Memoirs of an Accidental Hustler

by J. M. Benjamin

  “Yo, dancing with these shorties got my joint ready to explode,” Black said.

  “Word!” Shareef said. “My thang harder than a roll of quarters right now, kid.”

  We all started cracking up.

  “Ay yo, Mil, you see that redbone shorty over there wit’ homegirl I was just dancing with?” Shareef asked.

  “What about her?”

  “She asked me what was up with you and did I think you’d dance with her even though you got that cast on.”

  By now, I was feeling the alcohol in the punch that was in the cup Trevor had given me. I did want to dance, plus she was cute, so I told Shareef to tell her to meet me on the dance floor while I took off my coat.

  As soon as I rolled up on shorty my cut came on: “Eric B. Is President” by Eric B. & Rakim. I broke right into the Whop with her. By the way she was dancing I knew she knew what she was doing. She turned around and put her butt on me while gently grabbing both of my hands and placing them on each side of her hips. She was working me, but I really couldn’t rock the way I wanted because of the cast and so many people crowding the floor; so instead I just followed the motion of her hips and never lost a beat. We danced for two more songs and then I was ready to chill.

  “Yo, that’s it for me,” I told her in her ear.

  “Okay,” she said. “But do you even know my name?” she asked me.

  “Nah,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.

  “It’s Trina.”

  “Nice dancing wit’ you. My name is Kamil.”

  “I know your name already,” she yelled back to me. “Everybody knows your name.”

  “Nah.” I laughed. “You got me mixed up. I ain’t no baller or nothin’.”

  “You don’t have to be a baller for everybody to know you.” She laughed. “You crazy, Kamil.”

  I don’t know if it was the alcohol or what, but Trina was looking like the flyest shorty at the party, so I didn’t mind talking to her. She was around my height and had her hair cut in a style like Salt-N-Pepa. Her eyes were a light color and her complexion was more on the red side than yellow. Her face was perfectly round and her lips were full. Her body was developed in all the right places from her breasts down to her hips; and she smelled sweet. She looked familiar, but I just couldn’t place where I had seen her before. The liquor in my system had me a little off balance so I figured that’s why I couldn’t remember. We talked for a little bit longer and then I told her I was stepping off. She told me to come find her when the ball started to drop. I said I would and then I left.

  * * *

  “Ten, nine, eight, seven . . .”

  We were all counting down together as the ball started dropping in Times Square. It looked like there were a million people out there on the television screen and everyone looked to be enjoying themselves. I heard so many stories about how dangerous it was being out there, from being robbed to getting stabbed, but to me it looked fun. Speaking of a million people, it seemed like there were that many heads up in Trevor’s crib. Guys and shorties were wall to wall, paired up like couples. I had found Trina, who was now sitting on my lap when the ball dropped. I didn’t tell her to, though; she just took it upon herself to think that it was okay, and I didn’t object.

  “Six, five, four,” we all continued the countdown. “Three, two, one. Happy New Year!” everyone shouted in unison. Everyone started blowing their horns, hugging, and giving those closest to them kisses. Out of nowhere, Trina turned around and kissed me and I kissed her back. She tried to slip her tongue into my mouth, but I stopped her. She smiled.

  “Happy New Year, Kamil,” she said. “I hope that it’ll be good for the both of us.”

  “Yeah, me too,” was all I could think to say. But after I kissed her, for some reason I felt guilty, and I knew why. It should’ve been Lisa I was kissing, but she couldn’t make it just like I knew she wouldn’t be able to; but, at that moment, I wished she were there. I asked Trina to lift up and I excused myself.

  It was 12:03 a.m., January 1, 1987.

  “Hello?” she answered. I could tell she was half asleep.

  “Happy New Year, Ms. Matthews,” I said to her.

  “Hey! Happy New Year to you too.” She became alive.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Lying in bed. I just got finished watching the ball drop and I was thinking about you.”

  “What do you have on?” I asked, but didn’t know why.

  “What?”

  “Nah, I’m just messin’ wit’ you,” I said, changing up.

  “I’m serious, I was just thinking about you,” she repeated.

  “Yeah, right, you wasn’t thinking about me.”

  “Yes, I was, for real.”

  “I believe you. I was thinking about you too; that’s why I called.”

  “Thank you, you made my New Year complete.”

  “You too. All right, I’m gonna go ahead and let you go so you can get some rest. I’ll see you in school,” I said, about to hang up until she stopped me.

  “Kamil? Before you hang up, since we didn’t actually ring in the New Year together, do you think I could get a kiss over the phone?” she asked.

  I was surprised that she had asked me that. “Happy New Year, Lisa,” I said again after sending her a kiss through the phone.

  “Muah! Happy New Year, Kamil,” she returned.

  The party turned out almost better than I thought. I was glad to find out that Trina wasn’t from the projects. She wasn’t even from Jersey. She was from New York like me but from the Bronx.

  The reason she looked so familiar was that she was the little sister of Reecie, the girl Mu introduced us to the day we needed money to cop the Hawaiian suits. They looked almost like twins, only Reecie was a little taller and more developed, but you could tell that they were sisters because they both had hazel eyes and full lips.

  Me and Trina talked for a while, while a lot of the other kids who were paired up were getting their groove on. I thought Trina wanted me to make a move, but I didn’t press it because I didn’t want her to think that was the only reason I was talking to her. Besides, I was too inexperienced to try to make any type of move. At the end of the day, we slept together, but we didn’t do anything.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “‘Happy birthday to you/Happy birthday to you!’” I woke up hearing my mom, grandmother, and sisters singing to me.

  It was March 3, Sunday morning, and I was officially a teenager. Kamal’s birthday was in January and they did the same thing to him, so I knew they’d be coming in the room again on mine.

  “Boy, you think you old enough to lay up in here all day now?” my mom said jokingly.

  “I know he better get his butt out that bed so I can give him a birthday hug,” my grandmother said as she was pulling the covers off me.

  “Grandma, go ahead!” I said.

  “Chile, please! You ain’t got nothing I ain’t seen before. I know what your narrow behind and your little wee-wee look like. I put Pampers on you and bathed your yellow tail,” she shouted, and everybody in the room fell to pieces. Even Kamal woke up out of his sleep, laughing. I couldn’t help but join my family in laughter.

  This was the first time since Christmas we had all sat down and eaten breakfast together. Lisa had called and wished me a happy birthday, like I knew she would, but what surprised me was when I heard her mother in the background telling her to say she wished me one too. For some reason, that really meant a lot to me. I told Lisa that I would see her later and would call before I came.

  For my birthday, my mother gave me a card with fifty dollars in it, which I expected, because that’s what she had given Kamal for his. My grandmother had knitted me a sweater and my sisters gave me hugs and kisses. Overall, I received all a thirteen-year-old could ask for from his family.

  * * *

  Mal and I dressed and made our way over the tracks.

  “Yo! Happy birthday, kid,” Ant hollered as Mal and I rolled up on him
and Trevor at the court.

  “Yeah, kid, happy born day, baby,” Trevor followed up with.

  Nobody was really out there except for kids our age shooting ball and a couple of crackheads and dopefiends looking to see if somebody was out hustling. Ant and Trevor had been out there smoking and drinking when we rolled up. Ever since Terrance was killed, Ant had been drinking and drugging heavy with Trevor.

  “I saved this for you, kid,” Trevor told me as he pulled out a bottle of blackberry brandy. “I’ve been saving this for a special occasion. You only turn a teenager once in your life, and this the shit that will put hair on your chest, my nigga!”

  I took the bottle of brandy and hit it twice on the bottom with the palm of my cast like I had seen Trevor and them do all the time with their hands before they always cracked open a new bottle of liquor. I never knew what it meant, though, and I never asked. The taste of alcohol was sweet but burned my throat as I took a swig. I couldn’t resist the cough. “This stuff is strong!”

  “Yeah! That’s what I’m talking about, kid,” Trevor shouted. “You a man now, nigga.” We all took turns drinking until it was all gone. It was kind of cold out but the brandy had me feeling warm inside. I had always heard the older heads talking about how blackberry brandy took the chill off when the hawk was out and they were out there getting that money in the freezing cold and snow. I thought they used to say it just to say it, but now I had found out firsthand that it was true. I was beginning to get so warm that I was ready to take off my jacket.

  Ant and Trevor started smoking a joint. That’s when I knew it was time to go, because no matter how many times Mal and I said no, they would always try to talk us into taking a pull; but we never did.

  “Yo, good looking out on the drink,” I told Trevor and Ant with a slight slur. The brandy had begun to take its effect on me. Ant and Trevor both let out knowing laughs as we all gave one another a pound, and then Mal and I stepped off.

  “Bro, you a’ight?” Mal asked, seeing that I was staggering.

  “Yeah, I’m cool,” I replied, knowing I really wasn’t.

  “Man, you know we can’t go in the house with you like that. You gonna get us in trouble,” Mal protested. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you take that last drink.”

  “Bro, I’m good.” I didn’t mean to, but I could feel myself smiling.

  Just then, I heard my name called. The sound of Mustafa’s voice was enough to quickly sober me up. He was coming out of Reecie’s building. He must’ve just gotten around there because I didn’t see any of his rides when I first came out, unless I just didn’t notice.

  “Happy born day, kid!” Mu said, slapping my cast five and then giving me a hug. “You growing up, huh, baby boy? How old are you now?” he asked.

  “Thirteen,” I managed to say without slurring.

  “Damn! That’s how old I was when I got in the game,” Mu said as if he were looking back in time on his life. “Yo, I got something for you. I was just about to come looking for you after I left Reecie’s crib,” he told me. “And speakin’ of Reecie, what’s up with you and her li’l sister?”

  He caught me off guard. “What do you mean?”

  “What I mean is, every time I’m over there Trina’s either askin’ me questions about you or saying ya name a hundred times like you hit that or something.”

  “Nah, Mu, it ain’t even like that. We just cool. I met her at Trevor’s New Year’s party and we just kicked it.”

  “Well, it seems like she wants to do more than just kick it,” he said, smiling. “You know that she’s three years older than you, right?”

  “Yeah, I know, she told me.”

  “Oh! You into older women, huh? Ain’t nothing wrong with that, kid, ’cause I am too. Although I like a li’l something young and tender up under me every now and again,” he added with laughter. “Anyway, after I give you this you gonna have more shorties sweatin’ you than you can handle.” He pulled out one of the new link chains with a medallion on it that I had seen some of the older hustlers rocking.

  “Oh, junk, Mu! Good looking out,” I shouted, putting the chain over my head. To me, it was a perfect fit, even though I knew it hung kind of long. The link lay flat around my neck while the medallion lay flat on where I should have had a chest. “Yo, Mal, check me out.”

  After I said it, I could see the disappointment in my brother’s face. Mu must’ve seen it too because he pulled out another one identical to mine and said, “I know you ain’t think I was gonna leave you out like that. I know how you two roll. You like Siamese twins around this muthafucka, so I ain’t never gonna give to one without giving to the other. And I knew your birthday was in January, but I wanted to wait until both of your birthdays passed before I gave you these.”

  “Mu, good lookin’, man!” Mal said to him. “You be lookin’ out like crazy for us and we appreciate that.”

  “Man, you li’l niggas is my family and if I have it and you need it then it’s there,” he said. “I gotta get up outta here but, before I go, you straight though, right? You don’t need nothin’?”

  “Nah, we straight. This enough right here,” I said, pointing to my new chain.

  “Well, here, take this anyway,” he said, handing us twenty dollars apiece. “You might want to get some pizza or something later. Y’all be good, and don’t let me catch your asses drinking.” He grinned before stepping off, letting us know he had smelled the brandy.

  All the kids our age were envious of my and Mal’s chains, and for the first time I was glad to know a drug dealer. None of our boys were jealous, though, because they knew they could rock them anytime they wanted. When Lisa saw it, she liked it, but she thought it was too big for me. She was smaller than me so when I put it around her neck it hung to her stomach.

  Lisa cooked me a birthday dinner, or at least tried to anyway, and then we watched a movie together on her VCR, Krush Groove to be exact, since she knew how much I enjoyed movies. I had gotten my cast off a few days prior so I was able to put my right arm around her as we watched the hip-hop–based movie.

  Despite her mother coming downstairs every ten minutes to check on us, I enjoyed myself over at Lisa’s. We had gotten so close that one would have considered us boyfriend and girlfriend even though we hadn’t officially said we were. Teenagehood started off pretty good and I had a great birthday.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Summer had rolled around again, and Mal and I had made it to another grade. Shareef and Black did too, but we didn’t know how much longer Black was going to last because he was still talking crazy and getting into unnecessary trouble in school.

  As the days went by, he began to show less interest in school and more interest in the streets. We were trying to talk to him, but he had too much of his pops in him. His dad was considered to be a hardcore and violent street dude, who was said to have been skilled in martial arts and was notoriously known for the strong-arm game. It was said that when Black’s dad came through an area you had to watch both his hands and feet with both eyes, because if he got behind you or too close to you it was a wrap. He was infamous for running up on hustlers and putting them in the sleeper chokehold or landing a punch or kick to the face that would send them to the canvas. Ant’s brother had told him that whenever Black’s dad left a scene it was guaranteed that somebody had been knocked out, and when they woke their pockets would be empty and their jaws or nose would be either broke or close to it.

  Black’s dad was killed by a young hustler who was tired of being repeatedly strong-armed and robbed by him. Lately Black had been getting into verbal confrontations with jokers from other areas and throwing his dad’s name around like a form of intimidation. Some of the altercations were with young hustlers. Luckily we were always there to calm him, but we knew we couldn’t be there twenty-four seven with him. I was afraid that Black’s mouth was going to cause the projects to get into something and I didn’t want to see a repeat of last summer’s tragedy when Mark was killed and Shawn
became paralyzed.

  Shawn still didn’t come out behind that day. ’86 was a wild year for the projects.

  Between guys getting smoked and going to jail, the faces were changing each month. There were only a handful of guys out there I knew. The rest of them were either guys Mu had brought around to hustle for him, or little project kids my age in the game. Like Mu said to me once, “The game doesn’t change; only the players of it do!”

  Lisa and I had been seeing a lot of each other over these past few months, but she still hadn’t come to the projects, which was cool, though, because it was dangerous around there and I would have hated for something to happen to her accidentally while she was down there visiting me. I would never be able to forgive myself.

  She spoke to my family on the phone all the time. I could tell they liked her just by the way they were talking to her. When you lived where we did, it was not that easy to get someone to come see you, especially if it was a known area for violence and drugs like my neighborhood. It seemed like every day someone was getting robbed, jumped on, or shot and you couldn’t walk two feet without seeing drug paraphernalia scattered.

  “Mal, you getting up or what?” I called over to my brother. “Yo, downtown opens at ten o’ clock and we told Ant and them we were going with them today to get some new kicks.”

  “Yeah, I’m getting up. What time is it?”

  “Almost nine thirty.”

  “All right, hold up. All I got to do is wash up and brush my teeth ’cause I took a shower last night. Gimme about ten to fifteen minutes.” For him, that meant twenty to twenty-five minutes.

  On our way to Ant’s crib, I spotted Shareef but, from where he was positioned, he couldn’t see me. He was up by the handball court with some other kid I didn’t know. I was about to yell out to him until I saw him run up on a car that had stopped in the middle of the street. I didn’t recognize the car from where I stood, but I was almost sure that it didn’t belong to anyone around the projects. What I saw next only confirmed what I suspected. Shareef looked both ways before sticking his hand inside the vehicle on the passenger’s side. As the car sped off, I saw Shareef shoving money in his pants pocket; and then he made his way back over to where the other kid stood posted up. When the green rusted Monte Carlo made its way down to where Mal and I were, the driver and I made eye contact. I noticed that it was some white man with brown bushy hair driving.