Flippin' the Hustle (12 page)

But she decided to call RJ. “Hey, is everything okay?” she asked after he answered.

“Of course. Why?”

“Nothing.” She paused briefly and smiled. “Just checking up on my big brother.”

“Since when you start watching over your
big
brother? Emphasis on the word big,” he said with a laugh.

“I don't know. Just been thinking about you and Trina a lot since our trip to Jamaica.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yup.” The threat on her brother's life was beginning to make her reevaluate his lifestyle. “I think it's time for you and her to settle down. Get married, have some little RJs, Trinas and Ravens.”

“After the hustler mode is done, then I can play hubby and daddy dearest.”

“Um, it may be that time.”

“Time for what?” RJ responded.

“Time that the hustler retires and the husband and father emerges.”

“What? Oh, I see what this is.”

“See what?”

RJ laughed. “Tree must've put you up to this.”

Naria's heart pounded at the mention of Derrick's street name, Tree. “Put me up to what?”

“Since we was on our way to Jamaica, Tree been talking all this retiring from the game stuff. This ‘we need to live regular lives.'”

Naria smiled for the first time since the drama with Derrick earlier. The fact that he was urging her brother to leave the streets behind was a signal that he was truthful about not wanting to hurt RJ.

“Is he there with you?”

“No,” Naria answered. “And he didn't put me up to this. But just so I'm clear, he told you that you
both
should leave the streets behind?”

“Yeah. Gave me the whole song and dance. Talked about me settling down with Trina and him settling down with you.”

“Oh.” Her smile widened. “Settling down with me. Is that a fact?”

“Yeah, this dude is in love with you. He never told me, but I know it when I see it.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Long enough to trust him with my life and give him a shot at dealing with you.”

“Okay, but back to you. Just wanted to call and ask you to think about your future. I don't want you to end up like Dezo.”

They both paused for a few seconds of silence.

“Naria.”

“What?”

“I'm good. Trust me when I tell you. I can protect myself, and I got Tree holding me down. He's proven he can do that easily.”

He's proven, according to RJ. He must have hurt somebody for my brother or told him the truth he revealed to me,
Naria thought.

“Don't worry about me,” RJ said.

“Okay. But you still should worry about your future.”

“Well, right now you holding up this money. So I'll catch you later.”

“Be safe, RJ.”

“I always do.”

She held the phone to her chest with a smile after he hung up. She wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but she felt confident that her brother was safe. After all, he had navigated through Brooklyn for years without succumbing to the streets. He had a strong mind, a vicious team, and from what he said, a trusted comrade in Derrick. But she still needed to speak with Derrick. Yet she wasn't exactly ready just yet.

* * * * *

About an hour after Derrick pulled off from Naria's home, he was in his bedroom when he got a call from her brother. “RJ,” he answered his phone, not certain what to think.

“What up, son?”

“I'm cool. How ‘bout you?” Derrick answered, trying to feel out RJ.

“Just got off the phone with my sister.”

“Oh yeah?” Derrick's palms grew sweaty.

“Yeah, she talking this leave the game shit. Remind me of you and shit.”

“That's all she said?”

“Yeah. Why? Was she supposed to have told me something else?”

“Nah.” Derrick half-grinned. “Just had some other shit on my mind.”

“What's that?”

“Ain't nothing.”

“All right. ‘Cause I need to see you.”

“When?”

“Like yesterday. It's important.”

“Umm . . . ahh . . . Where at?”

“On Putnam and Nostrand. The building is abandoned. You can't miss it.”

Abandoned building,
Derrick thought, fearing he was being set up to be murdered. “Since when we start hanging out in abandoned buildings?”

“Since they turned into potential gold mines. You gotta see this shit.”

Derrick let out a deep breath. “Okay. I'm on my way.”

“I'll catch you there.”

Catch me.
Derrick's mind wandered. He hung up the phone and began pacing in his bedroom. He put on his bulletproof vest and strapped on a 10-millimeter with two fifteen-shot clips. Part of him felt that Naria hadn't revealed a word. But another part of him felt that RJ's invitation had all the makings of a classic street setup for murder.

* * * * *

Shay pulled into the space marked for his vehicle in the condominium complex. An exotic female dressed in a pair of shorts that barely covered her ass caught his attention. Eyeing the woman, Shay exited his truck and hit the alarm button. A succession of noises followed. This caused the curvaceous sexy, light-skinned woman to glance in his direction.

As she turned from Shay and his noisy Viper alarm system, Shay yelled, “Excuse me, shorty!”

Halting in her tracks, the woman turned with her hands on her hips “Excuse me?” she asked in a voice laced with attitude.

Shay immediately went into player mode. “Yeah. I said excuse me, because that was the only way for me to stop such a lovely looking woman, but more importantly, it was my only chance to admire your beauty,” he stated smoothly. “Now, if I offended you in any way, I apologize.”

A smile appeared on the woman's face. “Nah. You ain't disrespect me, it was just the tone you used.”

“Oh my bad. But as I said, I had to stop you.”

“Well, I was just going to see my cousin in the next building, but I didn't see her car, so . . .”

Shay's instincts were against inviting the woman to his condo, yet his smaller head screamed for a taste of what was between the woman's creamy thighs. Throwing discretion into oblivion, Shay asked, “So would you like to come to my crib until your cousin gets home or whatever?” Noticing the hesitancy, he added, “You're more than welcome.”

Pauleen said, “Yeah. That's cool.” She followed Shay in the direction of his condo. In her line of work, bait was everything, and Shay had bitten. His life now belonged to her, and for fifty thousand dollars she'd gladly take it.

* * * * *

Damien exited the rickety 747 in Oklahoma City, handcuffed and shackled. This was his nineteenth stop in just a month. For the last few weeks this had been his routine. He hadn't seen a judge or lawyer, only US Marshals flying across the country. His mind was delirious from the constant travel and occasional layovers in the hole of numerous local jails that he was prepared to do whatever he had to for the madness to stop.

Pointing toward the wooden platform, the US Marshal said, “Son, step right here.”

Damien did as instructed, and was immediately grateful to feel the circulation stopping shackles being removed. The handcuffs were taken off.

“Step over here!” another US Marshal yelled.

Just as before, Damien did as he was told. This went on for hours and hours, until he was ushered into a psychologist's office for evaluation.

Once the friendly Asian doctor noticed the mental strain the young man was under, he immediately began tapping buttons on his phone. “Dis ‘as to stop!” he yelled to no one in particular.

Although Damien didn't know it, his torture was coming to an end.

* * * * *

Derrick braced himself as he pulled up on the deserted Bed-Stuy block in front of the abandoned building. It was almost midnight, and there was little light on the street. Derrick switched his handgun off safety and checked to make sure a bullet was in the chamber. “This is it?”

Derrick looked around the block once more. He didn't see any of RJ's cars or any other BTB members. This made him question if RJ had sent him there for someone else to kill him.

Derrick pulled out his cell phone and called RJ.

“What's up, Tree?”

“I'm downstairs. You inside?”

“Yeah. Just knock on the door,” said RJ.

“Got you.” Derrick exited his car, looking around the block again. Then he walked up to the dilapidated three-story brownstone and knocked on the steel door.

The door swung open immediately, startling him.

“Ha, ha, ha.” The huge monster of a man who opened the door laughed. “It's only a door. You gotta be Tree.”

Derrick nodded. “Yeah.”

“RJ is waiting for you in the basement.”

“All right.” Derrick looked around the place littered with old liquor bottles and mildewed clothing. He took in the horrific stench and stepped through debris as he made it to the staircase leading down to the basement. He descended the squeaky stairs to find RJ's back turned as he gazed out the only window in the damp basement.

“I started hustling right outside of this window years ago,” RJ said, not turning his gaze, but clearly alerted to Derrick's whereabouts by the squeaky stairs and his footsteps through trash.

“It's gotta be more than nostalgia that makes this a gold mine,” Derrick said as he kept his eyes trained on RJ. It was dark and he had trouble telling if there was a gun in his hand.

RJ turned around. All Derrick could make out on his face were the teeth of his sneaky smile. An ambiguous smirk he had seen often in times of love and times of war. It's a gold mine because the drug game is like the real estate business. Location, location, location.” RJ laughed.

“And what makes this location special?”

He waved Derrick over, placing his hand on his shoulder.

Derrick was relieved to see he had no gun in his hand.

“Look out there.” He nudged Derrick forward toward the spot he had been viewing from outside.

Shit, shit, shit,
Derrick thought. He was afraid now that RJ was standing behind him.

“What do you see out there?”

Derrick said, “Some more brownstones.”

“Look harder.”

Derrick wanted to turn and look at RJ, but he couldn't.

“The alley.”

RJ chuckled. “Now you're thinking. “We got an alley connected to this building that leads from this block, Nostrand, to the next block over, Marcy. And the beauty is that steel gate the city put up on both sides to keep the bums from sleeping in this alley. But it can't keep our workers in here from running from block to block and hopping those gates if police decide to hit this spot.” RJ went on to mention how the building's location would be the only heroin operation in a fifteen block radius. “Location, location, location,” he said once more.

Derrick now faced him. He stared into his eyes and for the first time he saw a man who would never leave the streets behind. Derrick was at ease, feeling RJ did not call him there to kill him. But calling him there to invite him in on opening a new operation was potentially doing the same thing.

“So what you think?”

“You know I think it's time for us to slide while the getting's good. Not go deeper. Besides, we moving bricks, so it's no need to get into hand-to-hand spots.”

RJ shook his head. “I'm a visionary. Trust me, it's a gold mine.”

“Yo, RJ,” the goon that let Derrick inside called as he came downstairs.

“I know you see us talking,” RJ said, his tone changing. “Talking business at that.”

The goon grinned.

RJ looked at Derrick, and then at the goon. “What the fuck is so funny?”

Derrick was still trying to figure out who the man was.

“Aw, man, kill that shit, man.”

“What?” RJ backed out a .357 Desert Eagle and aimed it at the man.

Derrick figured the man was drunk when he noticed a liquor bottle drop from his hand.

“I assigned you to watch the fucking front door, and you drunk?” RJ asked. “Drunk to the point you disrespecting me and my brother while we conducting business?”

Brother,
Derrick thought.

“And I told your big ass to stay up stairs.”

The goon giggled like a kid. “Man, put that away.” He burped.

RJ walked over, placed the huge gun to his forehead, and squeezed off a round, sending a hollow point slug through him that dropped him instantly on a pile of trash. RJ aimed effortlessly and squeezed two more shots into his face. He turned to Derrick. “Yo, Tree, let's get the fuck outta here. I'll send somebody back to clean this shit up.”

Derrick was amazed at how nonchalant RJ was about killing someone he had put on the team over something so menial. He had seen his dangerous streak surface many times, but not so quickly over something so small on someone so close. Derrick turned from the dead man to RJ. “Who the hell was that?”

“Trina's cousin,” RJ said, walking up the stairs as if the man had no connection to him at all.

Unfuckin' believable,
Derrick thought.
Trina's cousin.
At this point, Derrick was certain that Naria hadn't revealed their conversation to RJ, because he would be the dead person on the floor. But still, Derrick was distraught by how easily he could be dead if RJ found out. He feared this but that was before he had become comfortable around RJ and before he had seen RJ kill so effortlessly.

*****

Less than a week had passed since Derrick confessed to Naria and RJ had murdered Trina's cousin. During that time, Derrick and RJ had been growing distant because of their differing opinions on their need to leave behind the streets. And with each day that passed, Derrick was becoming more nervous that Naria would reveal his identity to RJ. After several failed attempts to call her, she agreed to meet with him at her home.