Later, the night air whistled, but was barely heard with the Tupac lyrics shouting through the stereo system. The system was not loud enough to alert neighbors to their presence, but it was loud enough to pre-hype Dre and Ben Laden. They needed to feel Tupac’s music. Feel the legend’s pain. Gangster music catapulted Dre’s mood from anxious to deadly.
Dre parked the car in the middle of a row of cars in front of a row of condos. The gray homes were large, many of them with floor-to-ceiling sliding doors, connecting the small patio areas to the living room. Easy access to the homes. Their private spaces. Their precious jewels. Only one condo was of interest to Dre: Brent Gower’s.
They took precautions in order to commit the perfect burglary. There would be no DNA, fingerprints, or footprints left behind to connect them to their home invasion. They approached the screen door and Ben Laden used wire cutters to snap the bolt and padlocks from the door. Dre pulled the door handle and the door slid back.
They stepped inside.
***
An hour later, Brent pulled into his usual parking space in front of his condo. He casually stepped out the truck as Carmen followed. He pulled her close to him and wrapped his arm around her, whispering sweet sexual quips into her ear.
They pounded the gravel under their feet until they reached the storm door. Brent fumbled with the keys before he opened the screen door. He inserted another key into the door’s dead bolt and found it unlocked. He would have never failed to secure his home.
“Did you lock the door before we left?” He asked her accusingly.
“You locked up. I was just about to ask you the same thing,” she responded, and seemed offended.
He turned the door knob and walked through the doorway. He felt along the wall for the light switch and in an instant his heart pulsated.
The VCR clock was not on and he saw metal glistening where the 60-inch plasma was.
“What the hell? You have got to be kidding me,” Carmen said, when he flipped the light switch on.
BG stood in the doorway. He was heated. He observed his ransacked sanctuary. Was anyone still in his home? Had he caught them in the act? Carmen grabbed BG for protection, but he pulled away from her, and ran over to the broken urn on the floor by the fireplace. He grabbed a handful of his grandfather’s ashes. They reeked or urine.
“I’m calling the cops!”
BG jumped up and snatched the phone from her hand. “But, BG, you were robbed. The police would—“
“Shut up! Please! Listen, let me do this. I know who
fucking did this.”
“What if this was random? You really need to report this.” “Look, I do not need you to talk right now. Go the fuck
upstairs and pack a few days clothes. I got to get out of here for a few days.”
BG went into the kitchen to get the Crock-pot with his stash of cash. He had planned to remove the cash and put his grandfather’s ashes in there. The $164,000 in cash was gone, so he returned to the living room and used a spatula and scooped the ashes from the floor. Carmen came out of the bedroom, luggage in hand, and he said, “Let’s roll!”
***
BG and Carmen pulled up to the Roosevelt Inn, a sorry motel on the Roosevelt Boulevard stretch of Route 1. BG wanted to go down a little further to a fancier hotel, but Carmen did not think that was a good idea with him having a gun.
After they checked in and entered the room, BG placed his loaded gun on the night table. He stripped down to his boxers and turned down a hideous comforter before he slipped under it.
He lay in bed and looked at the TV, as Carmen undressed down to her panties and bra set. She left her clothes on the floor near the bed, and slowly switched across the front of the bed to turn off the room light. When she turned around, she slipped off her bra. His eyes caught her model figure and he became mesmerized. She smiled back at him like a kid caught stealing a car.
She climbed under the sheets and whispered to him, “I know I could get your mind off this drama. Even if for a minute.”
She then placed kisses with her warm lips onto his small, erect penis. He was turned on, but she wasn’t. She could only take but so much, considering she was only with him for his money. She licked the shaft, and then circled the head much like she’d do a Tootsie Pop. He began to pulsate and she inserted him into her mouth. She probed fast, slow, in circles, and hard. She did not even gag and that irritated her. All of ninety-four seconds later, he was done. He squirmed and tried to get away from her jaws, which were still on him, sucking him dry. She drained him to the last drop. Unable to take it any more, he pulled her head off him. She wiped around her mouth with her fingers and then sucked them.
He immediately crashed to sleep, and she rolled out of bed. She grabbed her cell phone, and slipped into the bathroom.