Crooked

Eighteen

Crooked

Eighteen

One week later...

         "Whose drugs is it?" Agent Banks demanded as he banged his fists on the metal table. His frustration was growing more and more as the minutes passed. The white man who sat across from him seemed disinterested as he stared at the floor. NYPD had managed to collect $50,000 worth of narcotics from the stash-house that Epiphany told him about. Agent Banks was more than ecstatic. He knew it was only a matter of time before they would be able to find the stash-houses that housed a quarter to a half of million dollars' worth of drugs. His mouth began to water in anticipation of Crook's demise. He knew it was coming and boy, he couldn't wait until that day came.

Agent Banks grimaced at the white man who sat in front of him. He was furious that he didn't say one word since they brought him into the interrogation room. He had been detained for three hours already, and Agent Banks was beginning to get restless. "Your life is over; do you hear me? You have a chance. Just give us your boss and we will give you a plea deal." Agent Banks tried to convince the man one last time. He bit down on his lip in anger once he saw that his words weren't working.

"You know what... you should be ashamed of yourself. I know your parents didn't want this for you, Jimmy. But you just had to be a follower. Let's see if your daddy Crook will get you out of this situation." Agent Banks smirked slyly before grabbing his notepad from the table. He smoothed out his suit before he turned to his partner.

"Make sure this fucker doesn't get a bond." He spoke through clenched teeth before leaving the interrogation room. Agent Banks was vexed that the guy didn't snitch. He thought he would've been willing to say something because he was white, but he thought wrong. Agent Banks wondered why the man would rather go to prison for the rest of his life instead of just ratting out Crook. He seethed in anger at how much power and fear Crook held in the palm of his hands.

"Fuckin' bastard," Agent Banks muttered to himself as he pulled out his iPhone. He had been calling Epiphany all day to try to alert her of the good news. He wanted to let her know that her tip worked, and he wanted to thank her again, but she hadn't been answering his calls all week. This time around, he knew it was on purpose and it bothered him.

"Fuck," He cursed to himself again as he left the station. He made his way to his dark blue Nissan Altima and put his keys into the ignition. Agent Banks turned to the classical music station on his radio before he pulled off. He sighed to himself once he drove passed Epiphany's project complex. He was headed to Harlem to meet with somebody. Once he pulled up to the fried chicken spot on Lenox Ave, he parked right in front of a fire hydrant.

Resting his head on his hand, Agent Banks impatiently tapped his foot on the floor of his car as he waited and waited for what seemed like a decade. As much as he tried to fight it, he couldn't deny that Epiphany was on his mind heavy. He felt bad about making her cry last week. He couldn't help the lude dreams he would have about her occasionally. Just the thought of her dark skin in the shower and plump lips wrapped around his dick made him hard.

Agent Banks knew it was wrong to fantasize about Epiphany since he met her at the age of fifteen. However, he felt it wasn't that bad since she was legal now. Even though he had been feeling like this for a while, he knew he would never actually make a move on Epiphany because he didn't genuinely like her—he just fetishized black women. Nonetheless, that didn't stop his thoughts from getting the best of him as his penis slowly started to rise in his slacks.

An unexpected knock on his window made him jump out of his seat. Agent Banks quickly turned his head toward the window to see the girl he had been waiting for. "Took you long enough." He grumbled as he opened the passenger's door.