Larceny (3 page)

“Okay, I have a younger brother. His name is Anthony, but we call him Li'l Tony. He's locked up down in Lorton, Virginia, behind the wall. He's been in prison since he was sixteen and he's twenty-four now. He got thirty years to life for killing a guy who tried to rape me.”

While I was telling Jovan about Li'l Tony, my eyes started to get watery, even though it had been a long time since that day when Li'l Tony heard me screaming in the alley on Sixteenth Street. He came to my rescue, only to see that the man he thought was his father was holding my throat and choking the life outta me while pulling down my pants and trying to take my virginity.

 

 

 

Bilal stopped over at my grandmother's house to see if I was coming outside. He had his little brother, Jamal, with him. Jamal was eight years old, and Bilal had nicknamed him Mal-Mal. He was the only true love Bilal had. Everything Bilal did, he did it for Mal-Mal. Their father was killed in a bank robbery shootout with the feds, which left Ms. Cookie, their mother, a nervous wreck. She didn't know how to take care of her two boys because she had always been dependent on Bilal's pops. To make matters worse, they were both dependent on heroin, so when he was killed, that left Ms. Cookie, the worst addict that northeast D.C. ever had, to take care of her two boys alone.

Ms. Cookie never had any food in the house, so Bilal was the one who had to take care of Mal-Mal. He would go to the Safeway Grocery Market on Seventh and H Street Northeast and steal whatever kind of food they could eat without cooking because they didn't even have gas on in the house.

When Bilal and I used to go down to McBride's Department Store to steal, we would see Ms. Cookie on the corner of Eighth and H Street, nodding and scratching. Once when he went up to tell her about Mal-Mal being sick, she lifted her head up real fast as if she was concerned and then said, “Baby, you got ten dollars so I can get my fix?”

Bilal began to hate Ms. Cookie. He used to say, “Jovan, one day I'm gonna be rich and I'm gonna take Mal-Mal to Disneyland, Sea World, and all them other places parents take their children. I'ma get a real big house for Mal-Mal and me, and that bitch Cookie better not ask me for shit!”

Although we both knew that Bilal was dreaming and it would never happen, I still had to add to it to keep his mind off of Ms. Cookie.

“What about me?” I asked. “Whatcha gonna do for your boy?”

“Oh, I'ma get you a white Nissan Maxima, about fifty pair of New Balances, and a fat gold rope like Run DMC.,” he told me. “Yeah, nigga, it just gonna be Mal-Mal, you, and me.”

 

 

 

Jovan held my hand tight while I sat in silence for a moment, and then he said, “Sonya, if you don't want to continue, we could move onto another subject. I understand how it is, believe me, and when it comes my turn to talk, you will hear things similar to your story.”

For some reason, I kept feeling a sense of security with Jovan, as though his words were sincere and his heart was pure. He was the perfect gentleman. It was all too good to be true. I couldn't wait until it was my turn to ask him questions.

“Okay now, Sonya, is it all right if I ask how old you are?”

I gave a slight smile and said, “How old do you think I am?”

“Well, you definitely don't look old. In fact, for a minute I was kinda skeptical about asking you to lunch because you look so young,” Jovan said.

I laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“No, but seriously, you are a very gorgeous woman and also in tremendous shape. I wouldn't care if you were sixty years old. I'd still ask you to lunch.”

I laughed again. “Now you're pushing your luck.”

“Well, you know all I can do is try.”

“Don't worry. You're doing a good job; and, baby, for the record, I'm twenty-seven and my birthday is April third.”

“So you just turned twenty-seven?” he asked me.

“Yeah, but sometimes I feel like I'm eighty-seven.”

“Damn, sweetheart, you going through that much drama?” We both laughed.

“No, I ain't going through that much drama, but I do have a very difficult job,” I said.

“Oh, so you do work.”

“Yes, I do. Why'd you say that?”

“Oh, because earlier you said something about watching the soaps.”

“No, baby.”
Oops, there I go again.
“I watch the soaps whenever I'm off, and sometimes when I'm at work, I tape them so I can watch them when I come home from work.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I've been doing that for years.”

“So, what type of work do you do?”

“I work at BET Studios. I'm the assistant to the producer.”

“Damn, so you call the shots, huh?”

“No, not really. What I do is run around like a mad woman for the man who calls the shots. Remember I'm an assistant.”

Again we both laughed. Damn, it felt good to be in a man's presence—a fine-ass man at that. Little did Jovan know that if he kept up the good work, then maybe this little lunch date would turn into a dinner date.

 

 

 

When Bilal and Mal-Mal came into my grandma's house, you could tell that Mal-Mal hadn't eaten. He was quiet and he looked cold. I went upstairs, got him one of my old sweatshirts and a coat I had back when I was young. Grandma always kept those types of things. She didn't believe in throwing nothing away. I then fixed us some Oodles of Noodles and Steak-umms that Grandma kept in her freezer for me to cook when she was gone. I made Mal-Mal and Bilal two sandwiches apiece and a bowl of Oodles of Noodles. Mal-Mal ate all of his food but Bilal didn't. He wrapped his sandwiches up just in case he wasn't able to find Mal-Mal anything to eat later. Bilal was taking on a big responsibility, because no matter what was going on, he always made sure Mal-Mal was all right.

While Bilal and I went downstairs to play video games, Mal-Mal stayed upstairs and ate cookies and watched cartoons. I was killing Bilal on Ms. Pac-Man. We played a couple more games and then we started to talk.

“Hey, let's go down to Hechinger Mall and steal some cologne and leather belts,” Bilal said.

“What the fuck are we gonna do with cologne and belts?”

Bilal laughed and said, “We gonna sell 'em, stupid!”

“To who?” I asked him.

“To the fucking hustlers on Ninth and I, and the ones on Orleans Place. They love that type of shit.”

“How you know?”

Bilal dropped his head to his chest before he said, “'Cause my mother's a fuckin' junkie and she do it all the time. That's how I know.”

So we all walked down to Hechinger Mall and went into the Safeway Foods first. We stole enough food to feed Mal-Mal for about a week. So far our shoplifting spree was going good. No police were in sight, and no one would ever suspect two teenagers with an eight-year-old would be stealing like it's going outta style.

When we went into the Cavalier Men's Shop, we used Mal-Mal's innocent looks to get what we wanted. The salesperson was a fat, pudgy lady who looked like she was in her thirties. She was the only salesperson on the floor at the time. Bilal must have done this before, because he knew right where the belts and cologne were.

“Go 'head, Mal-Mal. Do your thang,” Bilal told him.

Mal-Mal went over to the lady to distract her and said, “Excuse me, pretty lady.”

“Why, hello, young handsome fella. How can I help you?” the saleslady asked Mal-Mal.

“My daddy's birthday is tomorrow. Can you help me pick out a hat?” Mal-Mal said.

“Why, I sure can, little man. Come on over here with me.”

The fat lady took Mal-Mal over to the hat rack, while Bilal and I opened our coats. Each of us wrapped five Pierre Cardin leather belts around our bodies. Then we stuffed our inside and outside coat pockets with bottles of Ralph Lauren, Geoffrey Beene, Stetson, and English Leather colognes.

When it was time for us to leave, Bilal went over to Mal-Mal and said, “Hey, you brought Daddy a hat last year. Why don't you get him something else?”

“Okay, I'll be back. Hey, pretty lady, when I come back, can you help me pick out a pair of gloves?” Mal-Mal said with his innocent look and whiney voice.

“Why, I sure can, little man. You just promise to come on back, you hear.”

Damn, Mal-Mal did that shit too perfect, but I already knew where he got it from. Ms. Cookie used to make him do that whenever she was “ill” and trying to get her fix.

 

 

 

“So, where do you live?” Jovan asked.

“Why, aren't we getting a little too personal?” I said, giving him a sexy smile.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just starting to feel really comfortable with you, and I could sit here and talk to you all day long,” Jovan said as he leaned back in his seat, studying my body language.

“Well, since you don't look like some kinda stalker or anything, I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you where I stay. I live on Connecticut Avenue in a condo called The Saratoga.”

“Nice place, ain't it?” Jovan said.

“You've been there?” I asked him.

“Yeah, a few years ago. A friend of mine had a nice condo there. Do they still have those marble bathrooms?”

“Yeah, they do.”

“That spot reminds me of a hotel in Vegas.”

“Yeah? Which one?”

“The MGM Grand.”

“I've never been there.”

“You've never been to Vegas?” he said.

“No, silly, I mean I've never been to the MGM Grand. I went to Vegas a couple of years ago.” I hoped Jovan didn't ask me who I went to Vegas with. That would be the start of many lies, so to keep from lying, I shifted the conversation in another direction.

“So, since I sat here and told you all my business, now it's my turn to ask the questions,” I said.

“Hold up,” he answered. “I've got one more question.”

 

 

 

With our shoplifting spree over, it was now time to drop Mal-Mal off and go try to sell our goods to the hustlers on Ninth and I and Orleans Place. On our way back, Bilal had a look of unhappiness on his face. I wondered what was wrong. We had just stolen about a hundred dollars worth of shit, so why the fuck was he mad?

“Hey, what's wrong, nigga?” I said to him.

“Whatcha mean what's wrong?”

“Man, you look like you just lost your best friend.”

“Naw, nigga, I got something on my mind, and for future reference, I ain't never gonna lose my best friend. My best friend is right here, and he ain't going nowhere. Ain't that right, Mal-Mal?” Bilal said, looking at his brother.

Mal-Mal looked up at his older brother, all smiles, and said, “Yeah, Lal, we best friends for life. I can't wait 'til we get rich, get our big house, go to the movies, the park, play games, and eat candy all day.”

“Naw, little nigga, you ain't gonna be eating no candy all day, but we is getting our house and all that other stuff.” Bilal grabbed a hold of Mal-Mal's head and said, “I love you, Mal-Mal.”

“I love you too, Lal.”

As I looked at them expressing their deepest love to each other, I began to think about my big brother, and the pain grew deep in my heart. All I could do was block it out and hold it in until the day I would be able to release it.

Bilal was only fifteen years old, but he took life very seriously. He knew that he had to do something to be able to raise Mal-Mal like he wanted to. He looked at me deep in my eyes, and from the way he was looking at me, I knew that whatever was about to come outta his mouth was to be taken seriously. Bilal was a grown man trapped in a little boy's body.

“Hey, Jovan?” Bilal said.

“What's up Lal?”

“Look, man, you know it ain't nobody but Mal-Mal and me. You know he's my life and my only love, right?”

“Yeah, Lal, I already know that.”

“Can you promise me something?”

“Yeah, what's up?”

“Promise me that if anything was to ever happen to me, you'll look out for Mal-Mal.”

At that moment, I didn't know that my promise would mean taking on such a big responsibility so soon, but we were friends, and all I could do was be loyal to our friendship.

“Yeah, nigga, you know Mal-Mal's my little man,” I said. “Sho'nuff I'll look out for him.”

“Thanks. You my only true friend,” Bilal said with all sincerity.

As we continued to walk down H Street, we saw Ms. Cookie coming in our direction. She looked clean. She wasn't scratching or nodding, but she was getting very skinny.

“Hey, Mommy!” Mal-Mal yelled with a big smile on his face.

“Mal-Mal, my baby,” Ms. Cookie said. She grabbed her youngest son and hugged him as if she hadn't seen him in years. Mal-Mal was happy to see his mother. It wasn't often that he saw her in a healthy state of mind.

“Hey, Mal-Mal, you wanna go over to Aunt Gloria's house with me?” Cookie asked him.

Bilal interrupted with the most serious look I'd ever seen. “Naw, he a'ight. He ain't trying to go nowhere.”