For the average young black man growing up in the southern United States during the 60's was to realize that the oppressive Jim Crow laws that dehumanized and degraded black people and their ancestors of the past, was still very much enacted and very acti
Break and Run
By Bobby HodgeAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2012 Bobby Hodge
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4685-9622-9Contents
Acknowledgements..............................................vii"Candy Sticking"..............................................1"Bad Habits"..................................................8"Playing with lives"..........................................14"The Making of a Criminal"....................................49"The heat is on/ Heat waves"..................................71"Routine change of Learning"..................................83"Rainy days of sunshine, again"...............................97"Flashing life, Memories of better times".....................116"Auburndale"..................................................127"Sam and Me"..................................................140"Jesse's Escape"..............................................162"Elcie".......................................................172"Betrayed by love"............................................178"What is reality".............................................185"Life turn around"............................................194
Chapter One
"Candy Sticking"
At 10:35 a.m., it was quite obvious that it was going to be a very hot day. The humidity was already beginning its sticky wetness. The heat had absolutely no significant meaning to Jesse and me. As we cruised down the freeway in the air conditioned Oldsmobile, we talked excitingly about the job we'd just pulled off.
Jesse and I had gotten an early start that morning after planning the robbery the night before. Jesse and I always dressed very immaculate, wearing very expensive clothes. We were constantly elected the best-dressed students during our school years.
When we entered the finance company earlier that morning, the little short fat man looked up from behind the desk where he was sitting with a glowing smile on his face. That smile almost disappeared at the sight of the two black men who were approaching him.
"Good morning," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "I'm sorry gentlemen, but we won't be open for business for about twenty minutes."
I looked around the office, making sure there were no employees in yet. The office had long blue drapes hanging from the ceiling to the matching carpet on the floor, covering the windows completely. I looked at the filing cabinets against the wall and for an instant I thought of all the people on record in that cabinet, bringing their money in to this little fat cracker and walking out, hating for the thousandth time that they ever borrowed it because of the extremely high interest rates they'd have to pay back.
I was quite sure they were all mostly poor black people, but this morning, my brother and I had planned to collect some personal interest and sue them since the first ship sailed over.
"Twenty minutes huh, well that gives us more time than we'd expected, but since we hadn't included any coffee breaks in our plans we'll just take the money and leave," Jesse stated, his voice becoming more serious with each word.
The little bald headed man was rising from his soft comfortable reclining chair now. "I'm sorry sir, but I don't quite understand," he said, trying to sound convincing.
Already his voice was beginning to tremble. That lump of fear was bulging in his throat.
"Well, you better try and understand motherfucker, before I put some lesson from this teacher in your fat ass," Jesse said firmly as he leaned forward.
Grabbing the man by his collar and pulling him over the desk, he put the big dangerous looking .38 Magnum to the fat man's head. He left no doubt in the man's mind that he was as serious as a heart attack.
"Please mister, don't—don't hurt me, please," the man fearfully stated.
The little man had turned red and he felt his forehead getting hot. His heart was beating so fast and loud, he was sure the large black man could hear it. I looked at the fat blob I saw when we walked in, now acting like a sixteen-year-old bitch about to get raped. The sight was enough to make me want to burst out with laughter. Instead, I continued to look around, keeping close watch on the door at all times for employees. The fat man looked at me briefly, as if he wanted to ask for help, but my right hand remained underneath my coat since I'd entered. Now he assumed that I had a gun also, probably bigger than this one.
The fat man led Jesse toward, what seemed to me, an office with a plaque above the door that read "Proprietor". I looked at my watch noting that this job should take less than five minutes, but I was still ready to get the fuck out of this place. Even the thought of being caught gave me an itchy feeling.
I had only been inside of a jail once in my life, for shoplifting at fifteen. Even though my mother was there to bail me out within three hours, the little time I was there flooded my mind with the thoughts of how miserable it was to be confined like an animal. I swore to God that I'd never steal again, but now I was twenty-two years old. Every time I think of how scared I was when those detectives were taking me down to headquarters, I get the urge to want to prove to myself that I was more than that. Jesse had always told me not to let one mistake get me down if I didn't want to be a forty-five year old wino, sitting around on corners begging for wine money with no place to stay. I'd always admired and listened to my older brother because somehow, it just seemed like Jesse attracted money where I couldn't make a penny.
Jesse had already been to a reformatory when I was sixteen for burglary and did two years in the state penitentiary when he was twenty-one for strong-arm robbery. Jesse had plenty of heart; taking chances was just a way of life for him.
"Please mister, don't shoot me," the man cried.
I heard the man cry out from the office as I heard a scuffle against the wall.
"Honkie, where's the rest of the money?" Jesse asked, hitting the man up side his head with the butt of the gun again.
"I swear mister, that's all the money there is, I swear," the man said.
He was crying and begging for his life. He could see the hatred in Jesse's eyes that could only mean death for him, if he didn't believe him.
"Lay down on your stomach, quick before I decide to blow your goddamn head off cracker!" Jesse said.
These words were sweet music to the fat man's ears as he moved to the floor in the corner, where Jesse was pointing with the gun. At last, the man thought he just might get out of this alive. Jesse pulled a roll of tape out of his pocket and put his foot on the man's head as he repeatedly wrapped the tape around his wrists. After Jesse finished with the man, he took the black bag containing the money and rushed out to where I was waiting. We walked down the street to the car, talking about how the air pollution takes the freshness out of a beautiful day. We got in the car; l slid under the wheel, started the car, and pulled into the traffic as if nothing happened.
"How much do you think we got man?" I asked.
"Looks like a lump, but not as much as I expected," Jesse said with disappointment.
"Fuck man, you can't be too choosy about free money," I told him. "Shit, we don't even have to worry about a tax deduction." l was laughing with satisfaction expressed all over my face. Jesse smiled, looking out the window.
"The bigger the lump, the less you have to lick," he said with warning in his voice.
We both were silent after this, as we listened to the Mongo Santamaria tape, filling the car with beautiful music. I turned into the duplex apartments where Jesse and I lived. We had chosen the apartment because of the very quiet neighborhood, mostly being young newlyweds and no kids or pets, even though we both loved kids. Our lifestyle was another dimension of the generation gap. There was a large swimming pool surrounded by the apartments and neatly trimmed hedges. I loved the landscaping of the complete neighborhood, but it was nothing unusual for this section of the city because all white neighborhoods consumed the city taxpayer's dollars.
There was only one other black couple living in the apartments we lived in, Marvin and Carol. I had met them during a party one night at the pool. Marvin was tall and slender with a large Afro and a very light complexion. He talked fast, but very plain and clear. He was an x-ray technician and Carol was a secretary for some company. And what a secretary she was. She had smiled at me that night, which I instantly thought was more than just a friendly smile. Carol was short, about five feet four inches, very neatly shaped from her head down. She had beautiful dark brown eyes that were very quick. She'd taken an overall view of me; it seemed, without moving her eyes. I thought of how nice it must be to squeeze the large tits I was looking at. Yes, a fine little lady, I thought.
Jesse was opening the door to the apartment when he noticed a letter sticking underneath the door. He pushed the door open as he bent and picked it up with the initial J on it.
"What's that man?" I asked closing the door.
"It's a letter. From who, I don't know yet;" Jesse said. "I'll bet it doesn't have as much information inside as this black bag," Jesse stated, smiling at the bag as he headed toward his bedroom with it.
"You got that shit right!" l said, following Jesse.
I walked to the king size bed and opened the bag, dumping the money and checks on the bed. He and I started counting the money. We put all the checks back into the bag. We'd get rid of all that shit later.
"It wasn't such a bad lick after all, shit," l said, looking at the two stacks of money on the bed.
"I got twenty three hundred here," I said, still holding a roll of twenties in my hand.
Jesse continued to count as he shook his head in agreement with me. The phone rang on the night table at the head of the bed. Jesse let it ring four times before leaning back to take the receiver out of its cradle.
"Hello," he said.
"Jesse, are you home?" The female voice shrieked in excitement.
"Nah bitch! This is a recording. Wait two hours and call back," he stated with annoyance in his words as he roughly guided the receiver back to its resting place.
"Bitches always disturb a motherfucker when he's busy," Jesse stated angrily, as he started back counting the money with a frown on his face. l never looked up or spoke, but continued the silent lip movement. We had fifty-seven hundred dollars total. Twenty-eight hundred and fifty dollars wasn't bad for less than five minutes, I thought as we walked into the living room, ruffling the cash with my right thumb. I sat back in the soft comfortable recliner and wondered how Jesse knew about the money being in the finance company. I thought finance companies and loan companies wrote checks for their clients, never keeping any cash in those places. Again I thought of how Jesse always found some hole in the wall with money in it. It seemed to me, my brother was born to be a stickup man.
I looked around the living room making sure everything was in its proper place. Jesse and I kept the apartment very neat and clean at all times. We had the gold colored shag carpet shampooed earlier that week. The living room had a sliding glass door that led onto the patio and the long gold drapes were partially drawn, letting the sunshine inside. Jesse came into the living room, walking over to the five feet tall stereo cabinet, switching the set on and putting on some albums.
"What is it little brother?" he said to me, moving toward the sofa with the beat of the music.
"Man, we'll have this room full of money one day and it won't be long, dig?" Jesse stated.
He sat on the long curving gold sofa, kicking his feet up on the marble stone coffee table in front of him. For an instant, l imagined the room overflowing with hundred dollar bills. I could go to some island and live a king's life. Jesse sounded so very sure of himself. How could everything be so drawn out for him? l thought.
"You know, it's funny how a nigga can fall so deeply in love with a dead honkie on a green square like this man," I said.
We both burst out with laughter behind my remark.
"Not only niggas that's got that green power jones," Jesse canted," white folks too."
"Say man, I think I'll slide downtown and take off that suit I was telling you about. Want to ride with me?" I asked.
"No Peil. I think I'll lay low until you get back," Jesse replied.
Jesse also liked buying clothes and new things, but he thought I actually spent too much money, but he never said anything to me. He didn't want to seem too much a big bro, but in so many small ways, he'd shown he didn't approve of letting go of money so easily.
"Think I'll take a shower before I go," I said. Heat and funk starts people asking about your love life."
I was laughing as I got up and started toward his bedroom. I opened the closet and stood looking among my expensive wardrobe, trying to decide on attire that gave more meaning to this sun shiny day. I started to take out a burgundy two-piece suit, but instead decided on a pair of lime green silk pants with a matching double knit sweater. I laid them out on the large bed and went to the dresser. I began to look through the variety of silk underwear for a set to match the outfit I'd chosen to wear.
After I finished my shower, I went back into my room to dress, humming the whole time I moved around. I walked before the full-length mirror, turning as I checked out the outfit. Satisfied, I smiled, looking into my own eyes.
"Jazzy motherfucker indeed," I said, with admiration of myself.
I was quite handsome. I had a very smooth dark complexion and was often complimented by ladies about my sexy dark brown eyes. I stood five feet ten and half inches, and a very neat physique I was very proud of. My chest was wide and I thought my build really made my clothes fit me neatly. I walked back to the closet, taking out a pair of black boots and reached up, taking a hatbox off the shelf. It contained a white gangster brim, which had cost me fifty dollars.
After I finished dressing, I started back into the living room, taking a last glance in the mirror before leaving the room. Jesse was lying down on the full-length sofa. He looked at me as I entered the room and before I could ask for his approval, as each of us always did, Jesse spoke.
"Dig you!" Jesse replied. "Ain't no flaws in your looks here man."
"If a sucker do find a flaw in my game, I'm gonna play it off so tough they'll swear to God it was only a decoy to attract their attention," I answered, going into a Bill Cosby act and strutted toward the door as we both laughed.
Later on, Jesse told me that he thought of how beautiful it was to have a brother like me. He remembered the first day I had gone to school and went running in every room, trying to find him. Jesse really loved me. Now his mind went back to the job we'd pulled this morning again. The feeling of disappointment invaded his thoughts. Leroy had assured him that there would be ten grand or more, being it was that time of the month for payment collections.
Leroy had once worked for the company and was responsible for taking the moneybag to the safety deposit at the bank. They let him go after finding out that he was having an affair with one of the employees. Leroy thought that revealing the easy rip-off method to Jesse was one sure way of relieving his conscience of being fired. Jesse agreed with him because Leroy never spoke about a piece of the take. Jesse liked Leroy even though he thought he might have sold himself too cheap. He knew that Leroy would work the rest of his life and still die broke, but he was good people.
Jesse was tall, six feet one, medium build and had a light complexion. There were no identical features between us except our eyes. Many people told us we'd both walked like our father. Jesse always had his choice of ladies. Everyone dug his quiet easygoing style. A lot of players and hustlers had told him he should be pimping and playing the bitches. For Jesse, the requirement of patience was too long and the money was too slow. He was a stickup man and he enjoyed it. He couldn't rely on someone else to support his lifestyle. He knew how to make too much money to remain street people. Jesse was unaware of the stereo having played the last album and had turned itself off as he drifted off into a deep world of sleep. He completely forgot about the letter.
"Bad Habits"
It had been two weeks since the robbery. Jesse and I were laying back, planning, and enjoying life.
"Hey Peil, I got a thing that might be sweeter than honey," Jesse spoke softly as he sipped a glass of apple juice.
"Oh yeah?" Run it," I replied, looking up from a Jet magazine. "My cash is getting funny anyway," I told Jesse.
"I got cash if you need some." He said.
"It's just that this thing might really pay off good. I don't need any, but I don't wanna get in that position you know?" Jesse replied. l laid the magazine face down on the coffee table to keep from losing my page.
"You know that Tego Night Club? Dig this. They got a private gambling room in the basement. Very few people know about it, and only them "richies" go down there," Jesse said. Then he hesitated and took another drink of apple juice.
"What kind of games do they play? Poker, craps, or what?" I asked.
"I'm not sure, but it's probably poker, whitey's specialty. I wouldn't be surprised if they rolled a few craps too. Now Peil, if it's a private club for only the richest crackers in this city, then you can imagine the money they have down there," Jesse said.
I was sitting back in the recliner, staring into the color T.V. set, but never realizing it was there. My mind was somewhere in a basement filled with money.
"How you know they don't pay off in checks?" I asked without moving my eyes from the T.V. set. "Simply because it would expose too much of the gambling room," Jesse answered, drinking the rest of the liquid from the glass. I cursed myself under my breath for not thinking of that.
"The only problem we'll have is getting down there," I said, waiting to see if Jesse had the solution for that.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Break and Runby Bobby Hodge Copyright © 2012 by Bobby Hodge. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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