by Zaire Crown
It took her fifteen minutes to convince him that all she wanted was another M11, shells, and extra ammo for her Heckler. They came upstairs and concluded their business in his office where she cashed him out to the tune of two grand.
Face offered to knock off a few hundred to play with her feet but Tuesday passed. Her money was straighter than straight now so she didn’t need to do any tricking for a discount.
Tuesday left after parting words but when she stepped outside, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her and had to do a double take. She had parked the Audi only a few feet away from his garage but now it was gone. For a moment Tuesday was dumbstruck; she just stood there rubbing the keys in her hand as if that would make the metallic gray sedan magically reappear.
It didn’t take her long to connect the dots: That text he was supposed to have sent his wife was really him telling one of his workers to bring a tow truck. All that bullshit in the cellar was just about stalling her so they could get the Audi hooked up and hauled away before she got back upstairs.
Tuesday snatched the M11 out her bag and charged back into his office but Face was already expecting this. He was standing behind his desk waiting with a bigger and much more destructive-looking assault rifle.
Tuesday didn’t know what the fuck he was holding but it looked like the type of shit they used over in Iraq to shoot down helicopters. The sight of it stopped her in her tracks and made her forget everything she was about to say.
His voice was calm. “Don’t be stupid, TK, just sit the keys on the desk and leave. Besides, you know I wasn’t stupid enough to hand you a loaded gun.”
Pulling out the clip revealed that it was empty. Tuesday had bought ammo but it did no good still being in the box. She had also bought shells for her pistol, and that was loaded; however, that was in her bag and the beast Face was holding would put a hole in her the size of a dinner plate before she ever got to it.
“So this for us?” she asked with a humorless smile. “After all we done been through—all the years we go back and all the money I done sent yo way—you just gone carjack me, nigga?”
Face wasn’t affected by her bringing up the past. “You still owe me one fifty. I don’t want the club but I’m taking the car to put us back right.”
“Nigga, you already got me for my Caddy, now you want this too! Face, it ain’t even my whip!”
“Then you shouldn’t care,” he said coldly.
Truthfully, she didn’t. Other than having a ride to go deal with Bree and Doll, the car meant nothing to her. It was the $2.75 million in the trunk that she cared about.
Using force had failed in the face of his big-ass gun, and with sympathy not playing either, Tuesday tried to appeal to his reason.
“Look, this don’t make no sense. You gone take the car for a hundred fifty racks when you can get two of them for that price?”
Face skillfully countered her argument by saying: “But you’re not giving me a choice between a hundred fifty racks and the car. I made a choice between the car and The Bounce. And I would rather have that A8 than yo little hole-in-da-wall-ass strip club.
“I don’t need another business to run—shit, I’m busy enough as it is. Plus, the club can’t be doing all that great if you still out here stickin’ niggas.”
Tuesday was caught in a jam because she could easily pay him if she could get to the car, but if Face saw what was in the bag, then he was going to take it all. Her only hope lied in convincing him to let her take the Audi and bring back the money.
“Look, nigga, I got the other hundred fifty, I just need to go get it. Gimme the whip and I can have it back here in ten minutes.”
Face rubbed the leathery skin on his cheek thoughtfully while still keeping her under the muzzle of the .50-caliber cannon. “How ’bout this? Have the money here in ten minutes, then I’ll give you back the whip.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Easy come, easy go. Tuesday had been a millionaire for less than an hour. No celebrity sniffing up mountains of cocaine could run through three million so quickly. She had betrayed Marcus and karma came right back around to bite her in the ass.
Tuesday could get the car back if she had the money but in order to get the money, she had to get the car back. It was another one of those ironic Catch-22’s that plagued her life, like being so beautiful but lonely, a thief but with a conscience, so well known but without any real friends.
She had a little over twenty-five grand, but to Tuesday it was nothing more than pocket change. It would get her out of town, but being that she was hot, it wasn’t much to run with. Getting away from niggas was one thing but getting away from the authorities took another comma and a few more zeroes.
She figured at any moment Face or one of his people would search the car and find the case. Then it would officially be over. Any chance she had of coming out this situation on top would be dead, right along with Danielle.
Tuesday walked away from Face’s Auto Collision knowing that Jaye was the only person in the world she could call. Earlier Jaye had told Tuesday to call if she needed anything and right then she needed everything. She was headed north on Grand River, with no destination, when she got in touch with Jaye.
Tuesday didn’t say too much on the phone but told Jaye that she needed her to pick her up and to bring all the cash she could put her hands on. She also told her to hurry the fuck up because it was already close to seven thirty.
Jaye was there in a few minutes to find Tuesday waiting at a bus stop. She was in her Chrysler 200, and the second Tuesday got in the car she began to grill her about the situation.
At first Tuesday deflected most of her questions because she really didn’t want to tell Jaye about the money. Then she realized that Jaye was going to find out eventually, so Tuesday told her everything that happened from the airport until then. How she’d jacked Marcus for the ransom only to have Face jack it from her.
Jaye stared at her wide-eyed, not sure what part of the story to comment on first. Finally she asked, “His father just came up with the money just like that?”
Tuesday snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”
“And you had it? All of it, and let it get away?”
Tuesday gave her a look that said Bitch, I already know I fucked up!
“How much was you able to scrape together?” Tuesday asked, doubtful it would be anything close to the one twenty-five she needed.
Jaye went into a large Birkin bag that was resting on the console between their seats. “The last lick got my money funny too, but I don’t trick off like the rest of y’all bitches, so I keep a li’l something put up.” She pulled out a thick stack of cash held together with rubber bands. “This about sixty.”
“Cool,” Tuesday said, taking it from her. “I got about twenty-five.” She was hopeful that Face would trade the Audi back for eighty-five thousand.
Tuesday called Face a minute later, and when he agreed to the trade, the girls assumed that he hadn’t searched the car. They couldn’t imagine him being interested in eighty-five thousand if he just came up on three million.
When they pulled up, Tuesday saw the Audi was now in the garage next to the Chevelle he’d been rebuilding. She tried to take that as a positive sign but wasn’t going to let herself get caught slipping again.
Outside the building that was his garage/office, one of Face’s dope-fiend mechanics was now playing the role of a goon. He stood post in dirty coveralls looking so frail and thin that the recoil from the AK-47 he held would probably break his ribs. However, skinny or not, the weapon still made him a threat.
They approached the door with Tuesday carrying nothing but her bag containing her and Jaye’s money. The fiend stopped them and demanded to inspect it. Tuesday opened it up and he seemed satisfied when he saw that it contained cash and no weapons.
Jaye got a quick pat-down but he took a longer time frisking Tuesday. It soon became obvious that the fiend was more interested in what God had given her over what she
might be carrying.
After he spent over a minute running his grimy hands up and down her body, Tuesday finally snapped at him. “Damn, nigga, the shit turned into foreplay twenty seconds ago!”
When the fiend was done, he smiled at Tuesday—missing his two front teeth—then smacked her on the ass just because he could. She shot him a grim look, but he had the gun so there wasn’t really shit she could do about it.
Jaye whispered, “He barely touched me. I don’t know if I should feel happy or dissed by that.”
He led them into the office where Face was waiting with another fiend carrying another AK. Tuesday knew that Face had always been cautious but not even she expected so much protection. He sat behind his makeshift desk looking like a junkyard mobster. His henchmen stood on either side of the room like bookends.
“Damn, nigga! What’s with all this?” Tuesday asked, motioning to the fiends.
“I just believe in being cautious,” said Face. “We didn’t leave on the best of terms last time.”
Tuesday shot back, “That’s because somebody who I thought was my nigga jacked me for my shit!”
Face looked at her unfazed. “Now you said you put together eighty-five on the phone. Let me see it.”
Tuesday stepped forward and emptied the bag onto his desk. Face fingered the cash for a moment, and when he was satisfied it was all there, he gave Tuesday a nod. “I said you could have the car back for eighty-five and I’m a man of my word.” He pulled the keys from his oil-stained Dickie’s and tossed them to Tuesday. “You can have the car but it’s gone ride a little light.”
He reached under the old dining table he used as a desk and slid the big black case into view. The sight of it made Tuesday feel as if she’d been punched in the stomach. Everything that could go wrong was going wrong for her today.
“Yeah. I found that little situation you had stashed in the trunk,” he said in a comical voice that made his goons laugh. “I see why you was trying like hell to get that Audi back. You must’ve been praying yo ass off that I didn’t search the car.”
They all laughed again and Tuesday just stood there with a stare that could turn water into ice.
Face swept the other money to the side and sat the case on his desk. “This is why you don’t give a fuck about The Bounce no more. All that shit you was talkin’ about moving on to bigger and better thangs.”
Tuesday looked at him coldly, her eyes bright gray. “Face, real talk—no bullshit. If I don’t get that money back, a little five-year-old girl is gonna die.”
Face mocked her tone. “Tuesday, real talk—no bullshit.” He didn’t blink, look away or retreat from her gaze. “I wouldn’t care if a whole school bus full of little girls was gonna die. You got about as much chance as getting that bag back as you do of walking outta here alive!”
A minute later Tuesday and Jaye were being marched through Face’s four-acre salvage yard at gunpoint. It was dusk, and as they weaved their way through a maze of junk cars, Tuesday noticed how the setting sun cast reflections off the dusty chrome, broken glass, and rusted metal. She thought it was ironic that not only cars were being brought here to die.
“What the fuck we doing out here?” Tuesday asked, pretending she didn’t already know.
From behind her Face said, “I just wanted to put you up on some of the tools of my trade.” This got another laugh out of his pair of crackhead cronies.
Jaye knew that she and Tuesday weren’t being brought out there just to talk. At this point she began looking to save herself. “Look, I don’t know what problem you got with this bitch, but it ain’t got nothing to do with me. You could just go on and cut me loose, and I ain’t seen shit or know shit!”
“I wish I could, sweetheart, but shit just don’t work that way. When it’s this type of paper involved, mouths don’t stay closed on their own.”
Tuesday rolled her eyes at Jaye. “Damn, bitch, way to stay down.”
“Fuck you! I ain’t trying to die behind your bullshit.”
At the southernmost part of his property sat two large machines that were indispensable to his business. The first was a crane connected to a huge disk-shaped magnet used to lift and transport heavy metal objects. The second, and the one that frightened Tuesday, was the hydraulic-powered compactor that could reduce a car into a flattened slab of sheet metal or press it down into a three-foot cube. There were dozens of them back there stacked four and five high, making Tuesday wonder how many were cramped coffins with crushed bodies inside.
Face brought them to a stop in the shadow of that great machine where a ’78 Bonneville was waiting. Tuesday told herself that dead was the only way he would get her inside that car.
Face took the AK from the second fiend and motioned for him to operate the crane. With the agility of a spider monkey, he leapt on top of the tank tread and climbed inside the cab. He brought the crane around until the giant magnet was hovering ten feet over the car.
“By now you done probably guessed all that shit about trading you the Audi was just the underlay. I just needed you back here to find out where the money came from. Now why don’t you tell me whose it is so I’ll know who to kill when they come looking for it.”
Tuesday crossed her arms. “Why should I tell you anything? You just gone kill us anyway.”
“You’re right,” Face said with a smile that she no longer found appealing. “But you still have a choice in how you go out. A well-placed bullet can be quick and painless; over before you even know what happened. But being slowly crushed to death trapped in two tons of steel, crying in agony while you listen to the sound of your own bones breaking is a lot worse.”
“Just tell ’em what he wanna know,” Jaye said, frustrated.
Tuesday just stood there defiantly, not responding to either of them.
Face leaned against the hood of the Bonneville. “Look, adding in the two fifty you already gave me, I counted three mil even back there. Legit or illegit, ain’t nobody gone be cool with taking a loss like that. I need to know if I’m gone have street niggas or the feds kicking in my door about that shit—”
“Whoa, whoa, hold the fuck up!” Jaye chimed in before he could finish. “Three million?” She looked at Tuesday. “Bitch, you said the ransom was only two. All that shit you was talking ’bout splitting it fifty-fifty, the whole time you was gone try to work me outta five hundred racks.”
Face laughed. “Uh oh! I guess I wasn’t the only one she was trying to hold out on.”
Tuesday turned to Jaye. “Two million, three million; don’t none of it matter now anyway. We ain’t got shit!”
“It do matter!” Jaye spat back at her. “It shows that Brianna was right about you the whole time. You ain’t nothing but a slimy-ass bitch. You probably been getting down on us from the start!”
“Slimy?!” Tuesday glared at her, furious. “I was the reason all y’all bitches was eating good, riding good, and could shop how y’all wanted. All y’all hoes would still be on the pole if it wasn’t for me!”
“Yeah and if it wasn’t for me, yo ass would be dead! I should’ve just gone and let Bree bust yo ass out that night you slapped her up. The bitch caught you slipping but you was lucky I had yo back. Being on that Chris Brown shit almost got yo ass murdered.”
“Bitch, keep running off and see if I don’t Chris Brown you!”
“Put hands on me, bitch, and I’m gone save these niggas the trouble of dealing with yo ass!”
Jaye turned back to Face. “Look, fuck this bitch, I’ll tell you what’s good. The money belong to this nigga named Marcus King and the only reason she trippin’ is because she done caught feelings for his square ass.”
Without warning Tuesday hauled off and slapped Jaye hard enough to whip her head around. Before Face could even get out an “Oooh, damn!” Jaye came back with a right, the two of them started to tussle, and then they were rolling around the ground in a full-on scrap. They kicked up dust as they struggled with and clawed at each other like wildcats.
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If Face and his men had thought about breaking up the fight, they held up when Jaye’s shirt got ripped and her titties bounced free. After that they just sat back and enjoyed the show.
The girls were biting, punching, pulling hair, and each one would spend a little time on top dominating the other; and to anybody else it would look as if they were really trying to kill one another. That was exactly how they wanted it to look because what the three men watching didn’t know was that this whole scene had been planned before the ladies even pulled up to the garage.
Face and his henchmen were totally caught up in the action, laughing so hard that their eyes teared up, but after about three minutes it stopped being funny when the girls tired themselves out. He gave his man the order to break it up and the bony fiend who felt Tuesday up came over ready to pull them apart.
Coming in, Jaye assumed that they might be searched. She also guessed correctly that because Tuesday was thicker with a better body, the men would focus on her, allowing Jaye to slip past them with Tuesday’s small Heckler tucked down the front of her panties.
The fiend reached for Jaye, who was on top, but didn’t know that Tuesday had stealthily slipped the pistol out during their fake tussle. Jaye suddenly rolled out of the way to give her girl a clear shot. The fiend’s eyes went wide when he saw Tuesday bring up the gun. It was like she’d just performed some type of magic trick and made it appear from nowhere.
Tuesday tried for his head, but being that she was aiming from an awkward position lying on her back, the shot was low. The bullet caught him in the throat, tossing him back onto the ground. He coughed and held his neck as blood squirted between his fingers.