Larceny by Jason Poole Page A

time.
    â€œHey, Gloria, can I use your phone real quick?”
    â€œYeah, go ahead.”
    Ring, ring, ring.
    â€œHello,” a female voice said.
    â€œWhy the fuck are you blowing my pager up like that?” I said with an immediate attitude.
    â€œJovan, somebody broke into the apartment!” the female on the other end of the phone yelled hysterically.
    â€œWhat?” I asked, not sure I had heard her correctly.
    â€œThey came in through the balcony.”
    â€œIs there anything missing?”
    â€œI dunno! The furniture is all ripped up, the TV is broken. It doesn’t look like they were trying to steal shit. It looks more like they vandalized the place. Jovan, I’m going to call the police,” she said.
    â€œNo! Hell no! Don’t call the police. I’m on my way,” I said quickly.
    â€œJovan, please hurry up. I’m scared.”
    When I hung up the phone, Gloria could see that I was mad as hell.
    â€œIs everything all right?” she asked me.
    â€œYeah, I’m cool. Look, I gotta go right now. I got something to do.”
    â€œAll right, Jovan. You sure you’re okay?”
    â€œYeah, yeah, I’m okay,” I said, walking out the door.
    When I came outta Gloria’s house and walked toward my car, Mal-Mal came running down the street.
    â€œHey, Uncle Jay, where you going? I thought you were gonna stay and light the fireworks with me.”
    â€œI’ll be back, Mal-Mal. Right now I’ve got something to do.”
    â€œCan I go with you?” he asked me.
    â€œNaw, man, this is important; but I’ll be back,” I told him.
    â€œHurry back, Uncle Jay, ’cause it’s almost dark now.”
    â€œOkay, youngin’.”
    As I pulled away from Wyle Street, I saw Ms. Cookie walking toward Gloria’s house. She was walking real fast. I rolled down the window and said, “Hey, Ms. Cookie.”
    â€œOh, hi, baby. Where you going?” Ms. Cookie asked.
    â€œI’ve gotta go do something. Look, I brought Mal-Mal some fireworks, and I don’t know if I’ma make it back in time to light ’em up with him. If I don’t get back in time, can you do it?” I said to Ms. Cookie.
    â€œYeah, baby, I’ll do that. I’m on my way to Gloria’s anyway.”
    â€œOkay then, Ms. Cookie. See you later.”
    â€œJovan, hold up for a minute.”
    â€œWhat’s up?”
    â€œBaby, you got ten dollars so I can get Mal-Mal something to eat from the carryout?” Ms. Cookie said.
    â€œYeah, hold up,” I said, reaching into my back pocket where I kept a knot of ones and peeled off twenty dollars. I knew if I gave Ms. Cookie only ten, she’d just go cop a dime of blow, but with twenty she could get Mal-Mal something from the carryout and do whatever with the rest.
    As I got on the highway to Bowie, all I could think about was my money. I had fifty thousand dollars over this bitch’s house. My mind was racing. Who the fuck did this? I never brought anybody over there, and when I came home, I’d circle the parking lot a couple of times before I got out. I was always cautious not to put my bank in any danger. The more I thought about it, the madder I got and the harder my foot pressed on the gas.
    As I turned off the highway onto the ramp, I reached under my seat and pulled out my black Beretta 9 mm. I always kept my pistol with me, especially when I was in Southeast, cause on that south side niggas ain’t have no picks; they were always trying to kidnap and rob anybody who was getting some money.
    Although the city was in an uproar around this time, I never had to use my Beretta. No one had given me a reason to. No one violated me like that dope fiend did back in ’85, but tonight I felt violated, and whoever did this surely deserved two to the head. I’d killed before, and I would certainly kill again.
    As I pulled into the parking lot, I didn’t circle the