Back then, I ran fast, found somewhere to hide, and prayed to God that the person wouldn’t discover me. Sometimes they did. Other times they didn’t.
Always, I survived.
But these guys were stronger and had the numbers. And if they caught me, they wouldn’t be nice.
Where the hell are you, Quin?
Before I hit the alley’s opening, wheels screeched off in the distance.
That better be your ass!
A candy apple red Mercedes-Benz sped into the alley next. The hazard lights flashed. The front lights illuminated the dark path in front of me.
That’s her!
Fast, the car raced for my way.
I caught my breath and slowed my pace.
Seconds later, the car screeched to a halt next to me.
The window slid down.
My friend, Quin, stuck her head out and smirked. She could have been a beauty queen, if not for the terrors of her childhood—Honey complexion, doe eyes, slim figure, and long, wavy black hair.
Always a comedian, she kissed the air. “Bad Bitch Taxi at your service.”
I glared.
“Do you need a ride this evening?”
“What took your ass so long?” I rushed to the back of the car, opened the door, and jumped in.
“Damn, bitch. You better not give me a bad yelp review.” Quin sped off before I could shut the door. “It took a minute to find the right car.”
I grabbed the handle and closed the door. “The right car or a dope car?”
“Same thing.” Quin switched off the hazard lights and shifted gears. “Our perspective decides the vehicle to our success. Therefore, my vehicle will always be luxury.”
Sighing, I quickly put on the black jumpsuit on the seat and stuffed my feet in the sneakers on the floor. “Yeah, but that quote is not about a damn car, Quin. The word vehicle is the thing used to get to success.”
“Same thing.” She sped us out of the alley.
Cars rushed at us.
Some honked.
Others braked fast, swerving in their lanes.
“Chill, people!” She spun the wheel fast.
We rounded into the turn so quick it felt like a blur. The movement pushed me to the side. I gripped the edge of the seat and glanced out the back window. A trail of smoke rose behind us.
She switched gears. “Put your seat belt on.”
“After I separate this money.” I grabbed the duffle bag on the floor, set it on the seat next to me, and then opened the black bag from the strip club.
“Can’t separate a damn thing if you’re dead.” She maneuvered across two lanes and sped us through a red light.
Honking sounded.
Someone screamed out curse words.
“Focus on the road.”
“Focus on these nuts.” She drove us over a divider. “Seat belt.”
Groaning, I put it on. “There you go. Is Mama pleased now?”
“You know it.” She swerved into a new lane, got to the edge of the road, and made a sharp right onto the empty sidewalk leading to Victory Park.
“Don’t hit anybody.” I returned to the bag and rummaged through the money.
“Do I ever hit people?”
“Girl, we don’t have the time to talk about your accidents and fatalities.”
“Those were misunderstandings.” She drove us through Victory Park’s tall green gates, boasting rusted iron angels blowing long horns.
It was the biggest park in the city of Glory, set right in the middle of bustling downtown.
Teems of migratory birds nested here each year. Those feathered creatures bathed in one of the five fountains. They perched and rested on the dozens of sculptures of soldiers lining the park.
During the day, the grounds served as a utopia for runners, walkers, bikers, and skateboarders. There were two playgrounds—one on the northern edge and another in the far back. Tons of mom groups worked out on the five-mile circular path with their strollers full of kids.
At night, the park shifted, transforming to a dark wonderland. Drug dealers posted near the soldier sculptures, selling chemical dreams. Prostitutes handed out twenty-dollar blow jobs at the playgrounds. The homeless camped out by the fountains. Psychos crept in the shadows, hoping to snatch a victim.
It was also a safe haven for runaway teens. Quin and I had met in Victory Park, one night when I’d needed a friend. She’d come to my rescue, and for that, I’d always love her.
It was a damn miracle that we’d both made it to twenty-six.
She decreased the speed.
We cruised around a fountain surrounded by sleeping homeless people.
“I can’t believe you pulled this off.” She whistled. “Those guys are fucking huge.”
“My heart was close to exploding in my chest the whole time.” Quickly, I searched for all the credit cards. Each time I found a card, I stacked it in one hand. “It was hard to choke that big bastard.”
“I bet it was.”
“Then he leaped for me.”
“Caught you?”
“With those hands?” I dumped the stack of credit cards into the small bag next to me. “If he caught me, then I wouldn’t be here.”
“Did he give you that swoon, you said that he’s always giving the strippers when he robs them?”