Heist 2 (2 page)

I would never forgive Todd for the shit he put me through, especially because I ended up in prison behind his ass. All the years I had spent with him riding with him through it all, I deserved better than this bullshit. I had to shake my head just thinking about how many times bitches called me in the middle of the night telling me to smell Todd's dick when he got home because he had just finished fucking them. I shuddered now thinking about all the chicks that claimed Todd had fathered their babies. I had tried to keep my head up when these hoes flaunted these children in my face, but even I could see that some of them resembled Todd.

Then, to top it off, this last time Todd got knocked on gun charges, he expected me to be the same old young, dumb little girl I was when he met me. Nah, I was all grown up and I was sick of his shit. I went along with his stupid-ass plan about robbing the biggest kingpin and businessman in the Tidewater area—Bobby Knight—but that all backfired on me and it certainly didn't benefit Todd's sorry ass. He should've never gotten me involved in the first place. I was supposed to be his woman; he was supposed to be my man, my protector, my everything.

I swiped roughly at the tears cropping up in my eyes. I couldn't afford for anyone to see me having a moment of weakness. Anyway, in the end, after the Bobby Knight set-up, there was no honor among us thieves and even the fucking feds were dirty on that shit. I'm telling you, money will make niggas tie their own mothers to the fucking railroad tracks. Before I knew what had hit me, I found out that Todd's so-called cellmate Dray was a fed and he had set me up to get Bobby Knight's money for himself. His ass got set up by the Norfolk police and Jock set that up. Now I was sitting in prison shaking my head in disgust but smiling slightly because I was still proud of myself.

See, it was all me when it came down to it. The planning and execution of the Bobby Knight heist was all my handiwork. I didn't think I had all of that conniving in me, but apparently I was more talented than I thought.

It started when Todd had met that bitch-ass fed Dray in jail and Dray had put Todd on to Bobby Knight. Dray did the introduction part, but I was the bitch putting the
Ocean's Eleven
–style plan together. I'm chuckling now just thinking about how smooth I was during that time. Seducing Bobby Knight was supposed to be my biggest challenge, but shit, that was the easiest part of it, if you ask me. I had that nigga Bobby Knight wrapped around my finger in no time and everybody knew he could've had any bitch in Virginia if he wanted to; instead, he was eating out of the palm of my hand with the quickness.

Bobby Knight wasn't no slouch. I had really started to fall for him. He was a well-spoken, well-read, wealthy man that I could've gotten used to living with. Before I could really fall for Bobby, he was growing suspicious of me. He wasn't no slouch when it came to picking up on clues and when it came to protecting his shit. So, when shit started to go south because of Satanya's big-ass mouth, Bobby was on my ass like stink on shit. I remember him picking me up one night and taking me to a place where I thought for sure he was going to kill my ass. Even when I was scared shitless for my life, ride-or-die-ass Shannon Marshall was not giving up. Nope, instead of running and cowering, I called in the team I had wrangled up to rob Bobby and we got it on. I felt dreamy just thinking now about how it went down . . .

A searing pain crashed through my skull like I had been hit by lightning, violently jolting me out of my daydream.

“Aggh!” I screamed out as I quickly realized what was happening. Another powerful blow caused blue streaks to flash behind my eyelids and I felt the bone in my nose shatter. Blood leaked over my lips and, since I had my mouth open into a silent scream, I could taste the salty, metallic taste of my own blood. I tried to put my hands on my head to protect my skull, but being that my guard had been down while I relived the robbery memories, my reflexes were slow now. I was too late. I was under attack and there was nothing I could do to protect myself now. I was dragged down to the floor where I took a swift blow to my ribs.

“Bitch, I heard you thought this hit was a joke? A fake?” a brawly, flat-chested butch hissed in my ear as she wound her gorilla fists up into my hair. I swung my arms and tried in vain to fight back. My hair was my weakness. I guess Todd had told the goon bitches he hired to make sure they grabbed my hair. My attacker hoisted me up by my hair so I could meet her eye to eye. Chaos had broken out in the chow hall and I could hear cheers from some of the other inmates . . . a few of whom I knew was rooting for me to get my ass kicked. My eyes darted around helplessly and I noticed the butch's crew was holding my crew at bay. I also quickly peeped the COs acting like they ain't see what the fuck was going down. The Hispanic lesbian gang that ran the weed trade in the jail surrounded me, and everybody knew these bitches were built like men and loved to see blood on their hands.

“Nah,
mamita
, this ain't fake. This shit right here real. We got paid to take you down and we plan to do that,
puta
,” the butch said, her Puerto Rican twang accenting her words as she increased the grasp and pressure on the fistful of my hair she was holding hostage. There was no use in being in denial: I was about to get my ass whipped or worse.

“Fuck you!” I growled, hocking a wad of spit into her ugly, scarred-up face. Even with the pain throbbing through my scalp, my nose bleeding like a faucet, and the possibility that these Spanish chicks was about to slash me open like a gutted pig, I couldn't back down now. Not only did I have a reputation to uphold in the prison, but I was just not going to let Todd win all the way. I figured if this pussy bitch-ass nigga Todd's hit was going to take me out, I surely wasn't going out like no sucker. I wanted to make sure he got the word that Shannon Marshall didn't go out without a fight.

CRACK! CRUNCH! WHAM!
The next thing I knew punches, kicks, and stomps rained down on my body from every direction. I was conscious for a while and enduring the pain, but that didn't last long. Finally, blackness engulfed me.

2

Todd

I
was still locked up like a fucking animal, but today I felt a little better about it. Not because I was getting out or anything like that. Nah, nothing good, but I was feeling good because I was waiting for word that my bitch wife Shannon was dead. Yeah, that's right, I was wishing death on that bitch ten times over. She was a snake bitch that didn't deserve to live.

I used the last of the bullshit commissary money Shannon had put on my books to send a kite to the women's prison and pay some Latinas to take Shannon's ass out. In my eyes, any bitch that could fuck your best friend, have the next nigga playing house with your seed, and steal all your money didn't deserve to fucking live. That was Shannon . . . a straight ghetto bird bitch. I must say I was real shocked when I received her letter telling me that she had been fucking my friend Jock for years from when I was locked up the first time. When I had gotten home from that bid, both Jock and Shannon had picked me up and smiled all in my face like shit was all good. I had put Jock on to my new gun business and all that; meanwhile, this nigga was fucking my wife all along. He and I had grown up together, got locked up together, built a business together, and I guess he thought that meant he could have
everything
that I had. Just like I did Shannon, I was planning to see Jock one of these days. Either in person or by way of messenger; he wasn't getting away with what he did to me.

I hadn't gotten the word back yet, but I was sure I would be hearing about Shannon's demise sooner or later. I just hoped that expensive-ass insurance policy I had taken out on that bitch was still in full effect. I had paid up the premiums six months in advance when I was out, so I knew that would give me some time before the shit lapsed. Locked up or not, collecting a cool million off Shannon's dead body would be a major fucking score for me.

The plan to set Shannon up came just as easily as the Bobby Knight set-up had come. My new bunk mate Hector told me his wife was locked up in the same place as Shannon and that was all I needed to hear. I had seen pictures of this butch Hector called a wife . . . shit, she looked harder than some dudes I knew, so I don't know how he thought he was wifing that bitch.

Hector's wife, Maria, rolled with a deep group of Latina lesbians that ran the drug trade in the women's jail. Yeah, that's right . . . I said lesbians. This nigga Hector was in denial, but that was none of my business. The Latina chicks were the perfect ones to hire: ruthless, desperate, and got off on violence. I set that shit up easy breezy and with the quickness.

Yeah, it may sound fucked up that I would do something like that to my wife . . . someone I had once loved and contemplated giving my life for. But what she had done to me was way worse because she might as well had killed me. You know what it is like for a nigga locked up to find out his wife had betrayed him and on top of it all was fucking one of his soldiers. Man, listen, she might as well had stabbed me full of holes and shot me in the cranium. I can't stop thinking about how sick Shannon left a nigga with his dick in the dust, all the while making me believe she was going to come through for me. She played a good game coming up here in her short skirts, fucking me by the vending machines, and making lip service promises.

I held my head in my hands now as I suddenly remembered the day that I got Shannon's letter telling me that she had been fucking my right-hand man, Jock. I ripped up the letter, but trust me, I memorized those fucking words and they still ring in my ears to this day.

“Grrr!” I growled as I punched the heavy bag in the prison gym harder and harder with every passing thought. The more I thought about Shannon and Jock's betrayal, the harder I hit the bag, wishing that it was both of their faces that I was hitting. Finally, my knuckles split open and pain shot up my arms.

“Fucking bitch,” I huffed and puffed as I slid down to the floor in a heap of sweat, bleeding from my knuckles. I closed my eyes for a few minutes to collect my thoughts. And, trust me, there were many thoughts swirling around in my head. Most of the thoughts were about killing those traitorous muthafuckas.

 

“Marshall!” Broadbent, the CO I hated the most, yelled out my name like he was losing his fucking mind. This nigga had a hard-on for harassing me on the daily. You would've thought he had something personal against me, but I didn't even know his fake ass.

“Marshall! I know you fucking hear me, you piece of shit!” Broadbent hollered, trying to play me as usual.

I slowly lifted my head, my face drawn into a tight scowl. This nigga just didn't know how lucky he was that I was locked up and trying to keep my nose clean so I would have a better chance at appeal later on. If that wasn't the case, I would've already fucked his ass up and caught an additional charge.

“Get up! Somebody here to see you . . . fucking dirt bag,” Broadbent said through gritted teeth. If I wasn't looking forward to finally getting a good behavior streak I would've punched that fucking faggot-ass nigga in his face. I was sure that Broadbent wasn't shit outside on the street. He used his uniform to act like a thug behind the walls, but I had it in my head that whenever I got out, I would see his ass for sure. Once I put a hit on a nigga in my mind, I wasn't going to rest until it was carried through. Broadbent was on that list, along with Jock, Zack, and Billy—all those niggas that were supposed to be in my crew that shitted on me because they thought I was down and out forever.

Broadbent manhandled me as usual. He led me past the visit room, which caused me to raise my brows.

“Where the fuck is you—” I started to ask, but my words were cut short when I saw what was happening. I saw that white, shiny, bald head before I could protest. My stomach immediately knotted and my heart started thumping. I thought I would never have to deal with this white devil again.

“Aww shit,” I sighed, shaking my head from side to side. “Yo, just take me back to my fucking cell. I don't wanna talk to this nigga here,” I grumbled as I got closer to the source of my discomfort.

“Marshall . . . Marshall . . . Todd . . . fucking Marshall,” Sergeant LaBeckie of the Norfolk Police Department sang, smiling like a goofy fucking kid as he made a song out of my name.

“Fuck you, LaBeckie. I don't want to see your ugly ass,” I hissed. LaBeckie started laughing raucously like I had told his white ass a joke.

“Well, damn, I thought you would always be happy to see my handsome fucking face,” LaBeckie said sarcastically. “I mean we got so much history together, ol' Toddy boy.” LaBeckie smiled wickedly.

“I ain't none of ya fucking boy!” I spat just before I was forced down into a chair.

Sergeant LaBeckie was right, though. He and I had a lot of history, which wasn't a benefit to me at all. LaBeckie had pursued me for years while I was living large on the streets. He would grow angrier and angrier each year because he could never get at me since I ran my operations virgin-pussy tight. I remember seeing LaBeckie and taunting him on the streets because he would be following me or my boys and we would always be clean. He would look so defeated when me and my boys would roll past him and laugh at his ass, giving him the finger and shit. It was like LaBeckie woke up and went to bed thinking about catching me. I would've never suspected that day would come one day and this bastard would have his full revenge on me.

Finally, LaBeckie got the break he needed—a snitch—in the form of my best friend, Jock. Now, I'm thinking Shannon also had something to do with the shit too. She might've played the shocked roll but maybe it was all an act so shit looked more realistic to me. Maybe not. Who knows? All I know is that it was the worst day of my life so far, aside from the day I found my mother dead from a drug overdose. My life changed on both days, but LaBeckie getting his revenge was one that stuck out more.

The day LaBeckie and this unit raided my house, LaBeckie took full advantage of my helpless position. I squinted at him now, my mind drawn backwards to that horrible day . . .

“Fuck you want, LaBeckie?” I snarled as I was roughly thrown into a hard, metal chair by that stupid ass Broadbent.

“Todd, my friend, you break my little heart.” LaBeckie chuckled evilly, tapping the left side of his chest for emphasis. I bit down into my jaw and swung my legs in and out furiously. “Can't I come visit an old friend? I mean, you do know you're the reason I made lieutenant, right? Oh maybe you didn't know that I got promoted and I owe it all to you.” LaBeckie laughed and I felt all of the hairs on my body stand up.

I wanted to spit in his fucking eye because I knew what he meant by saying it was me and my case that had helped him climb the ranks. LaBeckie had been working with Andre Burkett aka Dray, my former bunk mate, who also happened to be a fucking snitch-ass fed. I couldn't even control my rapid breathing right now just picturing Dray's traitorous face and thinking about how he had fucked me royally.

Man, I was so torn up and desperate when I first got locked up that I had my street guard all the way down, which led to me trusting that nigga Dray way too easily. Me, a nigga that usually don't trust a soul, let Dray into my world fast as hell, so when Dray proposed that I use my outside connections, namely my fucking wife, to set up Bobby Knight, a big hustler and wealthy businessman that had the Tidewater area on lock, I didn't think twice about it. I had tunnel vision at that time: get Knight set up, get some paper for a lawyer, and get the fuck out of prison. I wouldn't say the shit was foolproof, but it could've possibly worked if it wasn't the fucking feds all along.

When I proposed the set-up to Shannon, it didn't take that much convincing. I should've suspected that shit wasn't right, just judging from her quick enthusiasm to do it.

Shit, Shannon was down from the jump; little did I know she would set up Bobby Knight and take flight with all of the money that she got from the heist. She ain't even try to get the high-priced defense attorney I usually used to help me out . . . Nah, Shannon was too busy running with the dirty money and fucking Jock along with it. Wow, that shit blows my mind every time I think about it.

“Yo, go find your snitching-ass fed flunky Andre Burkett,” I spat at LaBeckie, squinting at that bitch-ass pig, and if eyes could kill he would've dropped fucking dead.

“Well, Marshall, that's why I'm here,” LaBeckie said through a yawn like he was already exhausted by what he was going to tell me. That was his little trick and I had learned that through the fifty interrogations I had had with him in the past. I knew all the cop tricks: acting unfazed, good cop/bad, and helpful cop. I was too smart for any of that bullshit LaBeckie was coming with right now.

“Burkett turned out to be dirtier than you in this whole thing,” LaBeckie said. I guess the expression of shock on my face was giving away all the questions that were now swirling through my mind.

“Yeah, that's right, Marshall . . . Burkett or Dray, or whatever the fuck he wanted to call himself, played all of us. He set us all up, but I'm too fucking smart for that, so he lost in the end . . . You know why?” LaBeckie said while stretching and raising his arms behind his head and rearing back in the chair across from me like he was relaxing on a beach somewhere. I raised my eyebrows when he asked his rhetorical questions, but I quickly put my poker face back on. No way I wanted this pig to think I was interested in what he had to say.