Bria sat up and shouted, “You almost died, Jaden!” Tears poured from her eyes in buckets. She slapped my hand away when I put it to her lips for her to quiet down.
“No, I will not be quiet! I love you, Jaden and you’re out there putting your ass on the line for a few lousy dollars!”
“A few dollars…?” I sat up and gritted my teeth when I felt fire flow through my shoulder. “If I recall correctly, I’m the one that bought that outfit you’re wearing right now! And who paid that cell phone bill you have and that credit card you blew the hell up! Don’t come at me like I’m shedding blood for small change!”
I slapped my lunch tray off the table. Jell-O, chicken and juice spilled all over the floor. My doctor hustled inside. He guided Bria out but she shook his hand off her and ice grilled him.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to leave, Miss.”
“I was just on my way out. Go to hell, Jaden!”
“I’ll save a seat for you, Bria!”
CHAPTER FOURTY
THE OLD SWITCHEROO
The next day I was feeling a little better. I cold barely lift my left shoulder with a hole in it but I could lift things without too much pain. Half of the day was wasted on tests for both me and Nick. I was itching to get out of the hospital.
After a quick nap, I got up for a little stroll. Two bulky men in black suits turned to face me. I gave them a nod. They nodded back and kept their eyes roving across the hospital floor.
I caught up with the doc and he gave me the okay to go for a little walk. I slipped my slippers and headed to the elevator. The summer afternoon sun stung my eyes. I never smoked unless it was after a blunt but I figured smoking would take my thoughts off the pain. I bummed one from a guy out front. I noticed some guys looking in my direction from the parking area about fifteen feet away. I kept my cool. With all the beef I started and finished over the last few weeks, I assumed they were enemies.
I chatted with the charitable guy about the weather and stayed cool. Taking short pulls off the cigarette, I could see them closer. That felt like the shortest cig I ever had.
I tossed the butt and took a glance at them. One cracked their knuckles, the other laughed. I put my hands to my side and mouthed the words, “Come and get me.”
I waited till they started across the street then I power-walk back to the hospital. I made it to the elevator before they made it to the information desk. It would be a breeze to find out my room number. I formulated a plan and got to work. Dashing to my room, I gave the guards instructions then I waited for them in my room. They’d be committing straight-up suicide if they try to bust shots in here. I wasn’t worried about them at all. They ran right into my bodyguards who held there arms behind their necks and dragged their asses to me.
I got security to hand me my belt. It had a heavy buckle on it that read Harlem. I had them press their faces into my mattress. I stood next to them, wrapped the belt tight around my fist and beat their heads in until my buckle was dripping red.
Nick heard the commotion and hustled into my room. He was surprised to see our would-be assailants pinned up and defenseless. I saw the sweat dripping off their brow. I found a brand new syringe, so I thought fast, filled it up with green stuff on the low and pulled it from behind my back. Nick folded over laughing but covered his mouth.
“Hold them down, boys!” I ordered.
They put more pressure on the assailants’ backs. Both kept gasping for air. Their eyes were watering. Nick found it funny, squatting next to them, laughing harder when they struggled.
I squirted a trickle of the green stuff for the two young goons to see then I jammed it in the first one’s then, then the other. They were so scared they nearly broke the tip off when I jigged ’em.
One of them was crying and drooling at the same time.
“What you do to me, nigga? I’m a kill you, nigga!”
“You better put me six feet deep in about six hours. That’s all the time you got. You’ll be lucky if you live to see tomorrow. I heard the doctors talking about what I just shot into your arm. It’s a strain of bacteria that they haven’t found a cure for yet. So go out and do everything you wanted to do before you die because your heart will stop in about half-a-day.”
I looked up at Sid’s musclemen. They were chuckling so bad I had to put my finger to my lips to shut them up. I got real close to their faces and spat the rest of my words out. I had to instill fear in these dudes so I wouldn’t see them again.
“Go back and tell your boss that you need some medical attention. I really hope Will is hooking you guys up with health benefits. Now roll the fuck out, niggas.”
The two big guys grabbed them by the collar and threw them out of the room. Nick and I cracked up when they crashed into a cart stacked with fresh hospital food. I thought I’d bust my guts when they slipped in Jell-O and fell on their asses. Nick ran up behind them and put a foot to one of their asses. They took off for the stairs at light speed. After the laughs wore over, my mind was back on money.
“We need to help Eric push the rest of that white. I don’t like poisoning my people but we need dough. Damn clock is ticking. The second we get home, we pushing the rest then we link up with Sid and get serious paper.”
CHAPTER FOURTY-ONE
THE CLOCK’S TICKING
Six hours later, Sid’s people gave us a ride back to the neighborhood. The doctors said we shouldn’t exert ourselves but there was money to be made. I took a shower and switched clothes. Minutes later I was on a uptown A train. I had to see my mother’s doctor and find out the deal.
He was nice enough to make time for me without an appointment. Dr. Polanski had been seeing mom for the past ten years. The room turned cold and I dropped my head when he gave me the news.
“It breaks my heart to say this, Jaden. Your Mom’s condition is getting worse. At this rate, she’ll be having a rough time about three to four months from now.”
“And how much will the operation cost?”
“Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, her insurance will cover sixty percent of it but I know it’s still a lot of money.”
“There has to be something you can do, doc,” I said fighting my emotions.
I hung my head back to hold back the tears. He patted me on the back to comfort me when I started taking deep breaths.
“I can’t make any promises, Jaden but I’ll make some phone calls. Don’t give up hope. We’ve still got time on our hands.”
“All right, doc. Thanks a lot.”
My mind was made up. I had to flip the stolen brick in a hurry. Eric was great at pitching but it wasn’t fair for him to put his ass on the line every day, even with four lookouts around him. I bleeped him and asked him for a quick lesson on dealing.
I figured the safest bet was to push pieces where he lived. The lookouts were planted there anyway. I took a few bags off Eric and posted up in front of the worst building in the Polo Grounds. Eric cooked the hard rock at his spot. I came there to ball a lot. I never looked out of place. Eric stayed around the basketball court.
Things went smooth. I dished out bags to fiends and snatched their money efficiently. Their chatter had me pissed off, though. I don’t know how Crackhead Chucky knew I was selling crills so fast. Dude came up doing a little dance then he did the Heisman Trophy pose for me before he got within arm’s reach of me.
“What’s popp’n Jaden? Mr. Football Superstar!”
“I don’t know how the hell you knew I’d be here. Just give me the money and keep it moving.”
“C-C-Come on, J! I used to baby-sit for you, young man. Show me some respectability…”
“You know that’s a damn lie. What do you want? Ten or five? I know you don’t have a twenty-spot, unless you done sold a broken VCR to somebody or sump’n.”
“N-N-Nah brah... I sold that already. I’m a need a dime, brotha.”
I slapped the bag into his hand and snatched the ten dollar bill the second I saw it hang out of his pocket.
/> “Is this some good shit, Jaden?”
“It’s gotta be. It’s moving like hotcakes. You’ll be back in minutes, okay? Go on now!”
I shoved him away. He step back up in my face to say something smart and I faked a left jab, landing a right hook on his chin. Chucky hit the floor harder than a sack of potatoes. I wasn’t at all proud myself. Young heads walking passed me laughed. One even jabbed him in the ribs. I looked at my fist like it wasn’t mine. I couldn’t believe I swung on him.
When I watched the dudes push pieces, I thought they were dumb for hitting fiends. One of the rules I lived by was that you never underestimate your opponent. These fiends don’t have anything to lose. I promised myself never to hurt somebody with nothing to lose. He’ll take you out without thinking. What’s stopping a fiend from getting a rusty revolver and popping you for a few bags? I was changing but I had to do what I had to do.
I kept a counter in my head with mom’s time before she needed surgery to survive. Three months. I had to remind myself of it every morning to stack enough dough to do it. I fell back on my hustling mentality when Bria called me sounded low. I felt mad depressed along with her when she reminded me that Veronica’s funeral was later on that afternoon.
Here I was sitting in the middle of the row of chairs with Dana on one side of me and Bria on the other. They were rocking and crying. I wrapped my arm around Bria and held her tight wiping her tears away so her makeup wouldn’t be messed up. Flowers, bouquets and reefs were lined up against the walls. I just couldn’t believe Veronica was gone. That funeral place was so damn cold it was like all the life was sucked out of it.
Veronica appeared to be in deep sleep. Bria gently kissed her cheek and squeezed my hand tightly. I stared feeling the bad taste in my mouth.
“How am I gonna live with this on my head? I haven’t slept in two days, Jaden,” she whispered in my ear.
I looked around to check if anybody was snooping on us.
“I know honey, but it’s rough for everybody. It just happened.”
“Shush!” A woman scolded from behind us.
We clammed up and thought of how Veronica enjoyed life. The church bell tolled, one loud chime at a time. Our thoughts drifted with each swing of the hands of time. What do I want my family to think about me when it was my time to depart this land? Is there a price tag on the soul? All of a sudden, I found myself praying, without really knowing why. I hugged Bria and felt her shivering as the preacher performed last rites.
“...Let us remember there’s a price for every life taken...” The church bell continued ringing.
Cuban Rico was busy loudly counting down the end to my life. I looked beyond the strain in his face and stared into the heavens. Dear Lord help me but a loaded gat would be better. The sun threatened to peek but rain and dark clouds prevailed. Thunder echoed, my demise was drawing close. This was the toll my soul had to pay for mother’s operation. Hustling hard meant you could live to pay your debt and enjoy life the way Bria wanted.
“Fours seconds, Jaden! Think fast! Cuatro… Tres… dos… uno… Okay gangster... my money or your life?”
Eric shifted from side to side, he couldn’t watch as Cuban Rico lowered the gun. He would witness the execution. I thought about yesterday’s pain bringing tomorrow’s joy. There was a loud bang and everything went cloudy. The ringing stopped. No longer were there sounds, only the quiet darkness.
BLAINE MARTIN
[ LITERALLY ]
GHETTO GIRLS
AUTHOR // ANTHONY WHYTE
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GHETTO GIRLS TOO
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GHETTO GIRLS 3: SOO HOOD
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A BOOGIE DOWN STORY
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IT CAN HAPPEN
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A GOOD DAY TO DIE
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LIP STICK DIARIES
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IF IT AIN’T ONE
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SPOT RUSHERS
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HUSTLE HARD
AUTHOR // BLAINE MARTIN
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Crave All Lose All
AUTHOR //Erick S Gray
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Augustus Publishing exposes talented writers by bringing stories of unparalleled breadth, depth, and vision to the book market. We publish quality works of fiction in the category of Hip Hop literature.
Billboard Books
In words and pictures. In Ya Grill: The Faces of Hip-Hop depicts and defines the music that has changed the American cultural landscape forever. More than 250 images by photographer Michael Benabib, accompanied by the text of writer Bill Adler, tell the story of hip-hop from 1987 to the present. Included are artists such as Tupac Shakur, Biggie Smalls, Snoop Dog, Public Enemy, Salt ‘N Pepa, Sean Combs, Queen Latifah, LL Cool J, and Mary J. Blige peforming, recording, and relaxing at clubs, parties, and on the street.
Produced By Watson-Guptill Publications & Augustus Publishing
Hustle Hard Page 17