“Look, baby, I need some money. You need to figure out something,” was Tee-Tee’s heartless statement that lingered in my head.
Later on that evening, I met up with my best friend, C, at a gas station that sat on the corner of 17th Street and East Broad Street. Like most nights down Richmond’s Shockoe Bottom, the old, historic streets were busy with people fixing to catch a buzz and have a good, adult time. The street lights blended in with colorful neon signs that substituted the retired sun. It was a warm, friendly vibe.
In his efforts to get reassurance of my commitment, C checked my mood.
“Man, your a#% is crazy. Are you sure you want to do this?” he said.
“Yeah, come on, just hold me down and I’ll do it,” I said. C, who was a couple of years older than me, was more street-oriented than I was, especially given his upbringing in one of the most treacherous housing projects in the capital of Virginia. I never thought I would be a part of a 211, but here I was at the center of a senseless crime. My partner gave me a last minute glance before he handed me his gun. After I secured the gun in waistline of my pants, we began scouting for a victim.
Despite us smoking a blunt, my heart was beating extremely fast — it could’ve jumped out of my chest. I was scared and nervous like a mouse thrown into a waterless fish tank with a hungry Burmese python; however, I knew I had to make something happen. Tee-Tee had threatened to kick me out, so I couldn’t return to her doorstep empty handed. Out of pure ignorance, I felt like I had only two options: find a lick now, or sleep on the nearest city bus bench.
After an hour or so, we were still scoping around for a evil, quick payday. As we walked down the sidewalk adjacent to a half occupied parking lot, we locked our eyes on a small laughing group that was leaving Laser Quest. C and I looked at each other, then with a shared nod, agreed simultaneously.
“Are you ready?” C said with a calmness, as if he was a vet.
Sweating and shaking as my conscious grew numb, I gripped the handle of the gun with my right hand before I gave C the green light. “Let’s go!”
To be continued …