Larceny (18 page)

Jovan woke up feeling good. The night before, after he talked to Sonya, Jovan had laid back and thought about what Bilal was saying that night. Atlanta was cool—a new identity, legit money, and plus you could get a million-dollar home down in Atlanta for like three hundred thousand. It sounded real good. Yeah, Jovan thought Bilal's suggestion was a smart move for everybody. Seventeen to twenty million strong divided three ways, couldn't go wrong.

Jovan arrived at the office kinda late and ran right into Mark.

“Hey, Jovan, you're late,” he said.

“I know, Mark. I had a long night.”

“With who, your new girl? You mean to tell me you got some already?” Mark said, smiling.

“Naw, I had a few things to take care of.”

“Okay, but now that you're here, we've got a lot of work to do today.”

“Break it down to me.”

Mark had Jovan doing more work that day than he had done since he first started working for him. That was just how this legal shit was: one day you were busy, the next day wasn't nothing happening.

Carlos called Bilal about twelve o'clock. “Lal,” Carlos said.

“Yeah, Los.”

“Look, I'm on my way 'round Georgia Avenue to go pick that money up from Li'l Manny.”

“I thought you did that last night,” Bilal asked.

“Naw, when I left your house I picked this li'l freak up and went to the hotel out in Crystal City,” Carlos said.

“Where you at now?”

“I'm on Seventh Street, getting ready to cross Florida Avenue.”

“Okay, slim. Call me after you pick that up. I'm on my way 'round Trinidad to go see Petey,” Bilal said.

“Did you page him again?” Carlos asked.

“Yeah, I paged that nigga like three times.”

“Man, I think we may have some problems outta Petey. Plus, I don't trust them niggas. You know how they got on in the first place,” Carlos said.

“Yeah, they were supposed to rob the dude Chink for like three hundred thousand,” Bilal answered.

“Yeah, after this I ain't fuckin' wit 'em no more.”

“Okay, slim, meet me around Orleans Place after you get that from Li'l Manny,” Bilal said.

 

 

Carlos met Li'l Manny at the McDonalds on Georgia Avenue, and he gave Carlos the two hundred thousand. Li'l Manny wanted to know the next time he would be able to get down.

“Sometime next week, Manny, and I'ma do something real nice for you, 'cause after that I'm finished,” Carlos said.

“Okay, Los,” Li'l Manny said.

Manny got back in his Corvette and rolled out. As Carlos was putting the money in the trunk of his car, two dudes walked up on him with .45s pointed at his dome.

“Get back in the car, Los,” one of the dudes said to him.

Carlos turned to see who it was, and when he saw Petey and Chicken Wing, he said, “Petey, man, you ain't even gotta do this.”

“Shut your bitch ass up and get in the car!” Petey yelled to him.

Carlos got back in his car with Chicken Wing in the back seat and Petey on the passenger's side. They both had their guns on Carlos.

“Look, Petey, I've got two hundred thousand in the trunk, this Rolex, and about four thousand in my glove compartment. Man, just go 'head, take that shit, and let me go,” Carlos pleaded.

Petey smacked Carlos upside his head with his pistol and yelled, “Shut the fuck up, nigga. I'm doing the talking. Now drive!”

“Where to?” Carlos asked.

“Go up Georgia Avenue,” Petey said.

Carlos drove up Georgia Avenue, still not knowing his fate.

Chicken Wing started talking, “Los, where the money at? And don't play no games. I ain't talking 'bout that punk-ass two hundred thousand in the trunk either. Take us to y'all stash.”

“Slim, we ain't got no more money. The feds got everything when Bilal got locked up,” Carlos said.

Carlos knew that if he told them where the five point million was at, then not only would he be dead, but Bilal and Meeka would also die.

“So you ain't try'na give that shit up, huh?” Petey said.

“Man, slim, that's the truth. I swear to God on everything I love that's all we got,” Carlos said, pleading for his life.

“Pull over in this alley,” Petey said as he kept his gun stuck in Carlos's rib cage.

“Man, Petey, don't kill me. I swear that's all we got, man!” Carlos pleaded with tears in his eyes.

“Shut the fuck up and pull in the alley!”

 

 

Meanwhile, Bilal went around Trinidad to pick up his money from Petey. When he drove up to Petey's stash spot, he didn't see Petey or Chicken Wing's car. There were only two dudes out front talking.

Bilal rolled down his window and said, “Hey, what's up, youngin'? Y'all see Petey?”

“Naw, we waitin' on him now,” one of the dudes said.

“How long you've been waiting?”

“We just got here, slim.”

Bilal parked his car and figured he'd wait for Petey. Since he had his clientele out front waiting on him, he knew Petey wouldn't be that long; but usually when Petey wasn't around to serve these niggas, then Chicken Wing would.

Bilal paged Carlos, and when he didn't call him right back, Bilal sensed something was wrong. Usually when he paged Carlos, he would call him right back. Why the fuck wasn't Carlos callin' him back? He hoped that dude Li'l Manny wasn't wit' the feds.

Bilal paged Carlos again, and after about forty-five minutes of waiting on Petey and Carlos to call back, Bilal grew impatient. Petey's customers left, and Bilal went looking for Carlos.

First Bilal went around Ninth Street, where Carlos's runners were. He pulled up on Li'l Kenny and Raymond.

“Hey, Kenny,” Bilal called out to him.

“What's up, Bilal?” Li'l Kenny said.

“You seen Los?”

“Naw, he ain't come through yet, and I have been paging him all day.”

“Look, when you see him, tell him to call me.”

“Okay, Bilal.”

Bilal then drove around Orleans Place, where he was supposed to meet Carlos after he picked up the money. Bilal pulled up around back and saw Cat, Soup Bone, and Li'l Short Dog.

“Y'all seen Los come through here?”

“Naw, Bilal, but I saw him earlier when I was coming out the Madness Shop. He was going up Georgia Avenue, and he had Petey and Chicken Wing wit' 'im,” Short Dog said.

“Petey and Chicken Wing?” Bilal said with a disturbed look on his face.

“Yeah, slim.”

“You sure it was Petey and Chicken Wing?”

“Yeah,” Short Dog said.

Bilal instantly got nervous, and as he headed toward Georgia Avenue, all he could think about was Carlos and how he loved him like a little brother. He knew that if he was with Petey and Chicken Wing, something was wrong. Plus, Carlos had never called him back. As he raced up Georgia Avenue, tears started forming in his eyes. If something happened to Carlos, then those niggas was gonna pay with their lives.

Bilal looked up and down Georgia Avenue, but there was no sign of Carlos's car. When he turned onto Webster Street, he passed an alley, and as he was driving by, he caught a glimpse of a car sitting there. Bilal put his Benz in reverse, pulled into the alley, and saw that it was his friend's car.

He got out with tears welling up in his eyes and looked in Carlos's car, saw that it was unlocked, and opened the door. Carlos's keys were still in the ignition. Bilal knew something had happened to Carlos. Bilal took the keys outta the ignition and went straight to the trunk of his car. When he opened the trunk, he saw Carlos's body curled up like a baby, with two holes in his head the size of a half a dollar. Instantly Bilal dropped to his knees.

 

 

“Hello, law offices of Rohon and Robinson,” Cindy said.

“I'd like to speak with Jovan Price,” Bilal said.

“Please hold,” Cindy said. She then buzzed Jovan. “Jovan,” she said. “You have a call on line one.”

“Jovan Price here,” Jovan said, answering the phone.

“Hey, Jay, come over my house now!” Bilal said with anger.

“What's up, Lal? You all right?”

“Fuck no I ain't all right. I need you over here now!” Bilal yelled into the phone.

“Okay, slim, I'm on my way,” Jovan said, hanging up the phone.

Jovan then went into Mark's office and said, “Hey, Mark, I gotta make a run. Family emergency.”

“Is everything all right Jovan?” Mark asked.

“I don't know yet.”

“Look, go 'head and take the rest of the day off.”

“Okay, thanks, Mark.”

As Jovan drove out to Bilal's house, he couldn't stop wondering what was going on. Bilal had called him at work, and it sounded like he was crying and angry. What the fuck coulda happened?

As he pulled up, Bilal was out front. His eyes were red and swollen.

Jovan got out of his van, walked over to Bilal and asked him, “What's up, man? You a'ight?”

“Naw, Jovan. Come 'round back.”

“What the fuck is going on, man?”

“Jay, they killed Los, man!” Bilal said, his eyes filling with tears.

“What?” Jovan asked him, not sure he'd heard him correctly.

“Man, they killed Los. They killed my man, Jay!” Bilal cried as the tears gushed outta his eyes.

“Who? Who killed Los?”

“Petey and Chicken Wing!” Bilal yelled.

“How you know that, Lal?”

Bilal laid the whole thing down to Jovan. Jovan had just met Carlos and this nigga had bought him an 850 BMW for a present. This nigga was a good dude, and he was Jovan's best friend's partner and comrade. The whole time Bilal was telling the story, he was breaking down how much he loved Carlos. Jovan could now see the pain that he had held back when Mal-Mal died. He had held onto that pain by loving Carlos.

Damn, shit done got fucked up, and there's only one way to get it back right,
Jovan thought. Petey and Chicken Wing were some cruddy niggas, and they had to get what they deserved; but first, Jovan had to calm Bilal down so that he wouldn't make any dumb moves that could get them life in prison.

Jovan's loyalty to Bilal was concrete, so there was no way he was gonna let these niggas get away with this shit. They had pulled a fucked-up move, and Carlos died for some bullshit-ass two hundred thousand. They had just talked about getting outta this game the night before, but as he saw it, once you're in, there's no way out. Every time you try to make that step out, something always pull you right back in.

“Look, Bilal, this the move, but first you gotta calm down. Is Meeka in the house?” Jovan asked Bilal.

“Naw, she's at work.”

“Good, then let's go in and have a drink and plan this shit out perfectly.”

As Bilal tried to calm himself down, Jovan laid out his plan. “Look, Lal, you know that Madness party is tonight.”

“Yeah, Jay.”

“Don't you got tickets to that joint?”

“I got two tickets. Why?”

“I'ma need 'em. Most likely them niggas is gonna be there celebrating what they did. They got some free money, and you know they're gonna be flauntin'. How many guns you got, Lal?”

“I got three hammers, a .357 Desert Eagle, and two sixteen-shot Smith and Wesson nine millimeters with black talon bullets. Yeah, Jay, I got a silencer that fits both nines,” Bilal said.

“A silencer? Where the fuck you get that?” Jovan asked Bilal.

“My connect sent that shit up to me the last time I copped from him.”

“Okay, that's perfect. Give me those two nines and the silencer.”

“What you gonna do, Jay?”

“What I do best: both those niggas will be dead within forty-eight hours or less.”

“Hold up, Jay. If you're gonna go to that party, you gotta be right.”

Bilal went upstairs and came back down with a jewelry box. “Here you go, man,” Bilal said.

When Jovan opened up the box, the 18-karat Presidential Rolex and matching bracelet almost blinded him. Bilal's watch and bracelet had the biggest diamonds Jovan had ever seen.

“Man, Bilal, what you try'na do, get my arm chopped off tonight?” Jovan said, still staring at all the diamonds on the jewelry.

“Naw, Jay, that's yours now. It used to be Carlos's, but I know he'd rather you have it. That shit is worth almost three hundred thousand. You got an outfit for tonight, Jay?”