The Score (7 page)

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“What are you thinking about that got you looking so lost?” Lauren asked me, interrupting my daydream about how troublemaking-ass Yancy came into our lives. I blinked a few times to shake off the thoughts.

“You,” I lied, giving her a halfhearted smile. Lauren twisted her lips and said, “Yeah, right.”

“Damn, you look good,” I complimented her. “Real businesslike, but also real sexy. They gon' just hand you all the money in the fucking bank looking like that.” I came up from behind her and put my hands on her hips. “You sure you don't want to take off these clothes and let me take care of you before we go?” I asked sexily. Lauren swerved away from me like she didn't want me to touch her. I noticed but I didn't make a big deal out of it.

“You don't think it's too much?” Lauren asked, spinning around like she didn't just throw me the shady swerve. I eyed her up and down. My dick got rock hard too. I had been so busy focusing on Yancy because of the nasty shit she let me do to her, that I had forgotten how gorgeous Lauren really was. She still had it going on too. That flat stomach, those curvy hips, and just enough breasts to satisfy me.

“Dayum!” I huffed as I took an eyeful of Lauren's round ass in the fitted black pencil skirt she was rocking. “Nah, baby, I love that shit,” I said, licking my lips lustfully. For real, how could I have forgotten how sexy Lauren really was?

Lauren looked hella classy in a formfitting blazer that hit her at the waist, a white silk blouse with an oversize bow at the neck, and the fitted black pencil skirt that stopped precisely at her knee. Of course, all of her shit was high-end designers. The black Louboutin pointed toe pumps she rocked topped her outfit off. She picked up a black classic Chanel and slung it on her shoulder, looked at her lady oyster perpetual Rolex watch and smiled at me as if to say
it's time.

Lauren looked like a bag of money as usual and so did I. If I worked in the bank I would think she was a rich lady named Mrs. Belton without even second-guessing it. When Lauren dressed like this it didn't look forced like it did on hood chicks. It looked like she was born with a golden spoon in her mouth and even I was starting to think she was just meant to have it all.

“You look nice too,” Lauren complimented me. “I hope this shit goes as smooth as we look,” she said. She cracked another halfhearted smile. There was something about how Lauren had been acting lately that was real different. I couldn't put my finger on it but suddenly a feeling came over me that told me I might need to be worried. I couldn't afford another deep betrayal like I had suffered in the past.

“What?” Lauren asked, crinkling her eyebrows in confusion. “Why are you looking at me all strange like that? You want to say something? You nervous?”

“Nah, I'm good,” I mumbled. “I'm never scared, baby girl. I'm definitely about this life.” I wasn't going to let her know it, but I was beginning to grow real leery about her behavior lately. I had been with Lauren long enough to know that something was eating at her. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I would've bet that it had something to do with Yancy. All I could do was hope that Lauren didn't suspect that I was digging Yancy's back out on a regular. That would be some shit that would take Lauren over the top. Shit, after all I had put Lauren through, if she found out about Yancy she might even kill me.

LAUREN

I
was nervous about what Matt and I had to do, but I wasn't going to show it. I had prided myself on trying to be cool under pressure, except of course when I had to fight. When I say I had to be cool I mean for my survival. First, when I was younger and had to steal food from the supermarket just to feed my sister and me, before we were separated by social services and put into two different foster homes after my drug-addicted mother lost custody of us. I'd walk in like a normal little kid and once I had goods stuffed into my pants, I'd walk out just as cool as when I came in. My sister couldn't do it. She was always looking crazy suspicious in the face. Not me, I was all about our survival. Even once we got to foster care, we still had to steal to eat.

Then, as I got older and started boosting clothes and shoes just so I wouldn't get teased in school and in my neighborhood. It was the same for me. Walk in the stores with my rigged bags, get what I wanted, and walk out like I had just purchased everything I had. It was simple.

And, after I was grown, when I started walking into high-end stores with a rack of fake credit cards and calmly buying the most expensive things in the store. I would get into the role of the credit cardholder and everything.

When you have to steal all of your life you quickly learn that showing any sign of emotion could mean the difference between walking away with what you want and being caught red-handed. I was the type who could change faces like a chameleon that changed colors. I guess growing up going from foster homes to group homes and then back to living with a crackhead mother had shaped me in some ways that I wasn't exactly proud of and had turned me into this.

Finally. Matt and I walked into the Regent Bank together hand in hand, smiling like we were the happiest rich couple in the world. It would've been nice for this to be true, but without saying it to each other, Matt and I both knew better. The illusion of a fairy-tale relationship and status in life was all good, but deep down inside, it pained me to admit that this shit was as fake as the identification we held in our possession that said we were Mr. and Mrs. Harold Belton, a wealthy power couple who had money to burn. Matt and I had shared a good laugh calling each other Mr. and Mrs. Belton on our way to the bank. I could tell Yancy was jealous at the mere sight of me but I didn't give a fuck. I figured that whatever thoughts she had about me, she'd better keep them to herself or else.

For a minute it seemed like old times between Matt and me, but it didn't take long for me to remember the time when I walked into our house and heard him fucking Yancy right in our bed. I was literally sick to my stomach. Truly, I still didn't know how I had held it in this long. If it weren't for me having the bigger picture in mind and a revenge plot cooking in my brain, I would've cut Matt's dick off and kicked that bitch Yancy down a flight of steps after I beat her ass like her pimp used to do.

“You ready?” Matt whispered to me as we waited inside the bank. He wrung his hands against each other nervously.

“Born ready,” I whispered back. “Now be easy because you look straight nervous,” I warned him.

This was one of the biggest jobs we'd taken on in the year and a half since I started our little business. It was also only the second time we pulled a lick together. I usually sent Matt and Yancy to do jobs together. I guess that was my biggest mistake I could've ever made.

But then I figured that it's too late to think about that now. My focus was on being convincing enough to walk out with the cash. Ryan, our computer hacker up in Baltimore, had changed the name on the account of the man who'd lost his wallet. Now the account was in the name of the fake couple Mr. and Mrs. Belton, which was us. In exchange for his brilliant work, Ryan wanted ten percent of the take for his fee, which was three hundred thousand off the top. At first, when I told Yancy and Matt they tried to complain over the fee, but I screamed on them and asked them how else were we supposed to get our hands on the money. After that, neither one of them had shit to say. Now, nothing was stopping Matt and me from walking away clean with a briefcase filled with cash except us. We had to be smooth, cool, and convincing. We couldn't mess this up. One wrong move, body language, or word and the bank personnel could get suspicious and have us like sitting ducks until the police arrived. That wouldn't be a good look at all.

I took a deep breath as I watched a tall, well-dressed white man head in our direction. He looked pleasant enough, but you never could tell with these stuffy suit types. Just like me, they also put on a good poker face right before they set your ass up for the downfall. I was going to be reading him closely.

“Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Belton. I am Adam Schitz, branch manager,” the redheaded man introduced himself. He bowed slightly and extended his hand out in front of him. My gut didn't get a bad feeling from him so that was the first good sign.

“The pleasure is all ours,” Matt spoke up, and extended his hand to meet his for a handshake.

The bank manager smiled. “Well, I have taken care of your request for the most part. Just a few loose ends to tie up on our end.”

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice. These things come up and you just have to take care of them as quickly as possible.”

“Oh, it's my pleasure. Yes, yes. We in the banking industry understand. Our economy is really taking a beating,” Mr. Schitz said in a tone that was a little too cheery for me. He turned and extended his hand out in front of him like an usher in a church would do. “Right this way. I have everything set up for you. Like I said, just a few minor things to take care of before we release the funds,” he said nicely.
Oh God, a few minor things. That could mean stalling us. That could mean absolutely nothing. Keep cool, Lauren.
My mind raced with all kinds of thoughts as we followed Mr. Schitz down a long hallway to a corridor with what appeared to be executive offices on each side.

Matt just nodded and smiled the entire time. I had already warned Matt's ass to be very quiet and to just nod and smile. Matt was a street dude in every sense of the word so him opening his mouth and speaking his Ebonics would not have been a good look for us. For me, it was easy to switch it up to suit whatever situation I was in. Living with foster parents from all walks of life had taught me that. I was able to turn my broken English on and off, which was also the reason I was able to do so well with the credit card scams in the ritzy stores. I could speak like the most well-educated, high-class snobs in the city. Not Matt and Yancy. Those two were ignorant as hell and most of the time drew a lot of suspicion in stores and banks. Which is why I started just sending them to do transactions that didn't require much talking like kiting the checks at the hood check-cashing spots. And to think Yancy thinks she brings a lot to the table when it comes to getting this money. She'd better sit her ass down before I send her stupid, dick-sucking ass right back to the streets where she belongs.

“Okay. Let's get right down to it,” Mr. Schitz said as he closed his office door behind us. He showed us to two nice leather chairs that were situated in front of his desk. Then he briskly walked behind his beautiful mahogany desk. My eyes were immediately drawn to the picture on his desk of his seemingly perfect family—him, his wife, a son, and a daughter. I couldn't help the pang of jealously that flashed in my chest. It immediately made me envy his life, even though I hardly knew him. But the look on his wife's face was one of happiness. She looked like she had the world. And she wasn't even that beautiful. I was prettier than her. I was a damn good woman so why couldn't I have that kind of life? I deserved a husband and kids too. So, where were they? I slowly turned my focus on Matt. All he cared about was getting money in the streets and fucking bitches behind my back, so making me his wife and giving me kids was the last things on his mind, which was why I knew this job had to go off without a hitch. Matt didn't deserve me so I was going to get as far away from him as soon as the money was in my hand. I swear, my life with this nigga was finally over.

“Beautiful office,” I interjected after I snapped out of my zone. I cracked a phony smile, but my heart was beating so fast it was making the material of my silk blouse flutter. It was a mixture of nerves and anger together.

Stay focused, Lauren. No personal shit today. Stay focused.
I gave myself a quick pep talk. I had to wipe sweat from the side of my head. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable. Then I looked over at Matt.

Matt was slouched down in one of the chairs like a fucking slob. I cleared my throat and smiled at Mr. Schitz as I furtively kicked Matt's foot to remind him to sit up like a real well-to-do person would. Matt's eyes went wide and he quickly took the signal and sat up straight in the chair.

Can't take this nigga nowhere!
I grumbled in my head.

“So this is the release here saying that you want to withdraw a total of three million dollars from your account,” Mr. Schitz said, sliding a form toward me. I looked down at the paper and parted a nervous smile. Ryan had really done it. There it was right in front of me in black and white. Sweat beads ran a race down my back and my hands shook slightly. Still, I picked up the black ballpoint pen.

“Great. Everything here looks perfect,” I said in the most convincing bourgeoisie tone I could muster up. I scribbled down my alias and slid the paper toward Matt.

“Here you go, Mr. Belton,” I said with a chuckle. What I was really doing was reminding Matt's ass of his alias so he didn't mistakenly sign his government name. Matt wasn't the sharpest tack in the box when it came to reading and writing. Matt smirked and scribbled down the signature of his alias, too. We signed about five other forms and then Mr. Schitz smiled smugly and nonchalantly dropped a fucking bomb on us.

“The last thing we need to do is get your thumbprints for our records,” he said, still wearing that stupid, phony smile. His words were like small bombs exploding in my ears. I could feel Matt shifting in his seat next to me. I swallowed hard and slowly turned my sight toward Matt. Matt's eyes went wide and his fists curled involuntarily.

“Um . . . okay, sure,” I said nervously. “Is this the procedure for all customers?” I asked, my eyebrows dipping on my face. I reached over and gently touched Matt's arm to tell him to calm down and let's just see what was going to happen.

“Oh yes. Whenever a customer wants to withdraw that much money from their accounts and wants cash in hand we have to do this for our records,” Mr. Schitz explained. Matt shifted uncomfortably in his chair again. I knew Matt very well and I could tell he was gearing up for the fight-or-flight instinct.

Shit!
I cursed to myself.

“Well, great then. I'm glad you have these types of protections,” I said, faking like I was perfectly fine with having a thumbprint taken. It was all I could do to keep myself from running straight for the doors.

“Okay then, it'll just be a minute while I set this up,” Mr. Schitz said. Matt let out a long windstorm of breath, flexed his neck, and adjusted his tie. I guess I wasn't the only one who was suddenly uncomfortable in my clothes. I hit Matt's foot with the tip of my shoe and gave him the eye. Matt shook his head left to right and swiped his hand over his face. He was showing too much nervousness.

“Okay, ready to go,” Mr. Schitz said. He pulled out a fingerprint kit and had both Matt and me press our thumbs into the pad of black ink and transfer it on the documents we signed. We gave the bank manager four prints in total. And as soon as we were done he handed us wet wipes to remove the ink from our fingers. I let out a long sigh. “Well, I guess that's it?” I said, and then I smiled. I was ready to get the fuck out of this damn bank. I felt like a sitting fucking duck. I reached over and squeezed Matt's arm to get him to chime in. “You sound like you're tired, honey,” he commented.

“No, I'm just a little famished,” I replied. I was giving Mr. Schitz some hints to let him know that I was ready to go once and for all.

“Oh, well, we're done here so I guess you can get you two something to eat,” Mr. Schitz said after he closed the fingerprint kit. Then he reached down and used his intercom to call someone to bring us the money.

I balled my toes up in my shoes and I could feel my hands shaking. We were so close.
Please God. Please God. Please God,
I chanted in my head. I could only pray that Yancy's ass was in the bank making sure she didn't see any police cars or any security heading toward the back where we were waiting. All she had was that one job. I had assigned her to be the lookout because I knew that banks sometimes stalled scammers to give the police time to come. I had had a close call once down in South Carolina.

I jumped at the sound of three hard knocks on Mr. Schitz's door. Sounded like a police knock to me. Matt looked at me and I looked at him. I could tell that, just like me, Matt was holding his breath.

Matt furtively pointed to his waist, letting me know that if the bank or the police tried to detain us there we would be shooting our way out of the bank. Matt had already said he wasn't going back to prison, that he would rather die first.

Mr. Schitz jumped up from his desk and rushed to the door. He pulled it open and at first I couldn't see who was standing on the other side of it.

“Thank you, Olga,” Mr. Schitz said to the lady at the door as she handed him the two bank satchels with the money inside. There were also two security guards with her. Olga left and both of the security guards stepped into the office. I couldn't even focus. I could no longer see, hear, smell, or feel anything. It was like I was suddenly in another place. All of a sudden the room started to spin and my ears started ringing. My nerves had completely come undone. I could tell Mr. Schitz was talking to me because I saw his paper-thin lips moving but I couldn't hear what he was saying.