The Legend of Johnny Hustle: The Come Up

by Zach Tate

  “I luv you Johnny,” she whispered when she straddled me in the water. I knew a lie when I heard it.

  Suki placed her breast against my chest, kissed both of my nipples like she was trying something new, and then she stared into my eyes while guiding my manhood into her heat.

  She rode me slowly while kissing me. The lubrication of the soapy water heightened the pleasure. Every time I wanted to pick up the pace she took the lead and slowed it down. Watching my stiffness appear and reappear. What we were doing was pure and meant to be, but I refused to get my emotions involved. The two of us needed something to hold on to, so picked each other.

  After we were both satisfied, she remained in the nude and helped me get dressed into my new suit. Once I was dressed, she saw me to the door. For an instant, I felt like a father leaving his wife at home so that he could have bonding time with his daughters.

  $$$

  My feet had wings when I left my room. I was on the verge of doing something honorable. I knocked at the door to see if the girls were ready. After a few minor adjustments to their outfits, we were ready to go.

  “Mommy, Mommy. Somebody have to tell Mommy we leaving,” Little Mimi pronounced.

  The thought that the little wonder still loved a woman who cared nothing about her was a revelation. In some twisted way, I thought of the love I had for Crissy and a father I never had, and I understood. In an effort to save Keiki any embarrassment, I opened Kimmy’s room door. Her eyes half-closed, head nodding from heroin she looked up at me like I was an annoying trespasser.

  “Hey-a, Kimmy? I’m taking the girls out.”

  “Wha—what?” her groggy voice asked while scratching the infected abscess on her forearm.

  I sprinkled a little sugar into my voice. “I’m taking the kids out to eat and see a show. I’ll be back later.”

  She came alive when she looked up at me. “My kids? My two girls? You the man that been doing all that stuff for them?” She slurred out while her eyes searched around the room. After finding what she was looking for, she handed me two, worn birth certificates. Desperation settled in her voice box. “Give me fifty dollars. Come on, please. Twenty-five apiece and you can keep ‘em.” She dropped her plea to a whisper. “I won’t tell nobody. You can do anything you want with ‘em.”

  My wings fell off. I wanted to crush her windpipe, but the only two people who loved her, more than she loved herself, were on the other side of the door. I maintained my composure, peeled off $20.00 and dropped it to the filthy floor. Once the door divided us, the kids and I headed for the elevator. In the distance, I could hear Kimmy complaints about me short changing her.

  The girls and I walked up Broadway to Shubert’s Winter Garden Theater. We were hand in hand like one big happy family. We reached the theater, but the next show was an hour later. With three tickets in my hands, and an hour to play with, I took the girls to the Tony Roma’s restaurant on 47th Street.

  Little Mimi struggled with giant spare ribs, which she demanded. The shrimp cocktails and lobster that she was eating for the first time amazed Keiki. To top it all off, I conned the manager into bringing a birthday cake to the table with twenty candles on it. Thirteen on one side, and nine on the other.

  “It’s my birthday—it’s my birthday,” Mimi stood in the booth and declared to all the patrons.

  “What’s this for? We ain’t never had a birthday cake before?” Keiki asked with confusion written over her beautiful face.

  “It’s for all the birthday’s you guys missed. Eat the cake and enjoy it just like it was your birthday,” I told her.

  “It’s my birthday! It’s my birthday!” Mimi yelled. She picked up a piece of her cake and tried to hand it to the couple at the table next to us. “You want some of my cake? You want some of my cake?”

  Mimi solicited anyone who looked her way. She had such a generous soul with so little to give. It angered me that in a few short years, her harsh living conditions would snuff out her generous light and make her callous.

  “This is the best day of my life,” Keiki celebrated while holding my hand on the way out of the restaurant. Mimi was having a ball, too. Everything was so new to her. With my wings reattached to my feet, I took the girls to see the hit play, Cats.

  Like a real family, we sat through the show glued to the edge of our seats. It was my first Broadway play, so I was enjoying myself as much as the girls. At the end of the show, we left the theater singing the theme music. We were spinning in circles down Broadway, imitating Barbara Streisand. I was in a state of bliss. My emotions didn’t decrease, but it had a pause in it.

  Brave Dave stopped short when he saw me. His eyes were the size of saucers. “Bruh—bruh! I see you doing the family thing, bruh,” he reached down to pick up the crack vials that fell from his grasp. “I got some other things to do. I gotta go.” Crack cocaine was getting the best of him. He was holding at least a hundred vials on his way to the Marriott.

  I ignored the girls when they asked who Dave was, and started singing again. We all sang like a chorus and didn’t stop until we passed a bookstore. A poster for a Winnie the Pooh book caught Mimi’s attention. Like a dad whose daughter had him wrapped around her finger, we went into the store and I picked up a small stack children’s books. I sent Keiki to find a book she wanted, but she showed no interest. I shrugged it off as her being too old for books.

  After entering the Carter Hotel, all eyes in the hotel lobby were on us. The hotel was being serenaded with a poor rendition of the theme music from Cats. The girls and I laughed. The exhaustion I felt earlier was gone. I was excited. When we reached their room door, Mimi’s eyes were closing, but she demanded that I read her a bed time story. I volunteered Keiki to read to her sister, but she didn’t want to.

  “Come on, Keiki, read little Mimi the book before she goes to bed,” I persisted.

  “I can’t” Keiki said.

  “Come on, Keiki, I know you’re too big for them books, but do it for Mimi,” I pleaded.

  Keiki transformed into a younger girl. Her eyes dropped, then in a timid voice she cried, “I can’t read. Nobody ever asked me to read before.”

  The tears tugged at my lids. If I were a killer her mother would have disappeared. I tucked them in and read Winnie the Pooh until they were asleep. I crept out of their room slowly, wondering if I would have to do the same act with my own children someday.

  $$$

  As I put the key into my room door, I was hype. I wanted to celebrate having more money than I ever had. I dusted my suit off, and made sure my stack of cash was still in my pocket. I searched for Suki, wishfully thinking that she and I could go somewhere, but her husband was eyeing my every move in the lobby. With fun on my mind, I left the Carter Hotel whistling the tune from the play.

  During my walk, I wondered what my attraction to Roxy was. I was sure her elusive aura had something to do with it. Her skin shined like ebony lacquer. Her well-proportioned body and entire appearance was flawless. The unique way she wore her straight, blond hair, with her blue contacts, made her look like she was born that way.

  I walked through the doors of the strip bar hoping the man that punched me in my jaw was there. I planned on taking out my rage toward Kimmy on him. I also wanted to celebrate getting off the hustle and spending time with the girls. I ordered a bottle of Moet champagne and searched for a seat.

  A small round wooden table was empty by the stage. I popped the cork creating a duck call for the strippers. Some flashed flesh, but my smirk told them I wasn’t open for business. My bottle was only for two sets of lips.

  “A fine man like you ain’t got no business drinking up in here by hisself, but I see you kept your promise.”

  Roxy stood over me wearing a white bikini with a white cowboy hat. Around her tattooed waist was a pair of sliver guns in holsters. The other set of lips had arrived.

  I leaned back in my chair then crossed my legs the way old pimps did. “Have a seat, I was hoping you was here,” I said confid
ently. “This ain’t my style.”

  Roxy looked like that she received compliments her whole life and took them as lies. “Well, that’s obvious to a duck. You too fine to be visiting strip clubs. You should be the one dancing, you ever thought about it?”

  I didn’t think the woman was serious, but I remembered what Yoda taught me. I transformed, and wanted to be the opposite of what I was to Crissy. The word, “Action,” kicked in.

  “Sweetheart, I’m a hustler in every sense of the word. That short paper for a bunch of lust queens ain’t the dream I’m trying to sell. Jumping around on stage? Nah, I got better things to do.”

  I anxiously awaited her reaction while I poured her drink. She crossed her bodacious legs while sipping. Then her age showed when she giggled from the champagne.

  “Damn, I feel like I’m on a date or something,” Roxy said then batted her eyes, sending me a message. “I know this may sound corny, and this ain’t even my style, but Johnny you so damn fine. What’s really up with you?”

  I had to keep my cool. You better hustle them before they hustle you. I was going to try the best line I knew and be the man I wanted to be.

  “I’m trying to figure out what’s up with you? This champagne room you was telling me about, and how often we gonna keep this cat and mouse game up?”

  Roxy swallowed her drink, poured another, only to empty the glass. “I’m saying though.” She licked her lips, slowly. “How can a sister get wit’ a brother like you? Word on the street is you the next king of the square. You ready for a queen that can help you get there?” Her hand intentionally made a trail from her breast to her crotch, trying to make it seem like an accident.

  Stalemate. I ran out of lines, but I thought of Crissy and the best pimp my mother ever had. I was going to handle things the way I felt Pierre would and not the way John the square would.

  “Look baby, time is money, and you sound like you trying to hustle a hustler, so what’s up? Make your move and stop playing.

  Roxy swallowed hard, staring at me like I was way out of her league. She stood, threw her hair over her shoulder and then reached for my hand. While all eyes were on us, she pulled me to a small, dark, frosted glass room with a shiny worn speaker in the ceiling. I want to rock with you by Bobby Brown played from the sky; the scent of strawberry lingered in the air.

  I had a seat on a carpet-covered bench that was a foot off the floor and made for one. Roxy sat my bottle down on a small table directly in front of the bench. Then she turned her back to me, bending over at the waist, flashing what the lust-fiends outside the door packed the club for. She was only warming up for her erotic slow dance. By the second verse, she was rocking while each side of her butt bounced to Bobby’s moans. Then she turned around.

  Roxy seductively licked her plump lips, inching closer to me. I was sure pulling my dick out of my pants had nothing to do with her services, but I wasn’t going to complain to management. She straddled my legs, grazing my tip with her pubic hairs.

  “I never felt like this before,” she whispered. I knew the truth when I heard it. Then she licked the side of my face like I was her favorite flavor. That, I was sure, was not a part of the typical dance either. “I really like you,” her sultry whisper tingled in my ear while she stroked my stiffen muscle.

  In one move, she stood, removed her bikini, and then lifted her baby-oiled ankle to rest on my shoulder. Roxy gave me a direct view of her dark trimmed love patch. Before I knew it, she pulled out a condom from her holster, slipped it on me, and slid on top of me. Bobby Brown would have been proud to see how Roxy was slowly grinding to the melody. I pumped back, giving her a taste of what she asked for.

  “Ohh,” she moaned. “Ssssss-shit,” she whispered and then picked up her pace, lost in a trance.

  I thought I was just another customer to Roxy, and thought her trembling was just an act. I began thrusting faster and she yelled out, “Damn…damn. I’m—I’m cumming,” she said like it was a complaint before her eyes rolled into her head. “This-ain’t-suppose…shit! To happen.”

  Her body went limp, but I stood firm. Again she licked on my neck, and while I was stuck in her warmth, she contorted her body around so her back was to me. She placed both of her hands on my knees before bouncing to, Something in my Heart, by Michelle in another off beat motion. Again, I stroked deep into her flesh.

  “Hell—no!” her head snapped back over her shoulder until we locked eyes. “Hell…no,” she complained again while I stroked her, moving her rapidly into another trance.

  My mind was playing tricks on me. Roxy had two orgasms and I wasn’t fully aroused. Then she caught on. She sat way down on me, making sure I was snug inside of her, and gripped my swollen member with her vaginal muscles. While I was sitting in the hot carpeted seat, Roxy eased back, slid her thighs into my hands, and bent forward until her hands rested on the small table. Then she rode me.

  I leaned back and Roxy’s bumping created a suction that drove me crazy. The sight of her perfect ass in my face, bouncing to please, brought the animal out of me. I stood while holding her thick thighs in my hands, and silk drilled her into pure ecstasy.

  “Cum for me—cum for me,” she yelled in ecstasy, her head hitting the door with each thrust I delivered.

  After a few more strokes, Roxy begged for mercy. I exploded, feeling like the earth moved under my feet. When I sat down to remove the condom and fix my pants, I looked down at Roxy. She was crumbled like a heap of black diamonds on the floor, squirming before she moaned. “How much—how much I owe you?” Her breathing was uneven. While I was getting dressed she stood. I heard a gasp then she whispered, “Wait. Way—wait, wait right here. Don’t you move.”

  My mouth was dry so I sipped the champagne straight from the bottle. Replaying the episode in my mind, I was aroused all over again. While holding onto the stiffness under my pants, Roxy walked through the door. She stopped short, looked down at my zipper, and put up her palm like a crossing guard.

  “Oh, hell no. Please put that thing away for the night,” she said before crushing a stack of bills into my hands, then rolled my knuckles around it firmly. She made an attempt to kiss me but I pulled back. I knew where those lips had been. “Damn, Johnny,” she exhaled. “I knew you was the man. You gave me the best shit I ever had in my life.” Roxy squeezed the bills tighter in my hand, driving her point home. “It’s slow tonight, baby, but I’ma do better and come see you. Just make me another promise that I can get some more of that when I get myself together?”

  I didn’t know what she was talking about, but I sure as hell wasn’t giving that money back. I nodded and walked out of that place feeling like Superman. Better yet, I was Johnny Hustle, the newest hustler in Times Square.

  7

  The Double O

  Yoda’s suite was littered with ripped magazines. The two wallets he took from Proverb the day before were open, displaying a long line of plastic photo holders. He glanced at me with a single-edged razor in his hands. He went from one magazine to the next, looking for the pictures of partially and fully nude children. Cutting out children of all ages, he filled the photo holders. I didn’t know what he was up to, but I had learned that it wasn’t good to ask.

  Next to the wallets were two-way radios that could be concealed under your clothes. They reminded me of the wires snitches wore on TV. The two briefcases we took the day before sat open. They were filled with stacks of large manila envelopes, the Mont Blanc pens he stole from the hotel, and three sets of room keys from the Carter.

  “We did pretty good yesterday, huh?” I said, breaking the silence.

  Again Yoda looked up to me. Without a word he told me that he was busy. “Pretty good for petty short cons and pocket stings,” he mumbled a minute later. “To be the king, you have to think big. Master the long con, and then you can beat Money Rus—”

  He stopped short after mentioning the old hustler’s name. Yoda’s grimace was as sharp as the razor that trembled in his hand.

 
“What’s the beef with the two of you?” I asked waiting for the storm to hit me.

  Yoda’s emotions got the best of him. “That dope-fiend, buster-simp, is a lame. He got no honor. No integrity and he ain’t got no right taking the title of the king of the square. The king ‘spose to have class. He supposed to show respect to his subjects in the hustle, and help the youngsters on the come up. The king is like Jesus to a Christian. The finest example of what a hustler’s supposed to be. That lame sit around hustling backwards. Sniffing up all the heroin the square got to offer. Mooching off of his dope-fiend woman.” Yoda beat on his chest. “He rich ‘cause I made him rich! The triple crossing shyster.”

  “What happened?” I asked, hoping that Yoda would tell me more.

  He stood, reaching for a glass. He calmed himself with a sip of water. “We sold the Empire State building to some Japs.”

  I thought I was hearing things. “You did what?”

  “Foolio, you can’t hear? Have a seat and listen.” Yoda sat instead. “Russ was my student back in the day before he went on his own. A couple a years ago, I was doing a sting on Thirty-Fourth Street, then I see a bunch of suits walking into the Empire State building. My stroll sense told me that something was up. Since my suit was more expensive than all of theirs, I jumped on the back of the line like I was part of the group. Before you know it, I find out they selling the Empire State Building. This Japanese man is telling me how his company got a hundred million to spare and they really want the building.”

  Yoda stopped to drink some water, leaving me in the state of suspense.

  “So where was I, cuz? Oh yeah, so the nasty realtor had a thorn up his ass ‘bout people from overseas buying a national landmark. I hit on the Jap brother by myself. I told the man I could get him a better deal, but he had to give me a few weeks to make sure we could make the moves behind the scenes, cutting the realtor out. Just like I thought, the Jap went for it and I was straight. ‘Feed of the greed.’