Natural Born Hustler

by Nikki Turner

  “That’s Fabian,” Fame said, nodding to the taller one. “And that’s my other older brother, Frazier. And this …” now talking to his brothers, “this is my girl, Desember.”

  Fabian and Frazier both studied Desember, from her crisp new Air Jordans, up to her well-shaped thick legs and heart-shaped butt, which her skinny jeans made hard to miss, and settled in her intoxicating cognac eyes and slightly naughty smile.

  “Damn, lil bro,” Fabian spoke up first, “I see you traded the chicken dinner for a bona-fide winner,” giving Fame a good-natured rub on the head.

  “What you see in that dude?” Frazier teased, looking directly at Desember before shooting his eyes over to Fame, then back to her.

  If possible Desember’s eyes got even brighter, body language exuding the core of its normal confidence. “That’s easy.” She beamed. Her pearly whites shone in contrast to her dark chocolate skin. “I see everything in Fame.”

  Fame tried not to blush but failed.

  “Ma,” Fame tried to divert some of the attention from him, “are you having a card game tonight?”

  “Boy, I sell drinks and cut a card game e’ry Friday, Saturday and Sundays, don’t I? Or you done got so caught up in Ms. Thang you plumb forgot how yo’ momma be doing hers?”

  Fame knew his mother was just taking shots at him because he’d pulled a no-show on the last few Sunday dinners, but that didn’t give her a right to disrespect his girl. He also knew that if he didn’t straighten it now, the possibility was very strong that it would spiral out of control.

  “Her name is Desember, Ma … and I haven’t forgotten anything or anybody. Believe that. I just want everybody to treat Desember like family. She’s a part of me—that makes us one big happy unit. Ride or die!”

  No matter if Francine and his sister never accepted her, Desember had never felt so proud of the way Fame stepped up to the plate for her.

  “Excuse me, Ms.… I mean, Desember. Don’t mind me; I just like having a little fun,” Francine said, although D wasn’t convinced. “Let’s sit down and grab a bite to eat, and then y’all can help me get this place ready for this evening. You play tonk, Desember … with an s?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Nothing to it,” Francine said, smiling. “You’ll learn. You may drop a couple of dollars in the process, but you’ll learn, I tell you.”

  “Somebody call Frank so we can eat.”

  Faith went and banged on the bathroom door. “Frank, get off the toilet and come on, you holding us all up.”

  Frazier yelled, “People hungry, man.”

  “You heard dat Frank got jumped the other day, man?” Frazier asked Fame.

  “Naw, I ain’t hear,” Fame said.

  “Man, we gonna let him tell us dat shit over grub,” Fabian interjected.

  They had a little small talk around the table as Francine set the food out. Then the bathroom door popped open.

  “What the fuck that crazy bitch doing in my house?” were the first words that came out of Frank’s mouth.

  He was the only sibling who didn’t inherit his mother’s freckles and pecan skin tone. He must have gotten his looks from Felix Sr. Frank was rocking a bandanna on his head, but she could see that he was trying to conceal a bandage on his forehead.

  Everybody turned to him, dumbfounded. Faith spoke up, “First, this is your new sister-in-law.”

  “She ain’t no fucking sister of nothing of mine,” Frank said, then immediately changed his tone, “Naw, this my buddy right here,” as he apparently thought about how he couldn’t let on that she was the attacker responsible for the bandage on his head.

  Frank extended his hand to Desember.

  She felt as though she’d seen a ghost. “Oh, my GOD, that’s the guy that shot up my car,” Desember said in a low voice to Fame, finally really getting a good look at him.

  “You shot my girl’s car up?”

  “Hell, yeah, that bitch mouth is too reckless,” Frank defended his actions.

  “Not sweet little Desember, with an s not a c,” Francine interjected; she didn’t want her boys to spoil the Sunday dinner as they had been known to do.

  “Yeah, that bitch is crazy.”

  “She ain’t no bitch!” Fame stood up.

  “She ain’t no lady either the way she was telling me to kiss her ass and how she would fuck me in the ass.”

  “Whoa!” Frazier intervened.

  “She jumped me. Her and three other niggas,” Frank lied.

  “Frank, you shot the girl’s car up?” Faith couldn’t believe it.

  “Man, this shit is crazy,” Fabian said with a smile. “And you let a girl beat you up,” he ragged on his brother.

  “The bitch is the fucking devil, but one thing for sure: she’s one of us.” Frank smiled. “I ain’t mad at cha.”

  “For a minute, I thought you won’t gon fit in with us,” Francine chimed in, now that the drama was subsiding.

  “Frank, you gon pay for her car,” Fame said.

  “Yeah, he gon pay for the car,” Frazier interjected. “He shot it up.”

  “Fair enough, and I know a shop for her to take it to.” Frank extended his hand to Desember. “Truce? You got my respect. I don’t wanna be your enemy.”

  Desember smiled, meeting Frank’s hand with her own. Her heart was now out of her panties. At first she thought it was going to get ugly.

  Over dinner, Frank and Desember each gave their version of the prior events. Desember felt that everyone in Fame’s family warmed up to her, except Faith.

  I can chop my food up, Desember thought, with the daggers this chick is shooting at me with her eyes. Family or no family, I’m going to have to keep my eye on this bitch!

  6.

  Showtime

  Fame slowly tried to slip out of Desember’s arms and the bed without awakening her. But Desember had been wide awake for a while, thinking of how content she was laying up with her boo.

  “I was hoping to lie around in bed a little longer,” she said, obviously surprising him. “Where are you off to this morning?” she asked, not ready to release his warm, hard body.

  Fame took a sip from a glass of water on his nightstand. “I thought you were still asleep, not playing possum.”

  “Possums play dead. I always feel alive around you,” she said, propping a couple of pillows against the headboard to sit up better. “You didn’t answer my question, though.” Fame never lied to her, but he would sometimes avoid a question to conceal the truth.

  He sat naked at the side of the bed. “I got some business to take care of today.”

  “You can’t spare a few more minutes?” She put her hand in his lap and flashed that mischievous smile of hers. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  After a tug or two, parts of him wanted to say the hell with it and jump back underneath the big down comforter, but his more intelligent half resisted the lure. The clock on the nightstand read 11:13 A.M. Desember was still trying to work her magic on her man. The decision was rock hard.

  “I may be a fool for it,” he said, finally making up his mind, “but I’ve gotta go. It’s going to take at least an hour to get to where I need to be,” he explained before giving her a soft kiss on the lips. “Rain check?” he suggested.

  She pulled the covers off to reveal her naked body and lay on her side in what she thought was a sexy, enticing position. “A man can’t live off work alone,” she tried one more time, even knowing it would do no good; his mind was made up.

  “Nor will all play put food on the table.” He wanted so badly to try to catch a few more snuggles with his boo, but his dedication to his hustle wouldn’t allow him to.

  Fame got up and stretched, his manhood pointing north, and headed into the shower.

  By the time he was dressed Desember had cooked him two healthy-sized bacon, egg and cheese sandwiches.

  “You can eat one now,” she said when he walked into the kitchen, “and take the other one with you—if you like.” She was
wearing a pair of boy shorts and a fitted wifebeater.

  He thanked her and then wrapped both sandwiches in Reynolds Wrap and hurried out the house before he changed his mind about leaving.

  Fame was a different kind of hustler—some people did the wrong thing for the right reason, and were looked upon as criminals, some did the right thing for the wrong reason, and were looked upon as heroes. Fame fell under neither of these categories: he robbed because he was good at it. He chose flashy drug dealers because, in his mind, they deserved to be robbed if they were caught slipping. Better him than the police.

  He sat in his car, up the block from his target. He knew from staking out the house for the past week and listening to people run their mouth that the chump who lived there was called Big Ty. He migrated to Charlotte from the Big Apple (or Rotten Apple, depending on who you ask) about four or five years ago and quickly added to the already growing drug trade in the otherwise welcoming area.

  Word on the street was that Big Ty had the best, unlimited crystallized Peruvian flake the area had ever seen. Drought, famine or recession—dude always had work. And to keep the Feds off, supposedly, he never sold more than an ounce at a time, although the jury was still out on whether the “no weight” policy was a precaution or just another way to increase his profit.

  Fame checked the time on his dashboard clock. It was 1:55 P.M. His phone rang. Against his better judgment, he answered, in case it was important.

  “Hey, baby,” he said into the Bluetooth.

  “Hey, you.”

  “What’s going on? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything is cool. I was just thinking of you, that’s all.”

  “Can you do me a favor?” he asked, his eyes glued to the house and his surroundings.

  “Do a chicken lay eggs?”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “Then you would be taking it the right way. What’s up?”

  Looking down at the remaining breakfast sandwich, he told her, “I want you to make dinner for me.” Desember wasn’t the best cook but she was getting better and he appreciated the effort she put in.

  “You promise you gonna be home for dinner?” she asked.

  “Fa ’certain, baby. I’ll be there naked with bells on by six.”

  She chuckled. “A’ight, what you want me to cook, baby?”

  “I want turkey wings and some yellow rice.”

  “Okay, baby, what else?”

  “A nice bottle of champagne,” he requested, although neither was old enough to drink.

  “Okay, what else?” she asked. “Anything else I can do for you?”

  “I want you to find something nice and sexy to wear for your man.”

  “What else?”

  “Oh, make some mashed potatoes too.”

  “Okay, baby, what else?”

  “And I will bring the stacks of money when I come home.”

  “Then we don’t need anything else.”

  “A’ight, I got to get off of here and focus so I can get the job done.”

  “You always get the job done,” she said in a sexy tone.

  Fame ended the call with Desember and took his eyes from the ranch-style brick house to steal another look at the time. Big Ty’s girl left the house every day at 2:20, and this day was no different. Right on schedule. Probably going to work. But Fame didn’t know for sure. However, he did know that she was always away from the house for hours. He waited an extra thirty-five minutes just in case she might have forgotten something and returned. If things got ugly, he thought, it was always better to leave one dead body behind, rather than two. But then again, if it came down to it, dead was dead.

  Showtime!

  Getting out of the car, Fame took one last good look around, went to his trunk and removed a small black and gray toolbox and a clipboard. He placed a cable company hat on his head and headed toward Big Ty’s residence. He wore a blue work uniform and black soft-bottom boots and appeared to be an average everyday worker trying to make a living.

  Once on the porch, he could hear the faint sound of music on the other side of the door, and though he couldn’t make out which cut it was, he was sure it was something by Jay-Z. Fame pressed the doorbell.

  “Who is it?” someone asked from the other side.

  “Cable man.” Fame had disconnected the wire that sent the main feed to Big Ty’s system earlier that morning. He knew it would take at least twenty-four hours before the real cable company would respond. That type of attention to detail is what kept him on point when it came to his job. He had uniforms and equipment from all the major companies, as well as access to their dispatch systems.

  “That’s what’s up, son,” Ty said, opening the door. “I didn’t expect you guys to send someone so quick.”

  “Dispatcher said that there would be a lady expecting me. She was adamant that we needed to get out here sooner rather than later.”

  “Yeah, that’s my bitch and shit. She can’t live without that Lifetime shit, but she gone to work and forgot to tell me that y’all was coming. Glad you got here, though, son.”

  Fame hated when niggas from up top hit him with that “son” shit, but now wasn’t the time to reveal his personal hang-ups. Not right now, anyway.

  Big Ty stepped to the side so that Fame could enter.

  That was the best part to Fame. When he robbed cats, it was always at least 50 percent con and the rest robbery, sometimes more con than stickup. By the time the victim knew he was being beguiled, it was too late.

  “So,” Fame said, “exactly what’s going on with the cable?”

  “The shit won’t show a picture,” Big Ty complained.

  “So you’re not getting any channels at all?”

  “None,” Big Ty told him. “All I’m getting is a few hundred channels of snow, son.” New York accent in full bloom.

  “How many different sets do you have hooked up to your system?”

  “Well.” Big Ty pointed toward a fifty-inch flat screen mounted on the wall. “There’s this one. Then there’s three more in the bedrooms. Oh, and the one in the game room. That’s in the basement.”

  “That’s five in all.” Fame quickly tabulated as he pretended to jot something down on the clipboard. “Do you mind showing me where they are? I need to check the feed to each unit before running a circuit test on the main line,” he bullshitted.

  What he wanted to do was make sure no one else was inside the house. He hated surprises, and an unknown guest was the last thing he needed; it could cost him everything … most of all, his life.

  “Not a problem, son.” Big Ty led the way, his Levi’s hanging off his butt, his crack showing. He was a big guy, standing about 6′2″, over 250 pounds. He was built solid and was much bigger than Fame, but Fame knew size didn’t mean a damn thing. After all, the nickel nine millimeter that Fame was packing had taken down even bigger guys, and he was sure that Ty wouldn’t dare to challenge it.

  “Yo, you from out here, son?” Ty asked.

  Wanting to hurry up and get this over with, Fame nodded at Ty though technically he wasn’t from that part of the state. He knew better than to shit where he slept.

  Big Ty took Fame into the three bedrooms, and Fame, playing his part to the hilt, turned on each television, touching the cables running from the back of each with a current detector he’d gotten from Home Depot.

  Nobody was upstairs but them. Fame said, “Okay, you say there’s a fifth one around here somewhere?” The round schoolboy glasses he wore sat crooked on his face. The perfect nerd look.

  “In the basement, son.” Big Ty stole a glance at his oversized diamond watch. “How long do you think this is going to take?” he added.

  “After the basement,” Fame said, “it’s pretty much a wrap, son.”

  “Word,” Big Ty said with more enthusiasm in his voice than before. “It’s this way.” Fame followed him down the hallway, through the kitchen and down a flight of carpeted steps.

  The bottom
level was one giant room, covering the length of the house. A professional-sized pool table with crimson felt was off to the right. To its left was a six-chair poker table. The opposite side of the floor space was set up like a den, with a couch, love seat, recliner, two red end tables with glass tops, and a 62-inch Sony television as the focal point.

  “Nice lil setup you got yourself here,” Fame complimented the man.

  “Yeah, I know,” Big Ty said, with great pride and confidence in his voice, “A man has to have his own little sanctuary, even in his own home.”

  “That’s what’s up.” Fame groped down into the toolbox he was carrying, came up with the nickel nine and a pair of matching cuffs. Big Ty’s eyes grew to twice their size. Fame threw the metal cuffs to Big Ty and said in a firm tone, “Put these on. Talk only when spoken to. Say nothing stupid and maybe you’ll live to enjoy it again. Oh.” He pointed the Llama between Big Ty’s eyes, just above his nose. “Don’t ever call me ‘son.’ I hate that dumb shit.”

  After being restrained and threatened, Big Ty did the right thing. Neither the money nor the cocaine was worth his life.

  “The money and the work are in a safe upstairs, in the office closet. Take it … take it all. Just don’t kill me.” He didn’t sound nearly as confident or arrogant as before. His voice was a pitch or two higher and the corners of his eyes showed fear and were wet from the tears beginning to form. “Please just don’t kill me.”

  “I’m a man of my word; do as I say and you’ll live.” The tears didn’t evoke any sympathy from Fame, but they did bring on a smile as he asked a final question: “What’s the combination to the safe?”

  When it was all over Big Ty was ashamed that he had pissed his briefs, but was happy to be alive. He would never forget the incident or the man who pulled it off.

  7.

  Just the 2 of Us

  Fame loved when a well-thought-out plan came together. The hit on Big Ty was sweeter than expected. He’d scored over two hundred thousand and ten keys of 80 percent pure coke.

  As Fame had promised, he was in the crib before six, waiting for Desember to finish hooking up dinner. He admired her toned legs and petite frame as she stood over the stove cooking in her birthday suit.