Authors: Tamicka Higgins
Tramar started a conversation up to distract Quan from the tension in the car. The silence was even getting to him. Just as they started talking, the world suddenly slowed down for Jackson, Tramar, and Ayana. As if the Gods above were working in unison, the three of them saw, at the very same time, the police officer walk out of the McDonald’s. Walking ever so causally, the officer walked across the drive-thru lane and up to his police car. Tramar wanted to break a sweat, silently begging God to make sure that he could at least get his son to a safe place before he was taken in. Ayana hoped to God that the officer wouldn’t notice a car full of black people and get any ideas. Jackson, on the other hand, wondered if his car’s description had gotten around to officers – he wondered if what he thought of as vague in appearance would stick out enough to get him caught.
Ayana, Tramar, and Jackson each watched as the police officer climbed into his car and pressed his brakes.
“Here you go,” a perky voice said, coming from the drive-thru window.
Jackson and Tramar, both startled, turned and looked at the McDonald’s worker – a Hispanic guy with jet black hair.
“Here are your bags,” the guy said, handing the three bags through the window one by one. Jackson accepted the bags and passed them around the car. As they looked through the bags, trying to not look suspicious, they couldn’t help but look up at the police officer every few seconds. All three of them were lost in a world full of anxiety as they wondered what could be going through the police officer’s mind.
After the drive-thru worker had handed them all of their bags and some packets of ketchup, he closed the window and disappeared. Jackson looked over at Tramar, all of them wondering why the police officer had not pulled off yet.
Tramar looked back with fear in his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess. C’mon. Let’s just get the fuck outta here.”
Jackson pulled up to the parking lot exit and turned onto the road. “We headed back to the motel or what?” he asked quietly to Tramar.
Tramar nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess. Let’s just hurry up and get back to the highway so I can calm down a little bit. I’ll be glad when all this shit is over.”
“And then what?” Jackson said. For several seconds, he made eye contact with Tramar. They both knew what the other one was thinking. While they had a bag of money that they could live off of for a while until they got set up somewhere else, they also knew they needed to have a real plan. Tramar shrugged it off, looking away and into the rearview mirror at the road behind him. He just wanted to put a bullet in Byron’s head. He’d rather watch out for the police than to have to watch over his shoulder for Byron. Byron was ruthless and he needed to be stopped. Plus, Tramar needed to take him out, even if it was only on principle. He should have never gone after his family, period.
Tramar felt more at ease when he saw the police car turn out of the McDonald’s parking lot and go the opposite way on the road. Soon enough, they were pulling onto the highway onramp to get up onto the interstate. As they drove down the highway, they watched what they said, for they were very aware that Quan would be listening. The less he knew, the better. After all, he was only a little boy.
***
“Goddamn, nigga!” Precious exclaimed. Upon feeling her insides stretch around Howard’s thick manhood, she couldn’t hold the words back any longer. “Shit, the dick feel good as fuck.”
Precious and Howard had gone out for the night. However, the conversation between the two of them was picking up. They seemed to have a lot in common, and they both loved the street life. In fact, they each agreed on liking people with a little roughness around the edges. Furthermore, neither of them was looking for a serious relationship. When Precious received Howard’s dick pic and realized that they were on the same page about a lot of things, she couldn’t wait to get him back to her bed. He was just too fine to pass up – big and bulky, with a deep voice. The tattoos all over his somewhat muscular body were a testimony to the life he lived and how dedicated he was to it. What really turned her on was how he was able to be professional when working downtown, but really turn it up behind closed doors.
Howard slapped Precious’ ass before going back to gripping her by the neck. Holding her in place, he stroked in and out of her in the quiet bedroom. Normally, he would have music playing. However, upon seeing Precious’ body, he had made his mind up that he wanted to hear nothing but the sounds of her wet pussy. It sloshed around his dick with every stroke he made. The way she whimpered when he would push all the way into her only made his dick harder and throb more.
“Shit, this pussy,” Howard groaned, looking up at the ceiling. He took deep breaths and shook his head. “Fuck, this shit is fire.”
As Howard was just about to grip Precious’ waist as hard as he could and go full throttle, there was a deep knock at the front door. They both stopped, Howard looked out into the hallway and toward the living room door. Before he could ask if she was expecting company, a man with a very professional voice from the other side said, “Miss Harris, are you home?”
Hearing her formal name used, Precious knew that it had to be something important. Quickly, Howard pulled out of her. Precious rubbed her stomach as she grabbed some pajamas and a t-shirt. Having had Howard’s thick manhood inside of her for the better part of twenty minutes, suddenly pulling it out made her feel as if she’d just lost a part of her.
Howard stood off to the side in the shadows of the bedroom as there was another knock at the door. Precious quickly dressed and looked at Howard. “Just chill right here,” she said, confused. “I don’t know what this could be about.”
Precious rushed out into the hallway then made her way across the living room. When she walked up to the door, she looked out and saw two white men in dress clothes. With it being Saturday night, there was no doubt in her mind that whatever they wanted had to be very serious. Precious unlocked the door and pulled it open.
“Yes?” she said, confidently as she looked both detectives in the eyes.
The two detectives introduced themselves before getting down to business. The younger one, who went by Sloan, asked Precious, “Where is your son, tonight? You do have a son with a Mr. Tramar, is that correct?”
Precious' heartbeat sped up. She was so nervous. Like any mother, she quickly jumped to assuming that something had happened. “No,” she said, covering her mouth. “What happened? What happened? Not my baby.”
“Ma’am, calm down,” Sloan said. “As far as we know, nothing has happened to your son. We’re trying to find out if you know the whereabouts of his father.”
“His father?” Precious asked. “I mean, I can call him if you want. Tramar came and picked Quan, our son, up earlier today. I ain’t talked to them since. What is going on? Why are y’all here?”
Sloan looked at his partner, realizing that the mother to a man’s child could be a good way to catch him. She would be perfect for that. “Miss Harris, do you mind if we step in to explain?” he asked.
Precious moved out of the way, allowing both detectives to step inside. For the next several minutes, with Howard still ducking in the shadows in the bedroom, Precious listened as the two detectives explained the long sequence of events.
“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Precious said, angrily. “And you said that them niggas, excuse me, robbed the first bank when?”
“Yesterday afternoon,” Sloan answered. “They then got two banks in Indiana and now they’re wanted in both states. We are looking around the clock for them, especially Tramar.”
“He really killed the security guard at the one bank in Indiana?” Precious asked, shaking her head. Even though she and Tramar had their differences over the years, she never saw him as a violent man. He was always respectful enough, even when they got into it with one another. The idea that he would rob a bank seemed to be a far stretch. Precious could only think about that for a few seconds more before she realized that Tramar had looked her dead in her face today, and he did not mention one thing about being in any sort of trouble.
“I knew I shouldn’t have called that nigga and asked him to do shit,” Precious said. “I swear, something was telling me to just call my mama or my auntie or something. But no….here I am try’na be the good mother and let my son grow up with his father. Why the hell would he be robbin’ banks?”
Sloan hesitated. “We still don’t know his motive,” he said. “But, we need you to help us find him. We’ve been calling his phone and it seems to be off, or maybe he tossed it or something. Our people tried tracking it, but they can’t seem to get any sort of signal. Since you’re the mother of his child, we figured that you might know the places to find him.”
Precious shook her head. “We really ain’t cool like that,” she said. “I mean, I know he hangs out with Jackson a lot, but I don’t know where they be goin’. What I can do is call my son’s cell phone.”
“You can?” Sloan asked. “That would work. Call Quan and see if he answers and what he says.”
“Okay,” Precious said. “Wait a minute.” Precious rushed back into her bedroom. There she looked at Howard, now standing there in nothing but his underwear. While he didn’t have a record or anything, he still didn’t like dealing with the police. He simply stood there, watching Precious rush in and out of the room, with his eyes on her ass. The longer he waited, the more he wanted to continue where he’d left off.
When Precious got back to the living room, she called Quan. No answer. She called again. No answer. She looked at the detectives and said, “Quan’s not answering. He not answering.”
“Okay, calm down,” Sloan said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Give us Quan’s number, since he may be in harm. We can see if our people can trace it for you. You deserve to know where your son is.”
Without question, Precious wrote down Quan’s cell phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to the detectives. They said a few things more before the detectives walked back out into the hallway. “If you hear from Tramar, you make sure to let the authorities know. You don’t wanna go down with him for harboring a wanted bank robbery and murder suspect.” Sloan looked into her eyes.
“Oh, I will,” Precious said, closing the door.
Once back in the calmness of her home, Precious could only stand there and think over what she’d just been told. So much of it was hard to believe, and so much of it had very little reason. Why would Tramar get into robbing banks? Sure, he did some dirty things out in the streets that could wind him up in prison, but he’d never done anything as crazy as robbing a bank, especially not one located in the middle of downtown Chicago.
Precious managed to pull herself together, now concerned more about Quan than Tramar. She went back into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. She was no longer in the mood for any sex. She was too worried. Her son was out rolling around the streets of Chicago with his father – with a wanted bank robber and murderer. Precious thought the worst, saying to herself out loud, “What if I never see him again?”
Chapter 7
Tramar was relieved when they got back to the motel where they’d put his father and stepmother. It was out of the way, out of the city, and, most importantly, in cash and under someone else’s names. Upon taking Quan into the room to see his grandfather, Tramar told him to not say anything about his face or else he would be in trouble. Quan agreed, running into the room once the door opened.
“Daddy, can you watch Quan for a minute while we talk?” Tramar asked, standing in the doorway of the motel room.
Frank nodded, happy that he was seeing his grandson but resentful that he was helping a criminal on the run.
Tramar, seeing the look in his father’s eyes, turned around. He met Jackson and Ayana out in the parking lot. After grabbing Ayana and hugging her, Tramar kissed her. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I really am. I shoulda been there, again. I shoulda been there.”
“It’s okay,” Ayana said. “It ain’t like you knew. Now, we gotta figure out what we gon’ do. It’s getting late and you know the streets is about to be jumpin’.”
“Hell yeah, they are,” Jackson said, nodding his head. “And it ain’t that cold out tonight. Trust me, nigga. The police is gon’ be out in full force tonight.”
“Nigga, regardless of when the police out or not, we gotta get this Byron nigga as soon as fuckin’ possible,” Tramar said. “That’s what we need to be figuring out. We need to be figuring out how we can draw this nigga out and take his ass off the street. You know we ain’t just gon’ be able to ride back out to his house, and he’s just sittin’ there waitin’ for us.”
“But, what if the nigga is at home?” Jackson insisted. “I mean, you saw what I saw when we rolled out there. It looked like he was home and looked like the nigga had company. Shit, he probably had a couple bitches over or somethin’. So, what you sayin’ that you try’na do? You try’na say you wanna get him off the streets then kill him and shit or what?”
“I don’t know,” Tramar said, thinking. “It would be nice to fuck with the nigga for a little bit before I kill his ass. But then again, I don’t know. We don’t even know where the nigga is. I doubt we call his ass and he just come out.”
“But what if he do?” Jackson asked. “What if you call him and tell him that we got the money early? He offer to meet up and shit, thinkin’ that he is gonna get the money. We get his ass then.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Tramar said, nodding his head. “Then we can take his ass back to that house where we got them other niggas tied up and really put on a show.”
“Man, you did them niggas dirty in that house,” Jackson said, shaking his head and snickering. “You really did some foul shit.”
“What you do, Tramar?” Ayana asked. “What did you do at that house, nigga?”
Tramar chuckled before he explained.
“Why you do all that?” Ayana asked, playfully hitting his shoulder.
“And, baby,” Tramar said. “Listen to this. One of the niggas had this little ass dick and now when that Byron nigga walk up in the house, he gon’ have to see that shit. Tomorrow, I guess.”
They laughed for a moment before moving on. They agreed on calling Byron and asking if he would want to meet up tonight to get the money. The three of them walked over to the side of the parking lot, now standing between the front of Jackson’s car and a wooded area. Jackson called Byron, put his phone on speaker phone, and held it out in front of everybody.
“Just the niggas I wanted to hear from,” Byron said, answering the phone.
“Nigga, we got your money,” Tramar said. “Nigga, we got your fuckin’ money.”
“Yeah,” Jackson said. “And we try’na see if you wanna meet up tonight to get this shit.”
“And so I can get my family back,” Tramar said.
Byron took a long pause, as if he were trying to think of what to say to such a proposition. Those several seconds seemed like several minutes to Tramar, Jackson, and Ayana, as they stood in the parking lot, waiting on Byron’s response. Ayana then thought about something and wanted to interject. However, she knew better than to put her voice in anything. Rather, she stood there in silence and waited.
“Okay,” Byron said, kind of slowly. His voice was full of skepticism. “Okay, okay little niggas. I see you all try’na be big boys and shit. Let’s meet up at 2 o’clock, and it’s gotta be in a place that ain’t got too much traffic and shit. You know it’s Saturday night, and the niggas gon’ be out, actin’ like fools.”
“Bet,” Tramar said, ready for the details. “Where you try’na meet at, nigga?”
“Y’all know where Fifty-first and Ashland is, don’t you?” Byron asked.
Jackson looked at Tramar. They both nodded. “Yeah, nigga,” Tramar said. “We do.”
“Okay, be over there at two,” Byron said. “And have your phone so I can call your ass.”
Byron hung up before either of them could say a word. “Bet,” Tramar said, practically ready to go. “I’m ready to kill this nigga, tonight. Then get the fuck outta here by tomorrow night or some shit. I wanna be startin’ my new life wherever first thing Monday morning.”
“Hold up,” Ayana said. “I don’t know about this, y'all. I mean, somethin’ just don’t feel right.”
“What you mean?” Tramar asked, visibly confused. “What you talkin’ bout, baby?”
“Think about it, Tramar,” Ayana said. “Something about that just seemed a little too easy. There was like something in his voice that tells me he knows something that maybe we don’t. He seemed a little too eager to come out on a Saturday night. And, plus, he sounded like he was thinking something or planning some shit when he was takin’ so damn long to answer the question.”
“She’s right,” Jackson said. “You wanna know what I think?”
Tramar looked at Jackson for a moment. “That he done already been over at that house and know that I got my family and shit?” he asked.
“Exactly, nigga,” Jackson said. “Exactly. I bet you he know.”
“I think he do too,” Ayana said. “This shit sound like a…”
“Set up,” Tramar said, finishing the sentence. He looked away in frustration. “Okay, that’s cool then.” Tramar nodded his head. “He wanna set us up, then we can set his ass up. Simple as that. He said for us to meet him at Fifty-first and Ashland?”
“Yeah,” Ayana said, wondering where Tramar was going with this. “At two o’clock, why?”
“Either we can beat him there and ambush that nigga and shit while he sittin’ in his car,” Tramar said. “Or we can show up really fuckin’ late and do the shit when he least suspectin’ it…When the nigga think that we ain’t showed up because we figured out that he knew we already had the family.”
“That shit could work, nigga,” Jackson said. “That shit really could work.”
Ayana liked the idea; it seemed like a plan that would hold up. Tramar then turned to her. “And you can be the reason that it really works,” he said. “You, Ayana.”
Ayana looked surprised, wondering what her man was thinking. Before she could answer, Frank had come out of the motel room. He approached the group with a question. “Look,” he said. “I know y’all out here planning your great American heist or whatever, but I was wondering what we would have to do to get some food to eat. Vivica and I haven’t had any real food in a couple days, you know. And since you all may be running out of town like a couple of gangstas soon, even though I think you should turn yourselves in, I don’t know just how soon I’ll be back home to have any real food again either.”
Tramar needed to hear no more. “Don’t you and Vivica worry, Daddy,” he said. “I’mma go get y’all something to eat and make sure that you got what you need.”
“Yeah, Mister Frank,” Jackson said. “We gon’ go get you somethin’ to eat.”
“Okay,” Frank said. The older man still could not believe his involvement in this entire situation. He turned away and walked back into the motel room, pushing the door closed behind him. Ayana, Jackson, and Tramar hopped into the car and headed out onto the road. Jackson remembered that a couple of miles down the road, by the interstate exit, was a cluster of restaurants and gas station/convenient stores.
“So,” Ayana said. “What did you mean when you said that I’mma be the reason that it works tonight?”
“Because,” Tramar said, “he don’t even know that you involved in any of this. That’s why if you was to go walking up to his truck and shit, he ain’t gon’ think shit about it. Really, he might even try to sweet talk you and stuff. The nigga is one of them niggas. He just gets dumb over some pussy and ain’t payin’ no attention.”
“Yeah, we know that,” Jackson said. “You shoulda seen the look on the nigga’s face when we ran up in his shit. It was very clear that he was paying no attention.”
Tramar chuckled then looked back to Ayana. “Look, it’s coo if you don’t wanna do it,” he said. “I was just askin’ ‘cause it would probably make things a whole lot smoother and shit if you was to trick him.”
“So, you sayin’ that you want me to walk up to him actin’ like I’m some prostitute or something?” Ayana asked. “Nigga, you know I ain’t gon do no stuff like that.”
“I ain’t say that you had to walk up to him actin’ like you was anything,” Tramar said. “Shit, you can just walk by and let them lips and that ass get his attention. Take it from there.”
Ayana pouted her lips out and looked at Tramar. For the first time in a couple of days, he had some sexual thoughts. The very thought of watching Ayana go all the way down on his dick with those lips was making him horny. However, he knew that with the mission he had tonight, he would be a long way from feeling that sort of pleasure for a while. He’d just keep it at the back of his head as he made his moves.
They pulled into the drive thru of a White Castle. Tramar was not sure if Vivica and his father would like this kind of food. However, after what they’d been through, he was sure they’d take whatever they could get. They had obviously been through a lot, and Tramar was going to buy them as much food as he could so if they got hungry at all during the night, there would be something for them to eat. Once they’d ordered the food, Tramar reached back and grabbed Ayana’s thigh.
“So, what you gon’ do?” Tramar asked. “Look, if you scared we can just drop you back off when we drop the food off or somethin’ and come back and get you when we ready to roll out. If you wanna help a nigga out, that’s fine too. If you don’t come, though, we gon’ have to think up some good shit quick that will get that nigga out and into the light where we can get his ass. And the sooner the better for me. I mean, these cops is really gettin’ hot out here if they bustin’ into hotel rooms and motels and shit try’na find me.”
“Yeah,” Jackson said. “And you killed a white person, so you know they really gon’ find your ass. Indiana is probably gonna try to give you the death penalty or somethin’.”
“Nigga, shut up with that shit,” Tramar said.
Ayana grabbed his attention again. “If I go, we gotta make sure we do stuff in a way that’s comfortable to me,” she said. “If I’mma be out there, gettin’ his attention and stuff, then I gotta make sure that I’m on my best.”
“Baby,” Tramar said. “All you got to do is walk by and make sure that he get a good look at that body. Trust me, everything will fall right into place. I just wanna kill this nigga. What we gon’ do is you get his attention and shit. You know, really get him to talkin’ and shit to where he ain’t lookin’ at shit cause you gon’ be out there way after the time that we was supposed to show up. The nigga prolly gon’ be sleepy and shit and not be thinkin’ straight no way. And once you do that, we can run up and put them guns on him. I want that truck. Since he ain’t the one who is wanted and shit, we can use that truck to get outta town.”
“Just what I was thinkin’,” Jackson said. “But I can’t lie, though. A nigga was also thinkin’ bout stayin’ in that nice ass house for a couple days, on the low like in the basement or something, while we figure out what the fuck we gon’ do.”
“That may be a idea,” Tramar said.
“No,” Ayana said. “If I’mma walk up on him like that, or get him to call me over or whatever, I wanna have a gun.”
Tramar leaned back, surprised at how tough his woman was acting. “Oh, really?” he asked. “And what you gon’ do with it.”
“Naw, that nigga got me caught up in this shit too,” Ayana said, feeling a little angry. “Goddamn, detectives and shit coming to my mama’s door and comin’ to my hotel and shit. I’mma get in the car and hold a gun to him. Then one of y’all come over, but only once I got his ass stuck. Shit, I can grab his keys and shit and toss them out the fuckin’ window.”
Tramar smiled, wanting to dick his baby down something fierce. “That’s the shit I like to hear,” he said.