One Hustler's World

by Nikita Stewart

  Keisha noticed the black Turkish leather sectional sofa, black tinted glass coffee & end tables. KT had an elaborate entertainment system. Keisha, impressed by the ultra-masculine décor, asked. "Where am I, your humble abode or sexual hideaway?"

  Chuckling weakly, KT laid across the sofa. "Thanks for coming to the hospital. You didn't have to, but I'm glad you did."

  It was her turn to chuckle. "You think me coming to the hospital was a friend coming to the aid of a friend?"

  He shrugged. "Thanks anyway."

  “Where do you keep the painkillers?"

  “We haven't filled the prescription yet."

  “No kidding, numb-nuts." Keisha retorted. "Advil, Motrin, Bayer. That stuff the nurses gave you to take home trash. You’re better off with over-the-counter meds."

  "Upstairs bathroom."

  Keisha went upstairs. Three minutes later, she was in his kitchen. The microwave bell chiming; she placed a warm coffee mug on the coffee table and said. "Don't complain, just drink."

  KT, smelling the concoction, nearly regurgitated. He pinched his nose then sat the coffee mug set to his mouth. He took the drink down in three excoriating gulps. "What was that?”

  "Warm pineapple juice, Epson salt, and five dissolved Advil. My homemade painkiller." Keisha helped him upstairs.

  KT stepping into the bathroom, was greeted by steam. He could only smile at the warm bubble bath-filled tub. He watched Keisha remove her Nike Air Max sneakers and blouse. He was helped out of the protective arm-sling and undressed. He was eased into the warm water. His bandaged left arm propped on the bathtub edge, KT allowed the shower gel sponge wielding beauty to bathe his battle brutalized frame.

  He relishes the way her soft touch cleansed more than merely the dirt & grime from his body. He pondered what took place. Ski-Beau & Meatball appearing minutes before the gunfire erupted was suspicious, to say the least. The crème Infiniti G35. When the Grand Marquise sped away, he expected to hear more gunfire, which never took place. Did the white hockey-masked shooters know about his Nissan Pathfinder and where he parked it or were, they spread out to flank he and Dynamo’s escape?

  Though KT lacked significant pieces to the puzzle. However, he couldn't escape the probability of the neighborhood Insane Gangsta Crips deciding to wash their hands with him & Dynamo. Most of the street gang grew up in the area. So the question becomes... did childhood friends decide to murder two of their own solely because KT & Dynamo chose to stand alone? If the Insane Gangsta Crips were indeed responsible, does that mean every member or a selected, Ski-Beau ordained few?

  Rinsed off, KT slowly climbed to his feet.

  Keisha toweled him off, then ran some Speed Stick deodorant along his armpits. Vial of liquid Vitamin E in hand, she moisturized his entire body. Re-bandaging his injured left arm, Keisha almost comes to tears touching the staples holding his mangled bicep together. She allowed KT to slip on some silk boxers then helped him into the master bedroom.

  The homemade painkiller elixir beginning to take effect, KT climbed into bed. He exhaled exhaustedly. "Beautiful be honest... why are you here?"

  “You needed my help."

  “Why are you in my life?" He clarified. "According to you, we day-to-day. So why do what you just did for a day-to-day acquaintance?"

  Keisha winked. "Try and relax. I'll be back to tuck you in." She dimmed the lights then excused herself.

  KT climbed underneath the comforter and closed his eyes. Drifting towards a deep slumber, he pondered the earlier events against Hot Rod's upcoming funeral. Ever since their father passed away, it’s been Big Suge, KT, and their mother against the world. The criminal justice system took their mother away several years ago. Now, Big Suge was forced to go into hiding.

  KT, no longer willing to dwell on his lifelong despair, envisioned an angel shining much-needed light into a dark, desolate One Hustler's World. His slumber was disrupted by a creaking door. Groggily, he gazed upon an angel hovering within the bedroom doorway; large, feathered wings, glowing halo. The angel’s mesmerizing, daisy green eyes were transfixed on his dark, weakened own.

  Keisha stepped further into the bedroom and drew a small chrome handgun. "Don't get up..." She held firm against his elixir inebriated confusion. "Just tell me where it is, and I'm out of your life for good."

  KT, disbelieving his own eyes asked. ''The whole time... After all this time, you were setting the stage so you could hit me for my paper?"

  "I never showed you where I live, where I work... If I even have a job. For all you know, Keisha might not even be my real name. So, you tell me."

  KT slowly climbed out of...

  Keisha engaged her handgun’s hammer-slide, chambering a round. Aiming for his heart, she caressed the trigger. "Don't make me light yo ass up. Just give me what I came for."

  "That's why Pierre was ready to snap yo neck. You fucked him, then robbed him. Just like you trying to do me." He replied, referencing the large stranger he encountered in Ocean City, Maryland. KT scoffed from realizing he & Dynamo fought against seven Bounty Hunter Blood gang members defending someone guilty of the irreprehensible. Someone deserving of a scorned lover's wrath. He sat on the mattress edge. Bombarded by an assortment of emotions, he studied the gun-wielding woman.

  Keisha’s right hand inconspicuously trembled against the gun handle. Her index finger caressing the trigger, her chest heaved. Her bottom lip and nose were sweaty. Her eyes looked everywhere except upon him.

  KT was oblivious to the lone tear coursing down his cheek. He dropped his head and said. "My stupid ass believed in you. I believed in us. What's crazy... the signs were there. Me dropping you off in the middle of the night instead of taking you home. When work or family came up, you always changed the subject. You never had ID whenever we went out. I saw it all, but my stupid ass still believed in yo sheisty, no good ass."

  Keisha gripped her handgun with both hands. "I won't keep asking. You in no condition to struggle, so just give it to me. Before I show you just how sheisty I can be."

  "If it’s paper you fucked me for, yo ass might as well shoot. Cause I'm not giving you shit." KT climbed out of bed. He tossed his protective arm- sling aside and held his arms apart. "Yo ass did all that fucking work for nothing, cause I'm not giving your sheisty ass shit. So put that ratchet to use

  “KT, please don't make me show you I'm serious."

  “PULL THE MUTHAFUCKING TRIGGER!"

  Keisha was oblivious to her lone tear. She raised her handgun and took another step forward. "This been my life for as long as I know. It’s not personal."

  “Then yo ass need to change your life, cause this shit definitely personal."

  Keisha’s hands trembled. Her handgun slowly lowering, she burst into tears.

  KT took the gun from her. Cradling her face in his hands, he said. "Beautiful, look at me."

  Her tear-soaked eyes met his own. "Why you make me believe?"

  "We all hustle in one way or another, and I respect yours. But right now, it’s time for us to give each other a chance. If things don't work out, you welcome to rob me blind. Just make sure you leave my heart behind cause your sheisty ass already stole it." He tossed the handgun aside and led her lips upon his.

  Their mouths were conjoined in an impassioned kiss. Their tongues pirouetted to the melody of a shared breathing pattern and synchronized heartbeats.

  KT wiped a saliva speckle from her lips then helped Keisha into the bed. Cradling her in his right arm embrace, though he was in pain, he relishes her head laying against his chest. "From the moment I first saw you on the library steps talking to Dynamo, my hand to God, I saw you as my angel." He finally confessed. "Keisha, all I ask__."

  “Angel."

  “Huh?"

  “Angel... Keisha, my fake name." She finally confessed.

  KT burst with agonizing laughter. “It hurts when I laugh, so you gotta stop clowning."

  "Baby, I swear my real name is Angel... Angel Anita Davis."

  “First,
you about to rob me for everything, now your name really is Angel. Hell, I'ma do with you after tonight?"

  "How about loving me.”

  Silence fell. KT warding off the urge to sleep just stared at her. "I think after everything, I deserve to know who you really are.”

  ∗

  Twenty-two-year-old Angel Davis was born Tamara Hawkins. A native of the impoverished Blackwell, Richmond, Virginia area. From the on-start of her life, Tamara was victimized by those responsible for her safety. When her father James wasn't incarcerated, he sexually abused her. As far back as Tamara could remember, her body was used to satisfy her father's sick perversions. Her mother, Myra Bochco, a heroin-addicted, illegal Peruvian immigrant, stood idle.

  On the eve of her 8th birthday, little Tamara was sexually abused for the final time. While her parents slept, she set fire to their home. James suffered 3rd-degree burns over 40 percent of his body: Myra escaped with minor injuries. Tamara became a ward of the Richmond child protective services.

  The next stop for little Tamara was the foster care system. After her first two foster parents proved no better than her biological parents, she ran away. Eight months later, she was apprehended inside a hotel suite in the company of Diamond Jim, a 38-year old pimp.

  Diamond Jim refused to allow the wide-eyed runaway to be touched in any way whatsoever. He instilled rules of urban survival into her young, impressionable mind. His stable of prostitutes demonstrated how the female body was a living, breathing gold mine. Up until the police raid, Diamond Jim was Tamara's only father figure. He was convicted of felony child endangerment, five counts of pandering, and conspiracy to commit pandering of a slave under the age of twelve. He was sentenced to 133 years.

  Tamara was returned to Richmond child protective services and bounced from group-home to group-home. During that span, a now 11-year old Tamara charged pedophiles for sex.

  Stealing her boyfriend's gun, she turned the weapon against him. Able to take his money without so much as a tussle opened her eyes to a new, less self-loathing lifestyle. Tamara, no longer getting paid to allow men to do what her father did free of charge, was finally able to cleanse herself of the poison men would always leave inside her.

  Years later. A now 14-year old Tamara was performing court-ordered community service at the Richmond ASPCA when she met the Davises. Strangely, their simple conversation turned into her disclosing the hardships of her childhood to the newlywed, devout Christians. After two hours and shared tears, the Davises promised they would return for her.

  Three months later. Two weeks before Tamara’s 15th birthday, that promise was fulfilled. The Davises had Tamara transferred to Norfolk, Virginia, where they fostered her. Eleven months later, the adoption was finalized.

  For the very first time, Tamara Hawkins had loving parents. As a wedding anniversary present, she set aside her birth name. Mr. Davis prophesied for her to have endured so much she was one of God's chosen. Tamara Hawkins became... Angel Anita Davis...

  I am about to take my last voyage, a great leap in the dark

  -Thomas Hobbs 1588-1679

  CHAPTER 11

  Misfortune, n. The kind of fortune that never misses

  -Ibid

  DePaul Medical Center

  Grandby Street, Norfolk

  11 am the following morning

  KT, given the appropriate room number, escorted Angel into the DePaul Medical Center recovery ward. Holding the room 315 door open, he & Angel spied Dynamo sprawled atop the hospital bed. Wearing a gray paper gown, his dark brown complexion was askew. Numerous IVs protruded from his forearms. Sensors attached to his right index finger and temple enabled electronic monitors to follow everything from his weakened breathing pattern to heart rate and blood pressure.

  Candace waved the visitors in. Giving both a hug, she noticed KT wincing from her mere touch. Studying his bandaged, sling-supported left arm, she whispered. “He has been asking for you all morning."

  "I tried to get a jump on what the hood might be saying. Plus, I had to wait for visiting hours."

  Dynamo was weakened from the surgery to repair damage caused by two 9mm dum-dums slamming into his chest. He watched a light caramel entity place a bouquet of roses throughout the room. Curtains drawn, he cringed from the burst of brilliant sunlight.

  Candace quickly closed the curtains. "Keisha, I did the same thing. Too bad my big baby a gothic thug. He thinks because he's hurting, a little sunlight will make things worse."

  Angel approached the bed. "Dynamo, I'm glad you're okay. I was worried sick about you both."

  Dynamo replied. "Okay, hell, my whole body feels like taco meat." He turned his attention to his woman. "I'm hungry."

  Candace smooched his chapped lips then grabbed her handbag. Asking Keisha to accompany her, she walked out of the room.

  Dynamo eyed KT irritatingly. “What she doing here?"

  “She came with me. By the way, her real name Angel." KT, accepting his friend's bewilderment, waved off his primed inquiry. "I'll run it all down when you feeling better."

  “Them damn doctors got me on so many meds, I might walk outta here a pluck." His banter unsuccessfully masking his weakened agitation, Dynamo cut to the chase. “Ace, visits started at nine. Missing Link was here when I woke up. She said they let her chill since 6:30.”

  “Early this morning, I got my prescription filled, then went out Ingleside to see what the word was."

  “Had it been you laying here, I would've been here soon as them doors swung.”

  Taken aback, KT showcased his injured left arm. "My shit doesn't compare to yours, so this not some excuse. But my first thought was to go back out the way and see what the talk was. We need to know who got at us."

  Dynamo spoke about how he felt lying on the ground, bleeding from two gunshot wounds. Alone. Unsure whether he would survive the night. He was expecting the cold hands on his chest to belong to KT. He was dismayed by the police officer asking him who was responsible. Dynamo had an oxygen mask placed over his nose and mouth. He was strapped atop a hydraulic stretcher and placed inside an ambulance. After his surgery, Dynamo was visited by Detective Swanson.

  Lastly, Dynamo spoke about lying on the ground, riving in pain. Suddenly, he spied a familiar, fast-moving red Chevy Camaro. The driver slowed, looked around then sped off.

  KT, aware of his accusation, said. "Fam, no way Yolanda saw you and just kept going."

  “What would you think?" Dynamo challenged him.

  “She found me up on Scott Street. She saved my life. The first thing she asked was, where were you. So, I know she didn't see you behind the tree. How could she?"

  KT ran down what took place following his arrival at his Nissan Pathfinder. He emphasized had it not been for Yolanda arriving when she did, he would have been chased down and murdered. A police cruiser blocking the intersecting Scott Street/Trice Terrace prevented them from retrieving Dynamo. "I was able to toss our ratchets. Yolanda got her ears to the street. So, if anybody can find out who got at us, she can."

  Dynamo forced himself to sit up in the bed. "What the fuck we need her for! We know who dump them slugs. We also know who owns a crème Infiniti. The question is, when you gone, make that bitch of yours get on top of that?"

  KT withstood the brusque chastisement. “Ace, I understand why you don't care for Angel. But I need you to show my shorty some respect."

  “Oh, she yo shorty now. That shit official."

  “Look, ace, it’s gone always be you and me. But yeah, that's my shorty."

  Dynamo scoffed. "She putting in that work or what?"

  “I already talked to her about the dude with the Infiniti. By the time you get outta here, we'll have whatever we need."

  The women returned.

  Candace sat a breakfast tray on the bed. She handfed him scrambled eggs & cheese grits. Dynamo took several careful sips of orange juice before glancing at KT. "Since we can't trap out Ingleside for who knows how long, what's good with that other thing you spoke
about?"

  “When you ready, all you'll have to do is kick back and make that paper."

  Candance watched KT usher Angel from the hospital room. She kissed Dynamo. Nibbling his bottom lip, she whispered. "Dy, as your woman, what's my role?"

  Dynamo smiled weakly. "You, my prostitute."

  "Then let me."

  "Let you what?"

  "Think about it."

  He snapped. "Missing Link, dead the sideways talk, I'm banged the hell-up, so the last thing I need is code words. Now say what the hell you trying to say."

  Candace peered into his agitation, psychologically constrained eyes. "Let me help you handle that bizness.”

  ∗

  Club Allure

  Newtown Road, Virginia Beach, Va.

  12:10 am two weeks later

  Entrance fees paid. Hands stamped. Double doors opening, the women were greeted by a cloud of marijuana and tobacco smoke. Reggae dancehall booming throughout, blue strobe-light streaks bounced about the dimly lit, capacity-filled nightclub.

  Long, light brown hair fell over sensual shoulders. Black Gucci tube dress hugged every curve in Candace’s hour glassed frame. Her four-inch Stuart Weitzman heels clacked against wood flooring. She relishes the men admiring her high yellow allurement.

  Approaching the bar, her mere presence quickly garnered the bartender's attention. She pulled him close, removed lint from his salt & pepper beard, and said. "Two yak & colas."

  Angel occupied the neighboring bar stool. Their drinks were placed on the bar, her stool was spun around. "Excuse you!" Her primed tirade was stalled by her astonishment. Her jaw on the floor, she fell silent.

  White tank-top, Calvin Klein sweats, and white Nike Air Force Ones adorn, a buttermilk skin-toned man smiled. "Keisha, I thought that was you looking so sexy." His hands coursed her gold, Chanel mini evening gown & matching open toe, Coco Chanel adorned frame. His hazel eyes melting into her shocked daisy greens, he kissed her on the cheek. "Thought I'll never see yo badass again. After Pierre disappeared, where you run off to?”