Push Comes to Shove

by Oasis

“At this stage of the game, that isn’t a factor. This falls under the categories of business and my favorite—self-preservation.”

  He placed the tray of food between them. “You should eat something.” He lifted the lid to each dish as he called it out. “An omelet with cheese…buttermilk biscuits…turkey bacon—bet you didn’t think I would remember that. And for the main dish.” He lifted the stainless-steel lid to reveal a cell phone. “Call GP. I want my fucking cash or you won’t be the only Patterson to die.”

  “Homeboy, fuck this shit.” Jewels yawned. “We’ve been out here all night, like we were hustling crack on the block. Motherfuckers are on their way to work. Let’s go check out the new apartment, the group home, and my crib again. If she still hasn’t shown her face, then it’s time you file a missing person report.”

  The pay phone rang.

  GP was overwhelmed with an instant sickness. He let the phone ring twice before bracing himself and easing the receiver to his ear. “Hello.”

  “Missing something?”

  His heart dropped. He began to shake as if he had Parkinson’s disease. “Squeeze, where is Kitchie?” His words were slow and deliberate.

  “She’s in real good hands.” Squeeze looked at Kitchie, who had Hector’s huge hand clamped around her mouth. “Where the fuck is my cash?”

  “Let me speak to my wife.”

  “Business first; play later.”

  Jewels was pacing, driving a fist into the palm of a hand.

  “I just gave you twenty grand. I—”

  “You thought I wouldn’t find out it was counterfeit? You tried to play me; I did you a fucking favor. Your games is gonna cost you more than you’re willing to lose.” He winked at Kitchie.

  “I don’t know anything about counterfeit money.” GP’s nerves were blowing fuses by the dozens.

  “Too bad you don’t. This phone will ring again tomorrow evening at six. Have two hundred thousand cash or you’ll never see this pretty bitch again.”

  “I’ll have it. Please just let me hear her voice.”

  Squeeze put the phone to her ear and Hector removed his hand.

  “He’s gonna kill me, GP.” Her voice had been stripped of its fire and strength.

  “That’s enough.” Squeeze disconnected the call.

  “Kitchie!” The phone went dead. GP tapped it against his palm, then stuck it to his ear again. “Kitchie!” This time there was a dial tone.

  Jewels watched a single tear roll down his face. “Well, what’s going on?”

  “That money you got from Conrad was fake. Squeeze wants two hundred grand by six tomorrow evening or he’s gonna kill Kitchie.”

  She sighed as grief overcame her. “He kidnapped her; he’s gonna kill her whether he gets the money or not. There’s no doubt about it.”

  “I’m not gonna risk not trying. There’s always that chance.”

  “I say we kill him first.”

  “We’ll have to find him, which we don’t have the time to risk. Six o’clock tomorrow will be here in seconds.”

  “I know a couple of home invasions we can do, but I don’t know if we’ll come off with that type of money. Homeboy, it’s your call. What you wanna do?”

  “If something is wrong, Jewels, and I have the ability to take action, then I will. I gotta do what I gotta do,” GP said with conviction. “When push comes to shove, I steal. I know where we can get all the money in one shot.” He strolled a few feet away and held the door of the costume shop open. “I got an idea. You down?”

  Squeeze turned the phone’s power off. “Hector, give us some privacy.”

  Within seconds Hector was gone.

  Squeeze shoved Kitchie on the bed and pounced on top of her, pinning her beneath his weight.

  “Get the hell off me! Fucker!” She struggled beneath him. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Should’ve gave me this pussy a long time ago.” He freed her supple breasts from her blouse with one tug. He fumbled with the fastening of her hip-hugger jeans.

  “Squeeze…you…bastard.” She bit his chest and drove her tiny fists into his solid back.

  He yanked her jeans and thong past her hips. “I wouldn’t like it if you didn’t make it rough, challenging.”

  She kicked but to no avail. “Fuck you, you foul bastard.” She clawed at his face, then spit. “Take it, then. Take the AIDS that comes with it.”

  He laughed. “You’re lying. You don’t sound convincing. Long as I’ve been trying to get in your panties, I wouldn’t stop anyway.”

  She struggled.

  He used his foot to push her jeans and thong down to her ankles. “This is all the fight you got in you. Fight me, dammit. Resist me!” He clamped a hand around her neck while undoing his own pants. “I finally get to see if it’s as tight as I thought.”

  “Please get off of me.”

  Her punches were equivalent to mosquito bites.

  “Don’t do this to me.”

  His laugh is sickening, she thought.

  “That’s it, Kitchie. Fight me harder. Make me come back for seconds.” He pried her legs open with his.

  Tears ran into her ears. She was becoming exhausted.

  “Don’t give up so easy.” He held his penis and pointed it at home base. “Make it fun for me.”

  She twisted and turned beneath him, exerting the remainder of her energy. Bile formed in her throat when she felt his penis push into her vulva halves. “No! Please, God, don’t let this happen to me.”

  The forensic lab was a little colder than normal. Crutchfield walked up to Ford at a computer workstation. “You got me here; this had better be good.”

  “Take a look.” He turned the screen in Crutchfield’s direction.

  Crutchfield leaned in to study the screen. “It’s a bunch of lines on a layout of the city.”

  “The lines you see are of the route the watch traveled on April third.”

  “The day Jap Silex was last seen.”

  “Correct.” Ford poked his ink pen at the screen. “This is the starting point from which the watch began recording its course.”

  “Can you narrow the starting point down to an address?”

  “GPS narrows things down to inches.” Ford pointed to a pocket folder. “I already took it upon myself to do so.” He traced the lines on the computer. “It started here, stopped here, and this is where the watch is now. Whether there’s an arm attached to it is something you’ll have to figure out.”

  Crutchfield opened the folder. The starting point address corresponded with the high-rise Squeeze lived in. The second address was situated in a rural area just outside of the city limits. The watch was signaling from the same general area that they had unearthed Hector’s goldfish, Pablo.

  “I swear, if I didn’t know that you were under all that plastic and makeup, I wouldn’t recognize you.” GP looked at Jewels’s reflection in a seven-foot mirror.

  “I’m not with all this dress-up bullshit, homeboy. Let’s just rob the place and get it over with.”

  “No guns. I mean it. We don’t want this to come back and haunt us. The disguises stay.” He spun around with his arms out. “How do I look?”

  “Old. Like you’re about to die any minute.”

  “Good. We’ll use these hookups to get the money.” He pulled out a ski mask and two automatic-styled water guns from a paper bag. “We’ll use this stuff to pull off the first part of the plan. Where’s the camera?”

  “Right there.” She pointed to a nylon case that sat on the shelf of her closet.

  “Take it down. Make sure it works.”

  “GP, this shit better work or we won’t have no other choice but to murder this motherfucker, Squeeze.”

  “It’ll work. I’ll prove it to you first thing in the morning.”

  The camera flashed and the instant film eased out of the front. “You satisfied? Can I take this shit off my face now, old man?”

  Crime scene investigators hoisted Jap’s remains from a shallow g
rave. Crutchfield and Detective Thomas watched as a technician placed a piece of gum in an evidence bag.

  Thomas thumped the butt of his Marlboro. “Whose DNA you think we’ll find on the gum?”

  “Hector’s. Put out an APB on him and Squeeze.” Crutchfield ducked under the yellow crime-scene tape. “If Johnnie Cochran were alive, not even he could beat this case.” He moved toward his car.

  Thomas was still standing on the opposite side of the tape. “Hey, Crutchfield, where are you going? We have a lot of work to do yet.”

  “To break the news to Miles. This is the part of the job that separates the men from the little girls.”

  After a thoughtful sigh, Thomas ducked under the tape. “Wait up.”

  The last week of school had finally arrived. The children were waiting at the bus stop, at 6:45 a.m., ready to be hauled away for the day. Tameka and Kesha Stevens did what they do best—brag and hurt feelings.

  “I hope you don’t come back to school…Put it this way,” Kesha said, “when school starts over, your wardrobe does, too.”

  “Everybody ain’t got it like y’all,” a girl wearing last year’s jeans said, with her shoulders hunched and head hung low.

  “I know that’s right.” Tameka slapped hands with her sister.

  “That’s right, bow down to the divas that’s much greater than you.”

  Everybody laughed, some because they found humor in the sisters, others because they didn’t want to be on display next.

  GP and Jewels rounded the corner.

  “Excuse me.” GP interrupted the laughter and walked toward the children, his hands in the pockets of his jeans, carrying a leather book bag. “We’re A & R’s for Ghet-O-Vision, and I’m looking for two volunteers who wants to make twenty dollars apiece.”

  Tameka sucked her teeth. “Twenty dollars ain’t money in my book.”

  “We just want to take one picture.” Jewels paused as she exchanged glances with seven children. “Y’all know who Ray Cash is, right?”

  “’Cause I’m a pimp in my own mind,” Kesha sang out and did some sort of dance. “You better know we know who he is.”

  “The picture is for him.” GP blinked. “If he likes it, there’s a good possibility he’ll choose you to play a part in his new video.”

  Kesha put hands on what she thought were hips. “Twenty dollars is cheap for me and my sister. We’ve been in a video before. You’re paying for experience.”

  Another little girl pulled on Kesha. “They’re strangers. You shouldn’t be talking to them.”

  “Shut up, Carinne!” Tameka and Kesha said in unison.

  “Tell you what.” Jewels started counting out money. “Since you have some experience, we’ll give you and your sister thirty apiece. Or we’ll just pick someone else.”

  “Look at it this way, even if Ray Cash don’t pick us, you’re getting your money’s worth.” Tameka held her hand out.

  You damn right, GP thought as Jewels handed over the money.

  “We’re not going anywhere.” Kesha rolled her eyes.

  “Nah, that’s cool. We’re gonna take it right here.” Jewels retrieved the camera from GP’s bag. “Don’t trip and start running, I’m about to pull out two water guns.”

  “Shoot, I thought she was about to say a snake or some crazy shit like that.” Kesha bit her bottom lip.

  All the children watched as Jewels squirted GP in the face, which gained all of their trust—except Carinne’s.

  “This isn’t right.” Carinne shook her head.

  GP cut his eyes at her while wiping the water away with the ski mask. “Let’s take the photo next to the building.” He walked off and waved Kesha and Tameka over.

  Jewels gave him the water guns before he put the ski mask on.

  “Y’all ready?” He put his arms around both girls’ shoulders, resting the guns across their chests. “Now, y’all have to look real scared.”

  “That’ll cost you a little something extra.” Tameka looked at the masked man. “Like I said, it’ll be worth it.”

  Jewels snapped the picture when the sisters made facial expressions of panic. GP and Jewels strolled away as Jewels pinched the instant film between two gloved fingers.

  Matthew pushed his employer into National City Bank. The wheelchair stopped inches away from a brass name plaque that displayed the words: Aubrey Stevens, President.

  “Thank you, Matthew.” The old man confined to the wheelchair had a violent coughing attack.

  Mathew inserted an inhaler into the old man’s mouth and pumped twice.

  Mr. Stevens turned his PDA off and placed it near the phone. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “He’ll be fine.” Matthew put the inhaler away. “He suffers from black lung; made his fortune in the mines.”

  The old man caught his breath. “They’re beautiful. They yours?” His shaky finger pointed to a picture on the desk.

  Mr. Stevens found himself lost in the images staring out from the picture frame. “Yes, these are my girls. My pride and joy. Wouldn’t trade their bad behinds for the world.”

  “Good, good.”

  Mr. Stevens threaded his fingers and straightened his back. “What can I do for you, Mr. …”

  “I’m Mr. Wagoner.” He coughed in his hand and waved Matthew off when he approached with the inhaler. “I would like to make a large withdrawal.”

  “I’m not familiar with the name.” Mr. Stevens pulled his keyboard to himself. “I’m going to need your first name and account number.”

  “I’m afraid you won’t find any of that in there.”

  “Run that by me again.” Mr. Stevens lifted a brow and dropped his hands into his lap.

  “Put your goddamn hands back on the desktop. Now.” Matthew revealed a gun in a holster beneath his blazer.

  “Thank you for being cooperative. Matthew tends to become quite nasty when he’s upset.” Mr. Wagoner gave Mr. Stevens an envelope. “You’ll find my account number and balance inside. Open the envelope; take out the withdrawal slip; then pass me the envelope back.”

  Mr. Stevens shriveled in the chair and clamped his eyes shut with every intention of forcing the image out. His efforts were fruitless; he could still see the mental version of his terrified daughters in the picture with a gunman.

  “The envelope.” Mr. Wagoner’s hand trembled as he held it out.

  “I beg you not to hurt my children, Mister.”

  “At this moment, Mr. Stevens, the only person who can bring harm to your pride and joy is you.”

  Matthew pulled a leather bag from the pocket on the back of the wheelchair. “If you ever want to see them alive again, you’ll listen to me with careful ears.”

  Mr. Stevens nodded. “Anything.”

  Matthew continued: “Fill the bag with large bills. No dye packs and no electronic tracking. If we’re not at our destination in the next twenty minutes, our friend in the picture will stop Tameka’s and Kesha’s clocks. Are you with me?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Yes, I’m with you.”

  Matthew threw the bag at his chest. “Do you know what will happen if you slip us a tracking device?”

  “I won’t do anything stupid. I’ll do what’s necessary to have my girls returned unharmed.”

  “Good, good.” Mr. Wagoner looked at his watch. “Sixteen minutes left. You don’t have much time to sit here with us.”

  With the bag in tow, Mr. Stevens left his office.

  Jewels looked at GP. “I apologize, homeboy.”

  “For what?” He spun the wheelchair around to face her.

  “I switched the water gun for a real pass out of here if shit don’t go right.” She touched the gun handle and glanced out the door every now and then.

  “Dammit, Jewels, I meant no guns. He’s not gonna buck.”

  “Shut up, old man. If he does, there’s a nine taped to the bottom of your chair for you. No matter what, I’m coming out of this bank.”

  “Jewels, if there is one thing tha
t I know something about for sure, it’s a parent’s love.”

  Mr. Stevens entered the office two minutes and some seconds later.

  Jewels took the bag, gave the money the once-over, and hung it on the back of the wheelchair.

  “Now what?” Mr. Stevens loosened his necktie.

  “Go back to what you were doing.” GP rested on the wheelchair’s arms. “It’s going to be hard, but try to relax. You’ll be contacted when we’re safely away with clean money.”

  Jewels wheeled GP out of the bank as easy as they had come.

  CHAPTER 17

  Two hours of self-inflicted torture was all that Mr. Stevens was capable of enduring. He hit the bank’s silent alarm, then phoned his daughters’ school.

  “Euclid Central.”

  “Uh…this is Aubrey Stevens, Tameka and Kesha Stevens’s father.”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Stevens. What can I do for you today?”

  “Who am I speaking with?” He stared at the two contrasting photos before him, one where his girls were smiling and full of life; the other, well to him, his girls were scared as hell. So was he.

  “Missy Hinton, Vice Principal. Mr. Stevens, you sound upset. Is there something wrong that I should concern myself with?”

  “I’m just notifying you that I’m going to need the names of all children who get picked up at the same bus stop as my daughters in order for the authorities to question them.”

  “Why would the police need to speak with these children?” Missy walked from around her desk to shut her office door.

  “Either it happened when Tameka and Kesha left the house this morning on their way to the bus stop or the incident took place at the stop.” He could hear sirens in the vicinity.

  “When what happened, Mr. Stevens?” She held the phone between her ear and shoulder while removing a pen cap to take notes.

  His voice trembled. “My daughters were kidnapped by…by bank robbers.”

  She dropped the pen onto the desk. She was taken aback by the information given. “Mr. Stevens, there is an assembly taking place as we speak in the auditorium. I just left there; I personally saw Kesha and Tameka with my own eyes.”