One Hustle

by Cortney Gee

  "Remember what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas," she told us and then departed.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Things had been running smoothly over the last two months. The Vegas trip had been a success. Lance's hot streak had cooled, but we still came out of The Stratosphere on top. I didn't know if my conscience had gotten the best of me, but I had only meager success throwing the dice. My winnings from my own handling of the bones were only $32-thousand. That amount would have made anyone else proud, but with all the training Lance had put me through, my earnings were a failure. Especially when Lance had fucked around and made us both millionaires when he threw those back-to-back boxcars.

  The girls had done their duties well enough to entice Sarafina to issue them both larger checks to take down. Instead of heading back to Las Vegas, we travelled to Reno and then, hit the riverboat casinos in the Southern states of our great nation.

  Karen was beginning to grumble about the constant traveling, but my sharing of my wealth quieted her. With all the things I had going good, my comedy career was suffering. I now understood how Lance, though always looking like a million bucks, could be so disillusioned about getting the big

  break. Fuck, we were already living the sitcom star lifestyle. Lisa noticed my stagnation since I hadn't done any shows and pleaded with me to get my mind back on the comedy grind. I agreed that I would put forth a better effort and would be ready for the industry showcase she developed in order for executives to see the act that inspired the sitcom I had written.

  I was sitting in The Big Easy smoke shop enjoying a Cuban Series D Maduro cigar when my cellphone rang.

  "Cameron, where you at? We need to talk ASAP," Lance said.

  My first thought was that Gwen had hipped him to the ménage a trios, so I was hesitant to reply.

  "Cameron, did you hear me, bruh? This shit is important."

  I collected my thoughts and manned up. "I'm at the smoke shop on Ventura," I told him, knowing he wouldn't dare come to such an establishment. Lance was too health conscious for that. He refused swine, liquor, and above all, tobacco products.

  "Meet me at Jerry's Deli across the street in fifteen minutes," he barked, hanging up before I could reply.

  With all of the money I had and all the luxuries I had purchased, the one thing I didn't have in my possession was a gun. Maybe it was my ego coupled with the fact that I stand 6'4 and weighed 260 lbs.

  Maybe it was my fear of being too powerful with such an instrument in my possession. Maybe that was why I never thought to purchase one.

  What I did know was that Lance was armed. I also knew that I had done something to him that might warrant him to squeeze off a shot at me. I was ignorant of his knowledge of what had transpired in that Las Vegas hotel room between Anna, Gwen and me.

  I pulled a long drag from my stogie, said goodbyes to the fellow patrons and owner, then left to meet Lance at Jerry's.

  Five minutes later, I drove into Jerry's parking lot.

  "What's up, Lance?" I said as I pulled up next to his Porsche. "What was so important that we just had to meet with each other?"

  One of the benefits of living in Southern California was the weather. On this late October day, we were both afforded the ability to have our tops down. Tone Toni Tony had painted an inaccurate picture when they sang “It Never Rained in Southern California” because for the most part, LA was paradise.

  "I have some good news and some bad news, it depends upon how you wanna look at it. Which one you want first?" he asked, speaking to me from his car.

  From his demeanor I could tell he was in high spirits, definitely not the kind of mood one would have when confronting a man about fucking his significant other.

  Satisfied and relieved there wasn't about to be any gunplay that I was ill-equipped to participate in, I answered, "Give me the good news first."

  "Well, the good news is you are completely in the clear with that Bank of America investigation," he said.

  I knew by that he meant that Chris was no longer among the living. I didn't know dude enough to be shaken up, but I felt sorrowful enough to ask Lance about the arrangements and if there was anything we could do.

  He was merciless in his response. "Ain't no fucking arrangements and what the fuck? You know good and damn well if we give Amanda any cash, she's going to bury it into her arm," he scolded me.

  "I know you're right, man. I'm just saying when a teammate sacrifices on the field, you don't leave him hanging."

  "Cameron, don't get me wrong, but even if there was a funeral and we could go, don't you think those detectives from Van Nuys would be there waiting for us to show our faces?" he asked me, already knowing the answer.

  I didn't reply; I just let what he said sink in.

  "So you wanna know the better news or what?" he asked, breaking the silence between us.

  Of course I wanted the better news. After hearing of Chris's doom, anything would do.

  "Yeah, give it to me," I told him, igniting my cigar with my torch lighter.

  "Well, we don't have to travel anymore using the girls. You and I are back on the frontline, and peep this, Sarafina cut Moe out of the equation so now, it's three way split."

  "Damn, what did Moe do to piss her off?"

  "From what I've been told he brought some unwilling parties to the table and they froze her out. Fuck it, like I said before, one man's misery is another man's joy."

  Now on this bit of news I couldn't have agreed with Lance more. Moe getting a cut of the hard work I had put in was a constant thorn in my side. I didn't make a stink about it because Lance constantly reminded me that Moe okayed me into the game and it was merely paying my taxes.

  "So if Chris is gone, how are we going to take down the cash? I can't fuck with that Bank of America account anymore."

  "Don't worry, we have a smooth plan. Sarafina has a sweet hook-up at Merrill Lynch. It's a mutual money account. She has an inside man and we are going to kill 'em."

  That sounded cool to me. Our inside lady had an inside man.

  "She's going to cut the checks this week, no more sharing. I get one hundred and fifty thousand and so do you."

  I was happy to be getting a full share with the money I had pulled in gambling and hustling, but now, I was more than nigga rich. I hadn't talked to Lance about it yet, but I had been thinking of retiring from fraud. Yep, I was going to go out like Jim Brown.

  We finished our conversation with him running down how we would meet and begin dealing with Sarafina's guy, Richard, at Merrill Lynch. Right before leaving Lance dropped a bomb on me.

  "Yo Cameron, what you think about this?" He proudly displayed a three-karat diamond ring.

  "I love it, but I'm sorry I have to decline, Lance, I'm already spoken for."

  "Motherfucker, I know that with your silly ass. I'm going to propose to Gwen tonight," he boasted.

  "Lance, really marriage? You've only known Gwen since June, bruh. I mean she is a nice girl, but you are already a divorcé, ya mean?"

  "Man, I don't need to wait. It just feels so right between us. You just don't know how special she is."

  I thought about how special Gwen was as I drew on my cigar. Like how she had complete control of her vaginal walls. She made me feel like I was getting a hand job while getting some pussy, or how she didn't have a gag reflex and swallowed my seed without spilling a drop, or better yet, how Gwen was an Ol' Faithful kind of squirter. Of course I thought these lucid thoughts to myself.

  "Well, best of luck to you, man. Congrats. I'm sure that you two will be happy," I told him.

  "I'll call you later and tell you how it goes," he said before pulling off.

  My friend was elated and I was feeling like shit. Until this moment, I had pushed the memory of that night with Gwen to the back burner of my mind. Now, I felt compelled to say something so my partner didn't get caught slipping. I was compelled but didn't move on my need to come clean. Instead, I thought of Lance's mantra: "Ain't no friends when you are hustl
ing."

  I turned on the car and drove to my residence in Canoga Park.

  The next day, Lance phoned telling me that we were on for a Wednesday meeting with Richard and that Gwen had accepted his proposal. I told him that I would be ready to meet and asked him if he was thinking of having a big wedding.

  "Nah, we're going to do a small private thing in Vegas, ya dig? I have a hook-up on a house there so afterward we gonna camp there."

  "So you and Gwen are going to leave LA behind, huh? So what are you going to do for a living? You know the Power Rangers aren't going to last forever."

  "Believe me, Cameron, I know that. With all this money I've made, I'll go to Vegas and bump around until I get one of the casinos to give me a show; call it Lance and his Great Friends."

  I told him I dug the plan. It was an obtainable and profitable idea.

  "So what's your plans, brother?"

  I thought of several different options, but none of them amounted to me leaving Los Angeles. Shit, where else could you spend Christmas day in shorts and sandals? My immediate plan was to obtain a writing position or push my pilot ideas on the networks that were gobbling up ethnic sitcoms. Money wasn't a worry, so I was in no rush to make a decision. Christmas was just around the corner and I figured I would take the family to Cleveland so my mother, Irene, could see her grandsons and I could spoil her with my ill-gotten gains. It was the least I could do.

  "Man, I think I'm just going to play my hand with this writing, my comedy and see where it lands me," I told him.

  "What are you doing tonight? Wanna go to The Laugh Factory? You know Chocolate Sundays is going to be off the chain."

  I told Lance I was going to spend time with family and I would see him Wednesday. We hung up and I watched a couple of Disney movies with the twins and when they went to sleep, Karen and I watched a real gangster story called The Professional.

  "You ready to go to bed, baby?" I questioned Karen who was fighting sleep next to me on the couch.

  "Only if you're going to join me," she replied.

  When she was not mad with me or suspicious of my comings and goings, we had a great connection. I slowed my roll with Anna considerably, not because she did anything wrong, but for the fact I was doing all this dirt and it would be to my advantage to draw the line on some of the bad karma I was accumulating. I didn't think she minded the distance because of all the bread she was getting from our fraudulent activities. She was too preoccupied to even make mention of it.

  "Of course I'll join you, now do you want to fall asleep or be put to sleep is the real question?"

  "Shit, you know I want to be put to sleep, Deddy," she said, curling into me.

  I loved it when she referred to me as Deddy. Do you know how good your sex game has to be for an educated sister to misspell and pronounce the word Daddy?

  Even if she didn't think I was truly vicious in the sack, I didn't even care. Being called Deddy revved me up to perform on all cylinders. We went into our room and made sure to lock the door. There was nothing worse than having to explain to not one, but two five-year-olds why you and their momma were wrestling butt booty ass naked.

  Karen disrobed and laid in the bed. I followed her in my birthday suit and we melted into one another for hours that night.

  The next morning, it was raining cats and dogs.

  "Fuck Raphael Saadiq!" I said as I got soaked getting into Lance's car.

  "Listen to you, Mr. Bernard, crying like a spoiled Californian brat," he replied in response to my griping.

  "I'm just saying, here we are about to have a productive day and Mother Nature is taking a piss on us."

  Lance laughed, thinking how comical it was of me having been getting all this money and not owning an umbrella. I told him from what I understood about California weather, getting an umbrella made about as much sense as purchasing a parka in Miami.

  Again, Lance was amused.

  I figured I must have been onto something, so I pulled out my mini recorder and restated all the things I had just tickled Lance with.

  "Brother, that new manager of yours sure has you on it. It's good to see one of us still working on the craft."

  "Yeah, I have this big industry showcase coming up and Lisa has me working on a Tonight Show set."

  "Ah yes, the infamous Tonight Show set where urban realness is shunned and the ultra-blackness that you've cultivated is shed away so the good folks of mainstream television can accept you. Ain't that about a bitch?" Lance said, remembering his own experience of the watering down process to be welcomed into the network’s good graces.

  It wasn't that long ago when agents and management pitched him the fastball they were throwing my way. Lance had excelled during the process, but right before it all went right for him, he hit a wall. Lance had bought into the entire process, but couldn't figure how to regain his street cred when he performed in front of urban audiences.

  This frustration was part of the reason he didn't haunt the clubs as much. He had grown tired of manufactured clowns. My being from Cleveland kept me just grimy enough to not feel that my clean-cut image was a curse. Many of my homeboys had made quite an impression on the vast comedy plain. Steve Harvey, John Henton, AJ Jamal, and Arsenio had put a dent in the game and I still had aspirations of being the next Cleveland native to be a comedy success story.

  The Merrill Lynch office was in the Sherman Oaks Galleria right next to the PF Chang's where not so long ago Lance, Chris and I had divided up our spoils from our first caper. I was sure that Lance didn't give it a second thought, but being there kinda pulled at me.

  We walked into the financial group’s office and was greeted by a gorgeous blonde named Antoinette.

  "Good morning, and how may I help you gentlemen, today?" she asked.

  "We're here to see Richard Malone concerning opening two accounts," Lance replied.

  "Oh, Mr. Brooks and Mr. Bernard. He's been expecting you. Give me a minute, I'll let Richard know you're here." She surprised both of us because we didn't expect such personal service.

  Antoinette rose from her desk, fully displaying how blessed she was as she knocked on Richard's door to inform him of our being there. Lance was feeling her. I guess it was true when people said you are attracted to what you don't have at home. Antoinette was the complete opposite of whom he had just proposed to. Where Gwen was blessed with ass for days and B cup breasts, Antoinette was tall lean with an abundance of breasts and long legs that led to a flat ass. Blondes weren't my thing, but I did have to give her credit; she was a looker in a Cybil Shepard kind of way. She came back and told us that Richard would see us.

  "Would you gentlemen like some coffee or tea?" she asked as she led us to his office.

  Lance declined both offerings. I, on the other hand, told her I would take some coffee.

  "Black, no sugar, no cream?" she asked me as if her words were a metaphor for her detection that I wasn't into her Nordic good looks.

  "Correct, but I will have two Sweet-n-Low's if you have it," I replied.

  As we entered Mr. Malone's office, we were greeted by a tanned, six foot, dark haired man with and athletic build. He extended his manicured hand.

  "Mr. Brooks and Mr. Bernard, it's a pleasure to meet the both of you," he said, firmly shaking both of our hands.

  "Greetings, Mr. Malone," Lance began. "As you know you were recommended by a mutual acquaintance."

  "Of course you were. Sara is dear college friend. She says you're both very trustworthy and to handle you with the upmost of care." He spoke as if he and our money girl had known each other in an intimate way outside of business.

  Antoinette returned with my coffee and took the liberty to bring Richard and Lance bottled water. After placing the bottles on his desk, she exited, closing the door behind her.

  "Man, I would love to bury my face in all those tits," he said, reaching out his hand to high-five Lance.

  I was shocked at how he shed his higher learned persona and got real with us in just
a matter of seconds.

  "So, what's the problem?" Lance asked him.

  "She's on this 'I don't want to sleep with people I work with' bullshit."

  "Then why don't you fire her ass, fuck her, then hire her back," I interjected.

  "That's funny, Cameron! You don't mind if I call you Cameron, do you?" he asked as if he didn't want to get too comfortable.

  I told him Cameron was fine, we might as well be on familiar terms seeing that we were about to be linked in a scheme.

  We sat back and listened to him explain how having our money work for us with Merrill Lynch was better than it being in a bank, or heaven forbid, it being under our mattresses. We filled out the paperwork and were told we would receive Visa credit cards attached to our accounts. He promised to put a rush on the cards so we would have access to our money as soon as the checks cleared in about four business days.

  Before leaving, he gave us packages that gave us all the information we needed to access and use our new mutual money accounts. We shook hands and exited the offices.

  "Cameron, do you feel confident about this cat?" Lance ogled Antoinette for one last time as she told us to have a nice day.

  "I have two questions to ask you, one being do you think you're really ready to settle down? I mean the way you looked at that receptionist made me feel violated."

  "I'm cool. I'm just purging myself of any and all lustful urges and if I can sow my royal oats in the process, that's cool, too!"

  I couldn't argue with his rational. I knew if I was going down on a sinking ship I wouldn't be wasting my last moments like a monk.

  "Okay secondly, do you really trust this cat, Richard? I mean here we are about to take down six hundred thousand dollars and this white boy didn't even blink an eye about it."

  "Cameron, Richard went to school to learn how to be crooked and I'm not talking about no street level shit. Those guys on Wall Street fleece folks outta millions every day. If Sara says he's cool, I'm inclined to believe he is straight."