One Hustle

by Cortney Gee

  I dialed Karen first and as soon as she picked up she said, "So just when do you intend to bring your ass home, Cameron?"

  That was Karen suspecting I was on trash, but not willing to fuel any fire I might have had blazing by pressing too much. I was glad that Jessica had taken all of that body away from my room so she didn't have to witness me being punked by my babies’ mamma.

  "I'll be back by Tuesday evening. Mouton and his partner, TMB, are trying to put something together that's going to be very profitable."

  A few months ago, this conversation wouldn't have been questioned, but the fact that we were sitting on a grip of cash made Karen call bullshit.

  "I don't know who you think is a fool, Cameron, but just remember I'm sitting here in this house and I know the combination to the safe."

  I didn't even dignify her threat with a response. I just kept it pushing like she hadn't said some shit that would find her sleeping with the fish like Gwen.

  "Hey, I gotta get ready for this meeting. Tell the twins that I love them and I love you, too."

  Not going for the sucker shit, Karen hung up without acknowledging she heard or cared about what I had said.

  The meeting between Mouton and TMB was simply three brothers getting together over a few delicious Nation burgers, French fries, and some cokes. The succulent flavor of those beef patties couldn't rival the tasty opportunities we had before us. TMB had concocted a righteous plan. I would grab three recognizable acts and tour the Wild Wild West first class. He and Mouton explained to me how they were scamming the airlines out of airfare and how fail proof it was.

  "The shit is so sweet, Cam, I didn't even hesitate to put my grandmoms on a flight to see her sick sister in Louisiana, and you know I wouldn't fuck around with Granny," Mouton told me in efforts to convince me of just how solid the hook-up was.

  After being in cahoots with Lance, I didn't need much prodding to get ahead by doing dirt. I didn't need the details of how they did what they did, I just wanted the safety exit strategy. My lesson learned from the Great One was to always have paperwork handy to cover my ass.

  "You're an entertainer and that works for people who don't know you until you get to your destination. That fact alone and saying that you are traveling to perform, should be enough to keep you out of harm’s way."

  That sounded about right enough for me. I knew that I could put on an Oscar award winning performance in front of any airport worker so my fears were at a minimal.

  "I'm down. I just have to pick the talent and make sure our schedules are available for the dates and everything should be smooth."

  There wasn't much to haggle over. We had chosen the west coast as our initial targeted region of the country. TMB suggested that we put on a show in Vegas during the Tyson vs. Seldon fight. I didn’t balk at it; I saw the earning potential. The only real challenge that we anticipated was taking the show to the 50th state. I assured TMB that my man, Pierre Cockrell, had Anchorage on lock and we had no worries as far as that was concerned.

  "So they have a black population that will support a Def Jam kind of concert?" asked the rotund broad-built brother.

  "I don't know how many black motherfuckers live there, but I can tell you they so bored in Anchorage that you could promote a grudge boxing match and three thousand folks will pay to see it." I explained to them how Pierre came up with the event when he had a dispute with a mechanic and challenged him to fist to cuffs. He was making a killing once a month with bouts between everyday Joes and Joans who had a score to settle. If he could get three thousand folks to see nobodies slug it out, I knew he could get at least a thousand more folks to watch me and my friends from TV slang jokes.

  Pierre was a slick cat from Tacoma, Washington. He had been splitting his time between Hilltop and Anchorage. Just to give him shit, I asked him which witness protection agent had he pissed off to be sent to Alaska. When I went to visit him, I realized why he dug it so much. Anchorage was a place where an in-shape caramel brother blessed with the gift of gab could flourish. There, he had found his Shangri La and with his help, I was going to put on the biggest black comedy show The Wilderness of America's last untamed state had ever seen.

  "It must feel good to have one of the baddest broads in the town sporting you like a new bracelet," Mouton chimed in as Jessica pulled up in Jack London Square ready to whisk me off in her shiny black Benz.

  "I dig being displayed in public, but the private privileges are even better," I replied.

  They both gave me dap and we concluded our meeting. We had discussed all the details of the proposed seven-city tour and I was geeked about the possibilities. Lisa was going to be upset about the fact that again, I had earned her commission.

  I left my boys and went outside to join the company of my newfound friend.

  "Good afternoon, sweetheart, and how are you doing?" I asked as I entered her German luxury sedan.

  Jessica was casual but chic in her black leather coat white turtleneck sweater black denim pants and patent leather ankle boots. I loved the way her crimson curls cascaded over her collar and how her sensuous mouth was painted in a fiery orange that complemented her mane.

  "Yes, the afternoon just got better with you in my midst, Daddy. Seeing that you have just eaten, I don't have to rush to feed you," she replied, making me feel quite welcome. "So were you able to tie up all your business or do you require my services in aiding in their completion?"

  "Well, I still need to get to a western union to get my manager her loot, but after that I'm free."

  "So you don't need to handle any business pertaining to your home?"

  I wasn't going to allow her being sprung on the dick and now acting insecure, to get in the way of us enjoying the last couple of days together. So I played it off and assured her that my home life was situated.

  "How 'bout you and I worry about my road life while we're together."

  "I dig it, Daddy, let's."

  We darted off to a bodega on 15th street that was being held under siege by the scent of patchouli. The store owner wasn't very fluent in English, but it was obvious he was familiar with my female companion as he blurted out Spanish pleasantries. "Asi buenas tardes señora atractiva y cómo puedo ayudarle?"

  I guess he must have thought I looked like I had flunked Spanish in junior high school. I mean I had, but that didn't mean I couldn't translate that he was flirting with my peoples right in front of me. I wanted to swat the nervy silver front-toothed bastard from behind the counter, but instead I played it cool.

  "Estoy bien señor pero no creo que mi compañero apreciaría la naturaleza ligona en la cual usted me ha hablado.”

  Jessica checked the man behind the counter, then respectfully introduced me. Though he was still smarting from being blasted, the storeowner assisted me in sending a thousand dollars to Lisa.

  I was sure that when she received the money, Lisa was going to argue that it was too much. But I already had it in my mind to explain to her it was an advance for the work she was going to do for the Cameron B Wild Wild West Comedy Jam I had concocted along with Mouton and TMB.

  After concluding my business with TMB and Mouton, then making sure Lisa was taken care of, Jessica asked if I would mind accompanying her on a quick mission. How could I say no? I agreed so we headed over the bridge to San Francisco.

  My mind had drifted, lulled by the beautiful Bay weather and before I knew it, Jessica had me standing in front of some dude who looked like someone had pissed him off two minutes ago.

  "Cameron, this is Kwan. Kwan, let me introduce you to Cameron Bernard," Jessica said.

  Less than two hours ago, we were in the bodega and now, here was another man who despised me because I was in the company of this mixed beauty.

  Kwan Tran didn't even make an attempt to conceal his contempt toward me as he shook my hand. I could tell that he and Jessica were never lovers, but that didn't get in the way of his love for her.

  From the looks of things, the two of them not being
together had nothing to do with his appearance or his possessions. Kwan was what I guessed to be an attractive Asian man. I said I guessed because I wasn't attracted to men and I couldn’t fucking really say which Asian tribe he belonged to. My being from Cleveland kinda hampered me from being able to distinguish the variations, but my guess was that he was Korean.

  He was 5'8, well-muscled, and kept an outwardly clean appearance. If he had been wearing a suit instead of sportswear, his tattoos would have been hidden and I would have figured him for just another cat working in corporate America.

  That much about him I had right. He was a corporate dude, but the twist was he was a tech boy. Kwan didn't have to be confined by the normal suit that company's outside of Silicon Valley demanded of its employees. He was a printing software guru and a genius graphic artist who had talent that caused rival companies like Apple and Hewlett-Packard to woo him like college coaches promised high school seniors the world to join their programs.

  But Kwan Tran didn't plan on making someone else wealthy and wasting twenty-five years of his life to only to be given a gold plated watch. His intention was to be just as wealthy as the company executives who were courting him and Kwan had the necessary talent to make his own money.

  "May I offer you a drink, Mr. Bernard?" Kwan asked me after releasing his firm grip on my hand and walking over to a fully furnished bar.

  It was too early in the day to get twisted, but seeing as how I’d had the greasy hamburger lining my stomach and only Jessica's business dealings to consider, I accepted Kwan's offer.

  "I'll take a vodka and lime with two cubes."

  "That's one vodka lime with two cubes coming up," he said while he made my drink and showed just how familiar he was with my companion by pouring Jessica a glass of white wine without so much as asking her. I made a mental note of it but because I was only two or three days into enjoying the sweetness of Jessica, I wasn't going to be pulling the jealous territorial card.

  After pouring himself a stiff double bourbon, Kwan went into why he had asked Jessica to bring me along to his plush loft apartment in the financial district of San Francisco.

  "Mr. Bernard, I'm in the business of making money and from the looks of things so are you. I can't speak for you, but I've tired of pimping my talents for others to make money. I've changed the game, so to speak, and decided to make money for myself." His pissivity seemed to be tapering off and he was all business.

  Kwan slammed down a grip of at least ten thousand dollars’ worth of crisp one hundred dollar bills.

  Now that I was no stranger to having loot, the ten racks weren’t impressive until Jessica explained to me that Kwan wasn't being matter of fact when he proclaimed he made money.

  Kwan was really making money.

  "Reesie, I’m sorry if I blindsided you with all this, but I knew from the moment we were together you would be a perfect fit."

  Here I was again being set up to play a part in someone else's hustle for the second time today. Both were no different than how Lance had enlisted me. I received before I had to bite: TMB was offering me free passage. Jessica had already provided hassle-free loving, and Kwan topped it off with ten thousand dollars’ worth of high quality counterfeit cash plus a refreshing vodka lime with two cubes.

  Again, I was a willing pawn in another person’s game against big business. Irene hadn't raised me to be a criminal, but nonetheless that was exactly what I had grown up to be. My only rationale was that the big businesses were just as guilty as I was.

  Neither Jessica nor TMB had to twist my arm to join them in their endeavors. I saw they had a solid hustle and I was ready to dive into the deep end.

  "So how much of this can you deliver on?" I asked, ready to negotiate my terms.

  "I'm better than the US mint, man. I don't make my money dependent on how much gold I have in the reserve. All I worry about is ink and paper."

  Jessica was sitting on the couch, sipping her wine, letting Kwan and I haggle out our business. I felt like I was her Anna. Here I was sitting on enough hard earned cash and had a job opportunity that should have warranted my not being thirsty for more, but it occurred to me she must have smelled a greed in me that I didn't even realize existed. That could be the only reason for her bringing me into her and Kwan’s circle of counterfeiters.

  "Cameron, I have three million dollars right now that will stand up against any scrutiny. I'm willing to part with a million for three hundred thousand. If you need more I can supply it at a moment's notice."

  "Man, how am I going to unload that kind of funny money?"

  "You can do it one bill at a time, which would take forever or mix it in with real money and spend it freely without conscience."

  It dawned on me then why Jessica was so generous with her loot. She didn't know if she was using real money or not so there was no need to act as if anything was wrong.

  "I'm going to have to think this over, Kwan. I have the money and I see you have superior quality shit, but I don't want to just jump into this without weighing the pros and the cons."

  I fingered the stack of bills he had given me, impressed by the craftsmanship.

  Kwan offered to refresh my drink, but Jessica told him we had a few more stops to make and we needed to be on our way.

  "Well, I don't want to hold you from your other responsibilities. Cameron, think it over and I look forward to receiving your response."

  "Oh no doubt, I appreciate the consideration and will be back at you before the week is out."

  Jessica and I left the swank loft apartment and walked to her Benz. I was lightweight-pissed that she had taken me to a meeting with a blindfold on, but the vision of her in those jeans shut down any verbal abuse I might have thrown her way.

  "I know I should have said something to you before introducing you to Kwan, but I couldn't figure out what to say," she told me as we slipped into the car.

  "I don't know, you could have said, 'hey, Cameron, I'm committing a federal crime and I thought you might like to meet my co-conspirator. He would like you to join us in a criminal enterprise.' That would have been a good start."

  Jessica wouldn't look up to me after I said that. I didn't know if she felt guilty or was disgusted by my response. Without saying a word, she reached over to my hand and gripped it. I took the gesture as an apology.

  "Look, I'm no stranger to a come-up, but like you said last night, this is no basic relationship. I have a life in LA and now I have a second life in Oakland. I don't need a third in San Quentin."

  "So, you're saying you aren’t interested in Kwan's product?" "No, I'm saying I don't have any intention on doing fifteen years because dude ain't on the up and up."

  Jessica vouched for her partner in crime and even though I hadn't trusted her enough to engage in unprotected sex with her, I made the decision that I would trust her with my freedom before we pulled away from in front of Kwan's pad.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  "Damn, I can't wait to get to LA. I have missed you so much, Daddy," Jessica purred into my cellular phone.

  I had been missing her as well, but I was even more looking forward to getting my hands on one million's worth of Monopoly money for pennies on the dollar.

  "Yeah, it's only been three days but it feels like an eternity, Carrot," I replied, not letting on about my other more prevailing thought.

  It wasn't that I didn't really desire to be in her presence, but my hustle hand was itching and that sensation dominated any lustful thoughts I harbored.

  We were wrapping up our conversation when Lisa surprised me by tapping on my window. Luckily, it wasn't a good weather day where I would have had my top down and her hearing my exchange about crimes of the heart and of a fraudulent nature.

  I quickly ended my call without saying another word. Jessica wouldn't be upset; she had become use to my abrupt termination of our contact once I'd returned home and I appreciated the lack of pressure on her end. That lack of pressure made it easy for me to lead a double lif
e between her and Karen.

  In the instant before rolling down my window, I pondered how much longer before Jessica's patience would wear off or how long before Karen would figure out my mind was on someone else.

  "Well, things must be going well at home because Karen has you smiling from ear to ear."

  Instead of lying to my manager, I just continued to cheese like a cat whom had eaten the canary.

  "Hey, Lisa. You hungry? I'm starving; let's go grab a bite."

  She walked around my British automobile and got inside. She was in her regular grunge attire. The baggy jeans, the cotton t-shirt, and blue jean jacket were in complete contrast to the polished look I wore.

  "Cameron, you might be the only client I've had who's overpaid me and has sprung for my meal."

  "Who said anything about paying for you to eat? I just offered to give you a ride," I chided in reply.

  I was kidding around, but we needed to have a serious conversation. Lisa had been cool about the tour idea, but again my negotiating without her input had my manager infuriated.

  "Seeing that I'm paying for it, then I'm picking the spot. You cool with that?" I asked my lanky Nordic passenger.

  I had never steered Lisa wrong when I invited her out to lunch, so she didn't argue my point.

  I had the taste for corned beef and I knew a trip to Jerry's Deli just might be the trick to calm Lisa's intensity as it concerned her chastisement of me.

  "I was thinking we could grab some Sky High Corn Beef sandwiches and negotiate the terms of my surrender," I said flashing my pearly whites.

  "It's going to take a lot more than your smile and some food, Cameron. I'm at wit’s ends with you. I mean, normally my clients overwork and underpay me. You overpay me and refuse to let me do shit. What am I to do with you?"

  "Well, seeing that I'm good for your finances, keep meat on your bones, and probably save you from complete boredom, I'd suggest we make a mutual agreement to keep working together until either I surrender to your will or you quit fighting me in my being so generous."

  "You are incorrigible!"