Hooked with a Romantic Billionaire

CHAPTER THREE

Jake:

They say when life throws lemons your way, you should make lemonades out of it. Perhaps, this holds true for people born into a decent kind of living. For people like Jake who grew up with nothing and struggling to make things work for them, it doesn’t appear so. Life got no lemon or grape to throw their way and it hurts because they have to build from scratch.

While some had it easier with their parents providing for some of their needs, others have to bear the entire brunt. Jake grew up not knowing what his father looked like. Word on the streets was that his pa had planted the seed in his ma and evaporated into thin air ever since then.

It’s been over two decades and somehow, he wished he knows what his face looks like. What the reason was for his leaving him even before he came into this part of life. And if he was anything like what he turned out to be - a street boy who lived and made ends meet by exerting force and making people part with some of their belongings.

That’s the childhood Jake had and growing up, he wished to be a better person but circumstances keep forcing his hands. “Ma, I promise, I will not continue in this way again” he was telling his mother some nine years ago. Just a few weeks later, he narrowly escaped being maimed on the streets after his gang was caught trying to rob a stash house.

He and Callista had hit things off after hooking up at a party somewhere in town. “I’ve had a tough week and just came here to unwind” she was telling him. They had been discussing for a few minutes after Jake had walked up to her and said “hi” asking if she needed company. She has obliged and the conversation flowed smoothly. The night was still young and when they were done shaking off some sweat at the dancefloor, Jake had gone on to request her telephone number. “Just to keep in touch” was his reason.

Tens of hours on calls, dozens of texts and a few dates had turned their relationship from we-met-at-a-party-and-danced to the love-of-my-life.

Callista had been particularly impressed with Jake’s masculinity - the way he talks, walks and speaks. The absence of fear in his eyes further impressed her. That’s her kind of man - unflinching, unswayed, decisive, and bold.

It wasn’t until a few months after dating that she began to notice other traits that didn’t sit so well with her. “Jake” she had called out to him one day at his place. “I thought you were a salesman. Ain’t you going to work today?” She had asked this question severally in the first few months of their dating but Jake dismissed it with one excuse or the other.

Anyway, Callista wasn’t the first lady Jake would introduce to himself as a salesman. To others, he was a barber, a delivery guy or any other job that requires hands and some brainwork.

He rather kept it that way and changed professions, depending on who’s asking. But Callista had been persistent and he became bothered. No other woman cared so much about what he does for a living. “All they care about is some money and all I care about is some steady p***y after a rough day” he kept telling himself.

But Callista was different. Even his homie thought so. “That bae loves ya” one of them was telling him sometime ago. Jake surely knows Callista loves him and with time, he began to see her as the kind of lady he wants to do life with.

Hence, he confided in her that he was neither a salesman nor had a decent job so far in his life. “Man has been on the streets all his life. The streets made me and I die with the streets. What’s it going to be?” he had told her just eight months after they started dating and he was tired of giving excuses. He was ready to let her go if she so decides.

“Promise me you will change, Jake. Promise me you will leave the streets for good. Maybe not immediately but definitely anytime soon?” she had pleaded.

“Jake, the streets got no love for you. A day comes when they need you no more and…” she snapped her fingers to indicate how fast he will be ridden of. That was his mother giving one of her unending lectures on the dangers of living a street life.

While he knows they both meant good for him and he was already getting bored with the entire routine of dealing on drugs, robbing and balling with the women; he also knows he needs to call it quits and stay out for good. To do that, he needs money. And more money begets more power.

That was, three weeks ago, Jake led his gang to rob the stash house of one of the deadliest drug dealers on the streets, The Young Gunners. The hit had been successful. Hundreds of kilograms of drugs, ammunitions and cash had changed hands.

For nine days, nothing happened. Jake and his gang retailed the drugs on the streets, shared the cash and kept the ammunitions in their stash house for future use. Then, on the tenth day, The Young Gunners started painting the town red. One of Jake’s crew showed up dead one morning, with his neck slit. Two days later, another showed up lifeless, with the skull severed.

For the next eight days, some of his twelve-man crew either ended up dead, had body lacerations or missing. Down to the last five men, Jake knew that more is coming. Just five days ago, The Young Gunners wrote him, asking for a full refund of all that was stolen, with an extra payment of $30,000 to cover for the loss they encountered in the process.

Jake knew what this meant. If he’s unable to pay up by then, he may then pay with his life. “The streets don’t care about you. You’re only but a meal. They may not want to eat you today, but they will someday. You can pull out now and save yourself from becoming the next dish.” Jake recalls the voice of his mother telling him to quiz gangsterism.

“I guess that day has come.” he sighed. “How do I raise over $70,000 in 13 days?” he was in deep thought.

******************

“Are you in trouble?” Callista asked Jake the very moment she stepped into the house. The revelation by Annabeth had taken her unawares and with what it entails, Jake might just be in a bigger trouble. If someone is gunning for him, it is no longer as simple as the other street fights he’s gotten into in the part and made his way out of it.

Seated at the bed with his face in his palms, Jake looked every bit of a distraught human looking for possible ways out of the dilemma he’s found himself in.

“Yes” he blurted. As much as he hated sharing his troubles, he’s realized that the more he kept Callista out of the picture, the deeper he got into trouble.

“What trouble? How neckdeep are you in it?” she prodded further.

“I’m just a few days from having the breathe snuffed out of me” he replied. “I guess I’ve stepped on bigger toes.”

“What happened?”

Jake went on to narrate how he and his gang had used the information relayed to them to steal from The Young Gunners; taking away their latest consignments of drugs, ammunitions and some cash running into thousands of dollars.

“I’ve lost seven men already.” he mumbled. “Now, they’re gunning for me.”

Callista heaved a deep sigh. One part of her wants to blame Jake for bringing these woes unto himself and the other part wants to help him fugure things out.

“Is that why you’ve been stealing from me?” she asked.

The expression on Jake’s face was that of shame and disgust. She knows it well. He’s ashamed of stealing from her.

“How much would you have stolen and it’d be enough to cover for the mess you’ve got yourself into?” she asked him, concentrating on his face once more.

After a moment, he said, “I have to pay $30,000 in cash and either refund the stolen ammunitions and drugs or part with another $40,000 to cover for the costs of those.”

“How do you intend to raise that kind of money in such a short while? Rub another stash house? Rob Peter to pay Paul? Is that what you want to do?”

“There are no more stash houses to raid. Every gang on the streets has reinforced. Trying that is simply signing up for one’s death. Word is out to shoot to kill whenever such an attempt is made. No, robbing another stash house is out of the question.” he replied.

“So what will you do? You ain’t got a thousand bucks on you. More of getting 70 more of that.” she asked.

“I guess I will have to stay here and they come for me” he said starring down at his hands. A true leader goes into a battle ready to win or lose. I’ve won many. Losing one wouldn’t hurt.”

The silence that fell on the room was deafening.

******************

It’s been two days since Jake her of his predicament. She still loved him very much and hopes he will get over the situation and become a changed man for good. Maybe, this near-death experience will set his priorities right. “But how can he raise $70,000” she asked no one in particular.

“Jake has told me all that happened” she was telling Annabeth on the third day after stopping by in her house. They both had rumminated over it and her friend suggested asking Jake to flee the city.

When she related this to Jake on getting home, he replied with a smirk on his face, “You think The Young Gunners don’t have ears and eyes everywhere? They’re a mini mafia. No, I cannot leave San Antonio. It’s too risky. I rather stay here and figure things out.”

“Figure things out? You got only ten days left!”

“A lot of miracles could happen in ten days, you know”

This was a new experience. Jake had never talked about miracles. About God. About anything pertaining to believing in a Supreme Being. Well, she hoped a miracle indeed happens. He needs it very much at this point.

******************

The next two days were one of the busiest, stretching and fearful for Jake. For the past forty-eight hours, he has been brainstorming on how best to raise money at least, to keep The Young Gunners at bay while he raised the rest. He was confident of buying some time if he paid some of the money.

The few he had stolen from Callista wouldn’t go either because they were barely $1,000. He needed a bulk sum and a bulk sum he must get. Assembling his gang, he asked them to keep their ears to the ground.

“Stash houses are out of the equation. We want to extort businesses. If possible, break into shops and warehouses. We need to raise money fast. Our lives depend on it.”

For several hours, nothing happened. No news of businesses in the neighborhood that have compromised on their neighborhoods. Then, it happened. On the seventh day, a van pulled up to make deliveries at one of the malls a few miles away from Jake’s home. Inscribed on the body was “Brovogo Logistics.”

“I’ve seen Brovogo Logistics make deliveries in recent days to some of the major retail shops in this area. Know what I think?”

His team shook their head.

“I think we should hijack some of those vans the next time they come around here.”

Two days later, after a round of deliveries and heading home, a Brovogo Logistics van was snatched at gunpoint. Jake had the vehicle driven to the chop shop he’s used in times past to get rid of stolen vehicles being traced back to his gang.