Chapter 2
Eddie was so aroused that he almost busted a nut in his pants right then and there. After months of him begging, pleading, plotting, lying, and scheming, his girlfriend had finally given in and told him that she was going to give him the pussy. Eddie and Joy had been together for three months, and the closest she’d ever come to being sexual with him was letting him suck on one of her enormous tits. His friends thought he was an idiot. Some old heads labeled him a fool.
The moniker fit him well, seeing that the only time she wanted to be bothered with Eddie was when he was dishing out cash or taking her shopping. But tonight, as he listened to her talk dirty to him on his cell phone, Eddie felt like a king. He was on top of the world. But his royal fantasies were about to come to an abrupt end. Eddie had been so engrossed in the lightweight phone sex that Joy was providing, he never saw Temp creep up beside him. It was a mistake he would soon come to regret.
The fact that he was sitting on the safe and blocking the money only served to enrage Temp that much more. Eddie’s gap-toothed smile disappeared in a flash as Temp cracked him square in the mouth. Teeth and blood flew from his mouth and landed onto the marble floor a few feet from the safe. Eddie’s phone fell out of his hand and crashed to the floor as he instinctively reached for his mouth. Slightly dazed, he dropped to the floor.
“Get yo’ bitch ass out the way,” Temp yelled.
Antwan then kicked Eddie’s phone into the wall, breaking it instantly. He wanted to make sure that whoever was on the other end of the phone could not hear what was going down.
“A’ight, pops. Before we go any further, take that muthafuckin’ surveillance tape out of the recorder and give it here,” Antwan ordered. “And before you tell a lie and say you ain’t got one, I done already peeped the cameras in the corner out there.”
Mr. Hanley muttered a curse under his breath. On his way to the recording machine, he walked past Niko. Because the ski masks hid their identities, Mr. Hanley couldn’t see their faces, but to him, it looked like Niko was smirking behind his, which infuriated him. He briefly thought about trying to overpower the young thug and take his weapon, but being that he was in his early sixties, with a bad heart, Mr. Hanley knew that having good sense would have to prevail, so he kept walking. He glanced over at Eddie, who was sitting on the floor in a corner, shaking like a crap game. Mr. Hanley shook his head. Fuckin’ coward. Just because he’s scared doesn’t mean that he has to act scared.
“Hurry the fuck up, Grady,” Temp screamed at him.
Hearing the teenaged thug insult him gave Mr. Hanley more courage than it should have. He began to think about how he’d worked his fingers to the bone for the last twenty-five years on his previous job as a machinist just so that he could own his own business. He’s always wanted to work for himself, and now that he’d become somewhat successful, these young punks, who had probably never worked a day in their lives, were ordering him to give up his earnings.
The room containing the surveillance equipment was rather small. It took an effort for all five bodies to fit comfortably inside. None of them were no more than five feet away from each other.
“Yo, man, I ain’t gonna tell you again to hurry up,” Temp warned.
“Go fuck ya’self, lowlife. Why don’t you just go back to the gutter where you came from?” Mr. Hanley spat. He was scared shitless but wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of knowing it. It took all of one short step for Temp to be in his face.
“What? Who the fuck you think you talkin’ to like that?” Temp yelled. Before the old man could respond, Temp punched him in the stomach and knocked the wind out of him.
Mr. Hanley went down like a ton of bricks. Temp drew back to hit him again, but Antwan grabbed his arm. “Ay yo, that’s enough of that shit, man. We ain’t got all night.”
Antwan then proceeded to drag Mr. Hanley across the floor. He came to a halt right in front of the safe. “Open that shit up! Right now,” Antwan said as he cocked his. 38 snub-nose and pointed it directly at the store owner’s head.
While holding his stomach with his left hand, Mr. Hanley reached for the safe dial with his right. He was still gasping for air when he clicked the last number. As soon as the safe popped open, Temp roughly pushed him to the floor. Antwan then walked over to the safe and started emptying the money into a black duffle bag. After the bag was filled, Temp put his gun to Mr. Hanley’s temple.
“Old man, I’m gonna give you five seconds to run that tape, or you’re gonna be the quietest muthafucka in church this Sunday, feel me?”
Still holding his stomach, Mr. Hanley limped over to a desk and opened a drawer. He pressed eject on the VCR and took out the tape. Temp rudely snatched it out of his hand.
“You two,” Antwan said, pointing at Niko and Chris, “take old dude back out there with that other punk-ass nigga and tie both of them muthafuckas up.”
Chris passed Niko the duct tape he’d been holding. It took Niko less than three minutes to bind and gag Eddie. Antwan smiled as he removed the last remaining stack of bills.
“You punks got what you came for. Now get the fuck outta my establishment!”
“Muthafucka, what the fuck you say to us?” Temp barked.
“You heard me! You got the money! Now go crawl back under your fuckin’ rock!”
Niko and Chris started laughing hysterically.
“Ain’t this a bitch?” Antwan asked in amazement. Even though they were robbing Mr. Hanley, he had to admire the old man’s bravery and “take no shit” attitude.
“Whatever, old fart. Let’s be out this bitch, y’all,” Antwan said, laughing at the comments. As Antwan, Niko, and Chris headed for the back exit, Temp didn’t budge.
“You know, you talkin’ a gang of shit, ol’ man.”
“Temp, come on, man,” Niko called out to him.
“Just get the fuck out, asshole!” Mr. Hanley spat.
That did it. In one swift motion, Temp pointed his gun at Mr. Hanley and fired. The other three jumped at the sound of gunfire erupting from the barrel. Mr. Hanley slumped down to the floor, holding his midsection. Blood seeped through his fingers and onto the floor. Mr. Hanley stared up at Temp with disbelieving eyes. He never once thought that the young thug would really pull the trigger. But now that he was looking into Temp’s eyes, he suddenly realized that he’d made a big mistake. Temp’s eyes had the look of death in them.
“Man, what the fuck you doin’, bro?” Antwan’s words seemed to snap Temp out of his satanic state. “Come on, man! We need to get the fuck outta here! Now!”
As the four of them ran out the back door, Eddie reached up and ripped the tape from his mouth. It hurt like hell, but he couldn’t worry about that at the moment. Amid the confusion, Eddie had spotted a partially hammered-in nail on the floor that he’d used to tear the tape from his wrists. He quickly got up and ran to the front of the store. Throughout this whole ordeal, he’d wondered why no customers had come in the store. Now he knew why. The door had been locked, and the CLOSED sign had been hung up. Without a second to waste, Eddie dialed 911.
Meanwhile, as soon as the rest of his crew got into the car, Bishop peeled off down the street. He bent the corner so hard that Temp fell over on him. His gun, pack of Newports, and a blunt fell out of his pocket onto the driver’s side floor. Temp reached down to pick up his items, but Bishop beat him to it. Temp snatched his things out of Bishop’s hand.
“Man, just drive,” he yelled at Bishop.
“And slow the fuck down before you get us knocked,” added Antwan.
“Where the fuck we goin’, Twan?” Bishop asked.
“We goin’ to my crib.”
* * *
After getting the rest of his crew settled in the basement, Antwan went into his bedroom and picked up the twenty sack of weed that was lying on his dresser. He looked over at his woman, Tangie, who was lying there snoring lightly. Antwan had been with Tangie a little over a year. Tangie was three years his senior, and the house they resided in belonged to her late grandmother. The grandmother had stepped in and raised Tangie when Tangie’s mother, Evelyn, had gotten stabbed to death by a jealous wife.
Evelyn was a good woman who had gotten caught up with a married man. Since the man never wore a wedding ring and had allowed her to come over pretty much whenever she wanted, Evelyn assumed that he was single. That all changed when the wife came home from a business trip two days earlier than expected and caught the two of them in bed together. Evelyn had tried to explain to her that she didn’t know the man was married, but she didn’t believe Evelyn. Nor did she give a damn. Unable to convince the woman, Evelyn tried to surprise her and wrestle the switchblade away from her. But the woman was much stronger than anticipated.
Evelyn ended up getting stabbed twice in the neck. She remained in a coma and on life support for three weeks until she finally passed away. Tangie’s grandmother then took her in and took care of her until a stroke sent her home to be with the Lord. She did, however, leave Tangie a trust fund that was to be given to her on her twenty-fifth birthday. That along with an insurance payout of $15,000 was enough to convince Antwan to wife her. She wasn’t particularly attractive, but when Antwan saw her, all he saw were dollar signs, although over time he had come to care about her.
Tangie, who already had low self-esteem, became extra vulnerable when her grandmother died. She met Antwan at a bar one night while she was out trying to clear her mind. Antwan, horny and half drunk at the time, provided her with a shoulder to cry on. Tangie, like so many women with low self-esteem, spent her money like water, praying that Antwan would want to be bothered with her for more than one night. Antwan had just been kicked out of his parents’ house and saw this as a golden opportunity for a quick come up. He moved in with her the same night and had been there ever since.
Antwan looked at the clock and noticed that it was only ten thirty. The way that Tangie was sleeping, if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that it was two in the morning. Antwan shrugged his shoulders and walked out of the bedroom. On his way to the basement, he stopped by the refrigerator and grabbed a six pack of beer. When he got back downstairs, he saw that Temp had already dumped all the money onto the table. Antwan’s eyes lit up at the sight of the cold, hard cash lying on the table.
“Now, that’s what the fuck I’m talkin’ ’bout.” Niko beamed as he rubbed his hands together. “A brother can eat good off this kind of bread. Feel me, dawg?” he asked, cutting his eyes toward Bishop.
From the time they’d left the scene, Bishop hadn’t said a word. He didn’t care about many people, but his boss was one of those he did like. Antwan had told him that everything went off without a hitch, but Bishop was skeptical. He didn’t want to believe that Antwan would lie to him. He looked up to Antwan. He wanted so badly to pull out his cell phone and call the store. But a move like that would be considered soft, and the pack of wolves he ran with would definitely look down on him for it, so he decided that he would do it when he went to the bathroom.
“Let me get one of them cold ones, my dude,” Temp said, reaching for a beer. After drinking the beverage in ten seconds flat, Temp opened his mouth and let out a loud belch. He then frowned and grabbed his stomach.
“The fuck wrong with you, dawg, pregnant?” laughed Antwan.
Temp gave his friend the finger, set his gun on the edge of the table, and bolted for the bathroom. When Antwan sat down, he bumped the table, causing the gun to fall off onto the floor.
“Damn, man, what the fuck!” Chris yelled.
The rest of the crew jumped as they anticipated the gun going off and shooting one of them. After staring in the direction of the bathroom for a few seconds, they all looked at each other and shook their heads.
“Man, that fool careless as hell! You need to talk to that muthafucka,” Niko huffed.
Bishop reached down and picked up Temp’s gun. After setting it back on the table, he, along with the rest of the crew, started counting the stolen money. When they were halfway done, Temp came out of the bathroom, rubbing his stomach.
“Damn, nigga, did you just funk up my bathroom?” Antwan wrinkled up his nose and started fanning in front of it.
“Sorry, dawg. It musta been some shit I ate.”
“Nah, my dude, that’s just yo’ rotten-ass guts,” Niko joked.
As the crew continued to count the money, Bishop reached for a beer. After taking a few sips of it, he seemed to mellow out a little. Going to the bathroom to call the store seemed to drift from his mind.
“It’s about time you stopped actin’ like a bitch,” Temp teased him.
“Man, fuck you! And get this piece-of-shit-ass gun off the damn table. I thought yo’ ass had better sense than to leave it sittin’ here like this, but I see that yo’ ignorant ass don’t know no betta.”
Chris and Niko both snickered at the comment while Temp’s face turned beet red. He could dish it out with the best of them. His problem was when he had to take it. Antwan, seeing the anger on his friend’s face, decided to nip this shit in the bud real quick.
“Temp, don’t even look like that, man. You started fuckin’ with him first, so don’t try to get all mad and shit now.”
Temp slowly dug in his pocket and pulled out a blunt. After inserting the ganja stick between his lips, lighting it, and taking a long puff, he smiled and passed it to Bishop. Bishop took the smile as a friendly gesture. Antwan knew better. He knew Temp better than anyone else in the crew, and his gut instinct told him that Temp was thinking about how he would feel when he found out that his boss had been shot.
“Yo, Chris, roll something up. That one blunt that Temp and Bishop over there babysittin’ ain’t gon’ be enough for all of us,” Antwan said as he threw the sack of weed to him.
The crew continued to smoke weed, bullshit with each other, and count money deep into the night. When it was all said and done, the crew had clipped off close to thirty grand from the store. Each one of the youngsters smiled and rubbed their hands greedily as the money was divided up equally.
“Okay, now that we done took care of the business, somebody need to tell me what went on in there,” Bishop said.
Niko and Chris both looked at Temp, while Antwan and Temp stared at each other.
“Well?” he asked again.
“Dude, stop fucking worrying. That shit went down smooth as butter,” Antwan lied.
“So, Mr. Hanley’s okay? He didn’t try to resist, did he?” Bishop asked, expressing legitimate concern.
“Man, ain’t nothing wrong with that muthafucka,” Temp yelled.
“Muthafucka, I wasn’t asking you,” Bishop yelled.
“Bishop, he’s okay, man,” Antwan said, praying that he was telling the truth.
After that, Antwan dropped each one of them at home.