The Mike Black Saga; MOB (3 page)

Travis was listening but he wasn’t hearing what Ronnie was trying to say. As far as he was concerned, it was his fault. He should have known that the manager would have a gun somewhere in the store. It was his job to know that. That mistake could have gotten them killed or caught. He knew the timelines were too tight. He planned it that way. Tight timelines equal tight execution.

“Sorry I’m late, y’all. I got caught up in lunchtime traffic. And you did say to drive safely,” Jackie said as Travis and Ronnie got in the car.

“See, Travis. You even knew Jackie was caught in traffic. Ain’t nothing wrong with your planning skills, Spock. I just fucked up, that’s all.”

“What’s he talking about?” Jackie asked.

“I told him it was my fault that things went down the way they did. I should have known that the manager had a gun somewhere. We should have taken the time to make sure that he didn’t. He thinks it’s his fault.”

“No, Travis, you’re wrong about this one. It is most definitely his fault. What the fuck were you thinkin’, Ronnie?” Jackie asked angrily.

“I’m sorry, Jackie. Damn,” Ronnie pleaded.

“Sorry don’t get it done. Not this time. It wasn’t the fuckin’ timeline. That shit was tight and on time. It was them extra fifteen seconds I had to spend gettin’ you off that man’s ass that fucked shit up. Kick the fuckin’ gun out of his hand and get the fuck back to work. But no, mister fuckin’ adrenaline has to have a kick fit,” Jackie argued. “It was those fifteen seconds that allowed rental cops to get there and in position and then allowed the cops to get close enough to actually chase us.”

“Enough already,” Travis shouted.

“No, Travis, Jackie is right. Those are the fifteen seconds that put us all in jeopardy. It won’t happen again.”

“Good,” Jackie said. “’Cause if it does, I’ll shoot you myself.”

Everybody laughed.

While Jackie drove back to the Bronx and argued with Ronnie, Travis closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He thought about how they went from college students to robbing crew.

They had known each other since the third grade at PS 87 in the Bronx and had been friends, the best of friends, ever since. They were inseparable; they did everything together. They went to their first party together. They smoked their first joint together. When it came time to fight, it wasn’t one, it was all three that had to be dealt with. And when it came for Travis and Ronnie to satisfy their curiosity about sex, there was never any question in any of their minds about how it was going to happen. Ronnie made a big deal about going first, but Travis believed that Jackie had saved the best for last. And when it was all said and done, Jackie, who had already explored her sexuality prior to that day, came away knowing that her closest friend would be the last man she would ever have sex with.

Above all else, they were good students who looked forward to attending good colleges and getting good jobs after graduation. And it worked out just that way, at least for a while.

Travis was the leader and always called the shots. Even as a young boy, Travis was very logical and disciplined, but he loved to have fun. After high school graduation, Travis attended the University of Connecticut and studied computer science. He was a natural born programmer. It was the way he thought:
if, then, else
. If this happens, then do this, or else do this.

Jackie was always interested in science; she attended Rutgers University and took up chemistry. Ronnie Grier was the wild one, always high energy. As for Ronnie, he loved New York too much to leave the city. He went to Columbia University and concentrated on finance.

After graduating from college, Travis quickly got a job as an entry-level programmer at Software Solutions in New Jersey. Jackie also got a good job after graduation. She began working as a chemist at Frontier Pharmaceuticals. As for Ronnie, he graduated at the top of his class with dual degrees in Finance and Economics. Wall Street was his next stop.

The remainder of the nineties was great. Money flowed and their individual careers flourished. This afforded each the opportunity to explore and indulge their passions for gambling, liquor, weed, and the pleasures of women. However, the new millennium brought changes for all Americans, especially those Americans of color.

Travis was the first to feel it. Y2K had been a boom for those in the technology field, and most especially programmers. Once Y2K came and went without any major incidents, the technology bubble burst. Although his work was superb, Travis was one of the first programmers at his company to be laid off. “Not a problem,” Travis told Jackie and Ronnie. “I’ll have a better job by the end of the week.” But that wasn’t happening. The economy had started its historic downturn.

Ronnie had been working as a trader on Wall Street. As the economy continued its slide, so did Ronnie’s career as a trader. His pink slip was next. His firm dropped the news on him late one Friday afternoon. He wasn’t all that surprised. He had watched week after week as colleagues lost their jobs. It became known as the Friday afternoon death march.

On Friday nights, Ronnie always met Travis and Jackie at Cynt’s, a private gambling house with strippers. The place was run by Mike Black’s organization. By the time Ronnie arrived at Cynt’s, he had already been drinking with the other fired trader and came in cursing. “God-damn muthafuckas fired me today!” he told Travis and Jackie.

Travis had been out of work for two months by this time and was surviving on unemployment checks. “What! You bullshittin’, right?” Travis asked, but he could tell by the look on Ronnie’s face that he wasn’t. “Jackie got fired today, too.”

“Get the fuck outta here. You the best fuckin’ chemist they got.”  Ronnie had believed Jackie’s job with Frontier Pharmaceuticals was secure.  “Everybody out there knows that shit. Muthafuckin’ pharmaceutical industry doin’ fantastic. Last quarter’s numbers were phenomenal. Shit, all them fuckas poppin’ pills ’cause they got fired or ’cause they worried about gettin’ fired, shouldn’t be no fuckin’ layoffs in pharmaceuticals.”

“I didn’t get laid off, Ron. I got fired for insubordination,” Jackie said quietly.

“You? Got fired for insubordination? What’d you do, tell the president of the company that you had sex with his wife at the last Christmas party?” Ronnie laughed.

“No, Ronnie, I’m not stupid enough to tell him nothing like that. My supervisor, a bitch made busta named Jake Rollins, fired me ’cause I refused to work on some project he had goin’ on.”

“Shit, Jackie. You were supposed to get fired for that. That is insubordination.”

“Yeah, I know, but he wanted me to work on my own time. Then he lied about it.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“For sure.”

As the months dragged on, the New York economy went from bad to worse, and then September 11 changed the world. But through it all, they stayed true to one another and tried to help each other get through these hard times. They still met at Cynt’s every Friday, but one particular week they agreed that this would be their last Friday as it was something they could no longer fit in any of their budgets.

Since this was to be their last night, they decided to go out in high style. Their glasses were never empty, and there were never less than two women dancing at their table—that is, until Travis sent them away.

“Hey!” Jackie said. “What you send her away for?” she said of the dancer who was making her cheeks clap while standing on her hands. “I was just about to make a move on her.”

“Shit, save them two bills, Jackie. You know you got better things to do with that money,” Travis said. “It ain’t like she was gonna fuck you for free.”

“Now, Travis, you know I got half these bitches in here linin’ up to suck this pussy. I don’t have to pay any of them.” Jackie laughed. She was a very attractive woman and had no problem getting anyone she wanted.

She liked hangin’ out at Cynt’s with Travis and Ronnie. She liked watching the women dance, but her vice was gambling. She loved to play poker. “Payin’ for pussy is Ronnie’s thing,” she said playfully.

“Watch that shit, Jackie. Girlie or not, you can still get your fine ass kicked,” Ronnie said and finished his drink.

“I guess you forgot what happened the last time you tried that. I was the one who kicked your ass.”

“Give me a fuckin’ break, Jackie. We were nine and I slipped on some ice. That’s how you got me. I also remember Travis grabbin’ and holdin’ me when I got up, and you running away.”

“But I ran away after I kicked your ass, and I ran home laughing all the way.”

“Anyway,” Travis said. “I got something to say.”

“What’s that?” Ronnie asked. “Better be important enough to send away the women.”

“It is. I was just thinkin’ that we need to find another way to make some money. Ain’t no jobs out there and ain’t none comin’.”

“What you got in mind? Startin’ a business? That takes money, too,” Jackie said.

“Yeah, I’m talkin’ about goin’ into business for ourselves, but just not the type of business you’re thinkin’ about. Look around this room. There’s plenty of money up in here. Muthafuckas in here spendin’ mad cash like it’s goin’ out of style tomorrow morning. Ain’t no recession in here.”

“Yeah, Tee, but these mutha fuckas are ballers and gangsters. That’s why they got paper. They out there takin’ theirs,” Jackie said as she finished her drink. “My glass is empty. Can I at least get a waitress over here?” she asked and flagged one down.

“So, what you got in mind, Tee?” Ronnie asked.

“What’s rule number three?”

“Nigga, get off your ass if you plan to be rich,” both Jackie and Ronnie said in unison.

“That’s right. We’ve been sittin’ on our asses waitin’ for shit to get better. That shit ain’t happening. We got to go out and take ours,” Travis said.

“So, I say again,” Ronnie questioned, “what you got in mind, Tee? You talkin’ about us rollin’?”

“Hell no! You know everybody and his pops tryin’ to sling rocks.”

“Then what you talkin about?” Jackie asked.

“Let’s get outta here,” Travis said as he stood up. Jackie and Ronnie got up and followed Travis toward the door.

“Yo, Tee, there go your boy Freeze,” Ronnie said.

“Where?”

“Over there, at that table in the corner.”

“I need to holla at him real quick. I’ll meet y’all outside.” Travis stepped toward Freeze. “What’s up, Freeze?”

“What’s up, Travis?”

Freeze had been a captain in Mike Black’s organization for years. But with Black gone to the Bahamas and Bobby Ray being semi-retired, Freeze ran the day-to-day operations. He had known Freeze since junior high school, when Travis used to do Freeze’s homework for him. Freeze liked Travis and respected him for what he had accomplished.

“I need to holla at you for a second.”

“Have a seat,” Freeze instructed. Travis sat down. “So, what’s up?”

“I need to get some guns.”

Freeze stared at him. He was little disappointed to know that Travis didn’t make it legit. But at the same time, Freeze saw a valuable opportunity in having somebody like Travis on the team. “What you lookin’ for and how many?”

“Six. Nine millers.”

“I can do that,” Freeze said. “Clean, no serial number.”

“How much?

“What you need them for?”

“How much?” Travis laughed and asked again.

“Look, Travis, I can get you the guns you need, any kind you need and as many as you want. That’s not a problem. I know you got your people waitin’ for you, but answer my question and then listen to what I got to say.”

“I’ve been lookin’ at a little spot I wanna hit.”

“Thought so. Now listen. Here’s the deal. I give you the guns and whatever else you need, you give me a cut of the job.” Travis sat back and didn’t answer. “I know what you’re thinkin’. Why don’t I just buy the guns myself and keep all the money?” Freeze said with a smile.

“The thought had occurred to me.”

“’Cause if you do it my way, you work for me. You have my protection, and the protection and services of this entire organization. If you need something, you come to me. You have a problem, you come to me. You get caught, you call me. You keep your mouth shut and I take care of you. You tell me what you’re gonna hit, I tell you first if it’s gonna be more of a problem than it’s worth, if you dig what I mean. Then, if it’s worth your time— ”

Travis thought about what Freeze was saying. It sounded appealing, but he wasn’t sure it was something he wanted to get involved in. He had known Freeze for years and knew how he rolled.

Travis remembered seeing Freeze and Mike Black one night when they were involved in a running gunfight through the streets. They had shot one man on the run; the other had run out of bullets. Black ran him down and pistol-whipped him while a crowd formed. A woman ran up on them and tried to shoot Black in the back. She missed, though, and hit him in the arm. Before she could get off another shot, Freeze shot her. Black yelled, “That bitch shot me! Hey, muthafucka, your bitch shot me!” Black made the beaten man get on his knees and shot him once in the head.

“I don’t know, Freeze,” Travis said quietly.

“I don’t make this offer to just anybody, but I know you. You a smart, schemin’-ass nigga. Always was. I know you got this job, whatever it is, planned out to the very last detail. And I know you plannin’ on hittin’ someplace that’s gonna be worthwhile for you. If you wasn’t that type o’ muthafucka, I wouldn’t fuck with you.”