Life Without Hope (24 page)

ing to take its toll.

I rubbed my sore wrist as Tomica talked. She explained to me

that they had to leave in a hurry to go clean out the ATM and take

care of other matters. She detailed a plan about a jewelry store

caper where all I had to do was walk into the store, holler at the

top of my lungs and fall to the ground, like I was having a seizure.

It sounded pretty easy to me. So I just played dumb, I shrugged

my shoulders dancing my eyebrows with an idiot’s smile and

replied, “Okey-dokey,” in my best lame voice. For the first time

Tomica laughed at me, and I knew it was more of a relief that she

found the perfect fool to pull off the heist.

Evette lay in bed on the satin sheets looking at me with her

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long legs crossed. I just stared at the carpeting, at the stain where

I poured my drink, and fought with every fiber in my body to

keep my composure, act like a square and play the lame game.

Around this time tomorrow, the tables would turn. My plan was

to rob them bitches, and maybe even out of spite, handcuff them

together and grudge fuck Tomica in the ass for tr ying to be the

man.

“
What size clothes and shoes you wear?” Tomica asked, dis-

turbing my daydream. I gave her my measurements without ever

asking any questions. Afterward, Tomica walked me to the door.

It hurt me to my heart to have to walk out that door not getting

what I had come for. I took one last sniff of their feminine scent,

and feeling like a rejected whore, I moped past her, only this time

I was not faking it. I was humiliated.

I staggered back to my room, lay in my bed fully clothed,

drunk and frustrated still smelling the sexual aroma of those two

women’s per fume emanating out of my pores. Their erotic per-

formance still heavily on my mind. I felt my pistol, Jesus, under

my pillow and smiled to myself promising that tomorrow would

be my day, tomorrow the lame would turn pimp. I had a trick for

them bitches and as soon as we pulled off the heist, it was on.

Puzzled, I lay in bed in the dark intrigued by the women. They

pulled off the credit card scheme with ease. Then Trina’s face

flashed on the screen of my mind like lightning causing me to

flinch uncontrollably with anger. In my mind again, I swore if I

ever saw her again I was going to kill her. What I didn’t know was

that we were going to meet again, soon.

*****

The next day at 2:34 in the afternoon, I was startled from my

sleep. Someone was pounding on the door. Hastily I grabbed my

gun from under the pillow and walked over to the door looking

out the peephole. To my relief it was Tomica and Evette. Tomica

was beating on the door with her shoe. I had a slight hangover. To

my brain it sounded like a little man was hammering on my skull

with a sledge hammer. My tongue felt like sand paper, my throat

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was dry, I was so thirsty I needed something cold to drink. For a

fleeting second I thought about opening the door putting my pis-

tol to Tomica’s temple for making all the goddamn noise on my

door. Black women can be so ignorant.

I took a deep breath, opened the door, showed them my lame

face, blood cracked eyes from my hangover and all. The women

stalked right past me, shopping bags in tow. I shut the door, went

to the bathroom, pissed like a race rose, drank water from the

faucet like I had been out in the desert for weeks. Looking in the

mirror I splashed water on my face and washed the dried saliva off

my cheeks. I could hear their chatter in the next room. I walked

in just as they were placing clothes on the bed–men’s clothes. A

black suit with a gray tie. Shoes, socks, shir ts, even underwear for

me. I had to do a second take at them. Both women were decked

out, dressed to kill. Tomica wore a sophisticated, conservative

brown two-piece suit with black stockings and low-heeled black

pumps. Her hair was stylishly coiffured into long locks of dazzling

curls that seemed to enhance her lovely face. She looked like she

was ready for another day at the office on Wall Street. Evette, the

more feminine of the two, wore a short mini dress showing off her

long legs and nice figure. Her heart-shaped blouse exposed even

more cleavage with its wide neckline and low cut, hanging off her

shoulders. She wore her long hair straight and untamed like a

white girl letting it cascade down her shoulders. Her face was

rough with what I thought was too much makeup but some men

would find it attractive in a way. Her thin Chanel gold eyeglasses

set her off into that new cultured elegant beauty that was becom-

ing vogue at the time. She carried a mystic that could make you

fantasize.

OK, I’ll admit, these two women so far had amazed the hell

out of me. I had not seen one flaw in their game. I was in the

minor league, they gave me a glimpse of the pros.

Finally I was dressed. Eight hundred dollar suit, three hundred

dollar kicks, Armani shirt, gold cufflinks, the whole nine yards.

One thing I can say, these women knew all the expensive clothes

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to steal. They dressed me sharp as a tack in the finest threads. I

couldn’t help but admire myself in the mirror. In the corner of my

eye I could see Evette watching me, too. On my way out the door

Evette passed me a leather briefcase and winked her eye.

In the car, Tomica was talking me to death, going over each

and ever y detail of what I was supposed to do once I entered the

jewelr y store. She talked so damned fast. With her brow-furrowed

eyes, she penetrated deep concerns of something at first I could

not read, and then it dawned on me, I had seen and felt it many

times before: fear. The fear of the unknown, riveting with courage,

in the duel of a no compromising mind, when it was decided that

there was no turning back. Even though I threw bricks at the

chain gang and robbed niggas like it was a sport, I realized from

looking at Tomica’s face, in a sense their hustle was no different

than mine. They relied only on sheer wit and cunning savvy but

we shared that one common bond–the fear of getting caught.

Finally we road in silence. R. Kelly crooned something about

his mother on the radio, how she was his favorite girl. As I drove,

I made a mental note to call my stepmother. I glanced in the

rear view mirror. Evette stared at me with eyes hooded, it was

something that I would never be able to read. I told myself that

after I robbed them I was going to do something special with her,

some freaky shit.

The jewelry store was located in the hub of Tallahassee on

Tennessee Street in a shopping mall. It was Saturday and the place

was packed. Its pristine décor looked somewhat out of place.

Maybe it was how white people were able to dress up places that

cater mostly to the rich.

As I pushed on the revolving doors I couldn’t help but admire

my reflection in the glass. As soon as I walked inside my heart

skipped a beat. I don’t know what it is about white folk’s estab-

lishments that are so intimidating. It wasn’t just that, I realized

that I did not have a clue as to what these women were going to

do. How were they going to pull off such a heist in a classy joint

like this? This was out of my league. Playing the lame game had

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me in the blind; however, I understood that they wanted me to

know as little as possible in the event I got caught and turned

snitch.

Shopping music played from the speakers as shoppers lazily

browsed. With hands in my pockets, I causally tried my damnest

to blend in. I checked out the palatial splendor of the joint. It was

a very expensive place. Now I could see why they had me dress up

for the occasion. The diamonds in the showcase windows looked

unreal. So much ice, I could not believe my eyes. Ever y now and

then my eyes would dart to the door waiting for the women to

make their entrance.

“
May I help you?” a genial voice asked.

I did not want to look up. Out of all these people in the store,

she had to ask me. Of course, I was the only Black person. I

adjusted my tie and smiled brightly.

“
No thank you. I’m just looking,” I said awkwardly to the

white woman.

She opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. After

she left, I exhaled deeply, adjusting my tie again, it was starting to

become habit forming. I walked to the end of the counter, posi-

tioning myself so I could see the door when Tomica and Evette

entered. I pretended to be interested in a pair of sunglasses. I tried

them on looking into one of them small mirrors that they have on

the eyeglass rack. That’s when I saw him, like eyes in the back of

my head. I saw the huge white man watching my every step. He

had to be the store security, probably an off duty cop. I wasn’t sure

but I had a gut feeling. I wondered if should I warn the girls when

they came in. I moved on just as Tomica and Evette came in the

store. My heart raced in my chest. Should I tell them about the

cop? Hell, I had no idea what they were going to do.

They wasted no time, walked right up to the clerk pointing at

something they wanted in the case. I looked over my shoulder at

the cop. He was still there watching me like I had already stolen

something. Shit! From across the store I turned my head just in

time to see Tomica give me the signal just as the clerk was passing

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a diamond bracelet to Evette as if it were a royal gift to a princess.

Even from across the room, I could see the diamonds shimmering

like celestial stars captured in a delicate hand.

“
Thirty thousand dollars,” the clerk mouthed.

Somewhat delayed, I went into my animated act.

“
Help! Help! Oh god! Someone help me!” I yelled going down

on my knees clasping my chest like I was having a massive heart

attack. People rushed over to me including a few store clerks. The

clerk that was attending Tomica and Evette turned her head for

one split second, and that was all it took for Evette to make the

switch. I dropped my briefcase to the floor in an overly dramatic

fashion and keeled over.

In a frenzy, white folks were all over me. In the meantime,

Evette handed the lady the fake bracelet and they walked over to

me as if concerned, only they walked right out of the door. The

clerk placed the fake bracelet in the display case and hurried over

to me and placed her hand over her thin lips as she looked down

at me sprawled on the floor in pain.

“
Call an ambulance!” someone shirks.

“
Are you OK?” a white woman asked, bending down, embrac-

ing me. She had the bluest eyes I had ever seen. She had blond