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I.O.U.s

The Little Black Book

By A. L. GloverPublished 3 years ago 8 min read
1
There is an important book, in that bag. But is it worth dying over?

A young man standing in the blinding beam of a street light stands inches from his front door. Clearly settling his nerves, he stares into the house’s void. Slowly, he unlocks and enters, sliding inch by inch until he clears the door to lightly close and then lock behind him. He takes a moment to look into the darkness past the fish tank’s glow in his living room and decides to journey on.

Still inching, he listens for the slightest of sounds. Anything. Nothing but the slight scuffs of his feet and faint haphazard breaths.

He begins slowly scanning rooms as he makes his way down the main corridor through several parts of the house. Before turning to go into the kitchen, he looks in to sees his roommate is not home.

“Must’ve had a late date night”

He breathes a sigh of relief and goes to the kitchen.

Standing in the kitchen only illuminated by the light of his refrigerator, he lazily paws through the offerings.

Suddenly, cutting through the rustling sounds of glass, tubberwear, and plastic bags shuffling about, the sound of a gun-cock snaps his lethargic face into a terrifying focused gaze. He slowly straightens up and exits the bright cold box to see a shadow sitting at his kitchen table.

Both figures acknowledge a moment of silence before the young man sighs and slowly raises his hands in surrender.

“You know, even with all the craziness of the last twenty-four hours, I am just now realizing how you found me—that goofy Uber driver. You know I gave him $400… Still, lead you all the way here. Well, whatever. It was your money anyway. But. No matter what I say, you got one thing on your mind regardless, huh?"

The shadow leans back further into the darkness.

Taking that as his cue, the young man begins. "Loose ends. It’s coo. It goes without saying; I don’t know how to tell stories anyhow. I’m from 23rd & German. We can only recall facts. As a matter of fact, you are sitting here today because of my excellent recall skills. Man, what if I knew how to forget where I found that bag? Or everything I saw in the last 24 hours, including your face? That little kid’s face? The scared looks on all of their faces? The parents! The Mom’s? The Dad’s. Their little boy?

Can’t forget, man. Good money makes the memory super fuzzy, but you aren’t looking for that angle, right? So, I guess I take that with me, man. I just can’t forget.

Oh, but you don’t care bout them, the people. Don’t care bout none of that, huh? You just want to know where the $19,517 and that little black notebook are. Right?

Yes-. Don’t look surprised, good Samaritan or not, curiosity sets in. And oh, we counted. I was so in shock and awe, counting all them hundreds, that I didn’t even notice that little black notebook until we were repacking the bag when it slid out the side pocket. I mean, we looked through the entire pack for more of them Yellow envelopes. I guess we didn’t notice nothing but money.

I see from your expressions, you ain’t even worried bout no twenty k. No-, oh, no. It’s that little black notebook that’s got you shook, huh?

I knew it was important when I picked it up. It felt important. The leather. Weight to it. The pages, lined and ready for a productive person such as yourself to jot down your daily duties. What I didn’t get at first, and you are going to love this. I didn’t get what the entries were, man.

I saw the addresses, names, dollar amounts, so we came up with a theory. This is either a collections journal or some kind of IOU journal. Boy did I found out how right I was about the IOUs.

I like money though. Where I’m from, it’s a powerful tool. After all that counting, debating what to do with it, I knew it wasn’t real. Somehow this fairy tale, money falling out the sky, just happens to peeps like us? I was pretty sure I wasn’t getting my picture in the paper for showing up with a wad of cash at my nearest precinct. So I appealed to my last option. We would finish paying the IOUs back and maybe get a tip on where to return the bag. Maybe collect a finder’s fee for our trouble.

Funny how things go from either bad to worst, crazy to crazier, unbelievable to “I know you lying…” sometimes within a snap.

We took the backpack to one of your newer entries.

At first, the lovely neighborhood seemed quiet. New York Brownstones, Pennsylvania, country-home quiet. Wrong! We turned that corner at the end of their block, and just like that, right into a full-on CSI crime investigators’ set.

People everywhere. Blazes of lights, ambulances, and various evidence cameras are going off. No need to question what three young black guys from the hood did; we boogied and never looked back. We got about a good 20 blocks away. And since none of us were really familiar with the bus schedule in this part of town, we sat in the park waiting for the first thing, smoking, rehashing what we saw.

We discussed all kinds of scenarios for what seemed to be hours, but now remembering calls, text, FaceBook checks, probably more like 30 minutes. Yeah, trying to understand the bigger picture as we realized we were standing too close; as a matter of fact, you could say we had become a part of the picture.

And just as if someone had turned on a cold shower, mid-December, it just started raining. Cold. Hard. Facts.

We figured out what we had and no longer wanted to return or see the mission through. We just wanted to rewind and go back to acting like that Keyshia Coles and Ashanti Verzus just never happened. Like all the Cold Uncle Bernie memes were still fresh, lighting our timelines up.

It said, E. R. 1114 East Cocoao Terrace. His name was probably Eric, or Edward… maybe Ethanial. Ethanial Richbottom. Ernwicken Rothschild? I know because Earl Jenkinses don’t get this kind of caliber of attention. I mean thirty, five, thousand dollars, man! That’s some money. For a few minutes work? Aim. Trigger. Paid.

I’m getting off track here. On the bus ride home, one of my friends came up with the idea of getting to the next addy and warning the people; give them the bag and that little black book. Give them our theory, and hopefully, we don’t freak them out too much. They go to the authorities we catch the number 9 to the mall and start establishing all kinds of alibis.

Havillona Crest. No buses run out there, so we took an Uber. S.B. 3467 Havillona Crest. You must be a real professional even without the little black book, cash missing, but still on task. I am apologizing now, so as I meet, you know, the Guy upstairs, my conscience is clear.

We did not mean to even hurt your friend. I felt like he made the situation, a him, or us type deal.”

Shadow leans forwards and motions with the gun to get on with the story.

“Uh, w-why? Why did you continue on?”

Showing more signs of nervousness and frustration.

“You were going to kill that little boy in broad daylight. In front of his parents, no less. And your goon was there for moral support?”

Animated and fearless bursts.

“You know what? I’m glad your stupid little friend stepped and slipped backward off the curb. Yeah, the Uber driver is traumatized!” stopping to analyze, “don’t know how the trip rating is going to go.”

Back in full frustration, “but it doesn’t matter now!

Your guy falls into traffic.

Almost gets hit by the Uber driver.

The screeching of the tires alerts the parents who turn and see you aimed at their son.

Your guy turns and points his gun at us.

My weird friend who always tries to sit in the front seat of Ubers reacts and mashes the Uber driver’s foot into the gas pedal.

Runs over your friend.

You take your attention off the target to see what’s going on.

Rich folk takes off running and screaming.

The hot scene on your hands you decide to pause and take off too, not before getting a good look at my friend holding the book bag and the Uber driver’s tag. Tsk tsk tsk.”

Takes a moment, “I could’ve been a detective, Sherlock Holmes al be.

Shadow figure slides the gun into the visible portion of moonlight.

“Oh, Yes, how we got involved in the whole situation. That stupid Jansport with the money and little black book! You want them.

Shot out to the wealthy family who got away. Them …oh, I gave up cussin for lent, but it def rhymes with mitches, ran off, and never looked back to help. Rich people, huh. Shaking my head.

Well, you are here now. I’ve pretty much said my peace, and I know once you get your lead on the little black book, then I’m a goner anyhow, right?

Well, Mr. Hit Man-, here is your little. Black. Book!”

He slowly brings the little leather ledger out of his jean cargo shorts. Holds up the hand-sized journal. And slowly, places it on the table and slides it toward the shadow.

“Bang”, the gun goes off. And the young man flies back violently against the refrigerator and slides to the floor.

The shadowed character goes to stand and finish his work. Winded, with his breath, nearly knocked out of him, “You villains … Are so… Predictable...”

A Swat-like tactical team suddenly descends through the house’s back and front doors, rushing from all directions. “Drop it, Drop it, Drop it!” Flashlights from the front and sides of the house began bouncing haphazardly back and forth.

An officer approaches the young man, now with an opened flannel shirt, examining the single gunshot into his vest…

“Kid when we say to get him talking, and we will do the rest, you ask questions where, HE, reveals the plan and chain of events. Tsk tsk tsk. Luckily the book, money, and your testimony about tonight are enough to put him away for good.” The detective starts to walk away.

“But you heard that line I put in there about the Verzus? ALL adlib man!” the young man yells

The detective, still in motion, mutters back, “Millennials,” as he walks away from the now ecstatic, lucky to be alive 20-year-old.

fiction
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About the Creator

A. L. Glover

He who just creates stuff. I really dont know how to condense 38 years of life into a small bio, but I guess the important bits go: I was born, learned to read, write, count, and been using those gifts since. IG: @AdamLueCEO YT: @AdamLue

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