by Aija Monique
Phil backed up and retreated out the front door. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, honey,” he commented as he made his way out to smoke a cigarette on the porch. He was anxious to see Cyrus, since he seemed to be the only one left in the group who had any sense.
* * *
Cyrus bounced to the van parked a few blocks down the way from his home. He had to meet with his partner to have his wire put into his watch and make sure it was working properly. His stomach hurt as the anxiety of bringing down two of his best friends became a reality.
“You good?” Cyrus’s partner looked at him to make sure his head was in the game.
“As ready as can be expected. My ribs are killing me.”
“You take any meds?”
“Yup! Just not trying to get caught slippin’, you know? I don’t want to get too drowsy.”
“Well, take a nap on the way. You trust these cats, don’t you?” The agent lowered his eyes at Cyrus as if to get a glimpse into perhaps some deeper issues Cyrus may have harbored about going through with the takedown.
“What is that supposed to mean exactly? Never mind, I ain’t got time for this bullshit. Test this fuckin’ watch so I can go.” Cyrus’s hood mentality always seeped into his presence. He couldn’t control it, nor did he want to.
Cyrus made sure all of his equipment worked before leaving to go meet his boys. He made the trip with ease. Phil was sitting out on the porch with a look of irritation wrapped around his face.
“What’s up wit’ you, ma nigga?” Cyrus greeted Phil as he bounced out of his car with as much swag as he could muster with two broken ribs.
“Ya boy!” Phil said simply and went back to his second cigarette.
“Oh boy! Well, we got shit to do. So let’s get it. We don’t have time to be worried about no bullshit. At least not today.” He knew the game, and he knew the consequences. He was ready for the showdown with Phil. Though he didn’t want to be the one to take him down, he knew it would be a situation where it was him or Phil. Cyrus’s choice to become a cop was easy. After his mother was killed by a mugger when he was away in college, he trained harder than anyone in his class at the academy. He had remained off the grid. He hadn’t returned home. He couldn’t stomach a funeral. His focus became clear, and Los Angeles seemed like the place where he could take down some bad guys with little guilt in just how hard he came down on them. He wanted to tell Shun and Phil about his new job description, but once he got back to Kern County, the job turned to other avenues, going undercover to try to stop Tommy’s illegal gambling fucked him up. He fell prey. It was just one shit storm after another. With so much going on it, was hard to choose a time, and right now would be the worst.
* * *
Frankie pulled up loud as ever, bumpin’ some Iranian rap CD he got from some young cats handing out their underground music in front of the local Walmart.
“Man, turn that raggedy shit down,” Cyrus said as Frankie pulled up close to the back of his whip.
“Man, you a hater!” Frankie said as he continued to walk up the pathway. “Where that nigga Shun at?”
“He in the house with his wifey cupcakin’ like we ain’t got nowhere to go.”
“Man, shut that shit up!” Shun said as he appeared at the door. Phil hadn’t taken notice of Shun’s presence. “Let’s go, we got a long drive.”
Shun retreated back into the home to say his good-byes to Sophia before hitting the road. He was worried about leaving her alone, but he had to do what he had to do. Sophia assured Shun that she would be fine. It gave him a small window of release from his stress. But not enough to put his mind at complete ease.
Frankie and the boys jumped into Shun’s SUV, and they headed out. Phil said a small prayer as they hit the highway.
* * *
The Los Angeles city limits couldn’t have arrived any sooner. Frankie had talked the three of them into near points of vomiting. Phil had told Frankie to shut up more than a few dozen times, and Cyrus had even threatened to resort to physical violence. Cyrus was overly emotional, and Shun was beginning to take notice. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was bothering him. Cyrus was checking his watch every five seconds as if he was waiting for something to happen.
Phil was too busy trying to educate Frankie on the ins and outs of weighing and bagging weed to take full notice of the sweat beads erupting on Cyrus’s brow.
“You good?” Shun questioned Cyrus with a look of worry in his eyes. Cyrus felt instantly guilty for all that was about to transpire once the money exchanged hands.
Shun kept watch on Cyrus as he pulled into the gas station. He asked that Cyrus join him in the convenience store. He wanted help carrying a few snacks back to the car.
“I know!” Shun started in with Cyrus.
“You know what?” Cyrus asked, afraid to hear the answer to Shun’s statement.
“I know what’s up with you. You feeling guilty about what went down wit’ Brandy. I can understand that. I know how strongly Phil feels about you. In the meantime, I’ma need you to pull yourself together. That man needs us. We need to make sure we are on point. You got me?”
Cyrus sighed hard. He was relieved. Hell, he thought Shun had made him. “Yeah, I got you. You right. I am worried like a mug. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“You know, if you had been up-front with us and told us what the deal was, we could have helped.”
“Yeah! Didn’t think I had a real problem, though, you feel me?” Cyrus said solemnly.
Shun pulled into the gates of an extravagant mansion just off the Santa Monica Pier. Frankie was joking about getting a few drinks and laying it down on one of the beaches, while Phil, Shun, and Cyrus concentrated on the armed security. The two Hispanics they met at the warehouse greeted them at the second checkpoint just after the gate.
Shun and the boys got out of the car and followed their guides down to the front entrance of the home. Shun and Phil were anxious to make the trade and get the hell out of Dodge. They had bigger things to take care of.
“So is everything ready to go?” Shun questioned.
“Yeah, we really gotta get back,” Cyrus added. He was fidgety, which was making the two Mexican traders a bit cautious about doing the trade. Shun noticed his hands moving over his watch as well. He quickly tapped Cyrus on his shoulder.
Shun didn’t say a word; he just warned him with his eyes that he was looking suspect. Cyrus then turned to him and told him that they needed to go. Shun held a puzzled look on his face.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s a trap!” Cyrus raised his eyebrow and pointed at the two men that were standing at the end of the hall toward the entrance. “Let’s get everything and get the hell out of here.” Cyrus had clearly lost his mind. Four men against at least the twenty he counted, and two of his party were injured. Shun looked Cyrus deep into his eyes and could tell that he was serious as shit about getting out of there.
Shun wanted an explanation, but there was no way he was going to be pussyfooting around asking dumb questions when he knew their lives may be in danger. Phil was engaging in conversation with the traders. It made for a good cover-up from the slight mishap Cyrus and Shun had.
“Follow me!” one of the Mexican guides told them. “I have everything prepared for you.”
“Great!” Phil said, rubbing his hands together. Frankie wasn’t far behind, commenting on how phat the home was.
Shun, Cyrus, and Phil made the exchange with ease. It was then that Cyrus was supposed to call the dogs in to take down the entire camp. Instead, Cyrus asked for the truck that was for transporting the drugs and followed the men out back, leaving the special agents waiting at the front gate for his signal.
Shun hurriedly put all of the drugs and money into the car and gave the Mexicans a wave. Cyrus hopped in just as the rest of the crew did. “Drive!” Cyrus commanded.
Shun drove in silence for about forty-five minutes, then decided he couldn
’t take it any longer. He pulled over to the side of the road and demanded that Cyrus get his ass out of the car. Phil and Frankie were dumbfounded by Shun’s actions.
“You good, nigga?” Shun asked aggressively. “Yo’ ass been actin’ weird all day. I don’t want to drive another minute if we aren’t on the same page.”
Cyrus lowered his eyes and leaned into Shun’s space. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he said through clenched teeth, pushing past Shun.
Phil fell out of the truck with ease and nearly hit his leg on the front end of the truck trying to get his hands on Shun. “What the fuck is your problem, Shun? We don’t have time for pit stops.”
“Phil, shut the fuck up! This ain’t about you right now.” Shun then directed his attention to Cyrus. “What the fuck is up, ma nigga? You need to let us know what’s going on right now.”
Frankie started to get antsy. “We can’t talk and drive? We got drugs, yo! A load of cash, and some very dangerous men waiting on a package. You think we can wrap this little fight up? It’s plenty of pussy, boys, and when we get our cuts of this doe, we’re going to be swimming in it.”
“I’m not going no-fucking-where until I find out why and how Cyrus knew that we were going to be set up at this exchange.”
“Set up?” Phil questioned, as he eyed Cyrus. “What the fuck is he talking about, Cyrus?”
“Look, this ain’t the time or place.”
Phil drew his weapon almost immediately when he was met with a blank answer. “Oh, I think it’s the perfect time and place. Shun felt the need to stop and ask questions. I say we shoot and just keep it movin’. Come to think of it, you been either acting weird or MIA for quite some time now. Explain!
“Whoa whoa whoa! Look, we don’t have the time for this, my African American, overly dramatic friends. We have got to get the hell out of Dodge, no matter the situation. We are out on the road, my ninjas. With a boatload of drugs and money, need I say more? I wasn’t planning on getting my ass blown off today. So far, it’s been a good trip. Whatever the matter, we need to take care of this in Kern County—after we settle the trades.”
Shun looked at Cyrus with an evil eye. “I would have to agree.” Shun didn’t say another word. He just hopped into the front seat and waited for the rest of his party to join him. Phil’s wheels were turning now that Shun decided to make light of Cyrus’s funny behavior.
* * *
“Theresa, you’re on,” a man on the other end of the phone instructed. Theresa’s job was easy. Lay up with Frankie to find out where the drugs and loot would be exchanged and lead her men there. She didn’t want to do too much of anything else. She was an undercover informant for Tommy, that was all.
“Yeah!” Theresa said and hung up the phone with a huge sigh. She then put in a phone call to Frankie. She wanted to find out what he wanted for dinner. Of course, he didn’t answer her voice call, but he responded almost immediately to her text. He made sure to let her know that he was on his way back from his business trip. He was exhausted, but he could eat.
Theresa made her plan of action from there. She called Tommy to let him know that the exchange was going down in just a few hours. Tommy was planning on stealing all the money and drugs and expanding his drug cartel and gambling casino. He wasn’t a drug dealer; he was a man of business, and seizing both the money and drugs was a golden opportunity.
* * *
The men pulled into the warehouse to check out their come up. Frankie was rubbing his hands together, skinning and grinning. His excitement was beginning to get on Shun’s nerves.
“How long before the drop?” Shun asked.
“Just a few hours. You rollin’, right?” Frankie asked. He wanted to make sure Phil and Cyrus knew they weren’t invited. The Italian mob had no history with the other two tagalongs, and he didn’t want any confusion.
“Yeah, I’m good to go. Cyrus! You?” Shun looked at him with a look of distrust. He didn’t want Cyrus out of his sight. His plan was to cut the money up and take his cut back to his place. Leave his money in a safe place before the exchange.
“Yeah, let’s get to counting,” Phil said.
Frankie grabbed his three bags of cash and bounced. He wanted to get back to his place, take a shower, and meet up with Shun in about an hour or so. Shun told him to be careful and meet them back at the spot.
* * *
Theresa took a long shower as she waited for Frankie to return home. She phoned Tommy to let him know that Frankie was back in town.
It wasn’t long after Theresa bounced out of the shower that she heard Frankie come in. She had taken her time smoothing her body with lotion to make sure she set the scene. Frankie looked dog-tired as he heaved in three duffle bags of money. Theresa was confused.
“Babe, where’s the rest of the cash? I thought you were getting a shitload of money and drugs.” Theresa smiled lightly to cover up her worry.
“We did! This is my cut. We have to drop off the rest in a few hours. I just wanted to come home and shower.” Frankie noticed a sense of worry as he looked into her eyes.
Theresa scratched her forehead. She was nervous. Tommy was going to kill her. She had fucked up big time.
“Where’s the money, Frankie? The rest of it?” Theresa said as she pulled her gun and badge from a small seam in her panties at the small of her back. “Look, just do as I say, and I can possibly cut you a deal with the DA’s office.” Theresa was playing both Tommy and Frankie. Getting close to Tommy’s gullible nephew Frankie was easy. Tommy used Theresa to get close to Frankie to keep tabs on him. He could trust Frankie to handle business, but at times, he could be reckless. Tommy thought that perhaps some pussy would calm him down. When Tommy sent Frankie for the drop, he trusted Frankie to bring to him what was rightfully his. Now, with Theresa showing her true colors, Tommy was sure to blow a gasket.
Frankie looked on as if he was in a fucking movie. He couldn’t believe this bitch. He couldn’t call for help or warn his boys. Frankie could hear the sirens coming down the road.
“Look, we don’t want you or the rest of your crew. I’m undercover. I’ve been working to get Tommy for about six months now. He thinks I’m his girlfriend. I was supposed to set you and the boys up so he could rob you all for the loot. We were going to swarm his ass and take him down. This little bit of cash won’t hold ’im. When my partner comes, we’re going to arrest you, but you won’t do much time for this. I don’t have you on anything else.”
Theresa’s mouth was moving, but Frankie couldn’t hear much of the words coming out of it. He was disgusted at how he’d allowed himself to be played. He just sat down on the bed and put his hands out in front of him. “Just take me in” were his only words.
* * *
“Why are we still here in California?” Phil asked as he was counting with Cyrus and Shun.
“What!” Shun said disgusted.
“Haven’t we been through enough? You want the mob to come for us too? Right now, we have the chance to pay our debts and get the hell out of Dodge.”
“The mob not gon’ let us just walk in and out of their lair without us paying restitution,” Cyrus interjected sarcastically. “You don’t find the shit strange that Frankie just dipped?”
“No, Cyrus, I don’t. Seeing since he said he would meet us here,” Shun responded.
“All I’m saying is that I don’t trust the situation at this point. So fuck what y’all talkin’. I just want me and my son to get out of this country in its entirety.”
“So what you sayin’ is that we just steal the entire bid and dip? What about Frankie? We just leave him to face Tommy and the mob alone?”
“Shun, how do we know that man ain’t did the same to us?” Phil responded.
“Fuck this! I’m gettin’ ready to call this man right now. He’ll answer and set this shit straight.”
Cyrus shook his head. He wasn’t certain of anything anymore. The only thing he knew for certain was that he had just lost his job, so it didn’t matter how
shit went down at this point anymore. He was supposed to book Shun, Phil, and Frankie at the trade and bring them in then. Only, Cyrus needed the money as well. He had no choice but to roll with Shun. He was a criminal now. An agent gone rogue, and he had everything to lose. His most important assets, his wife and child. “Let’s just take this money and split,” Cyrus blurted.
Shun looked into space. “First things first. I gotta get Sophia, and we have to pick up Phil’s son.”
“I agree!” Phil said.
“Agreed,” Cyrus finalized.
* * *
Frankie’s phone was ringing off the hook—only he was being transported to the county jail. Theresa held the phone as she thought about how she was going to tell Tommy what went down. She waited until the police were gone to call Tommy to come over. She forwarded Frankie’s calls to voice mail and kept her cool as she waited for Tommy to pull up. She was back into character and ready to spill the beans about Frankie coming back home with only two duffle bags. Her story meshed well with his plans, which were to come home, shower, and meet with his Italian mob connection.
Tommy pulled up with one of his handlers, excited to see how much money he had acquired. “Hey, sweetie, where’s the money?”
“There isn’t much. Probably $125,000, at the most. Plans changed. Frankie came home with only his cut. He said something about having to meet up with his boys to make the drop together.” Police show up, both Frankie and Tommy go down, Theresa thought as she stared at Tommy testing the waters as she challenged him on his concern for his nephew.
Tommy was calm at first but was growing increasingly upset as he listened to Theresa’s story. “Theresa, baby, where’s the drop location?”
Theresa looked worried that Tommy was getting impatient with her. He was always so tense when it came to money. “I . . . I don’t know, baby.”
Tommy cocked back his hand and smacked her dead across her mouth. Theresa panicked, fell over a bit, and cried out, shocked that Tommy had struck her. She was hysterical.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Tommy coached Theresa as he held her head in his hands. “It’s okay, baby,” he said once more—before hitting her again, this time with a closed fist. Theresa just slumped over.