser. Tramar was so nervous that the palms of his hands sweated; he could feel the cold, damp cloth of his soaked shirt under his underarm. Part of him wished that he’d never gotten into this. Part of him wished that instead of them robbing banks and actually trying to come up with the outrageous amount of money that Byron wanted, that they’d just arranged to meet him and killed him right then and there. However, as they say, if “if” were a fifth, we’d all be drunk.

  Tramar drove back by downtown and headed north. Once he got toward the O’Hare International Airport, he knew that he’d have many more options for hotels. He got off of the highway and rolled down a busy street, o
f which he could not remember the name. Eventually, he came up to a Holiday Inn, and he was in luck. The hotel was backed up by a wooded area that had houses and apartments the equivalent of a city block on the other side. He turned into the parking lot and parked at the back of the hotel, making sure to push his license plates up against some bushes.

  Tramar reached into the back seat and pulled one of the bags up to the front seat. He dug inside of it, pulling out some money and handing it to Ayana very discretely. She looked back at Quan before sliding the money into her purse and getting out of the car. Before she walked away and around the side of the building and into the hotel lobby, Tramar got her attention.

  “Ayana,” he said. “When you check into the hotel, don’t come back out the way you came in, okay?” He pointed at the back entrance of the hotel. “What we gon’ do, so they don’t see who all is staying here with you, is once you get the key cards and shit, come to the back door and we can go in through there, okay?”

  Ayana agreed and headed into the hotel lobby. She was very nervous as she asked for a room with two beds. When the hotel employee asked why she wanted a room with two beds, she knew she had to come up with something quick. She simply said that she’d have a cousin coming in to spend one night and that she simply wanted somewhere for her to sleep, and that the two of them hadn’t seen one another since they were children.

  The hotel staff seemed to buy her reasoning. Within five minutes or so, Ayana was armed with the key cards to room 903, on the hotel’s ninth floor. She made her way to the back of the hotel, passing by the large swimming pool, and up to the hotel’s back door. Once she stepped outside, she waved to get Tramar’s attention.

  On the way up to the hotel room, Ayana could tell that Tramar’s mind was going every which way. She’d seen her man stressed before, but nothing like this. All she wanted to do right now was talk to him, but Quan was standing in the elevator with them, looking as happy as any small child would be to spend the night in a hotel room with his father.