Page 6 of Gang of Roses: Kash

I made my way through the crowd of partygoers and exited just as quick as I entered.

2

C.O.W (CASH ON WHEELS)

DECLAN “D-ROW” SAINT

This world could make or break you and for a nigga like me, it broke me at an early age. I thought I could have the bare minimum, but I’d be damned if OG ain’t put me on the front line every chance he got. I took matters into my own hands for blessings, and as fucked up as that sounded, it was either wait on him and still be pissy or take what I thought I deserved. A nigga was gon’ choose the latter every time.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t move reckless or warrant any attention I didn’t ask for. At this very moment, I was strolling back into a building that irritated me just from a simple glance. Ross Savings & Loans had to be the most vexatious, energy draining, as well as patience testing place, I’d ever been in. From the customers to the employees, I was counting to ten on a daily basis.

Coming back from lunch was dreaded every day. I was so over this fuck ass job, but I knew I couldn’t quit. There was something I had cooking up for my people and they agreed to let it brew until I said it was time to eat. They had patience unlike others. They also knew that I didn’t put anything on the table that wasn’t worth it.

“Welcome back, Mr. Saint. Your one o’clock is here and waiting.”

“Thank you, Destiny. Give me a quick five minutes to get settled, and you can usher him upstairs. Offer him refreshments, please. It’s quite toasty outside,” I replied taking the steps two at a time.

“Yes sir. Is there anything I can get you?” she countered.

“Water would be nice. Thank you again.” With that, I finally reached the top of the stairs taking my first left.

Ross Savings & Loans was the biggest financial institution in the Valley, which was why I instantly put my degree to use and snagged a job. Having a bachelor’s in business administration paid off, landing me as the head nigga in charge over a predominantly white bank. I was having my way round this bitch cause my word was law. Them white folk ain’t know what the fuck to do with me.

Walking into my office, I tossed my briefcase to the sofa that sat in the corner. I then moved to the window and opened my blinds. It was a pretty day outside regardless of the heat. Taking a seat behind my desk, I released a deep sigh before allowing my head to fall back momentarily.

Numbers, they were something I could handle no matter what state of mind a nigga was in. My family always looked to me to bring them out of a crisis by turning a penny into a dollar, and I always did. Managing folk’s money was natural.

A light tap was administered on my door bringing me out of a debriefing before I was ready. Looking toward the door, I put on a fake smile as I stood buttoning the blazer. Destiny escorted the older gentleman over as she held a glass of covered water.

“Mr. Valorie, this is our bank manager, Mr. Declan Saint. Mr. Saint, your one o’clock, Mr. Valorie,” she spoke placing the water on the desk. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, thank you. I appreciate this. Thank you for seeing him up. I’ll take it from here,” I responded.

“Yes sir.” With that, she left us alone.

From the look on the gentleman’s face, I could tell he had a lot on his mind. I extended my hand in his direction and reluctantly, he accepted it, grasping it tightly. He released it just as fast as he grabbed it. He took a seat before I could offer one to him letting me know exactly how this meeting was ‘bout to go.

Laughing off his disrespect, I rounded my desk and took a seat as well. Clasping my hands together, I made direct eye contact and asked, “How can I help you, Mr. Valorie?”

“I’m not understanding why I can’t withdraw my money the way I want to. This is the third time I’ve been stopped and dammit I’m tired of it!” he shouted.

Simple Simon muthafucka. The shit you doing is illegal!

I was briefed earlier in the day on why he’d scheduled an appointment. He’d caused ruckus in my bank on more than one occasion. I was quite frankly over his theatrics.

“Mr. Valorie, I’d appreciate it if you lowered your voice and spoke to me with some respect. I can’t help you if this continues.”

He waved me off, but he also kept his old, ignorant ass quiet.

“Now, what you’re doing is labeled as structured withdrawals. You can’t take out a large lump sum of cash one day and come the next to top it off just to avoid the CTR.”

“The what?” he questioned with a screwed up face.

I looked at him irritated as fuck as I refrained from sighing deeply. He was one of the reasons why I hated my job. Everyday there was a rich, stupid muthafucka trying to beat the system. Let them slide with one or two transactions and here the fuck they go thinking it’s the norm.

“A Currency Transaction Report is not only to cover our behinds but yours as well. Now I understand you not wanting the IRS in your business but moving the way you have will have more than just them in your business. Structured withdrawals are illegal and a federal crime. You are correct, you should be able to withdraw your money the way you see fit. However, there are rules to doing so.”

“Oh, fuck your rules. I should withdraw all my money from this bank. You’re not doing nothing but stealing from me no way.”