Page 9 of In Too Deep

THE NIGHT OF THE SCHEME

“Thank you, best friend,” Mimi grinned before plopping down on her living room couch.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you. I swear you always come through for me.

That’s why you’re my girl.” Her hands slithered around my waist from the side as she gripped me into a tight hug, pulling my body into hers.

“I just need you to learn how to do hair. I can’t believe you spent six months at Empire Beauty School with Trecee and you didn’t learn shit,” I teased her.

Every other month, sometimes twice a month, depending on the style, I come by and do her daughter’s hair.

Emily has very thick hair, it’s very soft and durable, but it’s so long that it can be too much to handle for a person like Mimi, who doesn’t know how to do hair.

Sometimes she rotates between Trecee and me, but because of the feud we had, I doubt Trecee would be up to it.

Given that Emily was seven years old, braids were an appropriate hairstyle, eliminating the necessity for weave. A simple half-up, half-down hairstyle embellished with beads was quite suitable for a second-grader.

“Girl, I know how to do fye ass roller set and perm. You know they don’t teach you how to do braids in hair school, and white folks don’t get their braided,” she giggled and broke the embrace.

Shaking my head, I waved her off after running my hands over the hair mouse to lay down the loose strands. Then I passed her the mirror so she could gloat about how pretty she looked. Emily has a coffee bean skin complexion like her father, but she’s the spitting image of her mama.

“Do you like it?”

Turning around, she stood up from the couch pillow and nodded her head, giving me a gummy grin.

“Yes ma’am, thank you, tee tee Synthia,” she muttered softly before extending her arms for a hug.

“Aww you welcome tee tee baby. I love you so much.”

Pulling back, I gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I love you too,” she responded.

“C’mon, so you can get ready for bed.” Mimi stood up to take over. “Are you still hungry, because once you go to bed, ain’t no, “ I’m thirsty or can I have some more chicken ?”

I busied myself with cleaning up the mess, removing the hair from the comb, placing the top back on the jam, and placing the beads and barrettes in her hair bin. As I was finishing up, Mimi appeared back in the living room, fussing about whatever.

“What you yelling about now?”

“I told them bad ass boys to clean up their damn room before they went to bed, and it’s a damn mess in there.”

“That’s why you’re supposed to do it for them,” I joked. “Boys are lazy.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” she sighed and joined me back on the couch.

Mimi lived a very ghetto fabulous life, but she didn’t live above her means.

She treated herself to nice things when she could afford them, but the upside was that she wasn’t a single mother.

Her baby daddy paid her rent, took care of their kids, and did his duty as a father.

They were ideally what the hood needed to idolize as opposed to Trecee and Rome.

Mimi was always on her shit and didn’t depend on the government for anything besides an income tax check.

Her three bedroom apartment wasn’t the typical “goals” or Pinterest worthy, but she made it work and it was cozy.

The furniture was decent, curtains were draped behind the window and hung up on curtain rods, it always smelled good in I walked in and her kids were always dressed well.

People wouldn’t credit her for it, but I always told Mimi how proud of her I am.

“What’re about to get into, you want me to make you a plate, it’s enough for you,” she offered.

Mimi reminded me of the actress Angell Conwell from the 2001 comedic film, The Wash.

Her skin was the shade of a hazelnut, and she was petite and short.

Despite toting three children in her womb, her stomach was flat as a washboard, but she had the stretch marks and a big ‘ole ghetto booty that made her look stank when she walked. Besides keeping her hair in lace fronts and braids, she also wore her natural hair. It was the texture of silk and kept in coils. It was the length of a newborn’s baby pinky and jet black.

She’d throw a fit if it grew longer than that and would snip it.

We’ve been thick as thieves since elementary school, and I wouldn’t trade her for anyone else.

She knew I was into stealing and would shop with me rather than use store coupons.

Instead of asking to be discounted, she paid the price, but I still threw her something extra and set items aside when people would run me out of stock.

Mimi was loyal, despite my roguish cousin who treated me like I fucked her nigga or as if I acted like I wanted to.

“I’m good, I have something to do tonight.”

Walking away from her, I trotted inside the kitchen so I could wash my hands.

“Oh, petty ass Keisha finally decided to give you some hours or will you be working overtime?”

“I’m not kissing her ass for no more hours,” I answered as I pulled a paper towel from the holder and dried my hands. “Bitch be looking me upside my damn head. I do my job better than anybody in there. They might as well fire me, wasting my damn time.”

“I told you I’d bop down on that bitch if you wanted to,” she smirked. “I’ll molly wop that hoe.”

I returned to the living room, the click of my Nike sandals on the hardwood floor announcing my presence as I sat back down on the couch. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

I shrugged my shoulders, thinking about everything Allen and I had talked about today. Though I gave him the okay after giving my photo ID, I was still getting jittery and wanting to back out. This lick was different, and the thought of hitting it big came with a bigger price to pay.

“I’ll think of something, I’m sick of going through the same shit,” I vented to her. “I’m twenty-five years old and struggling like I got a felony on my background.”

“Girl, how many times do I have to tell you that God has something deeper in place for you? Look at this shit as a hiccup. They don’t last forever.”

“Mimi,” I sighed. “I’m four months behind on my rent.

I got a dick head for a landlord. That nigga been threatening to put me out if I don’t come up with this money, and then I’ll be put out on the streets.

I don’t have nowhere else to go,” I shrugged.

“Dwelling on my bad luck gets me depressed, so I try not to think about it, but I’m over here drowning trying to keep my head above water. ”

“You of all people know that I know what that’s like. I know how it feels to take ten steps forward just to get knocked three steps back. Fuck bitches like Trecee and Keisha. I’m looking at a pretty ass woman with ambition and goals who’ll do whatever it takes to reach her dreams.”

“Hold on, not whatever it takes,” I pointed. “I’ll do anything except give up some pussy.”

She clapped and threw her head back and laughed so hard she had to tone it down so she could catch her breath. “I know bitches who sell pussy, and you’re doing better than them, so I feel you on that.”

“But.” I cleared my throat, preparing to pitch her this heist. “My co-worker Allen?—”

“The nigga who sells those illegal guns and shit? The one who looks like Silk the Shocker?” She scrunched up her face and spoke in a judgmental tone. “You’re fucking him?”

“No, fool,” I spat. “He gave me this idea to steal iPhones. He sold me a game plan smooth like butter. I could be making bank, bringing in way more money than I’ve been doing from selling household items in bulk in a week, in a day.”

“Where would the phones come from?”

“This FedEx delivery truck. He knows a guy who knows a guy who transports them, and they have to transfer the pallets before he pulls off with the freight for delivery,” I told her all I wanted her to know, which was more than enough.

Her eyes grew wide before she shifted her body on the couch. “That shit sounds worse than robbing a bank.”

“Not quite.”

“So, are you thinking about doing it? Where are the phone being delivered to originally?”

“He didn’t mention that part to me, but I’m sure to cellphone companies like AT her thoughts wandered, deep in thought. She’d tell me her opinion and how it’d work and how it could backfire on me. Either way, she’d see it through.

“It could go good, I guess, but how long would you do it. You know when people see that type of money, they get greedy.”

“I already told myself, I’ll let it go once I catch up on my bills. The thing is, I have to meet Allen at the meeting point tonight.”

Her eyes, the color of rich mahogany, darted towards me in a look of shock. “Tonight,” she repeated.

“Hmm Hmm, tonight.”

“Damn, that’s soon as fuck. How’d you get there? I thought your car?—”

I interjected. “That’s another thing. I can’t catch a damn Uber, I was gonna ask you if I could borrow your car.” Biting down on the inner corners of my lip, I anticipated her answer.

“You know Oliver has to be at work by six in the morning.”

She didn’t say no, but she wasn’t saying yes either. Allen didn’t mention shit about picking me up. That’d be doing too much. Everything was on me.

“I’d be back before then.”

“Shit,” she shrieked. “The fucking tags.”

“Are legit,” I finished her sentence.