Even Sinners Still Have Souls

by Joy, E. n.

  “Yeah.”

  “I know a bunch of people who would like these.”

  “Fo’ real?” Kemo instantly began to see dollar signs. “Let them know, and I’ll hook you up with a little bit of money for the referrals.”

  “Do you have another one of these books that I could take with me to show them?” asked the homeless man.

  “Naw, but I will tomorrow. Just come back early in the morning and I’ll give you one.”

  “Okay,” the man replied after getting his food and then leaving.

  Kemo stayed there at the truck selling until they closed at nine o’clock. He had stayed there selling from nine in the morning until nine at night. It was the weekend so he didn’t have to worry about working the next day. He hoped it was worth it once he counted the money back home. When he did make it back to his apartment, he began counting the money. Kemo never liked counting his money in public for fear that someone would see and then rob him. He also believed it was bad luck for a person to count their chips while still at the table; like in poker.

  Kemo had made close to five hundred dollars. He couldn’t believe it. The movie thing was more profitable than the drug scam because the material he needed to make the money cost more, not to mention it involved more work considering that he still had to get rid of the dope once he bought it. He also knew that if he ever got pulled over by the police while he had all that dope in his car, he would go to prison for a very long time.

  The only real threat with the DVD’s was that the police could confiscate his merchandise if they found it. But that’s it. Since the crime fell under federal law, state law couldn’t touch it, so most cops wouldn’t even bother with an arrest. He learned that in the Mafia book he’d read in jail. But he still didn’t just want to have his stuff all out there like some of the other dudes he’d seen hustling the DVDs.

  Kemo felt as if he had struck gold. He’d finally found the real money maker in it all. The blank discs Kemo bought came in packs of a hundred, which meant that if he sold each one for ten dollars, it would total one thousand dollars per pack. And since each pack only cost thirty dollars, including the sleeves, he knew that it was going to be a very profitable business. Much more profitable than the greedy and much riskier business of selling dope.

  The next day, Kemo returned to his selling spot with a few more catalog books. It took several hours of work to record what he had sold the previous day and to make the books, but felt he had gotten enough rest to do it all over again. Jasmine was beginning to get angry and impatient because Kemo couldn’t spend as much time with his family if he was out grinding all the time. But Kemo kept telling her that it was only temporary.

  After Kemo set up shop, the homeless man arrived soon after on a bike. Kemo handed him one of the books. He took it and quickly pedaled away promising he’d do his best to get Kemo some business. An hour and a half later, he came back with a list of orders for Kemo to fill.

  “Good looking out,” Kemo told the man after scanning the list. “Now where do I need to deliver the merchandise?” asked Kemo. Kemo didn’t want the homeless man to stink up his car, so he thought it was best if he drove there alone.

  The homeless man gave him the address and Kemo drove to it. It turned out to be a dope spot. Kemo let the dope dealers know that the homeless man was working for him and that he had the DVD’s they wanted. Kemo was very paranoid. He thought it was very much possible that the homeless man might be setting him up to get robbed. He made sure to lock up all his doors, keep the engine running and to leave the gear in drive so he could smash out if he needed to. He only rolled down his window and handed them the merchandise through it as well.

  They ended up spending one hundred dollars all together. Kemo drove back to the truck and gave the homeless man twenty-five percent of his earning. The homeless man was very grateful and kept saying thank you to Kemo.

  While Kemo continued to sell at the truck, the homeless man would come up with a fresh batch of new customers every now and then. Kemo then began giving out his phone number to people, especially to his porno customers, which were many. His house phone then began ringing all day and all night from people asking for deliveries as far as fifty miles away. It got to be so annoying that Kemo was forced to buy a cell phone. Not many people had cell phones yet because of their high cost, but Kemo felt he could afford to dip in his savings and purchase one.

  His business then took another turn when he met a girl at his selling spot who offered him an unexpected business proposition. “Hey, you’re the guy who sells twelve hour pornos,” she asked Kemo.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “My customers love pornos. I need everything you got,” said the girl as she pulled out some cash.

  Kemo gave her all his selections and then asked her out of curiosity, “What kind of business you in?”

  “I’m what one might call a lady of the night, baby,” she replied in a whisper. “Here’s my number. Call if you ever wanna party or if you know somebody that does.”

  “I do know people. A lot of my porno customers ask me if I know any girls they could party with.”

  “Yeah, let them know about me.”

  “What do I get out of it if I bring you a lot of customers?”

  “I’ll break you off some money, don’t trip.”

  “Alright, I’ll call you,” said Kemo.

  Kemo then began telling his porno customers about the call girl, but they all wanted to see a picture. So he called her and told her that he needed a picture of her to show the customers. She told him to meet her at a hotel where she was going to be entertaining a trick later that night. She also told him to bring a camcorder. When he got there, he stepped inside the room with a camcorder that Kris had let him borrow. Inside were four beautiful young ladies all dressed in revealing clothing.

  “Did you bring the camcorder?” said the girl he met at the lunch truck.

  “Yeah, Kemo replied.

  “Okay. We’re gonna give you a show and you’re gonna record it so you can add it to the pornos you already have.

  “What kind of show? You mean like a strip tease?” Kemo thought there was no way these chicks could be about to allow him to shoot them doing a porno for free. But then she broke it down for him.

  “Let your porno customers know that they could hook up with one of us if they want. If they do, then we’ll give you a piece of the action. Let’s just say that this is kind of like a promotional-marketing thing.” She winked then said, “Trust me. We are about to get paid because we are the best at what we do. After your customers see this video, they’ll see. Start recording and you’ll see too.”

  Kemo didn’t have to be told twice. He lifted the camcorder and began recording. Two of the girls began kissing and doing sexual things to each other. The other two girls eventually joined in. Moments later, Kemo wondered if he was dreaming. He couldn’t believe it. After a while of recording, one of the girls then said, “You could join us if you want.”

  “Thanks, but I’m good. Lets just keep it business,” said Kemo. He didn’t want to cheat on Jasmine, especially with some prostitutes who might give him something.

  Later that night though, he made love to Jasmine like never before. He then got down to the business of adding the video he’d made with the girls on to the pornos. It worked like a charm and the DVDs sold like crazy. He began getting several phone calls in regards to the girls. Kemo then added pimping to his criminal resume when he made a hundred dollars off his first girl.

  It was a pretty simple thing to do. He would receive a phone call from a trick, quote a price, and either drop off a girl wherever he was at, or lead him to whichever hotel she was in. Kemo would then collect the money, take his percentage and give her the rest.

  Kemo was now juggling his job on weekdays, the DVD thing on weekends, the homeless man who was selling with him, the call girls, the night time drug scam, and his somewhat neglected family. He would feel exhausted at times, but felt he couldn’t rest if m
oney was involved. The harder he worked, the faster he could get ahead of the game and move his family to a better neighborhood. His goal was to save up ten grand, and then move his family with no financial worries whatsoever. And the last time he counted, he was almost there.

  A few months later, everything changed when Jasmine decided to pay Kemo a surprise visit. One afternoon she had Veronica drive her over to the spot where he sold the DVDs.

  Kemo would constantly meet beautiful women of all ages where he sold. Some single, some married. Most had children, so they would always buy animated movies from Kemo. They got to know him pretty well after a few months of him selling there. Some would play flirt with him all the time, but he would never take their advances seriously. Whenever they left, some would say goodbye with a hug.

  It just so happens that when Jasmine showed up, she spotted Kemo hugging a very attractive young. As soon as Veronica parked her car, Jasmine jumped out and quickly walked up to Kemo. “Is this what you do all day here? Flirting with hoes?” screamed Jasmine.

  “What? No, she’s just a customer,” replied Kemo. The woman had already walked away, thank goodness. That meant at least he wouldn’t have to break up a fight, because Jasmine probably would have snatched her up.

  “Okay, you wanna play like that? We could play it like that,” said Jasmine as she began to walk away.

  “Stop trippin’. I’m gonna talk to you when I get home, okay?” hollered Kemo, but Jasmine simply kept walking.

  She got in Veronica’s car and left. When Kemo finally made it home that night, he had trouble getting in his apartment. There was something blocking the door. He pushed the door hard and it slowly came open. He walked in and he couldn’t take his eyes off of what was scattered on the floor of his living room. All his equipment had been smashed to pieces. The computer, the monitor, the printer, the scanner, and the burn tower were completely destroyed. The printing paper was thrown everywhere as well.

  Kemo then walked to his bedroom and saw Jasmine passed out on their bed with a small empty bottle of Rum next to her. He proceeded to shake her awake.

  “What did you do?” screamed out Kemo as he shook her by her shoulders.

  “I hate you! Just leave me alone,” said Jasmine after waking up and pushing his hands off her.

  “Why did you break up all my stuff?”

  “You wanna play games and cheat on me with some stupid whores? I could make your life a living hell, Kemo. You shouldn’t have messed with me like that. I never played on you. I was always loyal, but now you messed up big time.”

  “All this mess over a hug? Are you serious? I never cheated on you.”

  “I don’t believe you. Just go away. Get your stuff and leave.”

  “Alright, whatever; forget you too then,” said Kemo as he walked to the kitchen to grab some garbage bags. He then began tossing his belongings in the bags and taking them to his car. Lastly he grabbed the shoe box full of money and was about to leave when he asked, “Where’s Rain?”

  “At my mom’s, where else?”

  Kemo had gotten his answer and was then ready to leave once again. As he looked around to make sure he’d gotten everything he needed, he spotted Jasmine’s I.D lying on the floor. He picked it up and instantly noticed some white powdery substance along its edges. He licked a little off and quickly realized it was cocaine. “You still messin’ with dope, Jasmine? Is that why you acting all crazy?”

  “What?”

  Kemo quickly walked to the closet and pulled out a flashlight. He turned it on, walked up to Jasmine, grabbed her by the jaw and flashed the light in her eyes to see if they dilated. She put up a struggle and they were soon wrestling on the bed.

  “Get off me! Leave me alone. I’m not high anymore, dummy. I can do what I want. You ain’t my man anymore. You ignore me and your daughter just so you can be out there with some stupid broads. I hate you!” shouted Jasmine.

  Kemo stopped what he was doing. He stared at her for a few seconds and then he got off of her and just simply walked away towards the living room door with his shoe box. He gently closed the door and drove away.

  He stayed at a hotel that night and the next morning spent the entire day buying and recreating some of what Jasmine had destroyed. When he was ready to begin selling at his spot the following weekend, the guys at the lunch truck informed him that the police had been snooping around. Apparently someone had called the police and told them that Kemo was selling drugs and DVDs out of his car. Kemo wondered if it was Jasmine who had called the cops. Or maybe it was his competitors who were angry because he was out selling them with his unique product. Several people had stopped buying from them because they would get more from Kemo for less money. The other bootleggers would ask who was selling those combo disc and Kemo’s name would always come up.

  “For real?” Kemo said, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Yeah-I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to sell here for a little while.”

  “Man,” Kemo sighed. “Alright then. Thanks,” said Kemo as he walked back to his car. He now knew that the cops were aware of what he was doing and that he couldn’t sell anywhere since they more than likely knew what he drove. He definitely couldn’t go buy dope for the same reason. He also thought that maybe Jasmine was mad enough to tell the dope dealers that he was buying drugs from them with fake money. He didn’t want to chance it so he knew he just had to lay low period.

  He drove back to his hotel and lied down on the bed. He stared at the wall wondering about what he should do. Minutes later, he switched the T.V on and began flipping through channels. He then saw a commercial for Disneyland and thought about Los Angeles. Next he thought of Hollywood. Seconds later, he remembered the old screenplay he had written back when he was last in jail. I should go to L.A and try to do something with that. Even if nothing happens, I could use it as a mini vacation while things cool down here, thought Kemo.

  He thought about it for a while. He was strongly considering just picking up and going. He didn’t have anything to lose, except for his job of course. He could always simply call off a couple of days. He knew if he hung out in Hollywood too long he could get fired from his job. Minutes later, he decided to throw the dice and pack up his computer stuff and a duffle bag for the six hour trip to Hollywood

  When he arrived, he first got himself a room to leave all his stuff in and then he went and got something to eat. Afterwards, he bought a few beers and proceeded to think of a way to sell the screenplay. He knew he needed to stand out and grab as much attention as possible. Hours later, and several beers later, he decided to create a simple, short, three minute video for the screenplay with his computer and display it on a video projector right on Hollywood Boulevard. He wasn’t too worried about someone stealing his screenplay since he had copyrighted it shortly after being released from jail. He’d done the poor man copyright where he’d simply stuck a copy of the script in an envelope. He addressed it to himself and then mailed it certified. Once he received it, he never opened it. He’d only open it in front of a judge if he ever needed to prove the date of its creation.

  That should do it, thought a drunk Kemo. He fell asleep and the next morning began working on the video. When he was done, he decided to take a short stroll down Hollywood. While walking down the street, he spotted an advertisement for a highly anticipated movie. It was a film that a lot of his customers had been bugging him about for months. They were planning on releasing it in Los Angeles a few weeks before the rest of the world got to see it. He then got another crazy idea.

  I’m gonna record that flick myself, thought Kemo. Then I’ll take it back home and make a lot of money since I’ll be the only one with it. He wondered about how those guys who went into theaters and recorded movies actually did it. He heard that they just wore a large jacket and covered up the camcorder with it. Kemo wanted to try something new because he needed new money.

  The next day, he headed to the theater that was showing the film he wanted to record.
He bought a ticket and stepped inside the theater. He then walked over to the snack stand and bought a large bucket of popcorn and a soda. He took his soda and popcorn and walked to the restroom. He then stepped inside a stall, locked it, lifted his shirt up and pulled out his camcorder. He buried the camera inside of the popcorn, all the way to the bottom, and then cut a small hole on the bucket where the lens was located. He had to dump out half of the popcorn, but he didn’t care.

  It was a perfect fit. The lens was not detectable, especially in a dark theater. Kemo then stepped out of the stall with the camcorder now recording. He walked to the screening room, sat at the very top and placed the bucket of popcorn on the arm rest of the chair, with the lens pointing towards the screen of course.

  After the movie was over, he went back to his room, but before doing so, he decided to go and rent the projector he was going to need to display the video he had made. He also rented a mobile battery for him to plug the projector into. When everything was ready, later that night he drove to the nearest building on Hollywood Boulevard that had a wall where he could point the projector at. He parked the car, set everything up on the roof of his car, and began playing the video. Several pedestrians stood and watched the video.

  “Did you write that?” asked one lady.

  “Yeah,” replied Kemo.

  “Good luck with that. It looks very interesting.”

  “Thank you,” Kemo simply replied.

  Minutes later, a lady approached Kemo and asked if he had a copy of the script. “I’m just breaking into the movie business myself. I’d like to see exactly what you’ve got there.”

  Kemo felt any contact was a good contact. One never knew. He didn’t have a copy of the script printed out, but what he did give her was a disk that contained a copy of it as well as all his contact info. The lady thanked Kemo and walked away.

  Kemo made a couple more contacts as well. Hours later, the police showed up and told him that he needed permission-some type of permit or something-to do what he was doing. People watching the video began booing at the officers as Kemo began packing his stuff up and shutting things down.