by Koko Brown
He recalled that, during the last year he worked for Crush, Jelly would run around him, asking questions and being a typical ten-year old nuisance. Now in his early twenties, the slender African-American man looked like he slipped right into Russell’s old spot.
Good. Jelly could keep that life. According to his parole officer, Russell couldn’t associate with his old crew. Maybe Dana hadn’t said couldn’t, but rather shouldn’t. Getting in this vehicle wouldn’t be a good thing.
“It’s just Jaleel, man.” Jelly cleared his throat. “Get in. I can take you to where your mom is buried if you’re interested in paying your respects. And then I’ll take you to see Crush.” He nodded into the vehicle.
Russell’s instincts kicked in and he imagined what would happen if he stepped into the vehicle. Jelly – or Jaleel – would skip going to the cemetery and take Russell directly to Crush. Or worse. Russell would be taken somewhere else to be eliminated.
“No. I can walk.”
“For now.” Jelly no longer looked like the wide-eyes kid Russell remembered over a decade ago.
Russell felt his eyebrows draw together. “You threatening me? You know that’s a dumb-ass thing to do, right?”
Although he didn’t want a confrontation so soon after securing his freedom, he would to maintain his dignity. Defending himself shouldn’t land him back in jail.
“And risk going back in?” Jelly shook his head. “I’ve given you a lot leeway ’cause you just got out. Forget that boy you remembered.” He coupled his statement by adjusting the bottom of his shirt.
Russell hadn’t been too removed from his old life to know what that meant. Jelly wanted easy access to his piece. In prison, Russell could dodge a shank…sometimes. On the outside, no way could he avoid a speeding bullet. From Jelly’s menacing request, Russell knew he couldn’t run from his past either.
He turned his head for a moment when he heard the same group of kids screaming and running around. Down the street, he spotted something that, in another life, would have bothered him: a police car.
When Russell brought his attention back to Jelly, he watched him settling back against his seat. He even plastered a fake smile on his thin face.
“Like I said, I don’t need a ride.” Russell leaned in close to the open window. “But you tell Crush that I expect him to keep his word. I’m heading to the bank to check my account. Twelve years of interest on what I was supposed to be given should be a lot of dough, right?”
“Get in and ask Crush yourself.” Jelly nodded in his vehicle.
Russell backed away. “If I run into any problems, I’ll know how to find him.”
He glanced down at the bag that contained his watch, a constant reminder of what he thought had been important to him as a stupid punk kid. He could have used the money he’d gotten from working for Crush to do so much for his mother instead of spending it on Rolexes and other high-priced goods he thought he needed at the time. Now he had nothing to show for his past.
What was he thinking? Belle hadn’t wanted anything to do with his ill-gotten gain, as she called it on several occasions. Even if it meant she would live in a nice home for the rest of her life, she had no desire to stoop down to Russell’s level. Actually, not even Russell’s level. More like Crush’s. Belle still had held out hope for her oldest child.
As soon as the cop car started to roll toward Russell and Jelly, Jelly rolled up his window and finally took off. Out of relief, Russell exhaled, but knowing his former boss, this wouldn’t be the last attempt to get to him. Depending on what Russell found at his bank, Crush might see him sooner rather than later.
After a two-hour walk, Russell made it to the same bank branch he had gone to as a snot-nosed teenager to open his first account. He had showered and put on fresh clothes before leaving prison, but the long bus ride and all the walking allowed the stench of exhaust and fumes to settle on him. He hoped this trip wouldn’t take him long.
Russell strolled into the branch and immediately noticed the changes. Vibrant colors covered the walls, carpeting, and the area where the tellers sat. Glass walls separated the bank manager and other office employees. Everything seemed out in the open.
Russell stood in line to talk to the teller. An older woman stood in front of him. Her hunched over stance gave her the appearance that she had a hump in her back.
She glanced back at him and offered a nice smile, a first since getting out. Twelve years of not smiling, or showing any kind of emotion, left Russell feeling a bit lost.
At first, he didn’t know how to respond. Then he forced himself to offer what he thought would be a smile. He imagined his normally thin upper lip to damn near disappear, but back in the day, he had been told that his blue eyes sparkled. He hoped prison hadn’t dulled that shine.
His attempt must have missed the mark. She dropped her gaze down to his hands. Her smile faded and she turned her back on him.
Russell peered down at his hands. Outside of his sleeves peeked his garish tattoos, some acquired in prison. He tugged his sleeves down as much as he could, although in the hot summer weather, he wanted to get out of the long-sleeved shirt and run around with his sleeveless T-shirt. Doing that would reveal even more tattoos and his past bad behavior.
By the time Russell got up to the teller window, sweat poured from his forehead. He wiped it with the back of his sleeve and did his best to smile at the older woman.
“Good afternoon.” The pleasant African-American woman with chubby cheeks smiled at him. “My name is Fran. I will be happy to serve you today.”
As soon as she said the word serve, it conjured up images that had been plaguing him since his arrest. He hadn’t been with a woman in over twelve years. He longed to feel a soft body next to his or at least have her mouth around his cock.
For now, he would need to push those thoughts out of his head and get to business. He didn’t need to continue his life there in Virginia. As soon as this pleasant woman confirmed what he had been told when he took the plea that should have gone to Crush, he would withdraw every cent and go somewhere far from his problems.
“Yeah, I need to know what I currently have in my account.” Russell pulled out his wallet and retrieved his old license.
He barely recognized the twenty-eight year-old punk with dark hair, a slimmer face, a sneer, and an eat-shit type of expression. He also noticed the expiration date and hoped it wouldn’t be an issue.
Fran accepted the license, brushing her fingers against his. The slight touch had his dick throbbing. Russell braced his hands on the counter and hoped touching the cool material would calm his libido down.
Easy, boy. You’ve done without for all this time. You can hold out a bit longer.
Even though the woman had been pleasant, she didn’t exactly rate as his type. Her race had nothing to do with it. Working for Crush Crandall, Russell been around and dated black women all day, every day. The only one that truly interested him had to be Crush’s daughter, the only woman he couldn’t touch.
By the time he had gotten to meet her, he couldn’t do anything with her, and not because of her relationship with her father. Russell didn’t want to do time for the gun and drug charges. He definitely didn’t want to go to prison for taking liberties with a minor.
With a ten-year age difference, he had to be responsible. Then she did something that remained burned in his memory bank. For that reason, he wanted to see her again. Revenge would taste so sweet.
“Mr. Griffin?”
Russell snapped out of his daydream. “That’s Griffing.”
“Sorry about that.” Fran smiled as she placed the ID on the counter and pushed it back to him. “Do you have identification that’s current? This one expired a couple of years ago.”
Russell peered around himself. “Afraid not. I’ve been away for quite some time. I just got home. I haven’t had a chance to go to DMV to update things.”
Again, he tried his hand at smiling. He felt the corner of his mouth pulling up. Fro
m the way Fran averted her gaze, he suspected that the expression came off as a sneer instead of a pleasant expression.
Russell thought he caught Fran blushing under her chestnut-colored skin tone. That seemed too cutesy for a woman her age. She had to be about forty, like him.
“I can check to see if you have an account at least. But I won’t be able to issue you any funds. Not without a valid ID.” She started typing on her computer.
“I understand.” He didn’t, but he wanted to play Mr. Nice Guy. “Things have certainly changed around here.”
“You must have been gone for a while. The changes to this area happened about seven or eight years ago.” She split her attention between the computer and him. “We accept other forms of ID. Are you in the military?”
“No, but it does feel like I’ve been through a war.” He chuckled to lighten the mood, but even that came out like a bear growling.
“I hear you.” She grabbed a slip of paper. “It looks like you do have a dormant account. No activity in, wow, almost thirteen years.”
An uneasy tickle crept up the back of Russell’s neck. He already suspected that the promise made to him hadn’t been fulfilled.
Fran wrote something down on a slip of paper and slid it to him next to his license. “This is the balance. If you would like to reopen the account or close it, you’ll have to come back with a valid ID.”
Russell glanced down at the paper. He had more money in his pocket right now than in the account that he had been told would have the payment needed for taking the fall. He balled the paper in his hand and shoved it in his pocket.
“Thanks.” He turned to the door.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Russell kept walking. He pushed the door that went to the front of the building and came across the last person he thought he would see but the first person he wanted to encounter, especially now.
Crush Crandall leaned against the front of the same black Cadillac SUV that Jelly had offered him a ride in only a couple of hours before. Crush stood and sauntered toward Russell.
“I heard you had gotten out. How the hell are you?” Crush raised his hand like he wanted to touch Russell’s shoulder.
“You son-of-a-bitch.” Russell shoved Crush back.
“Hey! Easy.” Jelly ran up to the duo.
Crush held his hand up. “It’s okay. I know Russell lost a little bit of his manners while he was, um, away.” He chuckled. “You want to step into my office?” He pointed to the vehicle.
Russell shook his head. “No. I want to know where the fuck my money is. You told me that if I—”
Crush held up his hand. “Not out here. Get in. We’ll talk.”
“I got nothing to say to you, dude.” Russell started to walk away.
“That’s a shame. I have plenty to say to you, like the fact that I can give you a cool mil for one job.”
The statement halted Russell in his tracks. He turned back to Crush. “You’re a fucking liar. I already did one job for you for that amount, remember? ‘Oh, I’ll take care of you and your mom, Russell. Don’t you worry.’ You remember that? Now my ma’s dead.” Now Russell had his mind on ways to make Crush feel the same pain he now felt.
“I’m sorry about that.” Yet that same shit-eating grin remained on his face even after sharing his pity.
“And I have nothing.” Russell pointed toward the bank. “And you want me to trust you. Not on my life. Your life doesn’t mean shit to me.”
“Look. I know you were expecting something when you got out. I know I may have said some things that would make you believe you would be compensated. But the feds were on me. They were watching my every move. I couldn’t transfer that kind of money after everything went down.”
“But now you can?” Russell hated engaging with this man for this long.
“Now I have an account open with the money already in it that I can give to you.” Crush’s face became serious. “I’ll add you as a co-owner when you complete the job, and then I’ll remove my name from the account. It’ll all be yours.”
Russell wished he could read his old boss’s expression. Right now, everything that came out of the man’s mouth sounded like lies.
“I’m here to make it right.” Crush put his hand to his chest.
How the man could stay cool while in a full three-piece suit, complete with vest and a tie, astonished Russell.
“You want to make it right? Give me that money now and it’ll make us square for the last job.” Russell wanted to get what he already earned and walk away.
“So you want me to give you money now as soon as you get out of prison, and you don’t think that that’ll be suspicious to anyone?” Crush shook his head.
Russell put his hand to his chest. “I’ve done my time. No double jeopardy for me. But you? That would be a different story. You would have some explaining to do.”
“Yeah, and they would seize everything, including my payment to you.” He sighed. “It all sounds easy and simple. You have to think ten steps ahead.”
Russell hated thinking that his old boss’s statement held some merit. He would have hated to get that money, get out of town, and find out that he couldn’t get to what he earned.
“All I need you to do is one job. Do one thing.” Crush held up one finger. “I’m allowed to pay you for legitimate work, and this would be totally legit.”
“Fuck you. Forget you saw me. I sure as hell am pushing your sorry ass out of my head.” Russell should have remembered the one thing he learned while in prison. There was no honor among thieves.
“Fine,” Crush called after Russell. “Don’t do it for me. The job is for someone I thought you at least liked at one time.”
Russell snickered. “I know you’re not talking about yourself.”
Crush joined in on the joke. “Of course not. I get it. I burned my bridge with you. But I can make it right.”
Too curious to find out what he wanted, Russell moved in closer to Crush. “What could you possibly want from me?”
“I now own a limousine service. Work for me as a driver.” Crush pulled his cuffs down under his sleeves.
Russell shook his head. “You have a driver.” He pointed to Jelly. “Besides, you just said the job was for someone important to me. That is sure as shit not you.”
“I’m not talking about driving for me. I want you to drive one of my cars to pick up someone special. Once you do the pick up, all you have to do is drive the person to me and go. I guarantee I will give you all the info you need for that million-dollar account.” He reached into his pocket.
The move had Russell taking a few steps back until he saw Crush pull out a wad of folded cash in a money clip.
“You’ll need a chauffeur’s license and probably a place to stay, right?” He tossed the bundle to Russell.
He caught it and stared at it for a moment. He hadn’t held this much money in over a decade. Like a flash, he imagined everything he could do right now with the cash. He could forget all this and go away. He could visit Quinton wherever he now lived and apologize for being a shit to him growing up. He could start all over.
Russell peered up at his old boss. As soon as their gazes connected, instinctively, Russell threw the money back to Crush.
“No thank you. Accepting that puts me right back where I was before I went in. I also know that if I take that money, you’ll think that I somehow owe you for something. You don’t own me anymore.” He wiped his hands together. “Clean slate for both of us. You go your way. I’ll go mine.” He scanned the area. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”
Although talking to Crush would get Russell what he needed, the inside scoop and location of Crush’s daughter. Russell needed some questions answered, and then he would even up a score.
“Come on, Chop. I’m a changed man.” Crush smiled, showing off the gold tooth he had in the front.
“Don’t call me that again.” Russell couldn’t believe he used to like that
damn nickname back in the day. “I’ve changed also.”
Crush held up his hands. “Look. I know, years ago, I wasn’t a model citizen. We both did things we aren’t proud of. But I’m a legitimate businessman now.” He held up the cash again. “This money is not payment. It’s a gift. If you work for me, it would be above board with paychecks, W-2 forms, benefits, all that.” He moved in closer to Russell. “And let’s face it. You’re a felon now. Who’s going to hire you?” Crush shrugged. “Where will you live? You could probably find some place to crash for a night or two, or go to some halfway house with folks who may steal your shit. But then what?”
The questions Crush posed had been racing through Russell’s head since he knew of his release date. Although he wanted to get out, he had no idea what he would do now. He had no handyman skills, so he couldn’t do day-laborer work. With his strong back and hard-work ethic, he could do some heavy lifting. If he wanted to, he could make it work.
“If it makes you feel any better, although I own the business, you’ll never see me.” Crush shook his head. “I have an accounting company that handles my payroll. What do you say? Let me help you this time.”
Russell’s gut twisted as he contemplated working for Crush again. “If I do this, who am I picking up?”
Crush smiled. “You remember my daughter, Victoria?”
Russell blinked. He would be seeing her again? The throbbing below his belt returned. Images of her long legs, rounded ass, and perky tits filled his head. Then he brought back the reason he really wanted to see her. He didn’t really want to hurt her. Thanks to Crush, Russell discovered how much he valued his daughter. For that reason, he would take something away from him that Crush had taken away from Russell.
His old Chop persona simmered right below the surface. If he followed through on what he wanted to do to her, he would be back in prison for sure, this time with a trip to the electric chair. For that reason, he knew he needed to stay away from her, too. Hell, he needed to steer clear of this whole family.
Crush continued. “She’s coming home in a couple of days. I need for you to pick her up from the Norfolk Airport and bring her back home to me.” He spouted details of her arrival. “After that, I promise you that you will get paid and I will be out of your life for good.” He held his hand out. “We have a deal?”