by L. E. Newell
“B” cocked his head to the side and started rubbing his neck. “All I can say about that one there, partner, is that as long as the folk are flowing through her crib, your shit will be alright but—”
Sparkle cut him off, “But don’t give her no fresh package after two on Saturday night, especially early Sunday morning because most folk be spent out by then and only looking for a nigga to do them a favor. And her ass is gonna keep getting high as long as there is some dope around.”
“B” laughed at that one. “Well, at least she done wired you up on that, so she trying to play straight with you. Can’t ask for much more than that there, dog. On those times there, just deal with her on a money-now basis. She’ll understand, even though she’ll definitely try you; that’s for sho.”
Sparkle sat back up straight. “Let me get this straight; you mean to tell me that there ain’t no money to make except for on Thursday, Friday and Saturday.”
“B” scooped up the beer Sparkle had been drinking and finished it off. “No, dog, there is plenty of money to make on what I call the cell phone route. And it’s a twenty-four-seven job because folks out there in the suburbs, the ones with the real money, will be calling you at all times of the week. So what I’m really saying is for you to handle your dealers with a long one because when the traffic stops in the inner city that don’t mean that they stop getting high. And most of them ain’t got that long green like those white folk in the burbs; that’s what I’m saying.”
Sparkle nodded in understanding. “Okay, dog, I get whatcha saying. Thanks, partner.”
“B” turned his mouth down like he was in some kind of junkie nod, with his eyelashes lowered as he scanned the room. Satisfied that no one was paying them any attention, he reached inside his jacket pocket and removed a cherry blend cigar. He thumped it on the back of his fist a couple times before he put it to blaze. After a few hard jaw-sinking pulls, he handed it to Sparkle. “Yo dog, hit this bitch here. It’s reefer laced with boy and girl—the way we used to do back in the day.”
Sparkle took the same room scan and then got his head blitzed right along with him. Ah man, it sure do feel good being back around my real folk again, he thought as the euphoria of the three-way hit massaged his senses.
He smiled at “B” in a dream-like daze from the rush. “B”’s words were coming out in a low buzz and his movement was in slow motion.
“B” smiled at him. “Now that we feeling kinda good, are you planning on doing any of your old hustles, because I still got the check machine we took out of that drugstore all those years ago—that is if you want to hang some paper.”
Sparkle forced his eyes open, shook off the nod that was trying to take over. “For real, dude?”
“B” leaned back cheesing. “Hell yeah, and I can let you work some of my girls on the creep and snatch. Shit, ain’t no way any of these shops at all the malls around here can be hip to your face. Hell, and besides, I need to have them lazy-ass whores get off their asses and do something other than laying around waiting for a geeker to come around to score; know what I’m saying?”
Same old “B” gorilla clocking muthafucking dollars, Sparkle thought. “All that’ll work in time, my nigga. Just let me get my feet wet for a while first. Then it’s on, for sho.” He pinched his nose and started massaging the side of his face with his fingertips. “But check this here out. Whatcha know about this old lady that I met over Dee’s the other night named Violet? She sure do seem to be a real sharp babe; know what I’m saying?”
“B” stared at him for a few seconds and then shook his head. Shit, partner here is about to snatch up a real hood star. Sure do hope that he’s still got his game together though because old “V” is definitely one of a kind and a handful for any nigga. “Man, you got to be talking about old queen thief lady Violet, who be dressing all fly and shit; hair cut like Halle Berry; looks like a black Chinese.”
Sparkle’s face broke out in a wide smile. Damn, he hit her right on the head with that one there. “Yeah, that’ll be about how I’d describe her fly ass.” He started squirming in his seat, anticipating the reaction.
“My nigga, you ain’t gonna believe this but that’s Yolanda’s aunt,” “B” said matter-of-factly.
“On the real, man?” Sparkle replied with a frown.
“Yeah, man, on the real. And peep this here: She’s the hottie that turned Yolanda and a lot of other whores to the boosting game. Shit, on the up and up, that old playette done turned out a lot of the best boosters in Atlanta, including all those bitches that Rainbow and a lot of other pimps be getting paid from.”
“Damn, she like that, dog?” Sparkle inquired with sparks flying from his eyes.
“Hell yeah, and this one here is really gonna hit ya good. Mama’s old man was big Joe Hankerson, uh-huh, and he used to march right along with Martin Luther King, Jr.—hell, like one step behind Jesse Jackson, Andrew and Ralph.”
Now that had Sparkle thinking that his boy was tripping for real as he said shockingly, “What the fuck that’s got to do with anything?”
“B” shook his head like he couldn’t believe that he wasn’t getting the message. “Man, beside from stealing her ass off, she gets something like forty-five hundred dollars every fucking month for her and her son, JoJo, from social security. Shit, Big Joe was in the money, player. The biggest problem is that she always fucks up her digits buying dimes until all that shit is gone. Hell, all she needs is a real player nigga like you to manage her finances. You feel me?”
Still not quite believing his good fortune, Sparkle felt compelled to throw out one more tester to be sure. “Hold up there, partner. Are you really telling me that this is the Queen ‘V’ that all the old-head pimps used to hire to school their hoes to the boost?”
“One and the same playa.” “B” smiled slyly.
Sparkle leaned back in the seat, cheeks glowing brightly as his thoughts shot back to the little time he and old gal had spent together. It was a click there, for real. He nodded his head in appreciation of the news he had just heard. “Shit, dog, Mama gave me all kinda come-get-it-nigga signs. Hell, dog, I got to hurry up and lock old girl up because a nigga could use getting all shined up and shit with some fly gear. Oh hell yeah.”
“B” folded his arms, seriously contemplating, before he crossed his legs. “Check this, homes. I’ll give you a couple of days to handle whatcha got to handle. In the meantime I’ll get Yolanda to set up a run with Violet to get your wardrobe flashy like you like it.”
Sparkle’s cheeks rose that much higher. “Oh yeah, I sho nuff needs some rags, for sho.”
“Damn, before it slips my mind, I’m gonna get the girls to go groom up some shops so ya’ll can pull some checkbooks. That is by the time you get back with me in a couple of days.” “B” plucked himself upside the head before he added in a more serious tone, “Mmmh, must be getting old, dog. I’ve even got a honey who can get a signature check on just about anybody who runs a business in DeKalb, Fulton and even Henry County.”
Sparkle’s eyes gleamed as he shifted slightly in the seat to face him. “When you wanna get down on this?”
“B” wiped a hand across his mouth and chin. “Shit, right after Lady ‘V’ gets you all dressed up. Give me a call when you ready to roll like that.”
“That’s a sho nuff, partner. You know I’ll let you know.”
“B” jammed an elbow into his ribs. “Just make sure that you look out for my bunnies. That’s all I ask.”
The words had barely escaped his lips when Stacy stuck his head in the room and hollered, “Yo, Unc, Debra wants to tell you something.”
Sparkle leaned forward rubbing his knees and looked at “B.” “Yo, man, we gonna do that. Give me that cell number.”
“B” stood up, snatched a pen and pad off the end table, scribbled the number down and handed it to him. “Here you go, dog. Check this. I’m about to roll; got things to do myself. Just hit me when you ready,” He strolled out the door.
&nb
sp; “That’s a bet,” Sparkle said to his departing backside and followed Stacy back into the gambling room. They could hear the verbal battles at full blast as soon as they opened the door. Debra’s voice shot up another octave when she noticed them while she was shuffling the cards. That let Sparkle know that she was putting a mickey in the deck. So like a proud teacher watching a prize student, he stood behind her to watch her put in work. At the same time he was also checking out the other players around the table to see if they were on point with what she was doing. None of them was up on her moves, which was all good.
He stood there like a ghost concentrating on their giveaway reactions, like facial expressions, lip twitches, eyebrow raises, and hand and posture movements—any telltale signs that most players didn’t even pay attention to.
He was standing there for about a half-hour when he felt JJ nudging him in the knee. He looked down to see him nodding toward Stacy lying back on one of the bean chairs around the room.
Sparkle eyed his downcast young nephew for a moment before he eased over to plop down beside him. “Looks like those lessons I gave you didn’t do you too much good from the way your mouth is all twisted up. Another bad night, huh?”
Stacy sneered before he looked over to see who was invading his solitary. “Hey, Unc, shit be rough right in now. That’s for sure.” He smiled for a brief moment before his face turned back into a disappointed sneer.
Sparkle patted him on the knee. “Oh, yeah, it gets like that sometimes—even when you are putting your thang down.”
All Stacy could do was shake his head. “Man, it seem like that shit ain’t working for me. I’ve still been losing like a bitch.”
“That’s okay.”
Stacy sat up straight. “How in the hell is that okay, man?”
“Man, you can just chill with the ’tude, son.” He waited for him to sit back before adding, “Good, now, how you been doing? Heard you been making babies by the carload.”
That got a quick smile out of him as his eyes lit up. “Shiiiit, Unc, honeys be blowing up on a nigga before I even get the dick in the pussy.”
Sparkle laughed. “Nigga, you still wild as hell, just like your pops. What’s up with old-ass Sam, anyway?”
“Hell, every time I go to the News, he and that bitch Rheta; they be nodding, man,” he said full of sadness. “I sure do wish that he’d quit doing that shit, man.”
Sparkle decided that it was best to change the subject back to happier tones. “How many babies you said you had, nigga?”
His face brightened as he smiled. “Hell, I don’t know. Let me see—about three of them crumb snatchers that I know about for sure. A couple of claimers that bitches be trying to throw in a nigga’s mack. I know it had to be Kym or Krys who had to bring that shit up.”
Sparkle smiled with a nod. “Krys.”
“Figures, Unc, those two be staying in my shit twenty-four-seven; talking that crazy shit about getting married and shit.”
“I know you don’t be paying them no attention with that there.”
“You know that’s right. They can talk all the shit they want to, but a player ain’t about to be tying no knot with none of these crazy-ass whores. Oh, hell naw.”
“You know how them girls be thinking, partner.”
“Yeah, you right. They something else.” His eyes suddenly started twitching. “Damn, Unc, is it just me, but I could swear we already had this conversation.”
“Man, you know what? I was feeling that same déjà vu my damn self.” He shook his head and pinched his nose as he took on a more serious tone. “Yo, man, you lose a lot?”
Stacy’s face immediately balled up in frustration. “About thirty-five hundred or so. Shit, I lost count when that shit started getting stupid.”
“Come on, man. It’s time to give you a re-up on this gambling thing.” He nodded toward the door; it was time to roll. A half-hour or so later they were leaving a hotel room with Stacy’s refresher course, from false shuffles and deck switching to practicing in the mirror until he couldn’t even see what he was doing.
Stacy, who had been sitting on the bed stunned as he watched Sparkle work his magic, finally spoke as they were heading down the balcony. “Yeah, I’ll get it. How long you been knowing all this stuff?” The astonished look on his face was almost comical.
Sparkle snorted a short laugh and rolled his eyes. “Man, how you think your aunt and your grandmother been beating niggas for all these years?”
Stacy’s shoulders shot up like they were shot out of cannon. He spun around with his fist pressed against his mouth as he said wide-eyed, “Naw, man, naw, you mean to tell me that Grandma be cheating, too?”
Sparkle gave him the “duh” look. “Shit, dude, she’s the one that showed me how to run up the deck, false cut and steal cards way back when I was in elementary school. And then this nigga named Googie polished me up when I was in the joint.”
Stacy placed his hand over his face and sighed heavily. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
A couple of hours and several grands’ worth of winnings later, they were heading to Debra’s car. “Damn, Unc, you really worked them in there,” Stacy said. “I knew what you was doing and I still didn’t see what you did. I have the worst luck in the world whenever I come over here fucking with that fat-ass Al.”
Sparkle ran a hand over his head. “Nephew, that’s the same way it’ll be for you if you get serious about mastering the things I taught you. It gets real easy once you get those things down pat. I bet you didn’t even notice that redbone in the blue dress. She was palming cards all night long.”
Stacy frowned. “What the hell? I’m gonna kick that bitch’s ass for cheating on me.” He started back toward the house before Sparkle stopped him with a very serious tone. “No, no, no, baby boy, lesson number two.” He extended his finger to poke him the chest to drive in the point. “Never ever—and I do mean never ever—expose a cheat.”
Stacy’s frown remained, for he was definitely mystified now. “What the fuck you mean, man? I been playing fair with these bastards the whole time. To hell with that, player. I’ve lost big bucks fucking with these dogs.”
Sparkle gripped his shoulder and said in a soothing tone, “Baby boy, baby boy, whew, slow down, man. Don’t be sweating that chump change.”
Stacy reared back. “Chump change, chump change,” he interrupted.
“Chump change,” Sparkle also interrupted. “By the time you get all this stuff down, as well as the mannerisms that go with them, they’ll be the frustrated ones. I guarantee it. Just trust your old unc on this one here. You saw how fucked up Al got. I bet you ain’t never seen your auntie or grandma get mad the few times you’ve seen them lose.”
Stacy put his hand over his mouth and mumbled, “Come to think of it, I sho ain’t.”
“You ever thought about why they be so cool regardless?”
Stacy stared at the ground before answering, “No, no, I haven’t. It be so rare. Nope, I sho haven’t,” as he concentrated on the last statement.
“That’s because they win eighty percent of the time; the other twenty percent, it just be one of those bad nights. We all have them but the point is that you never reveal a cheater ’cause that lets other players realize that you recognize the cheat. That ain’t good ’cause if you can recognize the cheat, it’s possible that you can be cheating, too.”
He quickly nodded in agreement. “Oh, yeah, that makes sense.”
Sparkle reassured him. “Hey, nephew JJ don’t even know that Debra be cheating, man. Hell, he don’t even know that I do, too, and he was my gambling partner in the joint. That’s how secretive you got to be with this shit ’cause a nigga or a bitch will let that knowledge slip out without even realizing they’ve done so. Trust me on that one there, too. I’ve seen it happen too much to other niggas who trusted their folk.”
Sparkle pinched his nose, examining Stacy’s reaction to make sure he’d caught on. When he nodded to show that he had he continued. “Man, I s
aw Al do a few things during the game. All I did was fold, that is unless I lucked up and had a hand that I could battle him with. That shit happens; catch a nigga short sometimes, too—part of the game. What I’m saying, little soldier, is to let folk get away with their thing and they be thinking that you ain’t hip. And then they don’t even consider you be doing your thang on their asses. Why? Because they be concentrating on doing their thing and just chalk you up to being lucky, which is what you want them to be thinking anyway.”
“Okay, ya’ll two, enough of that yap-yap shit! I got to get home for those horrible brats of mine, because Ebony will have Mike burning up bologna and shit with her fast ass!” Debra shouted as she fished in her pocketbook for her car keys.
Stacy headed for his Caddy and sped off ahead of Debra, who immediately flooded Sparkle’s ear with this and that about what he should and shouldn’t be doing. Whew.
It was around noon the next day when Sparkle was stirred awake again by good smells coming out of the kitchen. This time he was lying on the couch instead of in one of the kids’ beds. He opened his eyes and saw JJ doing his thang again at the stove. He lifted his head and immediately felt cramps crinkling along his neck from lying on the arm of the chair all night. The aroma of fish sticks, French fries and buttered biscuits helped to ease some of the discomfort, as he sat up and rubbed the crust out of his eyes and stretched.
JJ looked back at him and smiled. “I thought the smell would get yo ass a-stirring. Go ahead, wash up your mug and shit, this stuff will be ready in a minute.”
A couple of minutes later, when Sparkle sat down at the table, JJ said, “Now don’t be expecting this here that often, dude. I’m only doing it because you’ll be getting used to these bricks again.”
Sparkle nodded with a quick smile. “Thanks, bro, you know that I really appreciate it.”
JJ waited until they were nearly finished eating to say, “By the way, your boy, Duke, and Johnny Dobbs called while you was over there snoring. Said to get you to call them when you got yourself straight.”