The Score by Kiki Swinson Page A

she was out of her fucking mind. I mean, I thought we were just going to have the money wired to new accounts, but Lauren was talking about us walking into the bank as a rich couple and walking out with a briefcase filled with cash. “I thought shit like that only happened in the movies,” I had said to Lauren. She laughed and told me she had everything under control. I guess she did.
    All we had to do now was come off as the ritzy Beltons. We’d walk into the bank, meet with the branch manager, and walk out with the cash. At least that was the plan. Sounded easy, but in the theft line of business nothing was ever really that easy. One wrong word, look, or move and you could find yourself trapped in the bank until the cops arrived. I wasn’t trying to go back to the joint so Lauren better know what she was doing.
    Slinging dope was much easier than making money doing this white-collar shit. At least in the dope game you knew exactly who your enemies were and could try to be ready for a sneak attack. In the scamming business you could’ve just scored big and never saw that a bank employee or store clerk had hit the button to call the police on you. Who said white-collar crime was safer than street crime?
    I flexed my neck and buttoned the top button on my custom-fitted French cuff dress shirt. I stuck my arms out in front of me and admired the shimmery diamond cuff links that were glistening from my wrists. Everything I was wearing felt rich against my skin. A feeling I hadn’t experienced in a while. It felt damned good to get dressed up in a custom-tailored Armani suit, brand-new wingtip Ferragamo loafers, and the big H Hermès belt. To seal the deal on my rich look, I slid on the solid gold Presidential Rolex Lauren had gotten me off one of her credit card trips. I took one last look at myself in the mirror behind our bedroom door. It had been mad long since I’d dressed up like this.
    â€œSharp as shit. Not bad if I do say so myself. Damn, nigga, you still got it. You look good as hell. Like a boss,” I complimented myself. I swiped my hand over my freshly lined goatee and made sure the waves on my head were on spin. I was feeling like a boss again. I was ready for whatever. But, to make sure I was definitely ready, I slid my gun onto my belt and pulled my suit jacket over it to guarantee it was concealed. I had already told Lauren if shit went bad at the bank, I was going to shoot our way out. I had made a promise to myself that I would never go back to the joint. I would have rather died.
    * * *
    â€œLauren. You almost ready, bae?” I yelled. I was feeling dapper and I knew if I looked this good Lauren was going to be stepping through looking even better. Lauren was beautiful inside and out. I was even more in love with her now than before. She had taken a lot of shit off of me over the years including cheating with other bitches. It wasn’t something for her to take personal because I wasn’t ever going to feel about the next chick like I felt about Lauren.
    Lauren held me down for years. When I got locked up and lost all my shit to the fed seizures, Lauren didn’t think twice about coming up with a new plan to get money for both of us. Lauren was one of the smartest chicks I knew. You would’ve thought she had every college degree there is, but nope, she was just made resourceful and super intelligent.
    Lauren was definitely the mastermind behind our illegal credit card and check-kiting operation. When she first introduced me to this shit she never made me feel like I was less of a man . . . until just recently. That’s a big reason why I was going back into the drug game. I can’t have no chick of mine running shit while I just sit around like I’m her bitch! No way! That ain’t how I roll. I was a man of substance. I was a fucking boss! And bosses ran their own show. Aside from all the shit that comes with this white-collar hustle, Lauren was a