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GHOST, REEM, AND SCHEMES agreed to take down the Walmart store, but the job wasn’t as simple as it seemed. They needed to do some homework on the store first, so they wouldn’t go in blind. Taking money was in their blood, so, naturally, they were with the take, but they wanted things put together thoroughly before they moved.
Toya was the easiest way to find out the things they needed to know. Reem felt like they could be straight up and ask Toya about the store and tell her about the plan, but the others weren’t with it. Over Reem’s objections, Ghost and Schemes made him agree to pick her head indirectly.
“We can’t trust that bitch.” Schemes had emphasized. However, Reem felt differently. He didn’t think it was because of his feelings for her, but, because she stood up about C-Note being murdered, he felt like she could be trusted. But the others weren’t feeling his position, so he had to find another way to get it out of her.
First, they needed to know where the safe was at. That bread was the main priority. How many people worked the third shift was what they needed to know next. Because Reem was bitching about taking it down while she was there, they needed to find out when she would be off, so they could commit the robbery that night.
“Man, we can tie that bitch up, too!” Schemes said.
Reem wasn’t feeling tying his little chick up. Fuck the other employees, but he wasn’t doing his chick dirty.
Because of the holiday shopping season, the store was bound to be loaded with paper. Now, they just had to put everything together and execute. Reem was lying in bed with Toya cupped in his arms. She’d just finished one of her mind-blowing performances. Reem knew right then was the perfect time to start picking her head. What better time to do it than after some hot sex? She was open and gullible.
“Baby, have you been thinking about quitting your job like I’ve been asking you to?” he asked while sounding genuine about wanting her to quit.
“Come on, baby. Do we have to go through this again?” Reem knew she didn’t want to keep touching this topic, but
he knew he could get her talking, so he pressed. “I’m just saying, babe. It’s no need for you to work there no more.”
“I told you. It’s not all about the money. I’ve been there forever, and I got friends there.”
“Friends? What friends? How come I haven’t met them yet?” he asked sarcastically.
“My girlfriend Rita and my buddy Ryan work there.” “Ryan?” His antennas went right up at the mention of a dude. “Trust me. Ryan is no one to be worried about,” she said with a giggle like the it was funny.
That got Reem’s blood boiling.
“What the fuck is so funny?” he snapped. “Who the fuck is he then?” he asked.
Things started to heat up when he became aggressive. He was putting on one hell of a show, pretending to be overly concerned about her quitting. After hearing about the dude Ryan, he pretended to become furious.
Toya immediately went for the rouse and got hyped.
“Ryan is just another manager there. He works in the manager’s office. He counts the money and handles all the checks and shit like that,” she said dismissively.
“So, what? You want to stay there because of him then?” He frowned as he asked the question.
Toya’s buttons were being pressed now. Since she’d been with Reem, she hadn’t even considered cheating on him with another man. Even if she did, Ryan would be the last person he had to worry about. It bothered her that he was questioning her loyalty.
“No, I barely see him! I only see him in the break room!” “Oh, so you be having lunch with him, huh?” Reem was losing focus of his goal and the purpose of the argument.
“As a matter of fact, we do!” she said with a hint of sarcasm. “Me, him, Keisha, Rita, and the five other people on the shift!”
Oh, this was perfect, even easier than he expected. Her last revelation about how many people worked on her shift brought Reem back to reality.
Toya was a blabbermouth when she got angry. She was known for holding water, but get her mad and throw in a little trickery, and she would start running off at the mouth like any other female.
Reem played along, continuing to appear upset. He still needed a little more to come running out her motor-mouth, and he was sure it would.
“Come to think about it...” He squinted his eyes as if he was trying to recall something. “You were a little happy the other day when I took you to get your check! What? Was that Ryan in the office you went in?”
“No! Ryan works my shift, dick-head!” Toya’s mouth was crazy. Reem took the verbal abuse on the chin. “The day shift manager was there giving out checks,” she added.
Little did Toya know she had just given him all the info he was looking for. “All right! Whatever! Leave it alone! Go ahead and be some busted-ass Walmart worker!” Reem was trying to end the fight because he’d gotten what he was looking for, but he couldn’t end it without sliding in an insult of his own.
Toya finally let it go after a little more ramming. She laid in the bed and tried to distance herself from him and make an imaginary line between them.
Reem laid with an invisible smirk. He knew that about nine people worked the third shift, where the manager’s office was, and who the manager was. Now, all he had to do was find out when Toya would be off. He’d find that out tomorrow once she was cooled off. For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about who Ryan was. Why is she holding onto this job? Is she fucking this nigga?
Schemes and Frog were playing each other close lately. Since Reem mentioned the idea of robbing Walmart, a few days flew by. Schemes loved the idea of the job, especially since he wasn’t really hustling the way he was when the block was jumping.
He felt like it was true that someone couldn’t get money and go to war at the same time. Then again, it depended on how he was getting money. He was from uptown, and anyone who knew dudes from uptown knew somehow they had a reputation for taking money and being pretty boys. Hustling was just his side thing to pull in a few extra dollars until the next take.
Now, Schemes was feeling all the shit Ghost had been talking about, about how they needed to invest their money in something legit. Ghost preached that shit, but it wasn’t like he had a 401K plan or some hefty portfolio. But now he was digging what Ghost was saying about being prepared for the future and always being ready for the storm when it’s sunny outside.
The Range lurched through traffic like a madman was behind the wheel. Well, there was a madman behind the wheel. Another one was buried in the heated passenger seat. Frog was reclined, smoking a Dutch.
Frog was always on go time, but, lately, he had started to listen about being smart and playing things safe. After losing Snook, he realized how vulnerable he was. Being tough did not mean he had to be on the frontline to let the hood know he wasn’t scared. People knew none of them was shook by their reputation and the way bodies dropped like flies. Fuck the streets. They were always going to whisper, so let them. Ghost, Reem, and Schemes had, finally, got this drilled into his head.
“Yo! What’s up with taking something down?” Frog asked, breaking the silence of the two by turning the radio down to ask Schemes.
“I don’t know, Frog. I’m trying to tread lightly,” Schemes lied. “Man, you’ve been brushing me off on that shit forever,” Frog retorted a bit offensively. “You’ll move with Ghost and them, but not me. I’m supposed to be your family!”
Lately, Frog had been bugging Schemes about taking some money. He wanted desperately to take something after his paper slowed down. He wasn’t sitting on paper like the rest of them were, so he had to do something to get at a dollar. If they didn’t put him in sooner or later, he had some ill thoughts at going at one of them. Shit! When personal interest was at stake, it was every man for himself. If a man in the game didn’t know that, he was bound to be ruined.
Schemes was skeptical about losing his standards by moving with Frog. Though he was his little cousin, he wasn’t the type of person he wanted to do certain things with. He was too reckless and careless.
Schemes felt bad for dragging him along. He had been spoon-feeding Frog for a minute now, and he knew that he should put him on some real money. His guilt had made him consider doing a job with him, but not the Walmart one.
“I’ll see what I can put together for us,” he told Frog somewhat forcefully.
Feeq laid back in his cell and stared at the dull white walls. Graffiti of various tags adorned the wall and repped different sets. Time was flying by, and it wasn’t looking like the gates would be cracking anytime soon. He had paid his lawyer a healthy piece of change, but, so far, the high priced mouthpiece had only uttered broken promises. Motions for his probation violation detainers to be lifted had been denied twice. This made him somewhat complacent with the inevitable—that he’d be down for a minute.
A light tap on his cell door caught his attention. CO Smitty opened the door without waiting for Feeq’s acknowledgement.
“What’s good with you?” he asked, closing the door behind him.
“Ain’t shit, man. Little stressed out. That’s all,” Feeq responded, a bit depressed from the circumstances.
“I can dig it, homie. You gotta chill when you get back out there this time,” he told Feeq seriously.
Smitty was a correctional officer, but he was still from the hood. He indulged in some dirt of his own, but had been fortunate enough to slip through the cracks—so far.
“You gotta stay out there.”
“I know. I was out there chilling, cuz.” Feeq said. He referred to him as his cousin because he messed with his little cousin. “This case is some old drug shit,” Feeq said and shook his head.
“I got that shit for you.”
Smitty reached inside his boxer briefs and pulled out a compressed bundle of weed and tobacco. Also buried inside the package were some Zanies.
Feeq dumped the pills and boosted his high with the weed daily to fly through the tedious hours of being down. The jail stayed locked down for stabbings or shortages of guards. The solitude could drive a nigga crazy, but the drugs took Feeq away from the reality of being trapped in the confines of cement walls and steel doors. He had a smartphone he’d paid Smitty to smuggle in for him, so he was comforted by hours of conversing and social media.
“I got this shit from Donnie. That little nigga out there pushing a Range now.” Smitty was impressed with his upgrade. “And then, the he told me to call him Schemes now. I almost laughed in that nigga’s face when he said that.” They both chuckled.
“Yeah, they’re out there eating,” Feeq said, while reminiscing about the robbery they did together. “I gotta get back out there!” He rubbed his hands together with a devilish grin. “I gotta get back.”
The money Feeq had was running dry. Between lawyer’s fees, taking care of himself while down, and still trying to support wifey and the kids, he was being drained slowly but surely.
“Man, look at you. You talking about going right back at it as soon as you touch.” Smitty was serious, but he was grinning at the same time. They both knew that, as soon as Feeq was on the other side of the fence, he would be right back at it. “Why don’t you put me on some of that paper y’all be getting? I can move for you while you’re down.”
“Come on, Smitty. You know you ain’t ready for that.” He knew Smitty presumed that they hustled. He didn’t know that they took money. Though he fell after the first job, Feeq kept in touch, so he knew they were still taking money. They were always fishing for a robbery.
“Ready for what? I’m ready for whatever, nigga.” Smitty was trying to sound tougher than he was. Feeq knew Smitty more than he thought he did. He knew he was a chump from the hood who wanted to be looked at as if he was thorough. Smitty wasn’t really a street dude, but, for some reason, he tried to be. Feeq knew he could manipulate him and use him for his own benefit while he was down. His money was damn near gone, so he considered using him as a puppet that he could use to pull the strings while he was down. Several more months and his pockets would be on E.
Feeq knew he could use Ghost, Schemes, and Reem as his pawns in his mental game of chess. He could put Smitty on to them to do a robbery and benefit from the proceeds.
“You’re sure you’re ready to get involved in this shit?” Feeq raised his eyebrows.
“Come on, man. It ain’t no question. I’m trying to get all the way on. I just do this job to get by.”
There was a moment of silence. “All right. Look...”
Feeq was interrupted by chatter and screaming coming from Smitty’s walkie-talkie. While synchronizing, a lot of commotion could be heard outside the cell door.
Smitty barged out the cell, zoomed down the steps, and into the dayroom area. Feeq quickly tucked the package of drugs and ‘bacco under his mattress and rushed out the cell to see what was going on. He was sure there was a rumble going on because he was very familiar with the sound of thumping and screeching feet on the ground.
Outside the cell, on the top tier, Feeq saw what looked like a rampage taking place in the common area. He cringed when he saw someone named Rico crack some other dude with a wooden floor brush. Blood instantly gushed from the dude’s head after the brush created a wide-open gash. That didn’t stop Rico from viciously whooping him with the floor brush. Rico ignored the blood coming from his own nose and continued to punish dude.
There were several other inmates going at one another at the same time. A man named Shiz, Rico’s man, had a homemade shank tied to his hand with a piece of ripped bed sheet. He was going to work on another guy with a long piece of steel.
“Ah! Ah! Ah!” The dude let out a series of shrill cries as Shiz held him by his shirt for leverage and slammed the banger in and out him.
Feeq cringed over and over at the sight of the knife piercing dude’s skin repeatedly. He even jumped and let out an “oh” as he watched the steel go in and out. There was too much commotion to watch the blood-shedding encounter taking place. There were, at least, four others trying to kill one another in the dayroom. Obviously, something had set off the war in the housing unit.
A stampede of correctional officers swarmed the block with their mace and handcuffs in hand. They stormed the brawl headfirst and seized them one inmate at a time.
“Everybody! To your cells! Everybody! Take it in! Let’s go now!” the COs screamed in unison while banging the doors shut to secure the unit. Feeq stepped in his cell, followed by his celly, who slid in right behind him, just before the guard slammed and locked their door.
“Damn!” Feeq’s celly said in excitement, “You see that shit?” Feeq stood at the door, peering through the thin Plexiglas. He ignored his celly’s dumb-ass question. Of course, he’d seen it. The dayroom was a mess. Blood covered the floor, chairs, and tables. Cards and chess pieces had been knocked off the tables and were scattered everywhere. Nearly every cell had an inmate in the window, watching the others get escorted off the block in cuffs.
Feeq sighed with frustration.
“We stay locked down in this motherfucker,” he said, complaining more to himself than his celly. He shook his head with disgust. “I gotta get the fuck outta here!”