Book Read Free

One Hustle

Page 4

by Cortney Gee


  I opened the door to the automobile and was impressed by the well maintained interior. She had no tears in her seats and was without cracks in the wood panels. The four-year-old luxury coupe was in pristine shape. I turned the ignition and she cranked up on the first try. As the engine ran, I felt it growl without putting my foot on the pedal. Satisfied that the kitty purred perfectly, I slid in Jayo Felony’s cd and pumped “Whatcha Gonna Do” over the Bose speakers. I let the roof down, then Lance and I took the sexy cat for a ride on the Five freeway.

  There was nothing not to like about the automobile -- except for the price.

  We were ten minutes into the drive when I said, “Lance just keeping it real. I brought eight thousand with me but I refuse to part with more than seventy-five hundred of it,” I said in a raised voice to be heard over the music and rushing air.

  “Albert is a fair dude, I’m sure he’ll work it out for you and if not, I’ll swing you the rest. That is, of course, if you’ll turn down this racket for the rest of this test drive.”

  He didn't have to say that twice. Shit for fifteen hundred, I almost ejected the cd and threw it out of the speeding car.

  After driving around for a while, checking out ladies in other cars and having them checking us out, I drove the car back onto the lot where Albert was standing there waiting for us.

  How do you like? You like, no?” Albert asked, convinced that he had a sale from the joy plastered on my face.

  I made a mental note to work on my bluffing better the next time I found myself in a situation such as this.

  "Oh no doubt; it handles well, accelerates smoothly, and ladies dig it. Hell, even Lance picked up a number on the passenger side," I said with excitement in my voice. Being so close to owning my dream car made it impossible to try to front.

  "Albert, I know the sticker says nine thousand, but if you can help my man out some on the price I would appreciate it," Lance said, cashing in a favor on my behalf.

  Albert didn't want to budge. He was standing firm on his price because the car had low mileage. Lance argued the point that most Jaguars that had low mileage was either because they stayed at the mechanic’s or were constantly stored in a garage.

  Albert paused before speaking. "Okay for you, I will take eight thousand cash, but if anyone asks you it was ten thousand," he told me in an effort to keep his reputation as a salesman who couldn't be Jewed down.

  "Make it seventy-five hundred dollars and I'll tell people I paid $12,000 to make you happy," I said.

  "Oh my goodness, you guys are killing me." He made exaggerated gestures like he was being stabbed.

  We went inside the office and had the paperwork drawn up. He gave me the title and we bounced.

  Our next stop was in Santa Monica. I followed Lance as we darted through traffic. His Porsche was quicker, but the bottom end of my sophisticated V12 equaled his speed.

  We exited the 405 South unto Santa Monica Blvd. I parked behind him in front of the cellular store, which sat three blocks from the exit heading West. We walked into the store and again we were in the midst of a bunch of Armenian men. I had no idea there were so many Armenian folks in LA.

  As soon as we entered, a tall dark-haired man greeted Lance.

  "Lance, my friend, how are you doing, family?"

  "Every day above six feet is a great day, Alan. What's up with you? Are you performing magic today?" Lance replied.

  Now it was even more than clear that I was green, but there was no way Alan, who did look more like an Aladdin than an Alan, was the next David Copperfield.

  "Of course, my friend, is your horn not working?" asked Alan.

  "Oh, I'm straight. My man Cameron needs to purchase his own personal horn and see the magic show."

  "Do you understand that it is two hundred dollars for the horn and fifty dollars each time you want to see the magic show?" he asked me.

  Honestly, I had no idea what he was talking about. I figured I just needed to slide Allen two hundred bucks. I nodded and handed him the loot. He took the cash and headed to the back of the store behind a closed door, and miraculously he reappeared with a Motorola StarTac phone. Now, I was in business. I had long grown tired of asking Lance for the usage of his cell phone and my stomach cringed at the thought of using one of those nasty ass pay phones.

  "This should last you for about sixty days. You have problem, you come back and I do the magic for free."

  Damn unlimited calling for fifty bucks a month? I was sprung.

  I called Lance so that he could lock in my number. I was now armed to do business.

  "So what else you got planned for the day?" Lance questioned as we walked to our cars.

  "I'm going to take Karen and the boys for ride and something to eat. Tonight, I'm going over to The Comedy Store."

  "Oh, you have a spot on The Phat Tuesday show?"

  "Hell nah, I have an unlimited cell phone and a new whip with the brains blown out. I feel like a boss and I'm going to floss tonight!"

  Lance shook his head, tickled by my statement. He had created a monster, but unlike Dr. Frankenstein, he liked his creation.

  *****

  Karen brought the boys into the apartment with her.

  "What's for dinner?" I asked.

  She gave me a look like we were going to be eating cornflakes if she was needed to prepare it. "Ah baby, I'm so tired; can we order a pizza or something?" she asked.

  "No, but I tell you what. How about you change out of those work clothes and we go grab something."

  She reluctantly agreed to go, went into the bedroom and changed. Karen came back to the room looking hella sexy in her formfitting DKNY white T-shirt and blue jeans. The responsibility of cooking for three males being nullified had given her a boost of energy.

  "I'm ready, let's go," she harped.

  We all left out and headed to the parking area. Karen and the boys stopped short, stunned when I walked over to the new convertible and started it up.

  "Cameron, what are you doing?"

  "I'm taking my family to dinner unless, of course, you all don't like our new car." I made sure to emphasize that we mutually owned it, even if it was the furthest thing from what I actually felt.

  The boys ran over to the car screaming, "Dad this is so cool!"

  I knew they were twins, but it would always trip me out whenever they said things in unison.

  Karen sashayed her fine ass over to the car admiring our newest material possession.

  "This is so nice, Cameron, and it's convertible. I'm going to have to let my hair grow out or buy myself a weave so the wind can blow through it," she teased as she ran her fingers through her short well-kept coif.

  "I'm glad you agree with the purchase." I flashed my pearly whites.

  We backed up and headed out of the parking lot. In the CD changer was Prince's Greatest Hits CD. “Raspberry Beret” piped through the Bose speakers.

  "Cameron, I don't know what you and Lance got going, but you bet not stop until get you me a Land Cruiser," she said.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  "Cameron, you have to upgrade your fits, young blood. Here we are bringing down Fed Time Funds, and you are still buying your gear at Men's Warehouse," stated Lance as he drove toward Beverly Hills. It had been two months of good business and I thought I had done good job with my wardrobe.

  I looked at my slacks and loafers and saw nothing wrong with what I wore.

  "I paid good money for this stuff. Don't knock the Men's Warehouse. They have fine men's ware at an affordable price."

  "You are over there sounding like a paid spokesman for that bearded white man. The way you're talking, you should be supplied with free clothing."

  "So what do you suggest I do? Go to the Fox Hills Mall and get gaudy gear from there?" I questioned with irritation in my voice.

  "Hell nah! You wouldn't catch me dead in that cheap shit. I'm taking you to my man, Dion Scott's spot."

  "Dion Scott? Who the fuck is that?"

  "Who is Dion
Scott?" he asked as if he couldn't believe my question. "Cameron, I swear your green ass kills me."

  "All right, you've made your point. I'm a country Buckeye. But you haven't answered the question of who is Dion Scott?"

  "He's the clothier to all the black stars of Hollywood and when we get out of this car, you'll be able to say he's your personal stylist as well," he told me, parking the Porsche in front of a posh Beverly Hills boutique.

  "I don't have but a few hundred in my pocket," I said as I exited the sports car.

  He sighed. "Do I have to teach you everything? Lesson number one, always have at least five thousand on your person. We are doing Alphabet Crew Crime. You never know what could happen."

  "Alphabet Crew Crime? What the fuck is that?"

  "You know. The FBI, IRS, ATF, DEA, and CIA. If being state property is all you aspire to be, I don't want you on my team, ya dig?"

  "I feel you, but about the bread, again I wasn't prepared to do any major shopping," I said as we walked toward the door.

  "It's cool. You can charge it to my account today and hit me off when you get home." Lance opened the door and gestured for me to enter.

  When we entered the establishment, we were greeted by a well-groomed, tailored dressed, brown-skinned brother wearing glasses. I supposed he was Dion Scott. I was wrong. The man who welcomed us was Dion's trusted apprentice, Reginald Jenkins.

  The boutique was filled with suits that were either being constructed or completed. The walls were lined with shirts on one side and reptilian footwear on the other. Dion Scott's reeked of big money to be earned and spent.

  "My man, Lance the Great. So you finally brought in Black Comedy's latest meteorite," said a tan light-skinned brother in a double breasted forest green suit and cream shirt. "Cameron B., it is my pleasure to have you here. I've been watching your television appearances and kept saying to myself the day that brother lets me dress him...watch out world."

  I couldn't be mad at his appraisal of my wardrobe after looking around his store. I realized just how lacking my attire was. The two men took my measurements and showed me swatches of fabric. After deciding on my suits and a couple of sport jackets, Reggie helped me pick out some shirts to be made.

  While I was being attended to, Lance sipped herbal tea and read the latest issue of GQ magazine.

  "Make sure he gets some shoes as well, Reggie. Those Florsheim's and Hush Puppies just won't do with his new gear," Lance teased.

  After Reggie finished getting me together, I found myself before Dion at the cash register to total the damage. He rang up five custom made suits, six tailored shirts, three sport coats, five wide legged cuffed trousers and four crocodilian and alligator shoes with matching belts.

  "That will be ten thousand four hundred dollars," he told me carelessly, like he had said one hundred. "We take cash, American Express, Visa, Master Card, and Discover."

  Over my shoulder, Lance said, "Dion, put it on my account. Young blood didn't know he was getting suited and booted today."

  "That's fine. You know your line of credit with me is good, Lance. You'll see that I discounted many of the items with a First Time Buyer Incentive Discount."

  I was still stuck on Dion's telling me I had just paid more for my clothes than I had for my car.

  "If you like you can take your shoes and belts now or we can have them all ready for pick up next week," Reggie chimed in.

  "Oh, I can wait until next week. There's no use in me wearing them with my inferior wardrobe," I cracked.

  Lance signed for the clothes and we said our goodbyes to the two tailors.

  As soon as we were outside, I said, "Damn. I just spent ten racks and some change on some shit and I don't even have a bag to show for it. Tell me how was that a discount?"

  "Believe me, brother, that's the best price you are going to ever get walking out of Dion’s. He hooked you up. After you put on your gear, you'll be addicted."

  "You make it sound like I'm going to be a dope fiend for clothes or something," I said, getting into the car.

  "Everyone has something they are addicted to, Cameron, never forget that," Lance replied as he turned the ignition and drove off.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lance and his folks were happy with my proficiency. So happy with it that within the last three weeks Sarafina had deposited checks worth one hundred twenty, one hundred eighty, and two hundred thousand into my account. Chris was as efficient as always going into the bank and grabbing our take.

  Lance kept our crew together, constantly schooling me in the ways of fraud.

  He was jovial and in a free spending mood. I figured his share that totaled one hundred forty-three dollars was the reason behind his disposition. That, along with the 911 Cabriolet that Albert had hooked him up with.

  Nothing excites a man like money, some new pussy, and a fly car and Lance was drowning in the depths of all three. I only guessed this was the reason because I found myself in those very same waters. I was so busy juggling my life as a hustler, father, live-in lover to Karen, and hush-hush boyfriend to Anna that I had been neglecting my standup career.

  Of course I had been frequenting the comedy spots around town, but not to perform on stage. I was preoccupied with sitting outside on my Jaguar, clowning starving artists who weren't blessed to be befriended by Lance, like I was.

  My hunger to be the next big thing in comedy had been sated by my ill-gotten gains.

  "Cameron, are you trying to go up tonight?" asked Speedy the host and MC of the Comedy Act Theater as he walked past me. I was leaning on my car, parked in the lot of the theatre.

  "How long do I have to wait?"

  "Nigga, you wait until I call you; ain't shit changed because you just got a new ride," he spat back.

  I told him I would think about it. But I said it in a manner not to diss him. He was my peoples, plus he and Jamie Foxx were real tight. I knew it wouldn't be smart burning a bridge with Jamie by dogging his right-hand man.

  Honestly, it wasn't that I was tripping, I was waiting on Anna to meet me. She and her friend, Donna, were behind schedule and I was only waiting to escort them inside. I didn't like the idea of being out with the both of them. I needed a wing man and Lance was busy in Diamond Bar with this new chick he had met at The Century Club.

  Speedy came back out to harass me about acting like a prima donna right when the girls pulled up.

  Anna approached me affectionately. She was looking gorgeous in a blue sundress and heels. "Hey baby, I am sorry we were late; can we still get in on the guest list?" she asked, flashing a puppy dog face, begging me to forgive her.

  As yummy as she looked, even if I had been mad it wouldn't have lasted long.

  "Hey, Cameron, don't be upset with Anna, it's all my fault. I had to find a cute and comfortable shirt to put the girls in," Donna said, adjusting her breasts to exaggerate her point.

  Donna was an attractive lady from Philly, high yellow, long hair, a juicy rack and wide hips. She was a little large for my taste. But if it hadn't been for that, tonight could've turned into something special.

  Before I could tell the ladies all was good, Speedy jumped into the conversation.

  "Hey, Cameron, you didn't tell me you had two beautiful women coming tonight. Let's not make them miss any more of the show; I'll get them in," he said, motioning for them to follow him inside.

  The owner's sister, Sharon, comp’d my companions and had her son, Omar, who doubled as doorman and DJ, take them to their seats. I had to give it to Michael Williams, the owner. He knew how to keep the money in the family.

  I hung back by the bar to tell Keisha, the waitress, to get the ladies whatever they wanted on me.

  "Well, look at you, Mr. Bernard. What? Black women aren't good enough for you anymore?" she asked, obviously not approving of my doting over my Mexican acquaintance.

  I didn't blame her smart ass mouth and the fact that she was prejudiced. But it wasn't just that; she was probably mad because she had given me some pussy
before and I acted like it never happened.

  I mean really, why would I? She didn't suck dick or like taking it from behind. As far as I was concerned, she was a waste tress and not a waitress.

  "Those are my friends, they're good people. I'm just looking out," I explained even though this frigid bitch didn't deserve an explanation.

  She went off to see what they wanted and left me alone. I was happy to watch her walk away. Keisha's firm round ass was quite a vision but even more reason for me to loathe her.

  The packed house was in for treat tonight. All of the comics from the hit Fridays movie series were in the building. Angela Means was on stage doing her thing, much to the delight of the crowd of two hundred and twenty people. She had been given a flashing light and was wrapping up her set when Speedy rolled up on me.

  "So your girl's buddy needs to be occupied tonight, huh? I play an excellent second-in-command. Hook me up," he said.

  "For real? You don't think she's a little overweight?" I asked, surprised he would be interested in Donna.

  "Fuck yeah, big girls pay what they weigh. Make it happen and I'll put you up right after Chris Tucker and Faizon Love," he said, dapping me up before running up to the stage to introduce the next performer.

  Speedy's words were true; if I had been stuck with both of them it was going to be a frustrating night. Trying to out wait a girlfriend is only second to dealing with the baby whose mama you're trying to fuck. And it wasn't like I had all night to mess around.

  Karen realized that a lot of Hollywood business was conducted after hours, but she was serious about me having my ass home by four am.

  I walked over to Anna and Donna's table just as Speedy was introducing Chris Tucker. The crowd went wild as the southerner from Decatur, Georgia stalked the stage with his manic style and ultra-high pitched voice.

  "Hey boo, is everything all right?" I asked.

  "Yes, oh my God, I can't believe that we're here seeing Chris Tucker for free!"

  I told her of Speedy's interest in Donna.

  Funny thing was that Donna had just asked Anna about the possibility of hooking her up with him. I laughed to myself because now Speedy was in my debt for a cush spot on stage for something he had coming to him anyway.

 

‹ Prev