by T. Styles
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A Hustler’s Son
By
T. Styles
(Originally Released in 2006)
Copyright © 2016 by The Cartel Publications. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission
from the author, except by reviewer who may quote passages
to be printed in a newspaper or magazine.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE:
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses,
Organizations, places, events and incidents are the product of the
Author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance of
Actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2005910628
ISBN 10: 0996209972
ISBN 13: 9780996209977
Cover Design: Bookslutgirl.com
www.thecartelpublications.com
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Printed in the United States of America
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CHAPTER ONE
SEPTEMBER 16TH
FRIDAY, 3:00AM
JANET
My hand was moving all over my body, over my breasts, along my thighs and between my legs. While it felt good, I wasn’t doing it to reach an orgasm; I was doing it to put myself to sleep. I just got off work and was tired. All I wanted to do was close my eyes. Still, I appreciated the feel of my body even if nobody else did. I kept my body soft and I was complimented all the time on my caramel colored skin and the short curly hairstyle I sported. With one hand on my breasts and the other between my legs, I was five seconds from reaching an orgasm. Ummm. Ummm and then I heard it.
I sat up straight in bed to be sure I heard knocking at my front door.
Knock Knock Knock!
Who the fuck was that? I knew my son was home because I told him to get off the phone when I got in earlier. I grabbed my robe and walked toward the door.
Knock Knock Knock!
I can’t stand when a mothafucka knocks on your door at 3 o’clock in the morning. It usually meant somebody died or somebody wanted something. Either way, I didn’t want to be bothered.
I grabbed the bat I kept next to my leather sofa and walked toward the door. I’m not sure if I would be able to defend myself with it, if there was actually a barrel to my face but I was certainly willing to try.
“Who is it?!”
“It’s me! Let me in so I can talk to you. This shit has gone on too long.”
“No! I’m not dealing with this shit no more! I’m serious, Delonte. Now get the fuck away from my door!”
“Baby, please don’t do this shit to me! It’s not what you think it is!”
“I know you better get from in front of my fucking door, before my neighbors start complaining and shit!”
“I got something for you Janet. Please let me in so I can give it to you and then I’ll leave. I promise.”
Everything in me wanted to have enough strength to walk back to my room, but I loved him. As sorry as he was, I loved everything about him. I knew the moment I opened the door he’d be trying to fuck me. It made me mad as hell that I still wanted him. It wasn’t all about sex because I could satisfy myself if I wanted to.
What I cared about was having a man lie next to me every night and his ass still be there in the morning. Sometimes I ain’t even feel like a woman unless a man was in my bed. To me there was nothing more comforting than a man holding me and telling me he loved me, even if he didn’t. I needed and wanted that type of security in my life and only a man could give it to me. Especially considering the life I led and the nightmares that still haunted me.
That’s how I got tied up with Lorenzo Davis in high school. He was my son’s father and was never no good. He wouldn’t even deal with me unless I arranged for him to sleep with my best friend Shelly Hall, and me, at the same time. And I did. Anything for Lorenzo was all I could think of, and believe me, making that arrangement was easy because Shelly looked at him like he was hers from the start. She didn’t want to share him, she wanted to own him.
She loved fast cars and fast money. Lorenzo had both and reveled in showing them off. He used to run with Rayful Edmond in 1988 so back then, money wasn’t a problem. He had enough to take care of me and her and whoever else came along. Although he’s not dealing coke anymore due to being on lockdown for 10 years but he still had a hustle that kept him paid.
I hated the day I ever invited Shelly into our fucking bed, literally. I would have never guessed she’d turn on me like that. She was supposed to want him only when I wanted her to. She was supposed to be a toy we could use and turn off when the game was over, but she caught feelings. Whenever I had my back turned, Shelly was smiling in his face and finding some way to touch him. She eventually became number one, and I became number two.
I don’t know why I stayed with Lorenzo, except I wanted somebody to love me and call me theirs and he did. He sa
id he would protect me, if I was willing to do anything for him, and I did it all. From whooping his sister’s ass for stealing his stash one day when he was locked up overnight, to keeping an eye on his mother while he was doing the stretch, I proved over and over that I was down for him.
To top it all off, there aren’t many women who can say they got pregnant at the same time, in the same bed and with the same man as their best friend, but I can. To this day, it hurts looking at Shelly’s son, Lorenzo Jr., knowing that he’s Kelsi’s brother, and remembering how they were conceived. I did everything for that nigga including sharing my bed and my body with another woman. When he got out of jail, he left me, left us, and Kelsi was only 5 years old.
He comes by and takes care of both of our kids. Shelly and I have remained cordial over the years but I hold a lot of resentment because I feel like she should have refused Lorenzo’s advancements. Even though we were both 15 years old and didn’t know any better, she was my best friend and knew I loved him. Whenever we talk about it now, although few and far between, she says she did it for me. “I did it cuz you asked me to Janet, and in the process, I fell in love.” I know that’s not true because she was fucking him plenty of times I ain’t ask the bitch to do shit.
I think what makes me pissed is that to this day; he sleeps with her when he’s not with his wife. I don’t know if I’m angry about her still being available to him, or him being available to her, but maybe sometimes second best is better than nothing at all.
“Baby, please open this door. We gotta talk. You got me out here looking like half a faggot!”
Before I could say yes, he was banging on the door again. He was having a fit because I was always accessible to him and because of it; he wanted shit when he wanted it. I don’t know if I spoiled him or if his mama did. Shit, maybe it was both of us, but I was desperately trying not to give in so easy this time.
Delonte went overboard, way overboard. I found out that the one person I trusted him around, his cousin Kenosha, he was probably fucking.
“Delonte, get the fuck from in front of my door, now! It’s over!” I yelled. My voice was saying different things than what my heart felt. I wanted him to fight for me and to fight for our relationship. If he truly loved me, he wouldn’t leave my door despite what I’m yelling at him.
“Naw it ain’t over ‘til the fuck I say it’s over! Now open this fucking door Janet!! This is my apartment too! I still got my shit in there!”
“I packed up all your shit and took it to your mama’s house, so go see her! This fucking apartment is in my name!”
Although I wanted to be with him, he was breaking me down. Every other month I had to deal with a new girl in our lives. I couldn’t trust him for shit I desperately tried to each time I took him back. Being alone is something I can’t stand doing. I didn’t want to be alone with myself or alone with my past. When my mama died five years ago, I lost the last person who truly cared about me. I had nothing and nobody except Kelsi back then and he was only 10 years old.
On the day of my mother’s funeral I met Delonte. I thought he was given to me from God. He knew I was alone, because I prayed to Him every night about it. I thought he was sent to help me get over all the things that I’d lost. He said all the right things at all the right times. “Janet you don’t ever have to worry about anything. You and Kelsi will be taken care of baby. Trust me.” And I did. I believed in everything he said, even though my past reminded me that people aren’t always what they seem.
“Ma, who at the door?”
When I turned around I saw my 15-year-old son Kelsi towering over me. I noticed a lot about him over the past few years besides his physical changes. One of the main things I noticed was that the little boy I was raising was slowly changing into a man. He was still respectful, but his line of questioning had drastically changed. He went from “Can I go outside and play?” to “Who’s dude ma?” and “What he want with you?”
“K-man, get back to bed, it’s a school night,” I said as I turned around to face him.
“I can’t go back to sleep with all that banging and yelling going on. Who is that at the door, ma?” He asked looking into my eyes.
“It’s Delonte, now take your ass to back to bed. I’m not playing,” I responded trying to regain authority. After all, I was the parent, not him. Why was he giving me the third degree?
Kelsi looked at me and shook his head. I could tell he didn’t appreciate Delonte disrespecting what he playfully referred to as his house. My baby had definitely evolved and it was fucking me up a little. He was no longer fearful of me but he never got out of line. I was okay with that because I wasn’t raising no punk. I was trying to raise a man and as long as he stayed in his place, we weren’t going to have any problems.
“Aight, ma. Let me know if you need me,” he said as he kissed me on my cheek.
“I will baby.”
He walked back toward his bedroom dragging his feet. There he was 15 years old and already over six feet tall. He had what I referred to as boy muscles. I said that because most boys were naturally strong and if they did their bodies right, their muscles would show. Now, every muscle in Kelsi’s body was already defined, just like his father.
He had a six-pack, pecs, biceps and all that other shit too. I stayed chasing these fast ass little girls away from my house, but as you know, there’s always one who gets through. Kelsi looked more like a man in his white wifebeater and gray cotton boxers, than a child. He even had a little mustache and chin hair that he kept neatly trimmed along with his low haircut that was always shaped up.
When he was out of sight, I directed my attention back to the door. I stood on my tippy toes and looked out the peephole. He was still there, waiting. I also noticed that he had quieted down a little and stopped banging on the door. I knew it was because he heard Kelsi ask me who it was.
Delonte also realized K-man was growing and wasn’t a kid anymore because we had several conversations about him in the past. I didn’t want to say anything, but I knew Delonte feared him a little. After all, some of the shit he did to me was just plain wrong and if K-man were a little bit older, he would have whooped his ass a long time ago.
“Baby, I know you there. Open the door … pleeease.” Delonte begged in a voice loud enough for me to hear.
I unlocked the door, placed the bat next to the couch and sat down. I grabbed the remote control and thumbed through the channels. A few seconds later, Delonte slid in wearing a pair of Sean John jeans and an over sized plain white t-shirt. As usual, he had on a fresh pair of butters and a black cap pulled down partially covering his eyes.
“What you watching, baby?” He asked as he stood next to the couch. He made me mad trying to play me like everything was okay. It won’t be that easy nigga.
“Look, this TV’s watching me, now what the fuck you want?!”
“You know what the fuck I want. I want to come home, baby,” he whispered as loud as he could without K-man hearing him. “And I know you want me to.”
“Do you really think I’ll take you back after catching you fucking your cousin? That is so fucking nasty anyway. I should slap the fuck out of you right now, Delonte!”
“Go ahead, baby slap me if that makes you feel better but what if you’re wrong?”
There he goes with that shit again. Whenever I caught Delonte in a lie or something he shouldn’t be doing, he’d ask me, “But what if you’re wrong?” It was the stupidest question I’ve ever heard and the only thing it did was prove his guilt. Anyway, I saw him engaged in a full-fledged kiss with his cousin right in front of his aunt’s house on Clay Street in Northeast, D.C. Not only did they live in the same neighborhood, they lived on the same street, which made matters worse. He spent a lot of time with Kenosha when he wasn’t with me. For him to be a 32-year-old man, I thought that was a little weird but she played me close by kissing my ass whenever he was around.
“Delonte, I caught you in her car kissing her. Don’t fucking lie to me!”
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The truth was I didn’t care what he said because I saw it with my own eyes. It was no longer a question whether or not he was telling the truth; everything now depended on how good the lie he told was.
I’ve played this game with Delonte for a while now. I was becoming strong enough to handle the lies but too weak to live without him. I was no longer afraid of catching him in a lie and not wanting him. I was afraid of catching him in a lie and him not wanting me.
“Hear me out Janet. Kenosha had broken up with that punk ass nigga she was fucking with over there on Clay. She was drinking and shit, I was walking out of my mama’s house to go check on my aunt, when I saw her in the car crying. You know she my favorite cousin, so you know me, I jumped in the car ready to kill somebody for laying their hands on her. She started crying and told me what happened. I was only hugging her because she was upset. She wrapped her arms around me and –”
“You decided to fuck her?!” I yelled just a little bit louder than I should have.
“No, baby I ain’t fuck her,” he said calmly. He sat down on the couch beside me, taking off his cap and smoothing his hair with his hand.
I was frustrating him and I was pleased. If you gonna lie, at least make it a good ass lie, damn! I already hated how the entire family lived on the same block, so now I would have to worry about what he was really doing when he went home and whose home he was really at.
“Baby, please, just hear me out. I know how it looked and all, but tell me what the fuck I look like fucking my baby cousin? She a kid man!!”
“First off you only 32 and she’s 25, the age difference is not that significant nigga so don’t even try it. You say all the time how them Clay Street niggas stay sweating Kenosha, so I know you think she’s attractive, and now you saying 25 years old is too young for you to fuck? Don’t forget you fucked one younger than that last year Delonte. She was only 21.”
