Bankroll Squad

by David Weaver

  Catfish looked at Malcolm confidently.

  “Yeah Boss, you don’t want me to turn a nigga’s mouth into a dishrag.”

  There were light snickers around the table. Kyla found it amusing that she had fallen asleep in the van while Tron and Cat were sewing a real live person’s mouth shut.

  “Catfish, I care about you nigga’. But I don’t approve of that stunt you pulled because there is no doubt about the fact that that nigga’ Waller is going to try to retaliate. The streets’ code is humiliation equals retaliation!”

  “Boss, I doubt seriously that Waller will ever try any one of us.”

  “Let’s just hope so Cat.”

  Malcolm went to his desk and pulled out a manila folder. He started reading silently for a moment then set the folder down onto the table and looked at Pam. Pam had on a Cristian Dior skirt. A skin tight white skirt with red lipstick and red and white stilettos. Pam was gorgeous. So, gorgeous, in fact, that Kyla swore up and down that Malcolm had hired her based solely on her looks. This assumption was only partly true. Pam also did a good job of making it seem like his potato chip line was doing phenomenal sales. Granted, it was selling but just not the way Pam made it look. Every now and then though, like today, Malcolm would have questions about particular decisions that Pam had executed. Pam stared back at Malcolm with beautiful hazel eyes that could hypnotize a hypnotist if he stared into them long enough.

  “Pam, baby,” Malcolm’s vocal tone mellowed down to an almost seductive octave.

  “My beautiful Pam. How are you feeling?”

  Pam smiled blushingly and fluttered her eyes. Kyla thought she was generic and always putting on a show.

  “I’m doing absolutely terrific Daddy. How are-”

  Kyla cut her off.

  “Bitch quit muthafuckin’ flexin’ before I beat that ass!”

  “You didn’t beat that white girl’s ass for taking your man.”

  Kyla jumped up and tried to lunge at Pam but Catfish grabbed her and held her back. Malcolm slammed his fist on the table startling everybody at the meeting.

  “Calm the fuck down!” He was talking loud now.

  “Pam, what the hell are these two transactions with 250x besides them? Explain.”

  At first Pam had a puzzled look on her face, and then she realized exactly what he was referring to.

  “Oh yeah. Those were donations. By donating money, it cuts down on how much money you’ll have to pay around tax time Malcolm.”

  Malcolm reached and picked back up the manila folder. He glanced at it again.

  “So ... Pam, what organizations did you donate the money to?”

  She looked at him with confidence.

  “I donated it to R.U.C., Relief for Underprivileged Children and I made a donation to Barrack Obama’s presidential campaign.”

  “Oh okay, that’s cool. All you donated was $250 to both of them?”

  Pam squinted her eyes up. A few wrinkles appeared on her forehead before she responded.

  “No not $250, I donated $250,000. Apiece.”

  “You did what!”

  Pam’s once seductive look had melted into the look of a scorned puppy; her face drooping and her mouth shaped in the form of a cartoon sad face.

  “Malcolm, you told me that you trusted my judgment and direction, so why are you negatively charged up right now? You snapped on Catfish, then you snapped on me for no reason whatsoever. I would never misuse you or misplace any of your money, Malcolm. Think about it baby. This is Pamela Jones. I have nothing but respect for you, everything that you do, and everything that you stand for. I will die before I dishonor the Squad and I would resign from my job if I didn’t feel that my decisions were going to be adequate.”

  A tear rolled across her beautiful skin as she spoke, and as the words decorated the atmosphere, Malcolm knew she was speaking the absolute truth. The words sank in like the Titanic; and Malcolm realized that at that very moment that he was taking out the woes and frustrations from his marriage out on the Squad. He had never been as inconsistent as much as he had been at that meeting. He walked to where Pam was sitting, and wiped a tear from her cheeks with a kiss. He was comforting her for his outbursts, but in actuality, he was the one that needed comforting. He took his manila folder and placed it back into the filing cabinet. He dismissed the meeting and grabbed the keys to his Bentley. Everybody got up from the table to leave as well, and they watched as Malcolm headed out of the conference room in a hurry.

  “Malcolm,” Marco screamed.

  Malcolm stopped in the doorway and turned around.

  “Yeah, Marco?”

  “What time are we going to Club Splash tonight? Or are we still going?”

  Malcolm almost forgot about the club.

  “Oh yeah, we’ll hit the club around 12:30 a.m. Thanks for reminding me, I’ll see ya’ll tonight.”

  “Aight,” The men said in unison.

  Kyla smiled weakly, then she started towards the door.

  “Malcolm I don’t know if I’m coming, being that I’m sleepy, and I have a couple of things that I need to attend to. But I might ... I’m not sure yet.”

  Pam, who always wanted to outdo Kyla in an attempt to keep Malcolm’s favor, decided to try to oneup her. When Kyla started getting close to the door where Malcolm was, she spoke loud and clear, interrupting any potential moments that could have developed between Kyla and Malcolm.

  “I’m sleepy too, but I’m about to go finish working on bill consolidations for everybody, then I have to in-process yesterday’s proceeds that I received today. And when I finish that, I have to check the earning report of Frisbee Crispee; and see if it needs any alterations. And then ... I’ll be at the club”.

  She rolled her eyes at Kyla and walked past her. Then she walked past Malcolm, who caught a whiff of her Cool Water for Women perfume. After she got past him, she knew his eyes would be glued to her ass. She was bow-legged and her ass jiggled with every step that she took. Malcolm stared at it. He swallowed as he thought to himself, “Damn, that ass is perfect. It’s shaped like a heart!”

  $ $ $ $ $

  The Wolf was broke, dead broke and was in desperate need of a come up. He sat at the gas station in his girlfriend’s beat up Dodge Neon. The car was in such bad shape that whenever it was refueled, it had to sit still and cool off for about 15 minutes before the engine would start without catching fire. He was miserable, but he wasn’t alone, the Cowards were with him. Sure they had names, but Wolf called them The Cowards. Cowards shoot out of fear; and more times than not, a coward would kill you quicker than a gangsta’ would. A gangsta’ would have morals, principles, rules, and guidelines, and a coward would have fingers full of fear. Fingers full of fear, coupled with guns full of bullets led to morgues full of bodies. They liked to act like they killed because they were cold, hard, and heartless; when in all actuality they killed because they were scared and softer than tomato sauce. They were all broke, the Wolf and the Cowards. It’s a lot of money in this city, the Wolf thought, we should have no problem getting some of it. He lit his last Newport, and the Cowards reached for it as soon as he took his first puff. He exhaled, and smiled to himself because he thought how funny would it be to change their name from The Cowards to The Clowns. He ignored the fact that they were reaching for his cigarette, and took another puff.

  “Pay attention!” He barked at the Cowards.

  They were supposed to be scouring the scenery in search of a come-up. So far, they had spotted a gray BMW 330 that they intended to take free of charge, but when they walked up to the vehicle to ask the white woman “directions,” they noticed that it was a 6 year old child in the backseat. They did have a tidbit of a conscience, and within that tidbit, they had a tidbit of a rule. They didn’t rob or kill when children were present. They had also spotted a limousine, but the tints were too dark and there could have been a bodyguard present. They would be no match for a trained bodyguard, after all, they were cowards. They had spotted a black Mercedes Benz
550, free for the taking, but the police were in the area. The Wolf was out of cigarettes and was running out of patience. He glanced at his watch and took a deep breath. I’ll have to try again later, I guess, Wolf thought to himself. He figured that he should at least move on to another gas station before the manager started getting suspicious and called the police on them. They were all riding dirty; convicted felons with firearms. They drove away. Maybe about ten minutes later, they were at Prime Stop, the last gas station downtown before the 25 north and 25 south expressway exits appeared. Everybody stops here ... I’ll give it an hour, the Wolf thought to himself as he parked away from the security cameras. There are 30 gas pumps at this huge store, the Wolf quickly noticed, I’m bound to hit a lick soon.

  $ $ $ $ $

  Kyla Brent was leaving the Power Building in her kandy pink Range Rover and was lost in her thoughts. Pam had just hit her where it hurt the most back in the conference room. There were dozens of unanswered questions unwilling to remain unanswered. She knew exactly what she needed. She needed closure. She needed to know why. Why ... and how.... How could Malcolm go and marry a fuckin’ white bitch? How does he live with himself knowing that he went completely against the grain? Is he doing this for get back? Did he marry her out of spite? Kyla knew she had faults ... a bad temper ... a stubborn attitude sometimes, but the love ... was always there. She has always and will always love Malcolm. Why can’t he see that? She thought to herself as her eyes flooded with tears. She wiped them off of her face as she drove through traffic. She knew she looked like a superstar in her Range Rover, and she knew she looked like a supermodel when she wasn’t in it. But no matter how good she looked, it never helped how she felt. She felt empty, betrayed, hurt. Her soul was hurting and it was nothing that she could do to comfort it. She was about 4 cars behind Malcolm, and about to get on 25 south so that she could go home when she saw him pull into the Prime Stop gas station. At first, she was going to continue going on about her business, but she needed to talk to Malcolm. It was almost as if she was possessed, the way she yearned for Malcolm’s touch ... Malcolm’s love ... Malcolm’s kiss. She wanted him and she didn’t care how long it took, she knew one day that she would be back in his arms where she was supposed to be.

  four

  M

  alcolm tried to park as close to the entrance of the Prime Stop as possible. Shit, he wasn’t driving a Chrysler 300, he was driving the

  real deal. He couldn’t just park it anywhere. A Toyota Camry backed out of a parking space on the left side of the store entrance, and zoomed on about its business. Malcolm pulled right into the empty parking space listening to 50 Cent’s “I Get Money/ Money I got.” All eyes were on him as usual. He relished this type of attention and recognition. It’s what he hustled for, what he wished for and what he lived for. He knew that if his day was fucked up, him riding in his most prized possession could cheer him up when nothing else could. A series of horns blew back on the highway, as the vehicles started to exit to get on the 25 south expressway. He turned around to see if he could make out who it was, and realized that it was Pam, Catfish, Brink, Marco, and Prince Tron headed back to their respective homes. He turned the engine off, opened the door and placed the keys in his pocket. Little kids were pointing at him and his car screaming “look mommy! Look! Wowwww!” Another vehicle pulled up along side him on his right side. He glanced up and saw Kyla’s big Kool-Aid smile. He rolled his eyes, shut the door, and started walking towards the store entrance. Kyla rolled down her window and spoke out of desperation,

  “Malcolm, can we talk for a minute?”

  He reached the store entrance, opened the door, and spoke in an irritated tone,

  “Wait till I come out!”

  He went in the store searching for some Tylenol and orange juice to give to his wife when he got to his estate. He figured that she would be suffering from a hangover pretty soon. Kyla exhaled and laid back in her seat waiting on Malcolm to come out of the store.

  $ $ $ $ $

  One of the Cowards saw it. His eyes got huge and his breathing sped up. It was a drop top Bentley. Free of charge. The Wolf saw it too. They showed the other Coward and he immediately put one in the chamber and got out of the Neon. The Wolf started to tell him to wait, but what the hell, he had already started walking across the parking lot towards the Bentley. When Malcolm came out of the store, Kyla rolled her window down again.

  “Malcolm?”

  He held up a finger.

  “Hold up a second,” He arrogantly remarked as

  he went and sat in his car.

  Then he rolled his window down the same way that she had hers.

  “Yes Kyla?” He shouted.

  Kyla looked at him lovingly.

  “Why can’t we get back together Malcolm? We belong together. I just-”

  In the middle of her sentence, Malcolm started backing his car up, about to leave. His logic was that Kyla left him once, so she would do it again. That’s why he never gave her another chance.

  “Malcolm!” She screamed as loud as she could.

  “Please, Malcolm talk to me!”

  He ignored her. She knows I’m married, Malcolm thought to himself as he continued to back the Bentley out of the parking lot. Looking in his rear view, he realized that there was a line of vehicles behind him trying to exit the parking lot to get back on the highway. The car at the front of the line seemed to be waiting on the next red light in order for it to pull out into the road. Malcolm exhaled and pulled back up into his parking slot until he could get enough room to back his car out and go. Kyla was still sitting there staring at him. He pushed a button and the roof of the Bentley evaporated. Every man was giving him thumbs up and every woman was giving him the eye. Occasionally, someone would ask him “how much?” Nonchalantly, he would reply “200 thou.” “Damn!” Would be the typical response. One of the Cowards were approaching him from the driver’s side of the car, looking as if he was dazzled and impressed and had a series of questions that he wanted to ask the owner of the vehicle. He had on blue jeans and a white polo shirt and the gun was in his right hand; his right hand behind his back. Kyla saw him, he paid no attention to her, since he was smiling and attempting to make eye contact with Malcolm. Malcolm saw him approaching and thought,

  “Damn, another car question. He’s probably gonna ask me if I wanna sell it or some other weird shit.”

  Malcolm glanced away as the Coward approached.

  Kyla had a bad feeling in her stomach, she could sense that something was wrong. Then she realized it, she couldn’t see the guy’s right hand ... and when she did see it, he had laid the barrel on the side of Malcolm’s head. Malcolm froze. He couldn’t believe it. One of the most horrible feelings that a human being could ever feel crawled through his body. It weakened his bladder, but he was too strong and too gangsta to piss on his self. He wasn’t scared of dying, he just didn’t want to. He was as mad as he could possibly get. Red hot. He couldn’t believe that he had relaxed so much that he had failed to pay attention to his surroundings. He was mad at his self. This was an internal failure. A failure between brain and eye to communicate with each other. Had he not failed to pay attention, a fuckin’ gun would not be resting on the side of his head.

  “Take the watch, those rings, and that chain off and throw it in the passenger seat!” The Coward barked at Malcolm.

  Malcolm started relieving himself of his jewelry.

  “Hurry the fuck up!” The Coward screamed.

  Damn, Malcolm thought, this is really happening to me. If only he knew ... I could make a phone call and have his whole face removed from his head. This idiot doesn’t know who the fuck I am. Kyla ducked down in the seat of her truck so she could pull her .380 from the compartment under the seat. She grabbed it. It was loaded. The Wolf saw her duck down in the seat and started driving over to help out. He could tell that the Coward was paying no attention to the girl in the pink truck. What a costly mistake he could be making.

  The W
olf and the other Cowards were about 20 feet away when they saw Kyla put the gun in the air and point it at the robber. The Coward in the Wolf’s car panicked, and without warning, he pulled the 12 gauge shotgun from the backseat, and pointed it at Kyla’s truck aimlessly. BOOM! Glass shattered, people started screaming, car alarms went off from a few parked cars, and blood splattered against the cream white seats of Kyla’s Range Rover. Kyla was hit. Buckshots burned through her body as she tried to focus on what had just taken place. She was in pain. Her body went into rapid convulsions, and then the horn sounded. And sounded. And sounded. Kyla had passed out on the steering wheel, face down, the Range Rover horn screaming out for her. The other Coward smacked Malcolm with the butt of the gun; knocking him out cold. He pulled Malcolm out of the Bentley and jumped into the driver’s seat. The Wolf smiled. For the first time, the Cowards had done something perfect; well ... almost perfect ... if it wasn’t for the body, it would have been a brilliant job. But a damn good job of Coward 2 for saving Coward 1’ s life. Coward 1, sped off in the Bentley, the Wolf and Coward 2 followed. Fuck it, the Wolf thought once they hit 25 north, the job was fuckin’ perfect. The vanity plate on the Bentley read: IM PAID. The Wolf smiled again.

  $ $ $ $ $

  Jennifer Powers plopped down on the butter soft sofa in the great room. All sorts of thoughts ran through her head. After Malcolm left to go to the Power Building for a meeting, she had taken a zip lock bag filled with cocaine and poured a small mound of it onto an ESSENCE magazine. And tried it. She did it the same way she saw it get done in the movies.

  She snorted it once and thought that maybe she had done it wrong. She started to panic because she couldn’t feel her face.

  “Oh my God, I hope I’m not allergic or something. Ohmi God ohmi God ohmi God!”

  Her chest felt like she was standing in the club directly in front of the speaker. House music. No, yes, ohmi God, ohmi God, what’s happening to me? Jennifer thought to herself. Her nose burned ... then went numb. It tasted bitter. She rubbed her hand across her face to make sure it was still there. It was. She pinched it hard and then jumped from the sofa. She looked around the room frantically, she thought she heard someone talking. It was someone talking. She quickly poured the mound from the magazine to her purse, and threw the zip lock bag into the purse as well. She brushed off her nose so that no residue showed. She ran to a mirror, her nose was red. She took make-up from her purse and quickly coated her nose. She went back and sat down. Her left foot was tapping against the floor at the same pace as her heart beat. She put her hand to her chest ... yes, it was still beating at a rapid pace. She listened ... the people in the house were still talking. It sounded like they were in the next room. She ran and grabbed the biggest knife she had out of the kitchen. It had a soft black flexi-grip handle. The blade was a whole chicken’s worst nightmare. She ran back into the great room, knife in hand, purse on arm. It was dark outside, so she was a bit scared since it sounded like complete strangers in the house.