“Same thing I do every summer, hang around the projects,” I told her.
It was kind of awkward standing there having a conversation with her after all these months, but at the same time I wasn’t trying to end it. I was glad Trina didn’t go to the high school because if she’d seen me talking to Lisa she would have flipped. Lately she had been bugging out like she owned me, acting all jealous for nothing.
“My mother told me you called for my birthday, but I was already gone. Thank you for calling,” she said.
“You would’ve done the same,” I said, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal.
There was a long pause between us for a minute.
“Kamil, I missed you.” Her statement caught me by surprise. “I mean, I miss talking to you,” she quickly clarified. She was looking me dead in my eyes. All I could do was flash a half smile and match her stare as she continued.
“I thought about you while I was away and every time I see you in the lunchroom or hallways. You really hurt me the night of the dance, but I forgave you the next day. I just didn’t know how to tell you after graduation and I regret that because it cost us a whole summer, time we could’ve spent together. If you’re not mad at me I was wondering if we could at least start all over, if not pick up where we left off.”
I was speechless at first. I shifted from side to side trying come up with the right words to say. “I was never mad at you, Lisa,” I began. “I was mad at myself for making you feel like that. I wanted to kick it to you too, but I thought you kept telling your moms to tell me you weren’t home whenever I called, so I figured you were done with me; and now that you tell me this I regret not speaking up that day at graduation, because I’ve missed you too.”
Lisa stood there looking at me with those slanted eyes and cheesy little grin she always made when she was happy or in a good mood. “So where do we go from here?” she asked.
“I’m gonna call you later and we’ll take it from there,” I said to her. She gave me a quick hug before making her way to her next class.
Everything was back to normal with Lisa and me, but it got crazier with me and Trina. Somehow, I managed to maintain both situations.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
We had all planned to meet at Ant’s house to hang out. When we arrived, Ant and Trevor were engrossed in an intense video game battle.
“Why every time we come over you already over here?” my brother asked Trevor. “Are y’all fuckin’ or somethin’?” he added while laughing.
“Fuck you, Mal,” Trevor shot back.
I stepped over Trevor and gave Ant a hug and pound. Just as we were all saying what up to each other, Shareef rolled in.
“What it is, my niggas?”
“You tell us,” Ant said.
“Yo, I want y’all to come check something out with me right quick outside.” Shareef seemed excited.
“What?” we all asked.
“Just come with me for a minute.”
Everybody got up and went outside with Shareef.
“It better not be no bullshit you about to show us,” Trevor said as we were walking down the steps.
“So what’s up, Shareef?” I asked him, but he didn’t answer; he just started skipping toward the street, then he stopped. He stopped right next to a sky blue Oldsmobile ’98 and said, “What’cha think?”
We all looked at each other.
“Think about what?” Mal asked.
“Man! About my new car,” he said.
“Yeah, right, Shareef,” I said.
“Nigga, stop playin’ and tell us why you really got us out here,” Ant said.
“Yo, I’m tellin’ you this is my ride. I mean, it’s in my mom’s name, but I paid for it. We just got back from Langhorn, PA, a few hours ago.”
“Nigga, you don’t even know how to drive,” Trevor said. “How you gonna have a car?”
“I know how to drive. Ice taught me in one of the rentals he be havin’ from the fiends, and I go take my test for my permit this week so I’m gonna be rollin’ legit.”
“This really is your joint, huh?” Mal said.
“That’s what I been tryin’ to tell y’all.”
“Well, let’s roll up outta this muthafucka then!” Trevor exclaimed. “Take ya boys for a ride.”
We rode through every known drug block in town like all the other dealers did when they copped a new ride or did something new to their whips. I had never toured the blocks like this before because I didn’t have anybody to ride me through them except for Mu, but he wasn’t with that. He didn’t front the way most guys did in the game.
Guys and girls were flooded on every block we rode through. Every time we hit a different hood, they would be looking to see who was driving. They wanted to know who was pushing the ’98 with the temp tag in the back window. I saw guys who I went to school with out there hustling on every block, and they must’ve noticed us too because they all waved or gave head nods each time we hit a certain spot. Shareef just beeped the horn.
“Yo, this weekend I’m going to Canal Street and cop me some beats,” Shareef told us. “And then I’m gonna put some Trues and Vogues on my joint and smack a dark blue leather rag top on my shit.” Shareef was amped when he spoke.
“Yo, kid, I’m not trying to tell you how to spend your money, but don’t you think you need to be puttin’ your paper up for a rainy day for you and your family? I mean, wasn’t that the point of getting in the game in the first place?’ my brother reminded Shareef.
“Word!” Me, Ant, and Trevor all agreed.
“Yo, I’m doing all of that,” Shareef attempted to defend himself. “I got dough put up for me and moms and ’em. Coppin’ this ride ain’t even put a dent in my stash, and the shit I’m about to do to it, I’m gonna make that money on the grind,” he enlightened us. “Y’all must think I’m still pumpin’ packs for Clyde, but I ain’t. I’m coppin’ my own shit now from uptown. Ice found a connect up in Harlem on Broadway and turned me on to some of the papis so I be catchin’ the train over there to pick up. Me and him got down fifty-fifty and be alternating on the pickup.”
“Damn, kid, you moved up in the game like that?” Trevor was the first to say.
“Yo, that’s the only way you gonna make money. And the cool part about it is that I be goin’ over right when school be startin’ and be comin’ back when it be letting out or during their lunchtime over there, so I blend right in with my book bag and shit, and Five-O don’t even fuck with me,” Shareef told us.
“How much this joint cost?” I asked him.
“Only thirty-five hundred dollars,” he said.
“Nigga, you act like you rich talking about ‘only thirty-five hundred dollars.’ You gettin’ it like that?” Ant asked.
“Yo, I’m makin’ money and I got money put up,” he concluded.
We all sat there in deep thought as Shareef drove back to the projects. I didn’t know what everybody else was thinking, but I knew that after hearing Shareef talk about how he was doing his thing in the drug game, once again, I had a different outlook on drug dealers.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Only two and a half weeks had passed and Shareef had done everything he said he was going to do to his car. We were in the field chilling when we heard the bass and then the words as clear as day as Shareef turned the corner playing Biz Markie’s cut “Vapors.” When he pulled up on us, it sounded like we were in the club listening to it. Shareef had just gotten his whip out of the upholstery shop after having a dark blue leather ragtop with the three humps and lights on the side of the windows installed. You could tell he had it painted over because the light blue was now ice blue. His True rims were blinging and his Vogue tires were Armor-Alled up. To top it off, he added shocks in the back to lift the trunk up. The week before he had gone to Canal Street and thrown four ten-inch EV speakers in the back window and two fifteen-inch Red Line speakers behind the back seat, with a gooseneck equalizer and a Alpine radio, benzy box, along with a Zeus
amplifier to push the woofers. The bullet tweeters he had had his music sounding crystal clear and made it ring off.
“What’s the deal!” Shareef hopped out of his ’98.
“Yo, this piece is phat as hell,” Trevor said, giving Shareef a pound.
“No doubt! You hooked this joint up,” Ant followed.
“It don’t even look like that same ride.”
“Yo, ya thang nice, Shareef,” I said, admiring how he dressed it up.
“Shareef, you doin’ ya thang, kid!” my brother said.
“Good lookin’. Y’all the only niggas I care about liking my joint; fuck everybody else,” Shareef said to us.
“Who’s that in the seat?” I asked.
“That’s Ice,” he said.
“Where y’all headed?” Mal asked.
“We about to hit the town, but we came to pick y’all up first so we can show ’em how NPP roll!” Shareef exclaimed.
There was definitely a difference the next time we rode through the blocks. Guys congratulated us and gave head nods of approval while girls were gawking. Whenever we got close to a different block, Shareef would hit rewind on the tape. That day I learned the words to KRS-One’s “The Bridge Is Over” cut from his Criminal Minded tape. I thought my eardrums were going to burst, Shareef’s system was knocking so loud.
After touring the entire city Shareef dropped us all off back around the projects. I stood there and watched as Shareef and Ice drove up West Second Street. He had vanished up the block but still, a mile away, I could hear the bass of that song, “The Bridge Is Over.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
That night I was restless and couldn’t sleep. For hours, I tossed and turned in and out of my sleep while images flashed through my mind. Visions of my dad’s, Mustafa’s, and Shareef’s cars appeared back to back in my head, along with images of when I saw my dad counting all that money in our living room, Mustafa’s money on his kitchen table, and the knot of money Shareef had pulled out that day at Ferraro’s. My mother had told me that dreams meant something and that you just had to figure out what. I didn’t know what my dreams meant or why I was even having them, but I wanted to know. The last vision I remembered having that night was of an image of my dad’s, Mustafa’s, and Shareef’s cars all lined up next to one another, before my eyes shot open.
“Yo, Mal, you asleep?” I called over to my brother.
“Nah, what up?” he answered immediately.
“I can’t believe Shareef got a car,” I said.
“Yeah, I know. I was thinking the same thing,” Mal agreed.
“Remember when we first found out he was out there hustling?”
“Yeah.”
“He was out there moving fifty packs for Clyde and now all of a sudden he can afford to spend thirty-five hundred dollars on a ride and put another three to four thousand into it just hooking it up. He must be making a lot of money for him to be able to do it like that and still go to school,” I pointed out to my brother.
“That’s what I was saying to myself too,” my brother said back to me.
“You know what we could do if we made that type of money,” I said rhetorically.
“Yeah, we could get Moms and Grandma and ’em out of the hood.” My brother had read my mind.
“Maybe get Moms another brownstone back in Brooklyn,” I stated. So many thoughts were racing through my mind at that moment.
“Yeah, but Reef making it seem like it’s too easy,” Mal said, bringing me back to reality. “He’s acting like it ain’t nothing, but I know it gots to be more than that. We just don’t see it,” Mal added.
“Yeah, I know it’s not that easy,” I said in agreement. “It’s a lot more to it than just going out there pumping. Shareef started out as a worker, but I learned it from seeing it from a boss’s perspective. Mu been teaching everything he knows about the game to me,” I told my brother.
“Like what?” he wanted to know.
“Everything!” I rose up and sat on the edge of the bed. “For starters, he taught me how to cook up coke and cut dope.”
“What? Word?” Mal said, surprised.
“Yeah, kid; but not only that, I know how to chop up the coke and bottle it, and measure the dope and bag it from watching Reecie and Trina.”
“Reecie and Trina?” I could tell by his facial expression my words had again surprised him.
“Yeah, that’s who Mu got doing his stuff for him while he rubber bands all the work up,” I began to explain. “He wraps the bottles up into twelve: two for the workers who get high and a straight hundred for him, and twelve bags, getting a straight two hundred off that. That’s why he be standing out there, to watch them so they won’t run off with his stuff. The packages he passes out to the kids who don’t get high bring him back the same three hundred and fifty dollars that Clyde wants off his fifty packs. He told me that the dope game and the coke game are totally different. He explained to me how the dopefiends will kill for a bag and sell out their own mother if they had to for a fix. He said you have to be on point at all times, especially in the dope game, ’cause it could cost you your life or your freedom.”
“Damn! That’s deep,” was all Mal said.
For the rest of the night Mal and I stayed up and I told him about everything Mu ever told me about the drug game. We talked until the sun came up and, by the time it was daylight, a decision was made.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Now any other time we come over here, this nigga Trevor’s ass is here; now all of a sudden the one day we got something important to talk about this muthafucka late,” Mal said to Ant.
“The nigga said he was comin’ right over,” Ant said in defense of Trevor.
“What up? What up?” Trevor came in saying.
“What took you so long?” my brother asked him.
“Nigga, fuck all that. I’m here now, ain’t I? What up?”
Normally Mal would have gone back and forth with Trevor, but instead he just looked at him, brushed it off, and then started talking. “Yo, me and Mil was doin’ some heavy thinking last night and since y’all our boys we wanted to see if you’d be interested.” My brother took a deep breath before continuing. “We’re tryin’ to get in the game,” Mal said.
I tried to read the looks on their faces to see how they were taking in what he had just said, but I couldn’t. They just stood there.
Trevor was the first to break the silence. “Yo, that shit is crazy, ’cause me and Ant was thinking the same thing,” he confessed.
“Word up?” Mal replied.
“Yeah,” Trevor said. “But besides what Ant remembers about Terrance and what Shareef told us, we really don’t know shit about hustlin’ except for serving patients and fiends.”
“Yeah, the game changed since T was in it, and Shareef didn’t really tell us nothing besides how good the dough was,” Ant said.
“Yo, don’t worry about that,” I stepped in. “I basically know all we need to know to get started.”
“How you know what to do and how to go about it?” Trevor questioned.
“That’s beside the point; the point is he knows, trust me,” Mal spoke for me. “The important thing we need to know is do y’all have any money saved up? ’Cause we not tryin’ to hustle for nobody but ourselves,” Mal added.
“I got a buck fifty put up, and could probably scrape up another fifty,” Trevor said.
“I think I got like two and some change stashed,” Ant said.
I was thinking, Man, I got more than both of them put together and they’re older than me. I wondered what had they been doing with their money all these years.
“That’s a start,” I told them. “If the two of you get down together you should have at least four hundred dollars.”
“How much y’all got?” Ant wanted to know.
“Put it this way, we’ve been saving,” I offered as an answer.
“That shit still don’t tell us how much y’all workin’ with,” Trevor chimed in.
“Between me and Mil, we got over a G,” Mal answered.
“Daaaaammmn!” they both exclaimed. “How the fuck y’all niggas save up a G?”
“We were just puttin’ up, that’s all,” I replied. “But we’re not starting out with this much.”
“I think we should all get down and split everything four ways,” Trevor suggested.
“Nah, it’ll be better if you and Ant got down and Mal and I get down together ’cause y’all be together all the time, and Mal’s my brother and we live together.”
Before they had a chance to respond, Mal intervened. “Besides, y’all could do your thing while we at school and we can do ours when we come home.”
“That makes sense,” Ant agreed.
“So, how much we gonna make if we flip four hundred?” Trevor asked.
“It all depends,” I answered. “It’s a lot of things I have to break down to you the way I think we should do it. I just need y’all to have your money ready in a couple of days while I try to set everything up. If things go right then it’s gonna be on and next year this time all of our families will be up out of here!” I said with confidence.
“We’ll be ready,” both Ant and Trevor stated.
When Mal and I left, I knew I had motivated Ant and Trevor; but, what was more, I hated that I motivated myself.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“What’s up, stranger?” Trina greeted me at the door. “I thought you forgot about me.”
“I didn’t forget about you. I just had to play the crib for a while ’cause my moms been riffin’ about me and my brother being out late all the time. She and my grandmother think we be hangin’ in the streets. You know how that goes,” I told her.
“Yeah, I know.” She kissed me. “But I missed you still. I miss being with you.” Her words almost made me forget why I really stopped by.
“I missed you too,” I said. “I’ma start comin’ back through; just give me a minute. But is Mu here?” I asked.
“Yeah, he’s in the back,” Trina replied dryly. “That’s why you came here, to see Mu?” she asked, disappointed.
Memoirs of an Accidental Hustler Page 16