Get Some

by Pam Ward

Genres: African American Urban; African American Women's Fiction

Synopsis

"An exhilarating novel that won't let readers down." --Books To Mention How do you rob the bank where you work as a teller, plus get revenge on your shady ex, escape South Central L.A.--and get away with it all? If you're Trudy, aka "Trudy with the Booty," it's simple. . . Having recruited a posse of hustlers, car-jackers, and homewreckers who hang out at the seedy club where she sings after hours, Trudy is ready to launch the heist that will make them rich. That is, she's ready to play dumb behind the counter while her ex, Lil Steve, does the work--and then her home-girl robs him! It's a fool-proof plan--until greed, nerves, lust, and jealousy threaten to blow it. Soon Trudy is trapped in a fight for her life. And a scheme that was supposed to be easy becomes a pistol-whipping bout of wills, where only the strongest survive. "A great story unfolds in this wild and at times frightening read. . .An exhilarating novel that won't let readers down." --Books To Mention "One firecracker of a novel. . .plenty of action and suspense." --APOOO BookClub

Release date: July 1, 2014

Publisher: Dafina

Print pages: 302

Sample

Jimmy slammed on his brakes and hung his head out the car. “Get the fuck out the street, you broke muthafucka!”

A wino had stumbled out into oncoming traffic. He did a knee dance near the edge of the curb and just laughed.

“I can’t stand them fools!” Jimmy said loudly at the man. “Raggedy-ass bums make me sick!” His twenty-inch rims lapped against the low curb. The bum had to leap to avoid the SUV’s tires and fell feet first in the street. Grimacing, the bum cursed them as they drove by. Trudy lowered her eyes and studied her hands.

Jimmy turned off Crenshaw traveling west from Leimert Park and started the slow climb up the hills. Trudy watched as they rolled along through the Dons. Don Felipe. Don Miguel. This was all residential. Stucco homes with pools and well-cared-for lawns. Baldwin Hills was the Beverly Hills of black Los Angeles and was immaculately groomed compared to where she lived.

They pulled in front of a Spanish-style home with a beautifully tiled roof and stained glass windows.

Jimmy jumped out and opened her door.

“Who lives here?” she asked.

“I do. Come on in. ” Jimmy opened the heavily locked door and entered a six-digit security code on a small panel right inside the door. As soon as Trudy stepped in, dogs were barking like crazy. There was a loud, angry chorus of harsh, ferocious growls and claws scratching over wood doors. There was a banging sound, as a dog broke loose from the room. He viciously raced over to where Trudy stood.

“Prince, Prince, stop!” Jimmy yelled at the dog.

Prince was a large Rottweiler with a heavy, wet jaw. The dog paid Jimmy no mind at all. It bolted past him and went straight for Trudy’s legs. It jumped at her and then shoved its snout inside her crotch, growling while showing fanged teeth. Trudy screamed wildly and dropped her purse to the floor.

“Prince! Got damn it, Prince, stop!” Jimmy cussed at the dog, socking its face with his fist. But the dog was too forceful. He darted back and nuzzled right inside Trudy’s thighs. Trudy screamed again, frozen in her tracks.

“Prince!” Jimmy hollered again, grabbing the dog by its black studded collar. He took a golf club out of the bag near the front door and beat the dog down. Beat it in the legs, the rump and the head. Beat it so bad it lay down on its back, whimpering with its hind legs pointing up toward the ceiling. Jimmy grabbed the dog’s collar, dragging him across the smooth floor, shoving him in a room and slamming the door.

“Shit!” he said, wiping dog hairs from his suit. There was a small trail of blood on the marble.

“I told Lemont not to leave the animals in the house. Sorry about that, baby. You going to be all right?” Jimmy gently placed both hands on her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

Trudy felt that horrible old feeling of dread. Like someone was playing the black notes of a song. Her breathing became labored. She started to wheeze. She cupped her hand over her mouth and breathed her carbon dioxide back in. She hadn’t told anyone about these panic attacks. Trudy’s whole body felt woozy.

“What’s wrong?” Jimmy asked, seeing her horrified face.

“Come on, girl. You’ll feel better after you have something to eat.”

Jimmy led her to a dining table elaborately set with fine china and long-stemmed glasses. In the center was a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers.

“Those are for you, songbird.” Jimmy held her hand and Trudy managed a weak smile. She took a large gulp of her wine and fanned her face with her hand.

Breathe, she told herself. Breathe deep and don’t panic.

“Look, baby, don’t trip. Them dogs ain’t nothing but protection. I been hating on dogs since I was seven.”

Jimmy buttered his bread and took a huge bite. “I used to walk to the store for my mama to get eggs and junk. Used to be a German shepherd stayed locked inside a chain-link fence next to Grady’s store. Me and Cabbage would toss Coke bottles over the fence and run. Man, that was fun. When them bottles would crash, that dog went mad. Dog lost his mind trying to get back at us. We messed with that hound every day. Growling and barking, tearing up the yard. Man, we both laughed till we cried.” Jimmy wiped tears of laughter from the corner of his eyes.

“But one day Grady left that gate open.” Jimmy stopped laughing and leaned up in his chair. “We couldn’t tell ’cause it was one of them kind of gates that opened off to the side. When me and Cabbage threw the bottle that day, all we saw was molars and fur. Cabbage took off, but the dog got my jacket.” Jimmy took off the cuff link on his left sleeve and rolled it up. He showed a thick, rough row of pale, jagged scars.

“We didn’t have no doctor money, so mama dipped a rag in some Dr. Tichnor’s and kept it covered, rubbing cocoa butter until the skin grew back.”

Jimmy dipped a large shrimp in the horseradish and bit. “Ol’ Grady never did find that dog.”

Trudy sat quietly. She watched him chew his food. His light brown eyes held her gaze until she looked away. She scanned the huge room. All the furniture was ornate. It looked like a lavish hotel lobby.

“I see your eyes popping behind that wine. You think I’m some kind of baller, huh?” Jimmy laughed.

Trudy looked at Jimmy. She was beginning to feel okay. “Stock market must be good, or do you just have nice friends?”

Jimmy ignored her and poured more wine in her glass. His eyes went stony. He stared out the window. “You ask too many damn questions.”

Trudy studied his hard face. He reminded her of her mother. Cold-blooded eyes. A harsh, icepick stare. An anger that was always right there. The agonizing silences she endured during dinner. The awful slow chewing of food. Trudy had become expert at judging Joan’s moods. How she got out of the car. How fast she washed her hands. If she walked in yelling, “Why isn’t there any food on this stove?” Trudy would have holy hell to pay. When her mother got mad there was no bad word she wouldn’t use, but her all-time favorite was “slut.” If your bed wasn’t made, you were an ol’ lazy slut. If the dishes weren’t done, you were a filthy ol’ slut. Anytime Mr. Hall said he couldn’t come by, her mother flew into a rage. Trudy looked at Jimmy and smiled again. She was glad he didn’t ask about her family.

“Come on,” Jimmy said, tossing his napkin on his plate. “Let’s go out for a ride.”

It was five in the afternoon and Trudy had some packing to do. “I have to get home,” Trudy said, standing up.

But Jimmy grabbed her hand like he hadn’t heard and strolled back out to his car. He walked strong, like a man sure of where he was going. His head was held high. His feet moved with purpose. He walked like he owned the whole block.

“Do you have to leave now?” he asked, pressing her against the car, leaning her over his hood. “You got anything like this waiting for you at home?” Jimmy stretched her arms back against the hood. She felt vulnerable but could feel Jimmy’s muscular body. It was a strange mix of fear and desire.

The only thing Trudy had waiting at home was a big, bulging stack of pink past-due bills and a sink brimming with dishes. But she wasn’t any fool. This was a dangerous brother. But something about that was incredibly attractive. Her body fought hard against her good sense. Every vein was yelling, “I want him to touch me. I want his big hands on my skin.” His silky shirt revealed hard, chiseled abs, and his biceps stood out like grapefruit. It wasn’t like she couldn’t. She’d done it before. She’d gone home with Billy last month after knowing him for as long as one slow song, but Jimmy was different. Jimmy was rich. Rich boys were used to getting what they wanted. She had to make him wait. Make him beg for it first. Trudy could hear Pearl’s voice in her head.

“Girl, you got to hold out, make ’em beg for it first. Let ’em sniff some bone before slicing ’em some meat!” Pearl had smacked her own ass for effect.

“You don’t fuck no first date unless you a paid trick. Dick needs to be teased or it don’t take you serious. You make him wait and a man starts thinking he’s special. Thinks you saving it up just for him. Besides, you need to find out who some of these fools are before you lay down with ’em, chile! Men’ll tell a whole gang of lies just to get in them panties. Once they drop, watch how fast they clam up,” Pearl would say.

“I have to get home,” Trudy said, pulling away. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

But Jimmy was forceful. Even his eyes didn’t blink. His hard body had her wedged over the car.

“Don’t go yet. Come while I make this quick run. It’ll only take a minute, I promise.” Jimmy held her arms tight and would not let go. She wanted to say no but he was so damn aggressive. And when he kissed her, all down her throat and almost to her breasts, her body was winning the fight.

Jimmy stopped and pulled back before it got too far. “Let’s go,” he said, opening her door and letting her into his car.

Jimmy took her down Stocker, past the oil fields off LaBrea. Trudy watched the sad rigs slowly bend toward the ground, like an old field hand picking cotton. They turned and traveled west, until they hit Culver City. They pulled in front of this old-looking tract home. Some of the shingles had come off.

He knocked on the door for a real long time before someone turned on the porch light. A small face peeked out from the window.

A white man who looked like he was in his late fifties slowly opened the door. He stood firmly on the porch and didn’t let Jimmy in. Even though the man smiled, he didn’t look friendly. He looked like he was trying to explain something important. But Jimmy kept pressing, kept inching up until the older man called out to someone in the house.

A younger man, about Jimmy’s age, appeared at the door. The older man disappeared into the back. The younger man looked like the older man’s son. He wore big, baggy shorts and an oversized T-shirt. He wasn’t wearing any shoes. Jimmy asked him something and the younger man shook his head. Now Jimmy was the one who smiled but didn’t look happy. Jimmy stepped real close to the young man’s body. Trudy could see something change in Jimmy. It was barely visible. It was more in his movements. He stood very close and was whispering something serious. The boy’s movements changed too. His body seemed to stiffen, like a chill ran down through his bones.

Suddenly the father came out again. His face was as tight as a mason jar.

Without looking at Jimmy the older man opened his wallet. He peeled off some bills. He handed them to Jimmy. Jimmy stared at the bills until the man peeled off a few more. Jimmy smiled and put the money in his pocket. He patted the young boy on his back, turned around and came toward the car.

Trudy watched the man and son look toward her.

Jimmy jumped in and angrily backed out the car. He made a sharp U-turn, and the giant SUV felt like it might tip over.

Trudy sat silently in the passenger side. She felt stupid coming with him now. But there was nothing she could do.

Jimmy ran through a stop sign and drove dangerously close to the parked cars. He looked determined and never once looked at her. “I have to make one other stop.”

Trudy shrank back as his tires dared another red light.

“Slow down, baby. What’s the big rush?”

Jimmy sat staring straight ahead.

Trudy was getting more and more nervous. He had already run two reds and was edging someone else off the road. A yellow truck honked angrily at them as they passed.

Jimmy pulled up next to the man. He rolled down his window and screamed from the car, “You want some of this, you no-driving punk?” The truck driver quickly sped away.

Jimmy drove to a residential area in Beverly Hills. Trudy looked out the window. “Ah shit,” she said to herself. It was the house of the tan-suit man she’d followed home from the bank. Jimmy leaned out and rang the buzzer until the metal gate slowly opened. Trudy scooted way down in the passenger seat. She didn’t want the tan-suit man to see her face. She was glad when Jimmy didn’t invite her in.

“I’ll be right back,” Jimmy said, closing the door hard.

But he wasn’t. Jimmy was gone a long time.

Trudy sat in an orangey haze for almost an hour. And when the sun ducked behind a house and the street immediately turned gray, she yawned, putting her palm across her mouth. She was bored looking at the same manicured front yards and clicked opened the glove compartment and began rummaging inside. She saw a crumpled map and a pair of black gloves. She saw an envelope from the DMV. She pulled it out. It was the registration for the car. Trudy pulled the paper all the way out. The name on the outside of the envelope wasn’t Jimmy’s. The car was registered to somebody named Zeno. Then she saw a little black notebook. Trudy flipped it open. It was a list of deposit amounts and dates. She saw a flowered organizer shoved way in back. The organizer looked girly, like it belonged to a woman. Trudy pulled it out and unzipped both sides. Inside was a large metal gun. Trudy heard a door close and looked quickly up. Jimmy and the tan-suit man were closing the trunk of a Lexus. They lifted a tire and put something inside. Now Jimmy was coming. The tan-suit man came too.

Oh my God! Trudy thought. He’ll recognize me. She zipped the flowered case but the zipper got stuck. She tugged at the zipper but it wouldn’t go any more. She saw the tan-suit man at Jimmy’s side. They both were almost at the black SUV’s door. Finally the zipper broke through the snag and rolled around the case. Trudy shoved the case inside the glove box and shut the small door. She pulled on the seat latch until she lay completely flat. She peeked and saw Jimmy two steps from the car. Trudy closed both her lids just before he opened the door, pulling her sweater up close to her face.

“What, you asleep?” Jimmy asked, shaking her a little too hard.

Trudy pretended to yawn and opened her eyes. Jimmy placed a small satchel behind his front seat.

“Let’s roll.” Jimmy wiped his nose a few times. He kept sniffing and talked fast but was driving even faster. He drove over toward Dee’s Parlor, and along the way they passed Vernita’s shop. Trudy thought about asking him to drop her off at Vernita’s. But it was late. It was almost ten now and although Vernita was known to do a few heads after hours, nobody would be in her shop now. Trudy could see the metal row of hair dryers gleaming through the window like plastic jack-o’-lanterns.

“Girl, I feel like a million bucks next to you.” Jimmy leaned over and rubbed his hand on her thigh. “So where do you stay?” Jimmy asked.

“I’m right down here. Turn left when you get to the end of this block.” Trudy showed Jimmy where she really lived. She knew he’d find out if she didn’t.

He pulled up in front, unlocked her latch and walked her to her front porch. It was nothing like Baxter, her in-between stash. Trudy saw him when the nights got too lonely. Baxter drove his daddy’s old beat-up Voyager. Its hubcaps were just as pitted as Baxter’s skin. When he dropped her off he’d lean across her lap and flip the latch for her to leave, stopped right in the middle of the street. He’d be gone before she stepped on the curb.

Jimmy grabbed her waist and pulled her to him. He kissed her like he couldn’t get enough. On her mouth, on her cheek, sucking her lips.

Trudy was trapped in a mixture of pleasure and fear, panting like she couldn’t catch her breath.

“So when can I see you again?” Jimmy asked. He had one foot on the step and his hand on the knob, like he was waiting for her to ask him in. But suddenly he stepped back and opened his wallet. He peeled off three bills and gently tucked them in her bra.

“What’s that for?” Trudy asked, kissing him back. It was strange, but he flared up a daring kind of passion. Her good sense told her to put bars on the door but her body begged him to come in.

“I’m just paying you back,” Jimmy said, stroking her braids, “for showing me a real good time.” Jimmy kissed her slowly, rolling his tongue over hers.

Trudy cracked her door, easing it open slowly. She wanted him to come in. As her hands rubbed the muscles in his back, a moan escaped from his lungs. But Jimmy pulled away and turned toward his car. The next thing she knew he was back at his fender. “Girl, you going to have a hard time getting rid of me.”

He waited until she was all the way in the house and Trudy flashed her porch lights like they were already tight.

When she got in, Trudy pulled the money f. . .