by Tysha
Young-Minded Hustler
Tysha
www.urbanbooks.net
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgment
Prelude
Part 1 - Of This Urban Tale: Dynamics of a Relationship
Chapter 1 - Flashback, 1987—The Meeting
Chapter 2 - June, 1988—The Relationships
Chapter 3 - Reality, 1991—This Ain’t Love
Chapter 4 - Actually, I Love You More
Chapter 5 - Our Private Time
Chapter 6 - Summer Nights—The Beginning of the End
Chapter 7 - Never Can Say Good-bye
Chapter 8 - Can’t Stomp with the Real Hustlers
Part 2: Calm Before the Storm
Chapter 9 - High School Years—This Is Who I Am . . . Right?
Chapter 10 - An Honest Day’s Work
Chapter 11 - Mommy to the Rescue
Chapter 12 - You Were Raised Better
Chapter 13 - You Know I Still Love You Girl
Chapter 14 - What Family Love?
Chapter 15 - Is This Family Love?
Chapter 16 - Recoil
Chapter 17 - That’s How I Do
Chapter 18 - Mommy Taught Me How to Play the Game
Chapter 19 - Wrong Is Wrong
Chapter 20 - Nothing Less, Nothing More
Chapter 21 - I Gotta Get Mine, You Gotta Get Out of My Way!
Chapter 22 - I’ve Always Looked Up to You
Chapter 23 - Nigga, Please
Chapter 24 - Girlfriends
Chapter 25 - One Plus One Equals Two
Chapter 26 - Didn’t See It Coming
Chapter 27 - I Can’t Do This Thing Called Life Without You
Chapter 28 - Do unto Others Before They Do It to You
Chapter 29 - Letting Go
Chapter 30 - Look at This Bitch . . .
Chapter 31 - Strong as Steel
Chapter 32 - Can’t Make It Home
Chapter 33 - Worst Day Ever
Chapter 34 - Before I Let Go
Chapter 35 - My Brother’s Keeper
Chapter 36 - Meanwhile . . . Across Town
Chapter 37 - Nothing From Nothing Leaves Nothing
Chapter 38 - Oh No, He Didn’t
Copyright Page
Dedication
Young-Minded Hustler is dedicated to my first true love, my oldest son, Je’Vohn M. Hill. I’m so very proud of the man you have become. You are headed for celebrity, success, and greatness. There are no words strong enough to describe how I feel about you and your life. It is a pleasure to call you my friend, my son, my life. Thank you for the honor of writing this story. I only pray it reads exactly the way you imagined. The world is yours, forever.
Mommy loves you, dearly.
Acknowledgment
My youngest son, Je’Ronn M. Hill (a.k.a. Reese). God blessed me with two of the strongest, independent souls to call my own. You are not only my son, you are one of my best friends. Others may never understand our bond and it doesn’t matter because we do. I’ll always have your back as I know you will always have mine. My world is incomplete if my baby boy isn’t with me. We will be three against the world forever.
Mommy loves you, always.
Prelude
Boom!
Boom!
The pounding on the door sent a deafening vibration throughout the townhouse.
“What the fuck?” Melvin yelled. His frame lay resting on the living room couch when he heard the banging. Melvin jumped up and ran into the bathroom to flush the bags of rock cocaine in his pants pocket. He knew this day would eventually come and had prepared for it years before. Melvin never kept any significant amount of weight in the place where he and his family rested their heads. As Melvin flushed the toilet, he remembered his son, Prince, was in the house with him.
“Prince, run to your bedroom, little man, and stay there. Run, Prince, run!”
There was urgency in his voice that startled his son. Something in his father’s words told the ten-year-old that his life would never be the same.
Prince was in the kitchen, planted in front of the open refrigerator. He heard the banging followed by his father’s orders for him to run to his room. Unfortunately, his body would not move. Determined not to give the police reason to pump holes in him, he stood frozen. With the refrigerator door in one hand and a pitcher of red Kool-Aid in the other, Prince began shaking uncontrollably.
Boom!
“Police!”
“Freeze!”
“Daddy, where are you? Daddy!”
He knew his father would protect him. Prince’s heart pumped so hard he thought it would jump right out of his chest.
“Get down! Now,” Roberts demanded. This bust was going to catapult his career. Taking down the man known as Legend on the streets was certain to get the police Commisioner’s attention. A promotion was sure to be in the near future. “Get down and don’t move or I’ll put lead in you.”
“Daddy!”
“My son is here. Do not hurt him.” Melvin caught sight of the narc with a gun pointed to his head. For a split second, Melvin wanted to spit in the crooked cop’s face, but the thought of his son being hurt stopped him. “Prince, it will be okay, son, just stay where you are.”
“Shut the hell up,” commanded a young white officer.
The cop’s words pissed Melvin off and it took all he had inside not to haul off and backhand the rookie. “Go straight to hell, man, and y’all better not hurt my son,” Melvin responded.
“It doesn’t look like you’re in much of a position to be giving orders. This is the end of the road for you, McGee. Time’s up.” Roberts and a few uniformed officers laughed.
“Man, fuck you! What, you think you got something on me? You think I’m not smart enough to have a protective shield of my own? Man, suck my dick, Officer Bitch Ass,” barked Melvin.
Discovering that his new drug connection was an undercover cop infuriated Melvin. His instincts had told him from the beginning that the man was untrustworthy. The only reason Melvin dealt with Roberts was because a loyal worker had vouched for the narc. After a year of drug deals between the two men, Roberts had power over his target and all was well in his world. Melvin realized he had thrown his last brick at prison walls. Melvin knew the situation could only end in one of two ways: life in prison or six feet under. He was going to take the narc Roberts down with him one way or another.
“Does the department know about your little habit? They know what you snorting up your nose, Detective? Do the higher-ups at the precinct know about the dope you dealing? Do they know about your five hundred-thousand dollar house out in the suburbs?”
As Melvin put his business out on Front Street for his peers to hear, Roberts made a split-second decision that would change his life forever.
“Shut the fuck up, I said,” Roberts barked through clenched teeth. He punched Melvin in his stomach. “Don’t make me say it again!”
Melvin doubled over in pain as he spat more obscenities at the men invading his family home.
Within minutes, the apartment was flooded with officers yelling commands and turning over furniture. Tears began to stream down Prince’s pecan-shaded cheeks. As he stood trembling, a SWAT officer grabbed the young boy by his left arm, snatching him away from the open refrigerator. Prince immediately dropped the pitcher of Kool-Aid he was holding and screamed out in pain. His shoulder popped out of its socket and the pain was unbearable.
Despite multiple guns being pointed at him, Melvin rushed to protect his son.
“Leave my son alone. Let him go!”
Melvin ran toward the officer hol
ding on to his eldest son.
“Freeze,” various voices yelled.
Melvin ignored the command. His son needed him.
Blast!
The shot came out of nowhere. Melvin saw the flame before he felt the pain sear through his chest. The loud thud caused everyone to pause and take notice of the man sprawled out on the tiled floor.
“Daddy! No, no, no, Daddy, get up! Please, Daddy, please get up!” Prince broke free from the rookie’s hold. The officer was green and just as shocked as some of the others in the room, so he offered no resistance when the young boy pulled away from his grip. He looked on as Prince rushed to his father’s side and kneeled over his father’s still body.
Melvin lay whispering and moaning as the sounds of men running in different directions became fainter with each passing second. Melvin struggled against the urge to give up his time here on this earth. Prince’s cries made him fight for each breath.
“Daddy, be strong. Be strong like you always tell me to be,” Prince begged.
One tear escaped Melvin’s eye. Melvin struggled to whisper his last words to Prince as he continued to fight, knowing he would die. “I love you, Prince, and I’ll always be with you, son.”
The last thing Melvin heard was his son crying for him not to go. Police officers stood frozen at the sight before them. Not one of the spectators attempted to save the life of their now victim. Rigor mortis would soon find the body of a man deemed a menace to society by law enforcement but stood larger than life to his family.
Still in physical pain from his dislocated shoulder, Prince fell on top of his father’s body as screams from deep inside escaped his heart. Prince looked up at the officer who fired the fatal shot and asked, “Why y’all have to take my daddy from me like that? He didn’t do anything for you to shoot him,” Prince cried. “I swear that I’m going to get you back for this, one day.”
His experience on the streets told Roberts that the grieving ten-year-old boy meant what he’d just said. Though he didn’t show it, Roberts took heed to the threat.
“Yeah, boy, whatever. We’ll be arresting you soon enough. I’m sure you’ll follow in Legend’s path one day.” Roberts laughed.
“I’m going to get you for this,” Prince promised through clenched teeth and a tear-stained face. “You remember me, because I’m going to be coming for you one day.”
Part 1
Of This Urban Tale: Dynamics of a Relationship
Chapter 1
Flashback, 1987—The Meeting
Cherise Rihanna Peters knew she was a dime piece, with a golden complexion, light brown eyes, and shoulder-length hair. If it weren’t for her short stature she could have been a model. Her petite frame and small voice were in vast contrast to her will and presence. She was conniving and hard-core to the bone. When Cherise put her mind to something, she went after it full force, no matter what the cost to others.
Shy stood five inches taller than her best friend. Her honey-bronze skin and hazel eyes gave her an exotic look. With her hair pulled back into a ponytail and her lips glossed with a shimmer of glitter, Shy was indeed turning heads as she walked next to Cherise. Cherise and Shy were both blessed with firm, perky C cups, flat stomachs, tiny waists, and perfect-sized hips and behinds.
The best friends were dressed alike in white biker shorts with form-fitting cropped tops that read: I LOVE MY BOYFRIEND. Despite the declaration, neither girl had a special friend. Boyfriends meant drama, something they tried to steer clear of.
“Where did he go that fast?” asked Cherise. She tried to search the crowds for B-Boy without looking obvious. Word had gotten back to her that a baller from the north side wanted to get to know her. He was everything Cherise liked in a boy: tall, fine, confident, and interested in her. Cherise had played hard to get for two weeks and was finally ready to put her mark on B-Boy, literally.
“There he go right there.” Shy pointed him out.
“Don’t point. Let’s walk over that way. It’s time for me to get his pager number and see what’s up with that fine specimen of a man,” Cherise smiled.
“You mean a fine specimen of a boy, right?” Shy laughed.
The two walked slowly toward the group of boys as if they owned the sidewalk. Cherise smiled when she made eye contact with her target and instantly picked up her pace.
“Do fries come with those shakes?” B-Boy asked.
“They just might if you can answer one thing for me,” Cherise replied.
“Oh yeah? What you want to know, baby?”
“Nigga, what is your name?”
“Come on, let’s take a ride and I’ll tell you whatever it is you want to know,” B-Boy invited.
Cherise looked at Shy with pleading eyes. There was no way she was going to leave her best friend standing alone in the projects. Shy could read the look on Cherise’s face and quickly let her know she had no interest in being a third wheel.
“No, Cherise, I am not trying to ride with you like you’re babysitting me or something,” Shy whined with crossed arms.
“Don’t sweat it, baby girl, here come one of my boys now. Y’all can hook up and keep each other company while me and your girl get to know each other.” B-Boy smirked, eyeing Cherise from head to toe, licking his lips.
“I don’t know, because my aunt will kill me if something happens to her car,” Shy stalled. She had to see what this friend looked like before making a decision.
“Don’t worry about the car. Just let Aisha know we’re leaving it parked outside of her apartment for an hour or so,” Cherise suggested.
Before Shy could think of another reason to stall, the sexiest baritone voice erupted behind her. His words sounded like Bootsy Collins playing the bass.
“‘I love my boyfriend’? How could you love me and we haven’t even met yet?”
Shy turned around and found herself face to chest with a body that should have been against the law. The voice belonged to a fine, tall, sun-kissed brown athletic type. Shy looked up into the prettiest eyes she had ever seen on a boy. She was at a loss for words. Her mind alerted her to introduce herself before he thought she was an airhead but Shy could not find her voice.
“Hey, what’s up with you, boy?” B-Boy greeted his friend with a handshake. “This right here is Cherise and this is her friend, whose name I do not know.”
Once it became clear that her best friend was in a trance, Cherise interjected, “Shy. Her name is Shy.” Cherise elbowed Shy in an attempt to snap her back to reality.
Shy blinked her eyes rapidly from the pain of Cherise’s elbow in her side. She was a little embarrassed and focused her attention on a crack in the sidewalk. Oh my God, I hope he does not think something is wrong with me, thought Shy. I have to get it together before I scare him away.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Shy.”
“Nice to meet you, Shy. I’m Melvin and before the night is over, I will be your boyfriend.”
From that moment on, Melvin Shane McGee and Shayla Evette Wilson became inseparable.
Chapter 2
June, 1988—The Relationships
Commencement ceremonies for both South High School and The Rayen High School were held on the same day. High school graduation was finally over and the parties were off and jumping across the city of Youngstown, Ohio. Finally, Shy, Cherise, Melvin, and B-Boy were free at last. The friends had decided to celebrate by getting motel rooms. The adjoining rooms were nice, clean, and out of the way. Melvin dove onto the king-sized bed like a little kid playing Superman in his parents’ bedroom. Shy laughed and jumped on top of Melvin, giving him a wet kiss as soon as their bodies connected.
“You just don’t know how happy I am that we are finally out of school.” Shy sighed.
“I feel you. You know what we should—”
Melvin’s statement was interrupted by a knock on the door connecting the couples’ rooms. Shy put a little switch in her hips because she knew Melvin was watching her ass as she went to answer the door. If it were up
to Shy, she would lock Melvin in the room with her until checkout time, but no one asked her how she wanted to celebrate their accomplishment. Shy was never asked what she wanted to do when the four friends got together. The plans always seemed written in stone by the time she found out about them.
“What up? You ready to get this shit over and done with?” B-Boy asked. He stood with his pelvis stuck out and his shoulders slouched over. His naturally wavy faded haircut matched his six o’clock shadow beard. Michael ‘B-Boy’ Jackson was known for being a stickup-kid. So far he’d been lucky enough to avoid arrest, so far. No one in the city trusted him and B-Boy would not have it any other way. Rumor had it that the only reason B-Boy never tried to double-cross his best friend was because he knew Melvin wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his kneecaps twenty minutes before finishing him off.
“Yes, let’s go get this shit over with so we can enjoy the rest of the night,” Melvin said as he looked at Shy. Shy sat on the bed, looking at Melvin with a puzzled look on her face. She had no idea what Melvin and B-Boy were talking about, but she had a strange feeling that it was not good. Melvin tried to relax Shy with a smile to let her know he would be fine, but his nonverbal communication was not getting through to her.
“Chill, baby girl, everything’s going to be cool. Just take a shower and relax. I’ll be back before you know it; then I’m all yours until checkout tomorrow afternoon.”
“What do you mean, just relax? Why the fuck she never has to play chauffeur when you and B-Boy doing shit like this? This isn’t right. If I got to go, she should have to go,” Cherise whined to Melvin.
“Man, shut the fuck up! What I tell you about questioning shit we do?” B-Boy spoke in a threatening tone.
“Look, this is the last time I’m going to tell y’all this. I take care of Shy; Shy don’t take care of me. There is no way in hell I’m putting her freedom in jeopardy. Whatever’s going on between the two of you, leave my girl out of it,” warned Melvin as he grabbed his cigar and headed out the door. He stepped outside to light up and wait for his partners in crime to join him.
