The Legend of Johnny Hustle: The Come Up

by Zach Tate

  I was getting nauseous. Dave bent over until he was eye-to-eye with the police officers. “Excuse me officers, this gentleman was just robbed,” he said as the victim leaned over also.

  “What happened?” asked the younger officer from the passenger side.

  The vic cried, “Oh yes. Yes officer. I’m from Saratoga Springs. While I was walking, I was robbed for a large sum of money.”

  “Tell them what the robber looked like,” Dave encouraged him while leisurely putting his arm around the vic’s shoulders.

  “Oh yes—yes. Well officers, he had on an orange shirt. He was a Black fellow. Orange—orange cap. He moved so damn fast. I only made out that he was Black. By the way, he took three thousand dollars from me.”

  “Wow,” came from the driver and a whistle of surprise from the young officer on our side of the car.

  “These two fellows here assisted me and—”

  “Well officers,” Dave cut him off. “He just described half of the Midtown area. My friend and I have a train to catch. We didn’t get a good look at the guy, so we’ll be on our way, unless you need us of course?”

  “Nah you can beat it,” the young officer said as the victim shook our hands vigorously. The officer looked up to the victim’s eyes. “Welcome to Times Square buddy.” He reached over his shoulder to open the car door. “You can jump in the back. We’ll drive around and see if the perpetrator pops up on our way down to the precinct. Get in.”

  My heart didn’t slow down until the vic jumped in the back seat. He wanted our addresses so he could send us a reward, and I had to nudge Dave to say “no.” While I wanted to flee, Dave waved goodbye to the man as he rode off in the police car.

  “Follow me, square,” Dave barked, pulling me by the elbow.

  We crossed the street and headed into a Blimpies sandwich shop. Fear killed my appetite, but Dave wasn’t in there to pick up lunch. Instead, he was handed a brown paper bag from a dark, young girl who wore long braids and a Blimpies uniform. Peeking into the shopping bag, I found the orange outfit Dave had on earlier neatly folded inside. The female cashier smiled at Dave. He smiled back and placed $20.00 on the counter before we walked out the store.

  My mind was reeling. I was in another world that I never knew existed. Anxiety and curiosity pumped through my square veins, but I kept my mouth shut during our walk. As we turned the corner on Seventh Avenue, Dave pulled me into a lively storefront. It was part New York souvenir shop in the front, and a second class jewelry store in the back. The jewelry section had huge, hollow, gold rope chains hanging in display cases. A tall Yao Ming look-a-like was sporting a Yankee’s cap to the back. He wore more jewelry than Mr. T from the A-Team. When he saw Dave, he lit up with a gold-toothed smile. He extended his hand, which was adorned with a gold four-finger name ring, and smacked Dave’s hand in greeting.

  “My man. What up home slice?” His voice sounded straight out the ‘hood. The navy blue sweat suit and crisp Nike Uptown’s told me his fashion taste was inspired from the natives of Ghetto U.S.A.

  “Proverb, what’s the word?” Dave asked while pulling the cash from the brown bag.

  “Happy is the man that gains wisdom, and the man who gains understanding.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Dave replied while counting out stacks of money onto the glass case.

  My eyes locked onto every $50.00 bill that left Dave’s hands. I figured that Dave was buying jewelry. “That three gee’s. So that gives us thirty three,” Dave announced when he finished.

  Proverb called over a smaller replica of himself. Then he called over an attractive, young, Asian woman with a sparkling wedding band that matched his. An older Asian man also strutted his way over; I hoped he wasn’t security.

  “This is three. This man, we have thirty-three for him,” Proverb announced to his family. He then spoke Korean or Chinese, and the whole family hugged and shook Dave’s hands. Once their business was over, we headed for the door.

  $$$

  Talk about a naïve fool being led and trying to understand where he was going. I walked behind Dave uptown on Seventh Avenue like he had a winning lottery ticket. We passed a bustling video arcade called Play Land that was on the corner of 43rd Street. Dave stopped suddenly in front of a well-dressed, Afro wearing, older man in a burgundy suit. The man was tall, dark and handsome. He had the gleam of a shark in his beady brown eyes.

  “Hey, partner. What it look like today?” asked Dave.

  “Little boys—little girls,” came from the man while he leaned against a graffiti filled wall. “What? You want a little boy?” he asked Dave while nervously looking around in every direction.

  I heard him advertising sex with children and I was ready to punch the mysterious stranger in his face. Dave pulled his shades down and scanned the pedestrian traffic. My curious eyes followed Dave’s, unaware of what I was looking for. Dave looked back at the man. “It’s cool. Ain’t no vics around. I just want to see what’s happening?”

  After surveying the busy sidewalk, the flesh peddler said, “Heard you caught a mark for three large a minute ago and walked him all the way to the end of the score? Boy I taught you well.” He looked at me and motioned in my direction with his tapered chin. “Who’s the square? He here to stay or he sightseeing?”

  Dave smirked then looked at me from head to toe. “Oh yeah. This my buddy from the schoolyard. Homeboy that perped for me.” He turned to me. “John—Yoda. Yoda—John.”

  Before I had a chance to answer, Yoda asked Dave, “He got any hustle in ‘em, or he drifting for the hype?”

  “Man, I told him the sights is for the hype, but he ain’t hip. I’m a walk him over to the pad, take a few blast, and let one of my fine ladies give me a pedicure.”

  Yoda’s eyes were on the hunt. “Sounds righteous. Just don’t forget Money Russ got his thing going on for his born day tomorrow night. Down over at the Hemsely. It ain’t everyday the so-called king allows his subjects to party hard. Since his crown is up for grabs, I’m a catch a few vics and get tailored to the nines when I come through. You know the tradition. It cost a gee at the door. According to him, he saving us the trouble of having to buy him a birthday present.” Suddenly Yoda’s head bobbed over the crowd on the sidewalk. His eyes locked on to something and he was ready to strike. “I got to go. See me a vic I can pull a Murphy on,” and he dashed into the gameroom.

  The New York Times building shadowed Dave and me as we headed up the crowded avenue. “Who was that?” I asked.

  “Bro, you filled with questions today, huh?” His quick eyes darted at the pockets of the pedestrians that mechanically passed by us like robots. Over the car horns he announced, "Well, that’s Yoda. He the best, flatfooted, all around hustler in Midtown. Lives in the only suite at the Carter. It’s his. Now, I’m a show you what’s mine.”

  Brave Dave pulled me through the tinted revolving doors of the Marriott. The cool air and the subtle piano music invited me in. The sight of a colossal-sized lounge area, along with a semi-circle tower of rooms above stunned me. Unfazed by my surprise, Dave pridefully pressed for the transparent elevator to take us to the top floor. Before the chrome doors closed, an elderly couple walked in. Dave smiled and jumped into his elevator employee bag, asking the elderly couple, “What floor please?”

  The short, blue-haired lady told him their floor. When we reached it, her wrinkled hands handed Dave $5.00 on her way out. Dave smiled and said, “Enjoy your stay,” to the woman. He looked to me and said under his breath, “Make them believe whatever they perceive, and off of them, you will always feed.”

  The elevator chimed and we exited at the top floor. I felt like Alice in Wonderland, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess who the white rabbit was. I followed Dave to his room. He calmly slid a computer card into a slot by the doorknob, and a small green light indicated that we could enter.

  “This my pad,” Dave bragged. “Take a load off.” He pulled me into a plush, furnished room. I wasn’t totally convin
ced things were legit until I saw him pick up the phone. He told the person on the other end, “Send them up.” He then disconnected the line and walked over to the mini-bar. I didn’t know who “them” was, but after he handed me a drink of rum and coke, I looked around at the narrow suite. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. When Dave leisurely opened it, two women walked in wearing frilly, light-blue, housekeeping uniforms. One was a pretty Mexican with long, jet-black hair. The other was a pie faced, doe eyed, medium height, Black woman. She had her disheveled shoulder-length hair lazily combed back. They smiled like it was Christmas morning when they saw Dave.

  Both women stepped in, ignored my presence and laid their uniforms on the floor. Unsure I was seeing two naked women, I wiped my eyes. The Black woman walked up to Dave and removed his clothes. The other kissed him on the lips, before walking past us. My eyes followed her curves as she entered the bathroom. She returned moments later with water dripping from her manicured hands. She looked over at Dave affectionately and said, “Baby, it’s ready.”

  Dave signaled for me to follow them. Like a gasping fish to fresh water, I followed. Not only because I was sexually aroused, but mostly because I was amazed that Dave could have two women catering to him.

  In the spacious brown and beige marble bathroom, the Black woman helped Dave into a large Jacuzzi filled with bubbles. The rose scented bathroom had two lounge chairs across from the tub, so I had a seat. The ceiling was one large mirror, and my eyes were locked onto the women’s reflections.

  Dave sat in the tub like he was a king surrounded by his concubines. After pampering her man, the Mexican woman knelt to open a cabinet under the sink. When her hands reappeared, she was holding a bottle of Moet champagne, a large crack pipe, and a miniature torch. With the bubbly popped, Dave sat the cold bottle between his legs in the hot tub. The Mexican woman eased her thick frame into the water. While the Black woman lathered Dave’s body, the other lit the pipe for him. The potent odor hit my nostrils and I was motionless. I had heard of people free-basing and I was in no position to be judgmental, but seeing Dave smoke Crack caused my instant level of respect for him to rapidly decline.

  The expression on my face must have shown my disappointment. When he exhaled, he said, “Look, it’s like this. For each grand I make, that’s a day I stay home.” He took another hit of the pipe. “I don’t care what you think about me getting high. Look around and tell me who you know live the way I do? For three years I been moving from suite to suite with that all access card you saw. I eat lobster everyday.” He smiled and groped the women’s exposed breast. “My two ladies right here take good care of me.”

  Dave and his Mexican woman intimately shared the pipe. In a hurried voice he continued with, “I live fast and I’m gone die young. Since I only got one life to live, I’m gone party every damn day. So hear this, man. I been down here in midtown for five years. I came down one day, and just like that, I got stuck. So now you can either get stuck like me and hustle strong to survive; or, you can keep that mint I put in your pocket and head back to Squareville.”

  He slid his tongue into the Mexican woman’s mouth while the Black woman stared at me as she eased between his lap. “Right now we about to get down and four is a crowd. I’ll be here for the next three days. If you decide to come back, ask for Brave Dave. I'll be out at the birthday bash tomorrow night in case you come look for me. You can come to the bash, but it’s a grand at the door, and you got to dress to impress.” He took another hit from his pipe. On the exhale the cloud of smoke ended with, “Be cool, man.”

  I knew the invitation to my exit when I heard it. I stood and said, “You take care of yourself, Man. Thanks for everything,” and I departed.

  $$$

  I had to escape the scene of that hotel suite. While I was going down in the elevator, I suffered emotional vertigo. I was out of my element and a bit jealous of Dave. I knew he wasn’t smarter than me when it came to the books, but he had a new sense of smarts I knew nothing about. As I escaped the serenity of the plush hotel lobby, and reentered the hot rat race of rush hour traffic, I had a mind full of questions about Times Square.

  I had heard the term, “concrete jungle,” used to describe New York City before meeting up with Dave, but for the first time in my life my eyes separated the predators from the prey. During my walk, I asked myself how Dave was able to have so much money and women to match. I instantly felt inadequate, like a loser. Then I thought of Crissy, and for once in my life, I needed to win. My eyes were locked to the ground. I was unable to handle the action life and love was throwing my way. While my life was going down, Dave was living it up with two fine women. He was brave all right, and I was lacking his confidence and winning spirit.

  As I headed to 42nd Street, the only thing that gave me peace of mind was the large roll of bills that Dave gave me. I was sure the money was at least my month’s salary. For him to be so willing to give it away, made me more disappointed in myself.

  In an effort not to end up like the vic Dave robbed, I tightly clasped my hand around the mint. I was walking fast to get to my car until I heard someone in the distant call, “John! John, hold up, cuz.”

  When I turned around, it was Yoda. He walked up to me and said, “Let’s have a taste. I need your help, and we can discuss it over a cup of coffee. Follow me.”

  Here we go again, I thought to myself. I didn’t know where he was taking me. I was convinced I would lose all the money in my pocket or end up in a jail cell before the night was out. We made a right on Seventh Avenue and ended up in the same Blimpies Dave and I were in earlier. We took a seat when Yoda led me to a booth with a view of the Deuce. Yoda nodded to the cashier.

  “Two. Light and sweet,” he announced, cutting his eyes at me from across the table. A minute later, he tapped on the Formica table. In an instant, the dark cashier with the braids came from behind the counter and produced a cheap leather briefcase. Yoda shifted in the hardwood seat, looked all around, and then said to me, “Keep an eye out for police and watch my back.”

  While the hot coffee scorched my taste buds, I did what I was told. My eyes darted back and forth—a moment on Yoda, followed by two moments on a pair of fine women standing outside. Yoda opened the case and removed a large manila envelope. A question mark appeared over my head when the contents of the envelope bounced on the table. A crocodile skinned wallet filled with credit cards, a diamond studded money clip filled with cash, a gold Mauboussin watch, and a small diamond wedding band lay in front of me.

  Yoda pulled the cash from the clip and slid the clip across the table to me. He then counted out the crispy bills; it was a little over $1,100. He put the money in his pocket, the jewels to the side, and then banged on the window for the two fine, chocolate women to come inside. When the two women stepped in, Yoda walked behind the counter, picked up the phone, and dialed a number like he owned the place. From where I was sat, I heard him say, “Room four oh six.” Pause, “Hey buddy. That little girl will be there in a minute. She’s only eight, so take it easy on my merchandise,” then he hung up the phone.

  The two specimens of beauty sat behind our table. I did a quick glance to get a better view of their bodies and got a hard-on that wouldn’t quit. After a close inspection, a re-check, and then a double-check, my hard-on deflated at once. What I thought were two fine women were actually men.

  Yoda sat back down and the two queers stood over our table as I uncomfortably twisted and turned in my seat. Yoda saw my discomfort. While cautiously removing the credit cards from the wallet with a napkin over his fingers, he said, “Elexus-Marcy, this John. John, these are two of the best people you need to ever know.”

  I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I nodded and tried to avoid eye contact. It was amazing to me how well dressed the queers were. I could tell that plenty of men had to be fooled by their appearance. With a closer look, Marcy was the more feminine one. He had a broad, caramel face, almond shaped eyes and long eyelashes. Box braids were in h
is sandy shoulder length hair, and he must have paid a pretty price for his C-cup breasts and heart shaped ass that fit into his extra tight jeans. He was more feminine than most women I know.

  Elexus wore a lavender silk suit with a cream silk shirt. His small head had close-cropped hair that was permed into finger waves. His penciled eyebrows, Mocha baby face, and slim, feminine, model-looking frame gave him the appearance of a pretty woman with masculine features. His purple suede shoes were a testament to his fashion sense.

  “Listen, that’s four cards,” Yoda said to the queers while running down his business transaction. “Y’all got about an hour. Two tops. They unlimited so that’s four large and four small you got for me. What we gonna do is squash three quarters of the nut if you come back with my outfit for the bash tomorrow night. I want to be the best dressed. This time make sure my skins is a size twelve, not an eleven. Bring me the vines and my gate money to get in tomorrow and we even. I’ll be upstairs when you ready.”

  “Snap-snap.” Elexus popped his fingers. “Ooooou, Mister, we gonna do you fierce. Just wait and see. This Diva got the hook…up.”

  Then Marcy asked, “What about your friend, John? That’s her, I mean, his name right?”

  “He a square, now be gone and get busy,” Yoda ordered.

  The two gender-benders left the store in haste. Yoda slapped a $50.00 bill on the table. “Thanks, cuz, I’m about to be gone.”

  My eyes drooped and I said, “No problem, man,” before staring out of the window.

  Yoda was on the way out the door, but then doubled back when he saw my depression. He read my mind to perfection when he said, “Look, you seem like you got the hustler’s blues and you ain’t even had a chance to choose. That means that fool, Brave Dave, done got your nose wide open without explaining the consequences.” He tapped on the table with his pinkie ring. “Well, here it goes. This is Times Square. Either you hunt, starve, or go back to wherever you came from. It looks like you want to stay and get stuck like the rest of us. I was looking just like that once, but you have the opportunity to head back home. Live life clean and safe like a good square should. If not, you can see if you got what it takes to make it down here, and raise up some funds to get schooled. Whatever the case, the choice is yours. Since the game is to be sold and not told, I’m out.”