“I see you got the money I sent to put on the phone.”
“Yeah, thanks, but the rest I could’ve did without,” Teflon retorted, referring to the additional 200 dollars Rich had sent her for herself on top of the 200 he sent for the phone.
“What I tell you about talkin’ crazy,” he shot back. He knew she was going to say something about the extra money. Since he’d been home, he had sent her money for the phone and prison necessities.
“And don’t try to send it back either, like you did before, ’cause I’ma send it right back.”
That got a slight chuckle out of Teflon.
“You think you know me, ol’ man?”
Rich always smiled at the title he had grown accustomed to.
“I think I’ve known you long enough to say I do, wouldn’t you say?”
“You already know the answer to that,” Teflon replied.
Rich expected as much. He was used to not getting straight answers from Teflon when it came to questions about how close they’d become throughout the nine and a half years they’d bonded.
“I love you too, daughter-in-law,” he offered.
It was Teflon’s turn to smile.
Hearing those words coming from Rich were always comforting to her. Whenever he addressed her as daughter-in-law, it always caused her to think about Treacherous and how legally she would have been Rich’s daughter-in-law had his son still been alive. She reflected back on the first time she and Rich had spoken on the phone. She couldn’t believe her ears. Had she not known better she would have sworn that it was Treacherous she was actually speaking with. Their voices were almost identical, sharing the same baritone but raspy voice. It took some getting used to for her in the beginning. Talking to Rich was very emotional for Teflon at first. It was if Treacherous had been reincarnated, but after awhile she began to notice the difference. Where Rich’s voice became subtle, at times Treacherous had always remained hard even in the midst of expressing himself. Both men spoke with conviction and passion, but Rich’s words were those of a much wiser man with an older soul. His experience in life revealed itself in their conversations. Every so often, Rich would say something that sounded as if he were quoting Treacherous verbatim over the phone.
“So how’s your writing coming along?” Rich asked, bringing Teflon back to the present.
“It’s been a minute since you sent me something don’t tell me you’re slacking up in there,” he joked.
“Never that,” she replied back.
“I got something for you. You know I couldn’t send you those last chapters,” she added, referring to the intimate scenes she’d written about her and Treacherous.
“I understand. So when can I expect the new material? I started reading some of those street lit books just to compare to your work and you’re just as good, if not better, than some of these authors out here,” Rich complimented.
“Why you comparing me to them? I’m not trying to be no author. They ain’t no different than rappers. Most of what they write either somebody told them or they was on the porch watching. They don’t come from where we do. Seriously, I’m not impressed with that street lit shit,” Teflon said.
“This story is for me, your grandson, and for you, nobody else. This is my life—our life. They talk it, we lived it,” Teflon chimed.
“Relax, daughter-in-law,” an understanding Rich replied. “No one’s trying to turn you into an author. I was just letting you know how good I thought your work was,” he added in attempts to calm Teflon. “You got skills that’s all.”
His reply had accomplished his intent.
“Thanks, ol’ man,” a more calm Teflon cooed, embracing Rich’s compliment.
“And my bad,” she then said.
“For what?”
“For basing at you.”
“Is that what you were doing?” Rich made light of the situation.
“Not intentionally,” Teflon answered.
“Sounded kinda soft to me.”
“Whateva, ol’ man. Ain’t nuthin’ soft about me. You’re the one getting soft in your old age,” she quickly shot back at Rich. The two of them both shared a laugh, and then a sudden silence filled the air.
“I miss him,” Teflon said, breaking the silence.
“Me too, baby girl,” Rich joined.
“Ha.” she chuckled. “He used to call me that sometimes. You sounded just like him. And the funny thing is I never used to like it or that boo stuff, which he always called me, but I never told him that, I knew he meant it out of love but I just loved the way it sounded when he called me babe or just Tef. His voice was so raspy that when he called my name it sounded like he was calling me tough. Damn I miss his ass.”
Her voice faded as her emotions began to well up. Rich smiled. He could hear the love in Teflon’s tone as she spoke about his deceased son. The strength of their bond and love was obvious, even to a blind man. Whenever Teflon spoke of Treacherous, just as he reminded her of his son, she reminded Rich of Teresa. “You sound like his mother sometimes to me.” Rich stated. “Not your voice, but the love in it whenever you speak about my son. Teresa use to worship the ground I walked on and loved me more than the word itself. At first, I used to think it was because I had been there for her when she needed someone to be there the most, but it was more than that, it ran deeper. I never told you the story of how she and I had met. Hell, I never even told my son, but without going into depth over the phone, she had proven to be my rider from day one and ’til the day she breathed her last breath. All the way up until the day my son was born that’s all she had ever been,” Rich ended.
It was difficult to relive the past concerning Teresa. His only memories of a woman or love for that matter, aside from his time with Treacherous, were only of Teresa. Back then, he knew he was not in touch with his inner feelings nor was he an expressive man. It wasn’t until he had gone to prison that he’d discovered how painful love could be and how he had deprived himself of the beauty and luxuries of it. Where he was once emotionless, while in prison his emotions enhanced, allowing him to feel for the first time. He couldn’t help but to think about the time Treacherous had come to visit him for the first and ultimately the last time while he was in prison. It was because he had raised Treacherous to show no sign of emotions that when he himself showed them, his son had taken it as a sign of weakness, something that as foreign to him coming from his father and caused him to cut off all contact with him. That day Rich had never felt pain of that degree and capacity before he recalled it was a feeling that had haunted and continued to haunt him to this very day.
“Shit, look at us.” Rich laughed, pulling himself back together after his emotional trip down memory lane.
“I know, right,” Teflon agreed. “But we can’t help who we love, though.”
“I know that’s right.”
“Anyway, I finally found a lawyer to take your case,” Rich changed the subject.
Teflon did not respond. Rich knew she had practically given up hope on coming home, but he was determined to try with all his being. He had seen some of the most airtight-seeming convictions get reversed, so he knew anything was possible when dealing with the judicial system.
“He said you have some good arguments,” he continued. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Have you found out anything about your grandson yet?” It was Teflon who now switched the subject.
“Still working on it,” was all Rich offered.
“You have one minute remaining,” the automated voice system interrupted.
“Okay. I’m gonna go, but I enjoyed talking to you as always, love is love,” Teflon said, wrapping up their call.
Like always whenever he heard her speak the familiar words he grew silent. “Me too,” he then replied, clearing his throat. “Make sure you send me those pages, I need something to read.”
“I got you as soon as I reread it.”
“Okay ’til the next hold ya head and stay a rider.”
&
nbsp; “Always, you too.”
Chapter 15
“Breaking news, just in, police have arrested two Newport News men in connection to yet another bank robbery in the downtown area of Richmond after a gun battle erupted between five men and authorities. Two of the suspects were pronounced dead on the scene while police are in search of the fifth member of the attempted heist getaway, who sources are saying may have fled the scene of the crime with an estimated amount of a hundred-thousand dollars. The five men were believed to have retrieved over a half a million dollars during the robbery. Our sources also tell us that the suspects were ranging from ages of twenty-three to twenty-seven, heavily armed and dangerous. At least three of the men, including one of the deceased, had criminal records and the two captured and two deceased all bore gang-affiliated tattoos. Although police have not confirmed, sources are saying this may very well have been another case of an initiations into one of the surrounding gangs that continue to sweep the Virginia area.”
“Little dumb asses.” Rich shook his head in disgust as he watched the 32-inch television. Since he had been home not a day had gone by on the news that something about banks or gangs flashed across the screen. Ever since he had witnessed his son’s demise on television while he was still incarcerated and because gangs didn’t exist in his day, the reports left a bad taste in his mouth. Based on what Teflon had shared with him of her and his son’s last caper, Rich believed that Treacherous had actually sat down and tried to plan a foolproof job despite the final outcome, but did not believe the recent bank robberies he heard about on the news had been thoroughly thought out. Rich felt himself to be one of Virginia’s most notorious ex-robbers. He had caught some of the best of them slipping in the game and had pulled off some of VA’s most talked-about and unsolved capers in history. Rich shook his head, grinned at the thought as he reflected back on one of his most infamous, and thought to be impossible heists in his robbery career that he knew he’d take to his grave.
Leslie Tyler, aka Big Les, cautiously turned onto the street he routinely turned onto every Thursday night, this time in his cram Mark V with the plush eggshell-white leather interior and whitewall tires to match. He owned a fleet of Caddies, from Fleetwoods to Devilles, compliments of the numbers and dope houses he had spread throughout the city of Portsmouth. Out of force of habit, he adjusted his rearview mirror as he checked to see if he was possibly being followed. This was what he was accustomed to doing ever since his spot on Harrison Street became his number-one cash cow–house. Being a naturally paranoid man himself, combined with the cocaine he snorted, Big Les was always careful when he was visiting the particular house. Each week for the past three months he made it a point to switch up the vehicles he used to pick up deliveries, taking back streets and circling the surrounding area three to four times before actually considering going to his moneymaking spot.
Convinced the coast was clear, Big Les cruised up the street toward the house. Once he had arrived, he pulled into the driveway of a beige and brown three-family house. To someone looking from the outside, one would assume that the home appeared to be a nice place to live, but behind closed doors, they could have never imagined another world existed. A world of negativity.
Big Les shut off the lights on the Mark V and continued to drive toward the back part of the house. He then killed the car’s engine. Before exiting, he raised the medallion, which hung from his gold Italian link chain and twisted it slightly to the side, exposing the white powdered substance it possessed. Big Les then took his pinky fingernail and scooped the cocaine up. He sniffed half the powder up one nostril, then repeated the act with the other. Again, he checked his rearview mirror. Noticing he had white powder residue in the creases of his nostrils, Big Les wiped his nose with his fingers. The cocaine began to take an immediate effect on him. He wiped the residue from his fingers onto the gums of his mouth, instantly numbing them. He took a piece of spearmint out of the wrapper he had taken out of his inside blazer and popped it in his mouth. He then reached over to the glove compartment, unlocked it, and snatched up the .38 police special he concealed and shoved it into his belt. Looking around inside his car for nothing in particular, once he felt he had everything, Big Les opened the car door and got out. Normally when he visited the other houses, he’d conceal his weapon by buttoning his blazer, but in his main house recently Big Les had been keeping it out in the open as a form of intimidation toward his workers. They were pulling in too much money for him and instilling fear in them was the only way Big Les felt he could prevent any of them from crossing him or trying to rob him. The cocaine now in full effect, Big Les felt like King Kong ready to take on Godzilla.
He took one last look over in the reflection of the Mark V’s window. He was a neat freak and the drug had him thinking that something was out of place. He began to brush himself off with his hands, starting with his shoulders, down to the legs of his pants. When he came back up, that’s when he saw what was really out of place in the reflection of the car window. He wanted to react, but his reflexes failed him.
“Don’t be stupid, hero,” Rich warned him, disarming him of the pistol in his waistband.
“This is some kind of joke, right?” Big Les laughed.
“You’re the only joke, Les,” Rich retorted.
Hearing his name did something to Big Les. Between the cocaine in his system and his big ego he was not in the least bit afraid.
“Nigga, you know who I am and you still got the nerve to pull this shit. You must be suicidal.”
“Whateva you say,” Rich said before punching Big Les in the back with the pair of brass knuckles he had on his left hand.
Big Les went crashing to the ground on one knee. He looked up just in time to see the masked gunman delivering a blow with the brass knuckles aimed at his jawline. Rich heard the sounds of teeth cracking as the punch landed on the side of Big Les’s face. Rich went to deliver another blow, only to be stopped by the wave of Big Les’s hand.
“You got my man. Whatever you want,” he surrendered through a bloodied mouth. Big Les was leaking like a faucet. Rich knew he had broken the big man down.
“This is what I want you to do,” Rich started out.
Once Rich filled Big Les in on what was expected of him he escorted him up to the stash house.
“Who?” Tiny asked, recognizing the secret knock.
“Who you?” was Big Les’s response. This was the secret answer to the question he asked his workers. Under any other circumstances he would have made an attempt to alarm Tiny, who stood on the other side of the door with a doubled-barrel sawed-off shotgun, but he couldn’t take the chance of getting hit in the process or furthermore being killed by the gunman standing on the side of him. Tiny began unlocking the four bolts on the stash house’s steel door. When he opened it up he was met with a revolver pointed at his head. “Easy, big man, don’t be a hero. It’s not your money,” Rich said in a low tone, disarming him of the sawed-off. He noticed how big the man was and knew he’d have to take his life fast if he even blinked too many times.
“Do as he says, Tiny,” Big Les instructed. Tiny saw the damage done to Big Les’s face and knew the man with the gun pointed at him meant business. He did as he was told. Rich couldn’t help but laugh to himself at the big man’s monarch. “Here, tie him up,” Rich told Big Les, handing him the duct tape. “And cover his mouth too.”
Once that was done Rich stuffed the big man into a corner out of plain view.
“Hey boss,” the worker posted up by the door greeted. He didn’t even notice the bruises on Big Les’s face due to the dimness of the hallway.
“What’s happenin’ Major?”
He never got to answer nor did he see Rich come up from his blind side.
“I’ma tell you like I told ya boy Tiny, be easy and don’t be a hero. It’s not your money,” Rich repeated, putting the barrel of his gun to the man’s temple.
Without realizing it Major’s beige Swedish knit pants became soiled with urine.
“You got it, blood.” Major threw his hands up. Big Les couldn’t believe he had such a coward in his camp.
“You know the drill,” Rich said to Big Les. He performed the same treatment on Major that he had Tiny.
Once Rich secured Major he instructed Big Les to open the door. He had already given him the layout and what to expect on the other side and Rich was prepared. If anything looked any different then what was told to him, Rich had already made up his mind that Big Les would be the first to die. When the door opened all Big Les’s workers were surprised to see him. They were even more surprised when they saw Rich appear. Some were off to the right playing a game of spades while exchanging sticks of weed and sipping on beer and liquor, while one man and two women, all three in the nude with face masks, were off to the left in the kitchen area bottling up product. Two men were sitting on an old sofa directly in front, counting stacks of money with two guns and a bunch of rubber bands on the table and duffel bags beside them. Before anyone had time to react Rich sprung into action.
Carl Weber Presents Ride or Die Chick 2 Page 11