I was busy thinking about my situation and couldn’t hear her chatter. Bria’s lips were moving but I didn’t catch one damn thing. It was a month before graduation and I had no clue about what I was going to do after. Serious money was what I needed to get my hands on. I had to come up with a plan.
“Jaden, you need to stop acting like you too good for a job.”
“I didn’t say that, I just don’t have patience right now. I got sump’n cooking.”
“And what’s that? Pushing drugs with your friends? I can’t believe you have the nerve to go and try dealing. You’re putting us at risk. I know you don’t expect me to stay with you when your ass is carted off to jail. Jaden you’re the most inconsiderate, spoiled…”
“Oh, so you don’t want me doing that shit but I heard you talking to a hustla nigga yourself.” She leaned back and crossed her arms. “Yeah, Bria. Yeah, somebody at school done told me you been talking to Will here and there. What’s up with that?”
That woke her up. It was low but I loved her. I stood to come into serious dough. I needed hard-core evidence that I could trust her. For a bag of trees and a bottle of liquor every week, Dana kept me up to date on Bria.
“Baby, it’s not…”
“Save it. Just save that shit.”
Bria tugged at my arm. Before you knew it, I led her to my room and slid up in her for some boom boom.
Later, I got dressed and hit Nick on the horn. Then I gave Bria a kiss, headed to the bathroom and turned the water on so she couldn’t hear me.
“Fuck starving, Nick. What we need is startup money. I’m a be real with you, though. I don’t have a clue what we’re gonna invest in but whatever it is, we’re gonna need at least two or three G’s. I’m a call Eric too. Are you in?”
“I’ve been waiting for something like this for a minute. Count me in.”
“Bring the gloves and hawks. Be ready for anything.”
CHAPTER TEN
THE JOOKS
It was a known fact that Rufus was clocking mad papers. He went to Martin Luther King High School. Rufus was a cockeyed, pigeon-toed dude with papers too long for a guy his age. He had a pimped out ’88 Mustang. It was June and the heat made me hungrier. I was getting at his paper and nothing would stop me.
I knew him from coming around my place trying to talk to Julissa, my sister. Dude wasn’t old enough to drive and didn’t wear any jewels outside of a simple gold bracelet but he had to be the freshest young dealer on his block. He had a rep for fighting and wasn’t packing. That made him the perfect mark. I did my research tracking his moves for a week.
Eric and Nick met me at eleven. The long walk from 143rd to 122nd and Amsterdam was perfect for us to get warmed up for the brawl. The cool night breeze energized me as we cut through clumps of people, hopped over dog shit, shot a few words at sexy females without slowin. We had to make it quick and clean, I kept telling myself.
“I’m ready to knock his block off,” Nick said pulling a bottle of Mad Dog out. He took a swig and passed the bottle. I drank enough to make my gums tingle. Then I tossed it to Eric.
“Ain’t that Rufus on that stoop over there talking to that bird?”
“Yes it is,” I replied. “Let me hold that bottle of Mad Dog. You two hit the other side of the block and creep up behind that truck. I’m a wait for him to make his move. Then y’all join in.”
“Let’s do it,” Nick said.
I posted up directly in front of him across the street. Rufus was too busy talking to every chick that passed by to see what was going on around him. I took a deep breath, pulled my hoodie down low and stumbled up to Rufus. He had to do something now. I was so close to him and the chick. They were startled when I burped loudly and almost fell on the chick.
“Oh, oh I’m sorry, miss. You-you’re a very lucky man. She’s a dime for real.”
I pulled out my liquor and guzzled it, spilling some of it on the cracked pavement. I spilled some on him and saw steam coming from his ears.
“Wha-What’s your name, s-sexy?”
She breathed, “Gabrielle,” like she was on a phone sex line. She laughed before he could step up.
“She’s not interested, fam,” he said with confidence.
He put a hand to my chest, trying to shove me away. I slapped his hand away and repeated the question a little bit louder. I tried my best not to laugh when he grabbed me by the collar.
“Don’t make me bust yo bum ass!”
I wanted to show him my face and let him know who to fear but I couldn’t, he might rat. So I popped him in the stomach with my elbow and sat his ass down on the step. He was stunned. I took another sloppy sip of the Mad Dog and slapped it across his face. The chick screamed and started slapping at me. I checked my pockets and was pissed. I had left the brass knuckles.
Eric and Nick jumped in. Pulling her off me, they covered her mouth and dragged her inside the building. I threw Rufus’ head onto a step. I was breathing fast.
I heard rumbling coming from inside the front doors of his building. Nick busted out the front door bear-hugging some dude. They rolled down the steps and bumped into me and Rufus. The bottle fell out my hand.
Rufus jumped on top of me, swinging. Another dude flew out the lobby and leapt on Nick’s back. A fat guy had Eric in a headlock. Eric managed to deliver a few shots to his ribs.
I held my arms in front of my face, blocking Rufus’ punches. My right cross collided with his jaw and his head snapped back.
Nick was still getting pounded. I helped him quick fast while Rufus was stunned. I tapped fat boy twice in his throat then snatched the Mad Dog bottle off the pavement and smacked him on the chin. When he didn’t fall, I hit him in the stomach and he doubled over.
I held his head to the pavement and bitch-slapped him with the bottle until he threw money at me before I even asked for it. My boys managed to get cash out of two of his boys before they booked. Then all of Rufus’ buddies took off, leaving just the four of us out there.
“Give up the loot, man!” I cracked the bottle on the step and said, “Do it!”
He didn’t answer me. I pressed the bottle to his throat and he went into his pockets and handed me a wad of cash.
I kept a tight grip on Rufus’ collar and pocketed two hundred dollars then stuffed the rest in my wallet.
“Shit!” Nick shouted.
Two plain-clothes cops were running at us. I tossed my wallet into a pit that led to the basement of the burned-out building next door and slid the bottle away. They flashed their badges and aimed their guns at us. We froze.
“All of you! Get on the ground now!”
We got on the ground and they cuffed us. Then had us sitting on the curb while they waited for backup.
“Yo Rufus, I know we ain’t friends but if you help us out, we’ll help you out.” I whispered.
“I don’t need your—”
“Yes, you do. I’ll tell you why. They’re gonna ask us all about what went down tonight, right? Then you’re gonna press charges on us for robbing you. That’s cool but what if I tell them that you’ve been selling to every fiend on Amsterdam?”
His jaw dropped then he stomped the curb in frustration. I bobbed my head.
“Yeah, nigga. Keep it simple. This was a robbery, and we took fifty off you and not a penny more. Don’t forget to tell them you’re not a snitch so you don’t wanna press charges.” Eric and Nick tried their best not to laugh as I added, “Got me?”
“Fuck you, Jaden. Fine, whatever.”
We spent a couple hours in the precinct then took a taxi back to the spot where I locked horns with Rufus. I hopped over the fence and grabbed my wallet full of cash. Eric insisted that I buy a bottle of Hennessey for the road back.
“What’s your big plan with this cheese, fam?” Eric asked.
“Don’t worry about that. Tonight, we celebrate. Call up dude with the fat pillows.”
We had twelve hundred dollars after splurging on liquor and weed.
“
You don’t have a plan do you?” Eric laughed.
“Not really. I never thought I’d say this, but I say we stick-up who we can until we find something better to do. We’ll need some lightweight heat to get the job done and work our way up from there. Y’all with me?”
That was how my criminal life was set in motion. The next step was to find a spot to buy cheap hammers. We split the money in three and parted ways. I burned two piffs, chatting with Bria. That night I slept really well.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
STICK UPS
Paul Smith paced in front of his desk, pulling the phone cord in every direction while he talked business.
“Okay, okay, look young blood, I’ve got bills to pay here. I’m closing up soon, and there are cameras all over the block. Will you make it here in an hour? Good, it’s been sitting here way too long.”
He hung up and stretched. Then tugging his pants up on a rotund belly, he snapped his fingers and a lovely young thing named Cindy sashayed over. She wore a slinky summer dress that fitted like second skin. Cindy couldn’t be a day over nineteen. She was his grand prize but Uncle Paul blew his money on a lot of other toys. He wore three diamond-encrusted gold rings on each hand and a heavy diamond cut gold chain with a lion pendant that had diamond chips filling the cat’s mane.
“Hand daddy a Cuban and get to work, sweetie,” he ordered. His teeth gleamed nuclear white from cosmetic cleanings every six months.
He lit the cigar, leaned back in his seat and undid his fly. Cindy fished out his pole and bobbed on his bone.
“Oh fuck! You can really suck, girl! Cot-damn! No lipstick on my pants this time. I nearly got a divorce over that last blowjob. Hmm, yesss... that bitch woulda had all my papers.”
She laughed and flapped her tongue against the tip of his pipe.
“Keep that shit wet like you doing.” The phone rang. “Shit! Who the hell is this? Reach that phone for me, sweetheart.”
“Paul’s Cadillacs. How may I help you? You on your way already? Shit, all right. I’ll be waiting right here.”
With time a factor, Cindy began jacking him off faster and deep-throated the hood rich fat man. Uncle Paul waited for her to swallow before kissing her. He heard a knock. Cindy followed a few steps behind. They hurried to the front of the car dealership. A scruffy teen in a hoodie and sweats greeted him outside. He pulled a duffle bag out of his ride when Uncle Paul faced him.
Paul led him inside to the showroom. He hit the blinds and popped the trunk of a Lincoln Continental. The smell of Bolivian cocaine tickled their nostrils.
He emptied the cash in the trunk, stuffed the pack in his duffle bag and rushed to the door. Paul tried his best to count it before he left.
“See you soon.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
TRAINING GROUNDS
I headed to my aunt’s house to check on my aunt and sister, Julissa. She preferred to stay over there lately because she felt my folk’s apartment was a den of sin. Dad would disappear for days at a time and Mom would lose herself in soap operas after her part-time job at the cleaners.
The humidity glued skin to clothes. I passed a bum on the steps, sniffed around and stopped.
“That’s the specific odor of Nightrain, Coors light and three days of dirty ass. Is that you, General Lee?”
The man looked up with a scowl that gave most people the jitters. He did that mostly to test people. General Lee was a veteran of the Vietnam war who returned with a cocaine addiction. He had a dead-end job at the supermarket down the street from my aunt.
He spent his off hours in front of the building, chugging beer and sharing war stories with passersby. Even though he was a drunk, no one messed with him. People from the neighborhood knew his fighting skills and marksmanship never faded. Drunk and out of his mind, he could still spear a bird with a knife from a yard away.
“Fuck you, you little scoundrel. I could snap your neck in two, tipsy or not. You need to learn to respect your elders, boy. What you doing over here, mooching off your aunt again?”
“Listen, Lee—”
“Yup, I was right. Don’t you wanna make something of yourself, young man? Do things for yourself? Get over that shit that boy did to you?”
I guessed Devlin’s dirty deed was all over the neighborhood. I stared at the old veteran and felt no shame.
“Forget getting over it. I want revenge!”
“Revenge…?”
“Yes, revenge! Your boy was on his way to a full ride to a good school. His snake ass screwed it up!” I sounded angrier than I wanted to sound.
“That’s plenty of info right there. I don’t need to know anymore than that. I don’t want the cops come knocking asking me nothing. If revenge is what you want I’ll show you how to get it. But you’ve gotta be patient. It’s a dish best served cold.”
I sat on the stoop next to him and listened for a while, forgetting why I’d come there.
“They don’t call me General Lee for nothing, young man.”
“I’m listening.”
“Well alright then. Meet me here tomorrow at ten in the morning and not a minute later. Oh yeah, don’t be surprise if I come by. Your mother wants to see me.”
“What? You kidding right?”
“Ask her yourself.”
“Ahight, we’ve got an early day tomorrow.”
CHAPTER THRITEEN
DIRTY DEVLIN
Devlin showed up at Rico’s headquarters, a dusty warehouse near Hunt’s Point in the Bronx. Apprehension filled his mind. The bruises were festered on his face. Being out late gambling and filling up on fast food had tilted his game on the field to the negative end.
He was still a way off from success hustling but Devlin’s account could handle any rainy day. He pulled the flask, screwed the top off and downed two shots.
“Yo D, who did that to your face, bro?”
“Get off it, Enrique. I’m warning you.”
Devlin shuffled the cards so fast his hand appeared to be a blur. Ricardo and Enrique thought he was crazy. His poker game was impeccable and he had learned it from his father. His old man used to card-shark while traveling through the South.
They wore fake everything. Devlin’s threads stayed sharp while they dressed cheap to save bucks. He was rocking blue and white diamonds in his Presidential Rolie and a heavy bracelet with the same kind of ice after just four months of playing poker with them. Rico knew that Devlin was his most valuable soldier, the realest street hustler he had. He laughed watching Devlin drain all the wallets of the rest of his street infantry. Devlin would show up with more ice every month and a new chick every week.
“Play smart and you’ll shine like Devlin,” he’d say. Devlin wore that same smile. He was young, smart and made money from gambling. He was now at a point where he couldn’t decide between gambling and the hustle. He had already flipped a key and pushed the money into gambling entry fees. It paid off and Devlin copped a 500 Benz.
He was obsessed with card games and always brought a money-stack to Cuban Rico’s rec room. The game would take place immediately after Devlin arrived. He dealt the cards to his partners and Enrique folded from the gate. A few turns later, Devlin had Enrique on his heels. He paused and took verbal stabs.
“I know Jaden was the one who got your face all fucked up, right Devlin? How you let him kick your ass like that? Ain’t you supposed to be gangster or sump’n?”
“He wasn’t alone. Now play a card before my patience runs out, smart ass.”
“You threatening me, faggot?”
Both popped up out of their chairs at the same time with fists clenched. Enrique stood a half-foot taller. Bullet scars and tribal tattoos covered most of his upper body. He looked like a monster with his shirt off. Enrique was breathing crazy. Devlin pushed the table out of his way and pressed his forehead to Enrique’s chin and the stare down was on.
Ricardo pushed his way between and shoved both back a few inches.
“Y’all two cut that shit out. We gotta th
ink as a team and get shit done. If y’all gotta settle this, do it outside.”
“No time, mi hijo. I need you guys to pick up a shipment today. They love my white in Red Hook, amigos. You push this shipment right, boys, and you’ll be big men in no time.”
Devlin laughed walking behind Enrique and popped his collar. Enrique wore an old pair of jeans with paint and dust over it. He looked like a construction worker. His shirt commemorated a concert that went down in ’94.
“How you gonna get pussy wearing this basura?”
Rico looked at Devlin for a second. Then they all laughed at the same time.
“Devlin pushed his shit hard for me last time and flipped it really fast. That’s why you two monkeys are picking up and selling this shipment. Devlin can go home and relax. You’ve earned it, young hustler. He handled so much snow over the last month, I know your fingertips are numb.”
Devlin smiled in relief and shook Rico’s hand. He jogged to the Benz and floored it all the way to 173rd and Tremont Ave. Devlin made his usual call to let them know he was coming through.
“How’s she doing, Aunt Isabel? Good, good. I’ll be right up. I’m just a few blocks away. See you then.”
Devlin smiled when he saw the parking spot. He pulled up and went to the bodega at the end of the block.
Once upstairs, Vanessa, his sister was on the couch. She seemed happier than most days. She stretched her arms to him. He greeted her with a big hug.
“I’ve got a treat for you,” Devlin said, then handed her a Bomb Pop. Vanessa smiled.
“How you feeling today, sis?”
“I’m okay. My back kinda hurts today.”
His smile was melted by her response. He knew that all the money he had given Aunt Isabel couldn’t help his nine year old sister to walk again.
It happened last winter. Dana was sitting in the passenger seat of Devlin’s car waiting while he bought her a pair of sneakers. Out of nowhere a crazy fiend approached, scratching and moving around. He got really loud, asking for a ton of rocks on credit. Devlin stepped back and got ready to pop him in the jaw but he wasn’t scared at all.
Hustle Hard Page 5