Trap House (9 page)

“Man, it’s gonna take all day tryina boost $500,” Marcus complained.

“If we a little short, maybe P.I.G. will let you sweep up.” Pony chuckled.

Marcus shot him a dangerous glance, but the thought was too funny to get mad. “Nigga, you
gon’ be the one sweeping up,” he said, cracking up.

At long last, Big Zo emerged from his house, dressed to steal. He sported a baggy pair of chinos
that could hold a good amount of loot. The button-down shirt would allow him to easily stuff
merchandise in there as well. A tie and glasses completed the look.

“Fuck took you so long?” Marcus demanded to know as Alonzo slid into the back seat.

“Say, how much Red pay for DVDs?” Big Zo asked Pony, totally ignoring Marcus.

Marcus fought the urge to turn around and shoot him in the head for trying him. Instead, he put
the car in drive and pulled off.

“Shit, we can’t get but five bucks a pop. We tryina strike bigger than that,” Pony replied.

“We need more than a hundred DVDs your way,” Marcus spat. “I’m tryina hit a real lick and
rob me a nigga.”

“I’m down for whatever, my nigga,” Big Zo said enthusiastically.

“Well, I ain’t down,” Pony said forcefully, having grown tired of hearing about it.

“Scared! Say you scared, nigga,” Big Zo chuckled from the rear.

“Scared…buy a dog or call the cops,” Marcus laughed, now glad he hadn’t shot Alonzo.

* * *

Big Zo waited several minutes after Marcus and Pony walked into Walmart before making his
own entrance.

As predicted, security immediately flocked to the known thieves. They could have easily made
them leave, but they wanted to catch them in the act and have them locked up. Plainclothes agents
trailed the men as the security cameras followed them from above. To amuse themselves, Marcus
and Pony abruptly split up. The surveillance split up as well, trailing the men.

With all the security busy, Big Zo made a beeline to the Electronics Department. He began
loading his bag with the newest releases. He couldn’t believe his eyes or his luck when a careless
clerk walked away from an open display case filled with expensive electronics. “Shut my mouth,”
Alonzo mumbled as he moved on the merchandise. He grabbed ten of the most expensive digital
cameras and put them in the bag. A good thief knows when to quit, and Big Zo was a good thief.
He fought the urge to grab more and walked away just as the salesclerk returned.

On the way out, Big Zo gave Marcus a slight nod, indicating that the deed was done. On cue,
Marcus took off running, with security in pursuit. The commotion signaled Pony to do the same.
The agents following him were sure he hadn’t lifted anything, but he was running so they chased
him anyway.

All hell broke loose as the guards chased the crackheads through the aisles. They were both
tackled near the exit as Alonzo calmly walked out with his stash.

The silly crackheads giggled hysterically as the guards searched them.

“We got you red-handed,” an overzealous, overweight guard wheezed as their pockets were
searched.

“You got shit!” Pony laughed as the frisk came up empty.

They were warned, photographed, threatened, and told not to ender the store ever again.

Alonzo, a junkie through and through, fought the urge to run off with his plunder, ultimately
deciding against it. He knew he would eventually cross them, but it wasn’t going to be today. He
ducked down in the back seat of the car to prevent being seen with the known thief. The guard
followed Marcus and Pony to the stolen car and wrote down the plate number.

“You can get up now, ol’ hide-and-seek-ass nigga,” Marcus laughed as he pulled onto Panola
Road.

“What’d ya get?” Pony inquired anxiously.

“A little something-something,” he bragged, producing one of the cameras.

“Damn! These shit’s nice,” Pony exclaimed.

Marcus swerved the car, trying to get a look for himself.

“Three dollars a pop,” Big Zo said proudly, “and I got ten of dem, guys.”

“Red cheap ass ain’t gon’ give us but a buck a piece,” Marcus complained.

“Shit, that put us where we need to be,” Pony said.

Alonzo decided his co-conspirators didn’t need to know about the DVDs and assorted
knickknacks stuffed in his clothes.
A little something for a rainy day
, he thought to himself.

* * *

Most of the older homes on Red’s street had been bought, razed, and replaced with McManions
built in their place. He was one of the few holdouts when the developers came through offering
peanuts. As a result, the small home he paid $30,000 for twenty years ago was now worth a small
fortune.

Red had cake already. He was one of the major fences in the city. He bought and sold anything
that could be bought or sold. His house was a virtual warehouse of goods. The walls were lined
with flat-screen TVs all hooked up to showcase picture quality. There were several complete living
room suites for sale as well. The kitchen was stocked with every appliance and gadget known to
man. “From Picasso to pussy” was Red’s mantra, and he had it all for sale. The police knew who
and what he was, but they only came through to shop or to be paid off.

Red was well into his fifties, but he dressed in the latest fashions that kids wore. His salt-and-
pepper hair was kept freshly braided by one of the young girls he kept around the house. He wasn’t
just a sugar daddy; he was a baby daddy knocking young girls up on the regular. Besides the ten
grown sons he had with his first wife, he had another forty or fifty kids on the side. Two of his
current girlfriends were pregnant now, neither of them even twenty years old.

Red greeted the trio of Marcus, Pony, and Big Zo warmly as he let them in. He had no security
to speak of; if a person knew him, he knew them, and that was good enough. Besides, he had ten
grown sons and nephews who were well-known goons. Anybody would be a fool to try and rob
Red. “Let me see what ya got,” he asked the men eagerly.

“We came up on some cameras,” Marcus, the unofficial spokesman, said, handing one to Red
for inspection.

“Dese nice rat here,” Red announced, showcasing his third-grade education.

As he checked out the cameras, Marcus scanned the room with larceny in his eyes.

Pony read his mind and gave him a terse headshake when their eyes met. He knew a man would
have to be a fool to try Red, and Marcus was a fool.

“My neighbors gon’ love dese,” Red said, referring to the young white professionals who now
inhabited his street. His law-abiding neighbors loved a good deal, stolen goods or not—“hot shit
for a cool price,” as one put it. “How many you got? I’ll take ‘em all,” Red announced, looking to
corner the stolen camera market.

“We got ten. Give us a stack,” Big Zo blurted, out of turn.

“A stack, huh?” Red pondered, even though he was prepared to go to $1,200. “A’ight,” he sad
reluctantly. “For y’all, I’ll do a grand.”

Marcus gasped audibly when Red produced a huge wad of cash and began peeling hundreds off
of it. Pony saw a deadly glint in his friend’s eye as he watched him count the money.

Just as Red was handing over the cash, the front door swung open. “Hey, Daddy,” two of Red’s
sons said in unison, heading to the rear of the house. They returned immediately with guns in both
hands.

“We ‘bout to take dese to mark dem,” one son said, holding up one of the H&K MP5 submachine
guns.

“A’ight. Y’all be careful now,” Red warned as they left.

Pony gave Marcus a raised brow look that said,
“See?”
Marcus nodded in agreement, knowing
he’d have to find an easier lick.

“If y’all got some mo’ of dese, holla,” Red said as he escorted the men to the door. “Laptops
too!” he added.

“That’s what’s up,” Pony said over his shoulder as they exited the house.

* * *

“Man, I was ‘bout to get dat nigga,” Marcus proclaimed once they were back in the car.

“Nigga, you was about to get us kilt,” Pony corrected.

“Man, what y’all talking about?” Big Zo asked, having missed the unspoken exchange back in
the house.

“This crazy fool wanna rob Red,” Pony said.

“Now that’s what’s up! Did you see that bankroll?” Big Zo exclaimed.

“This nigga scared though,” Marcus said, hooking his thumb over at Pony beside him.

“Whatever, but I ain’t robbin’ Red or nobody else,” Pony spat back emphatically.

* * *

A freak show was going full blast when the trio arrived at P.I.G.’s. As they walked in, their
attention immediately went to the action on the floor, where two men were vigorously humping
each end of a well-built young woman. She had large breasts that complemented her hard stomach
and her round ass. Her shoulder-length hair was in disarray from the pounding she was taking.
When their gaze finally made it to her face, they could see something was off about the girl, who
was in her late teens at best. She had the slanted eyes of someone impaired with Down’s Syndrome,
and she appeared oblivious to what the men were doing to her. Even when the man in front pulled
out of her mouth and ejaculated in her face, she barely blinked. The blank expression she wore on
her face didn’t change, no matter what they did.

“Y’all want some of this?” P.I.G. asked jovially when he noticed Marcus and company.

“Naw, we cool,” Marcus said, wishing he had time for a quick romp. But he hadn’t had a blast
all day, and it was first things first.

“You sure? She do anything! She retarded, and I just bought her,” he added.

“Just let us get an onion so we can push,” Pony said bluntly. He was sickened at the sight of the
helpless girl being abused.

Earl was taken aback by the tone but understood. He knew his boss was a sick dude, but this
was a new low—even for The Notorious P.I.G. “Gimme a stack. I’ll hook it up,” Earl said, feeling
him.

Pony had to get Marcus’s attention to get the money.

Marcus handed it over and focused back on the action.

Earl was back in a flash with the dope. “I threw you an extra eight ball,” he whispered as he
handed the package to Pony. Earl made sure to stress the point that the hookup was on the strength
of him.

“Y’all staying here?” Pony asked curtly as he exited the open door.

Marcus and Alonzo pried themselves away from the show and followed him out.

“That’s who the fuck we need to rob,” Pony fumed once they were back in the car.

“No you’re talking!” Marcus exclaimed. “That’s what’s up.”