Bankroll Squad (13 page)

“Malcolm!” Kyla screamed out.

This was his cue ... he knew that she would wake him up. He knew her like the back of his hand. Malcolm entered the bathroom and saw Kyla staring at the words in the mirror with a confused look on her face.

“Malcolm, what is this about?”

Malcolm stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her petite waist. He kissed her on the neck and whispered in her ear.

“Kyla, it’s actually not that complicated. I asked you to marry me by writing it in the mirror so that you could look yourself in the eyes and give me the answer I deserve. I’ve already went through the delightful trouble of buying you a $40,000 engagement ring, so I hope you don’t turn me down.”

Kyla could barely get her thoughts together. She was very emotional, and the prospect of marriage almost made her pass out from excitement.

“Malcolm, you don’t even know what size ring I wear. How-?”
“Kyla, I know you like the back of my hand ... the very least you could do is know the back of your own hand.”
Kyla realized that Malcolm was literally speaking as she held her perfectly manicured hand up to the light, revealing a staggering six carat diamond solitaire mounted onto a platinum setting. Kyla let out what sounded like a hybrid of a scream and a squeal then turned around and gave Malcolm a passionate kiss on the lips.
“Yes Malcolm! Yes! I will marry you! Without a shadow of a doubt baby!”
Malcolm picked her up and swirled her around one time. He was the happiest that he had ever been in his life. He had found a million dollar cocaine connect named Franco Roberto; and he had secured a wife on the same day.

$ $ $ $ $

Marco had been waiting for the perfect time to ask, and it occurred to him that there would be no greater opportunity than the present.

“Malcolm, you said that you had some extra coke put away, right?”
Luther’s eyes widened as he listened to the bosses conversation.
“Yeah, I do,” Malcolm replied nonchalantly.
Marco got up and started walking towards the stairs.
“Where is it? The attic?” Malcolm stared at Marco as he stood at the bottom of the stairs awaiting a reply.
“Malcolm, you did tell me that if Pam’s situation didn’t work out, we would use the reserve until we could find a new connect.”
Malcolm knew that the only reason that he had initially made such a ridiculous promise, was that he thought for certain that Franco would have no problem dealing with Pam. Now he was forced to eat his words.
“Yeah ... you’re right Marco. Follow me.”
The two men started walking down the long, expensive, state of the art hallway. The ceilings were decorated in gold chandeliers and the walls held over two million dollars worth of paintings and security monitors. They walked past a bag of trash that was obviously in the wrong place; as the very sight of it made Malcolm grimace. He always let Jeffrey have the weekend off, but he made a mental note to make him work over time when he came back to work. Malcolm and Marco got into the elevator and Malcolm pressed G for ground floor. After the elevator stopped, the door opened automatically, revealing a stunning collection of exotic and foreign cars.
“Damn,” Marco exclaimed, “you doing some major shit over in this piece.”
Malcolm ignored him and pressed the G button again. The flat screen security monitor that was mounted on the elevator wall immediately went blank; and then a virtual keypad covered the screen. He knew that Jen must have hit the G button again by mistake and then effectively guessed the pass code. The pass code was easy to guess for Jennifer because he used the same pass code everywhere from the ATM machines to internet passwords. When the elevator door opened again, he almost passed out from what he saw. The cellar was empty. He had been cleaned completely out, left not even with an 8 ball of coke to his name.
“Fuccckkk!” Malcolm exclaimed as he grabbed a bottle of wine and slung it across the room.
The glass shattered, and the sound of it echoed off of the walls in the empty storage. Malcolm and Marco exchanged worried glances and stood in place for a while, motionless. Marco didn’t even have to ask. The scene spoke for itself. Malcolm and Marco then took the elevator to the security room. Malcolm walked up to the central computer and hit a few buttons. He was checking for the last ten minutes of recorded movement in the cellar. The computer searched its archives for a few seconds and finally produced a file. He hit the “play” option and the video clip instantly filled him with anger and rage. The guy who robbed him was wearing his chain and fucking Jennifer doggy style while one guy looked on. At first he thought she was being raped, but when he fast forwarded the clip to about four minutes, he saw Jen laughing and hugging on the robber. Then another guy emerged out of the background with another four kilos in his hands. Marco looked at the screen hard. The guy holding the coke looked vaguely familiar. Then it hit him.
“Malcolm ... I know who that is.”
“Who is it?”
“That’s the fuckin’ Wolf!”
They had just hit Malcolm for 17 million dollars in untouched cocaine.

$ $ $ $ $

There was nothing left to discuss. Malcolm, Catfish, Prince Tron, Luther, and Marco were waiting outside of The Wolf’s house. When the Wolf arrived, he was driving a new Lincoln Navigator with paper tags. He had Coward 2 with him. They left the vehicle running and hurried into the house. Malcolm and Catfish were at the front door; Marco, Luther, and Prince Tron were at the back door. Catfish kicked the front door, but The Wolf must have saw them outside and locked the door. The door was dead bolted. Malcolm and Catfish took out their .44’s and shot the door off of its hinge. When it was barely hanging on to the frame, Catfish took his heavy foot and kicked off what was left of the door. Malcolm stepped into the house right after Catfish, and frantically searched the living room. There was no one in sight. Marco, Tron, and Luther had specific instructions from Malcolm to just wait at the back door, and if The Wolf tried to slip out, kill him and that clown with him. But when Marco heard gunshots, he grew extremely impatient. Not knowing who was doing the shooting or who was receiving the bullets, he kicked in the back door despite Malcolm’s instructions. The back door led directly into the kitchen where The Wolf and Coward 2 were trying to hide underneath the dining table. Marco pulled back the pump on his Mossberg shotgun and let off a shot that turned the wooded table to firewood chips. But he hit no one, and by the time he could aim the gun again, hollow point bullets opened up both sides of his stomach. He dropped the gun and clutched his sides, which felt like a bed of fire ants had crawled inside of him and bit him on the inside of his skin. He looked down at the blood that had turned his hands into fire hydrant paintbrushes and felt his legs start to give. The Wolf seized his opportunity and ran at Marco with a professional strength wooded baseball bat. Whack! Marco died on impact, as the bat broke his skull and the velocity from the baseball bat sent the broken piece of skull straight through his brain like an ice pick. Catfish peeped around the corner and saw Marco on the floor with the whole top left portion of his head smashed in. He threw the .44 down and grabbed the flame thrower out of his bag. “Whooosh!” The flame enveloped The Wolf completely. He screamed out from the excruciating pain of being burned alive. The Wolf staggered back and dropped the baseball bat on the floor.

“Aaaaargh!” The Wolf screamed as he fell towards Coward 2.
It never failed. Coward 2 was scared as hell and didn’t know what else to do, so he closed his eyes and started shooting. He emptied the whole clip and hit nobody. Malcolm ran over to him with his .44 in hand and kicked him in the nose. Blood started gushing out of the Coward’s nose as he started screaming,
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorryyyyy!” All the bitch flowed out of him when he ran out of bullets.
“Where the fuck is my shit at?”
“I-I-I know I made a mistake-” The Coward stammered.
“You got-damned right you made a mistake ... coming up in my motherfuckin’ house and stealing my motherfuckin’ work! Where the-”
“But we didn’t steal it,” Coward 2 blurted out of desperation, “that white girl gave it to my homeboy!
“They’re down at the Hilton hotel with it right now!”
Images flashed through Malcolm’s mind of Jennifer getting fucked in his own house by another man. Images of Kyla slumped over on the steering wheel of her Range Rover, bleeding to death. Images of the elevator door opening and revealing an empty cellar. Marco was dead, his wife betrayed him, and Kyla was in the hospital. Malcolm was against using torture techniques; after all, he had just got on Catfish’s case about sewing Waller’s mouth shut when they were back at the Power Building, but this was different. The man in front of him had caused him so much pain, that the only way to pay him back was to torture him. Malcolm grabbed the baseball bat and slammed it down on his right shin, causing it to snap. WHACK! Across his knee cap. WHACK! Across his shoulder blade. Coward 2 screamed out in pain. He had never in his life been in as much pain as he was in now. Catfish stood back and watched Malcolm finally unleash all of his pent up aggression. WHACK! Arm. WHACK! Scrotum. WHACK! Ankles. WHACK! Elbows. It was officially the ass beating of the century. Malcolm had snapped. After a few more swings, Malcolm sat down in a chair right in front of Coward 2 and watched him suffer. Watching him scream, squeal, and squirm because of the intense pain made Malcolm fell better. It was like therapy. Luther and Prince Tron had walked in halfway through the beating and were standing besides Catfish. They had never seen Malcolm lash out like that, ever. After about 15 minutes of watching Coward 2 squirm and grimace from the pain, Malcolm finally noticed his surroundings. He was in a zone and didn’t even realize that the rest of his crew were watching him torture the Coward. The Coward had begged for Malcolm to take his life 260 times (he counted) since the beating had ended. He didn’t want to suffer any longer and was unable to move a limb. Malcolm noticed that it was getting dark outside and went ahead and granted him his wish. He stuck the .44 barrel in his mouth and blew his tongue out the back of his neck. Then, just to be on the safe side, he blew his brains out of both the right and left sides of his head.
“Two down, two to go,” Malcolm remarked.
“Two?” Catfish was curious.
“I thought it was only one to go.”
Malcolm glanced at The Wolf’s scorched body and shook his head.
“Naw, Cat ... Jennifer must die too! If you hang with dogs, then of course you must get treated like dogs.”
Luther just listened intently; hanging on to every word and quote that Malcolm spoke like it was the gospel. He wanted to be the top dog one day, just like Malcolm.

$ $ $ $ $

Malcolm had called the Hilton’s front desk and asked to be connected to Jennifer Power’s room. Eight times. After the eighth time, he waited about fifteen minutes before he decided to call back. When he called, the receptionist recognized his voice from all of the repeat calls.

“Hey sir. Are you the one calling for Powers?” “Yes I am. Jennifer Powers.”
“Okay, let me send someone up to the room to

see whether someone is in there. Please hold.” “Sure.”
Malcolm was put on hold for about five minutes,

only to have the receptionist come back on the line with bad news.
“Sir? Are you holding for someone?”
“Yeah, I’m holding for Powers?”
“Oh okay, well, there is no one in the room at the current moment. Would you like to leave a message? I can make sure she receives it whenever she arrives.”
“No, but thanks,” Malcolm spoke as he hung up the phone.
Catfish had been driving around in circles waiting on Malcolm to tell him to go kick the door in. He didn’t give a damn that Jennifer was his wife. He would kill that bitch with no remorse. All violators, male and female, must pay the fee for violating. Catfish suddenly made a U-turn in the middle of the street.
“Damn Cat, what you doing?” Malcolm asked.
“We bout’ to go post up at the hotel and wait, if she’s not there by now!”
They drove up to the Hilton and backed the Escalade into a parking slot at an angle so that they could retain a clear view of the front entrance. After waiting for over an hour, Jennifer’s BMW sped through the parking lot. Everybody in the Escalade picked up shotguns and AK’S; preparing for a straight slaughter. Catfish opened his door, but before his left foot could touch the ground, he pulled it back in and slammed the door. Every door that had initially opened when they saw Jennifer’s car, closed immediately after Malcolm, Luther, and Prince Tron caught a glimpse of what Catfish saw. Jennifer was being trailed by three police cars; each car’s light was flashing, illuminating the dark night life. Malcolm wanted to help out. To reach out ... as she was still his wife regardless of the sheisty shit she had pulled. Then the images flashed through his mind again. Her getting fucked by another man. Then the thought that she could possibly have kilos of cocaine in the car.
“Let’s get the fuck on Catfish, we’ll handle this shit another time,” Malcolm spoke, as calmly as he could.
“I was thinking the same thing Mal. We got one too many guns in this vehicle and I don’t want to have to kill a cop tonight!”
Damn I’m slipping,
Malcolm thought.
I forgot all about the consequences of getting caught with all this shit.
Catfish started the vehicle and slipped his way out of the parking lot. Malcolm looked back to see what the cops were doing. Confused and stunned, he sighed. Jennifer looked horrible. Her hair was a frizzy disaster, and her eyes were bugged out. She looked like she had just seen a ghost and her outfit was dirty. Luther was observant, absorbing and analyzing the entire situation at hand. He knew that look all too well. It was the same permanent paranoid look that his cocaine abusing customers kept on their face. Malcolm noticed it too. He sat back in his seat gathering his thoughts. All the drama that had unfolded as of lately had threw him off of his square. It was time to live again.
“Aye ya’ll, lets go get dressed up. We’ll hit Club Supreme first, then, after a couple of hours there, we’ll hit the Red Carpet strip club.”
Prince Tron and Luther’s mood lightened up a little bit, but Catfish’s mood stayed the same. Catfish knew Malcolm would say that. After all, they had just lost Marco and instead of sulking over his death, they were going to celebrate his life. Plus, Malcolm always treated the clubs like his press conference to the streets. He answered all questions, regardless of if it was positive, negative, critical or sarcastic. He also used it to show the streets that the Bankroll Squad was unfazed amidst a crisis. And ... Just like the rap stars and music executives do, he used the clubs for photo opportunities. As every club attendee knew, the Bankroll Squad always bought out the bars, and
always
made it rain. Say cheese!