The Legend of Johnny Hustle: The Come Up

by Zach Tate

  Yoda walked out of the store and disappeared into thin air. I had a few questions for him too, but my mind was made up that I was going home to find Crissy.

  When I arrived at the parking lot, the parking inmate that was locked in the cage asked, “Sak pa se, Mr. Peugeot? I see you decided to leave dis crazy place and go where safe?”

  “What I owe you?” I asked impatiently. Due to the confounded thoughts that invaded my mind I was ready to go.

  “Oh. Fifteen dolla. By de way, I like your car. I need car. When you ready, you come see Frenchy. Everybody knows Frenchy down here, especially de round de way girls.” His sprinkled eyebrows bounced for emphasis.

  I nodded in agreement so that he could hurry and let me go on my way. I didn’t touch the huge roll of bills that Dave gave me, so I broke the $50.00 bill from Yoda instead. When I sat in the car, all I could think of was the underworld of Times Square. I was stuck in thought for a minute, and my hand habitually turned the ignition, but nothing happened. I started talking to the car while trying to turn it over, and then a knock came at my window. After being startled I looked up in shock. The big teeth prisoner was released from his cage.

  “Frenchy fix your car, Mr. Peugeot. Pop the hood, home slice.”

  When I popped the hood I was embarrassed. I was hopeless and tired of not having, doing without, and scraping from paycheck to paycheck. My life was a constant struggle of boredom. I was pulled out of my miserable trance when I heard Frenchy say, “Okay. Start now.”

  The ignition turned and the engine came to life. Again Frenchy offered to buy the car, and again I shook my head to deny him so I could be on my way.

  I pulled out of the parking lot and avoided the highway by making a right, and heading straight up Eighth Avenue. When I crossed 110th Street, the Harlem allure was calling me. The trunks of expensive foreign cars rattled by while the drivers listened to Humpty-Hump and NWA. When I thought about both rap groups, their images were exactly how I felt about myself. With the word sucker scratched into my paint job, and the hatred Crissy had for me, I felt like a clown and an enemy of the state. I drove ahead trying to deal with my misery. That night the only luck I had was bad, because I saw the one thing I didn’t need to see.

  While waiting for the light to change on Eighth Avenue at 145th Street, I looked left at the traffic that was coming down the hill. I saw an image that made my heartbeat race. I had to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. After a careful inspection I was right. Crissy was in the passenger side of an M-3 with the window down and her Reebok-5411’s up on the dashboard. When we made eye contact, she laughed at me and then slid her tongue in the driver’s mouth.

  My temper was boiling. I was a lame and didn’t know it. Because I knew she was a gold digger when I met her, my anger was directed at myself, and that’s the worst anger to have. Right there, I was ready to go back and see Dave so we could get high, escape, and spend time in the company of one of those women. But a lame does, what lames do, and I headed home to Squareville.

  $$$

  Home for me was an empty shell. It was Crissy who gave my small apartment some form of life. Maybe that was one of the reasons I didn’t want to lose her. With my mother dying from A.I.D.S and all, I guess I just didn’t like being alone. Trying to go to sleep without some sexual stimulation was a whole other bag I didn’t want to jump into.

  I cracked a few more beers and replayed the events of the day. In an effort to feel better, I went for the roll of bills that Dave gave me. By its size, I was sure it had to be a couple of thousand dollars easy, but I was wrong. I examined the huge knot and realized that Dave palmed me a Mich roll. A roll of cash on top with newspaper cut out to look like stacks of bills on the bottom. When I counted it, there was only $330.00. I stared at the phony roll of cash and didn’t know if I should laugh or cry. Everything was always a hustle for Dave; I wasn’t mad at him. Again, I couldn’t believe how ignorant I was.

  I gave up on getting sleep. Instead, I day dreamed, wondering how Dave knew the fat man had all that money on him. I wanted to know if Yoda was really prostituting children, and why he asked me to look out for him. I wondered if Yoda was setting me up for something, if Dave really recognized me while I was walking up the street, and if he set me up for the robbery without me even knowing it. The other thing eating at me was the fact that the $300 I made in a few minutes was half of my weekly salary. All the effort I put into working at the Elmax lumberyard never challenged my mind, and there was no real reward. Times Square was different.

  I was always smarter than Dave. I always had a gift of gab. If he could make thousands in a matter of minutes, then I should have been able to make at least half of that by using my brain. I needed to go see the Wizard for self-respect, courage, and major cash. Then, I thought about Crissy.

  Crissy was never good for much, except being a beauty queen who complimented my fragile ego. She was the best I had in bed because she had plenty of practice before me. My heart was crushed. That night I shed the last tear for a woman. I cut my TV off. I was done being a sucker.

  2

  Yoda

  At the crack of dawn, I dressed in my best, crushed linen. Filled with anxiety, I hurriedly grabbed my rent money. Along with the cash Brave Dave gave me, I had a little over $800.

  I got into my car, and for the first time in a long time, it started with no problem. Traffic in the Bronx was clear. I hit the West Side Highway with a vengeance. The forty-five minute drive to 42nd Street took a half hour. I pulled into the parking lot, parked the car, and walked up to the small prison to hand in my keys.

  “Bon jour, Mr. Peugeot. You work down he-ear now?” I heard when I reached the small, dark cage.

  “Yes,” I replied. That one answer was the announcement of my birth into this world of hustling.

  Stepping strong doesn’t describe the way that I moved down the busy streets to the Marriott. Dave was heavy on my mind. I was fascinated by a world that I knew nothing about. Walking under the flashing lights, the energy of Times Square ran through my veins. I never considered myself a thief, but surviving in my Staten Island projects was enough to make me a hustler by nature. As a child I studied the pimp code, and a few other things my mother’s lover, Pierre, taught me. Based on his lessons, I was sure women would be at my feet once I had the courage to apply them.

  Why couldn’t I do what Dave did and make Times Square mine? I asked myself while storming in the direction of his hotel. I knew I had to be schooled in hustling and I thought Dave would be my teacher.

  Stepping inside the Marriott Marquise, I had hope for the future. My trek through the hotel’s cool air, with the plush carpet under my feet came to a halt when security asked where I was going. As the large men X-rayed my body with their menacing eyes, I had a moment of confusion. I didn’t know who to tell them I was going to see, or if they knew that Dave was staying there. After one too many times of being lifted by my collar, I said, “David—Brave Dave.”

  The overgrown guard released me at once. Smiling, he passively straightened my newly wrinkled collar. “Well, why didn’t you just say so? Go right on up.”

  I was furious. I was the honest square and they were treating me like a criminal in an effort to protect the real criminal. Back then I didn’t know that the world worked that way, but I was a quick learner.

  I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button. Before the door closed an elderly couple limped in and I asked, “What floor please?” trying to imitate Dave.

  The couple studied me with eyes of wisdom. The short wife shouted, “You don’t work here! We’ll press our own damn floor, thank you.”

  What was I lacking? The elevator was one floor before Dave’s when I had second thoughts about getting involved with the game. My mind told me to go ahead and catch my job before I was docked for another day. If I took a step out of that elevator I would be in the game. If I stayed on, I had another chance at a regular life. The chime of the elevator rang and reminded me of my mission. By the
second chime the doors were closing, I leaped out. My life hasn’t been the same since.

  $$$

  The hotel floor was deserted. The serenity of the place allowed my racing heart to slow down. I knocked on the door to the suite. Before I could get the second knock off, the door opened. The Mexican woman was naked like I left her the day before. She walked around like she owned the joint.

  She led me to Dave’s dark, musty bedroom where the other woman lay by his side. From under the covers, Dave mumbled, “Have a seat.” I sat, and moments later he painfully sat up and asked, “What’s the sad face for? What time is it?”

  I didn’t own a good watch. I also didn’t want to talk in front of the women.

  “I need to talk to you, Man.”

  He reached over his woman and picked up his happiness from the nightstand. When his torch hit the stem of the round test tube, he inhaled. Once he exhaled the pungent substance, it was like a blast of energy hit him. His eyes widened, he smacked each woman on her ass, and then he announced, “It’s morning. Time for work. I’m hungry.”

  Like disciplined pets obeying their masters, the women jumped up, and hurried into the bathroom. I heard the shower running, so I took the opportunity to say my piece.

  “I need to speak to you about some business.”

  “Hold on bruh.” Dave’s twitching eyes adjusted while he poked his finger into his ear. “It’s still too early and I ain’t trying to leave,” he said as he was going into the bathroom.

  For fifteen minutes I prepared a speech, but Dave interrupted it. He stepped out of the bathroom with his long white robe. “Follow me,” he said as he led me to the living room. He looked at me pitifully and said, “Spill it bruh.”

  “I ain’t got nothing going on in life. It seems like you got the whole world in your hands. I want to hustle. I want the finer things in life without struggling.”

  I pulled all the money from my pocket and slid it to him with the knowledge that the game was to be sold and not to be told.

  Dave sat there patiently looking at me like I just landed from the moon. His blank face of indifference pissed me off. He wasn’t that much older than me, and I shouldn’t have had to explain myself to anyone. Including the man that I wanted to teach me. He sat there for awhile in silence. I caught on that he was studying me, so I relaxed.

  “This life I live is only what blood gives, and is only admired by the privileged. It is a school for fools who can’t obey rules and knows time stands still for no one. In due time the life of crime will end in glory or life on the run. It’s a choice you choose, in a game where most lose; and when you slip and fall, your days will be done.”

  To this day, I’ve never forgotten those words.

  “If you serious you gotta be arrogant, ruthless, and filled with confidence. If you gotta choose between getting paid and a baby getting fed, that baby better swallow spit for the night. By the way, ain’t no sense in having a conscious.”

  He was ice cold. In a nutshell he told me to give up my soul to the devil. For a minute I doubted myself, but his toast had me hype and ready to take on the world.

  $$$

  Dave broke his routine of usually staying indoors. He threw on a new Nike sweat suit and a pair of Nike Air Force Ones. He made a phone call and then we headed outside.

  Dave took me to the divider in Times Square where the ball drops every New Year. For about an hour we stood there. He broke his silence with a question. “What you see?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked in ignorance.

  “I mean, what you see, ‘Two Eyes?’ Tell me what you see?”

  My back was to 42nd Street. I looked at the huge triangle formed by Broadway and Seventh Avenue. I saw the tops of the hotels, store windows displaying neon signs, and a sea of pedestrians walking on both sides of the street. I looked up at the gray clouds, and then worked my way down past the billboard-covered windows—where potential witnesses were cut off from the confusion I was standing in. My eyes glanced at the yellow cabs that honked their horns while underpaid, dread-locked messengers zoomed by on stolen bikes. I glanced at the gritty city, a metropolis of confusion. I didn’t see anything special. I tried to come up with some grand answer, but my mind went blank. I looked at Dave, who stood with his lanky arms folded, and told him the truth.

  “I see a bunch of people going to work and cars jammed in traffic.”

  He burst into laughter. “Just like a square. Nah, Bruh. What you got to do is use your five senses. You on the square now. The center of the universe.” He opened his arms wide like the city was his. “Now me? I see a bunch of money changing hands. Hustles on every corner. I taste the breeze that lets me know that rain’s coming, which means the robbery detectives might stay in so they don’t get wet, and I can get paid. I hear the horns of yellow cab hustlers. They drive through here knowing they gonna be stuck in traffic, but the out of town passenger, the mark, he won’t care. After the mark look at all the billboards and skyscrapers, his three dollar taxi ride is gonna be twenty. I smell the product of stale pretzel hustlers that make three hundred percent profit on a piece of dough and cheap salt. But what’s most important? I hear. Down in this jungle I hear the call of the wild, the roar of the lions that killed they prey.”

  I thought the Crack was frying Dave’s wig.

  “This is about empowerment, Bruh. The system’s not gonna let us get a piece of the Big Apple, so we take power right where we at. Bruh, you got to take power and control of your own life before you make people hand over their power to you.” He watched me scratch my head. “Go ‘head, ask me whatever you want to ask me, ‘cause I see it all over your mug.”

  I felt like a kid on Christmas day. “How’d you know the mark had big money on him yesterday? Why you slip me the Mich roll? Why you smoking that shit, and how you get to know so damn much?”

  He held up his hand in the universal stop sign. “Whoa-whoa, Bruh. You nosier than a cat in a mouse hole. But that’s fair, Bruh, that’s fair. It’s like this. When a mark got large cash in his pocket, he gonna protect it. He either gonna pat it, palm it, fist it, or leave it there to seem like he don’t have it. The really rich ones try to dress like they broke, but I check they grooming, they watches, and if that ain’t right, then I check the shoes. Nobody like their dogs to hurt, and the rich ones buy the right loafers so they can walk easy. The next thing is, every cash holder keeps a square print in his pocket. But I never go for the jeans, only the slacks.”

  He pointed across the street with his chin. Yoda was heading our way wearing hard-bottom slippers, burgundy silk pajamas, and a silk burgundy bathrobe open at the waist.

  “Here come my teacher now. As for your other questions: I slipped you the Mich role ‘cause you got caught up in the sight of it; I had to use you. I’m a hustler in every sense of the word. Nobody’s off limits. ‘Specially a good ole pal that’s a square. Remember that. Plus, I wanted to impress you and let you see how I raised up. It make no sense having paper if nobody can make you feel proud for having it.” Since Yoda was inches away, he dropped his voice to a whisper. “I smoke that shit ‘cause I like getting high. It’s as simple as that. But one thing’s for sure; the residue in my Crack bowl is worth more than most people you know. I guess you can call me a rich Crack-head.”

  “What you two young-boys up to?” Yoda interrupted when he strutted up to us.

  “Oh yeah, keep this. You may need it for bail money,” Dave said while passing me my $800 back.

  “Bail money? What you doing that you need to raise up out of the who-scow?” asked Yoda

  Dave stood between Yoda and me. “Bruh-man told me he want to hustle. Told ‘em you taught me everything I know, so I was giving him a little schooling.”

  Yoda’s whole expression changed. His eyes narrowed as they looked into mine. Studying my reaction, he thoroughly looked me over, but I stood firm. When I looked into his brown eyes, he rubbed the hairs of his immaculate beard. “What you know ‘bout stealing, cuz?”

/>   “Nothing, but if Dave can do it, I know I can.”

  “Yeah, that simple, huh? So what happens if you fail and can’t make the bail?”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I spoke from my heart. “I been failing my whole life. I’m here to win and if I go in, then I’m in. If you can’t do the time then don’t do the crime.”

  “You know the rules to being schooled, or is you acting and really a fool?”

  “I know the game is to be sold before it’s told and right about now, to hustle I’m ready to sell my soul.”

  Yoda still wasn’t convinced. “You might have to do that. How bad you wanna learn, and how I know I won’t regret it?”

  I tried to think like my mother’s old boyfriend, Pierre. I mimicked his pimp lingo to answer Yoda. “I wanna learn so bad that my soul is up for grabs and all I got is my word and my balls. I guarantee you won’t regret it. Just give the word and I’ll cut off both my balls for collateral right now.”

  Yoda smirked. “You talk a good one. You almost there. Now tell me what you wanna be when you grow up?”

  He stared me down like we were in the middle of a prison yard. If he was Dave’s teacher then he was the man I needed to know. I took a dry gulp of my saliva and said, “I’m already grown, but to answer your question, I want to be better than you ever was in the world of hustling.”