A Hustler's Son 2 (The Cartel Publications Presents)

by Styles, T.

  “Damn girl,” Prangsta yelled damn near spillin’ his drink on the table. “It’s like that?” he continued admirin’ her thick legs. I don’t know but for some reason…it seemed like he was tryin’ too hard.

  O ain’t acknowledge shit they was sayin’. She moved a few drinks on the table they surrounded and eased on top of it. She held the red net purse that protected her possessions closely.

  Sittin’ on the table, she leaned back so that her legs could sway back and forth in the air like scissors. Movin’ her thongs to the side, she winked at them as she showed them her juice box. Prangsta and Crane stood up to get a better view, while Kyope eyed her from where he sat. Spikes acted as if she wasn’t even there. In less than two minutes, O was able to get them to bring they guards down. It was exactly what we wanted.

  “Damn!” Prangsta said grabbin’ his dick. “You fat as shit! I can fuck that pussy right?”

  She ignored the question and said, “If you like that than watch this,” she smiled.

  Taking Kyope’s empty Corona bottle, she injected it slowly into her pussy. Then she threw her head back and her golden colored hair fell on her shoulders before brushin’ the table lightly. Niggas wit’ camera phones was in full flick mode. O was killin’ ‘em and now she had the attention of other people in the area too. The girl on the stage dancin’ sat down on the edge and watched. For this moment, she was gettin' no love. O performed like she was enjoyin’ every minute of it and for a second, I wondered if she did.

  “Mmmmmmm,” she moaned, movin’ her hips while they watched like young doctors witnessin’ the birth of a baby. She was fuckin’ the shit out that bottle. Archin’ her back like it had hit her spot.

  Kyope sat in his chair and peeled off a couple of hundreds and the others threw what they had left. Money appeared to fall from the sky as strippers looked on in envy. There had to be over three thousand dollars on the table and a couple hundred in the air.

  “You, boys ready for me?” she asked Kyope and his crew. They eyes told her they was ready. She pulled the bottle out of her wetness and placed it on the table. Prangsta grabbed it and sucked the rim. A few niggas shook they heads in disgust. He stay goin’ too far. Once she was up, she was careful ‘bout keepin’ her purse close to her at all times.

  “Would you mind if I dance for you?” she asked Crane. He shook his head no. “You won’t be disappointed,” she winked.

  Wit’ her back faced Crane, she moved her hips around on his lap like the second hand on a clock. Havin’ recently done me, I knew how good it felt. Crane grabbed a hold of her hips like handlebars on his first bike. She allowed him to. She took her time and didn’t rush the show. Next she turned around to face him, and straddled him. Her feet ain’t touch the floor and she moved like a spinnin’ top. Everything was goin’ as planned.

  When she was done wit’ him, she eased over to Prangsta who acted like he just got out of Cell Block 8. He snatched her by the arm and pulled her on top of him. For some reason, I felt like breakin’ his jaw. I fell back realizin’ that me smashin’ his ass wasn’t in the plan. Once again he was loud and boisterous puttin’ on a show. I was startin’ to wonder ‘bout him.

  “Damn! You make me wanna put somethin’ in you right here and now,” he said as she straddled him and placed her arms ‘round his back.

  “Be easy big, boy,” she told him. “I just wanna make you feel good.”

  Wit’ out anyone noticin’, she looked at me like, if this disgustin’ mothafucka tries to fuck me I’ma cut his ass. I quickly nodded to let her know she was doin’ the damn thing and that I wouldn’t let him go too far.

  When the song was done, she hopped off him wit’ the quickness and collected her money from the table and floor. The crowd dispersed. Some went on ‘bout they business, while others looked for the stripper that could give O a run for her money. Smilin’ one last time at me, O walked away. I knew it was done.

  “Yo…that was the baddest bitch I ever laid eyes on!” Prangsta proclaimed.

  “No doubt,” Kyope co-signed. “I might have to put that young thing to work. She definitely looks like a keeper.”

  Crane unable to talk just smiled like a helpless child. O successfully played her position and now I was up. I got outta my seat, and eased over to they section. All of ‘em stood when they saw me approach except Kyope. You woulda thought they was protectin’ Jay-Z.

  “Easy, fellas,” I said holdin’ out my hands. “I just wanna talk to Da Boss.”

  “Nigga, you betta step da fuck off,” Prangsta said reachin’ into his coat. I saw his face go from cockiness to fright when what he was lookin’ for, wasn’t there. A light smile came across mine. I directed my attention to Kyope.

  “Like I said I’m here to see Da Boss. I’ll step after that.”

  For a second I looked at him wonderin’ if he recognized me despite my smoke colored shades concealing my eyes.

  “Nigga, you betta get the fuck outta here,” Spikes threatened. “I ain’t gonna ask you again.”

  I knew Spikes wasn’t strapped cuz he wasn’t muscle. He was cocky on the strength of Crane and Prangsta. But the look in Crane’s eyes told me that she’d also got him for his piece too. She did her job well.

  “Young, nigga…I advise you to talk quick. Cuz you bringin’ down my high, and I don’t like my high brought down,” Kyope interrupted. Prangsta, Spikes and Crane mean mugged me as I spoke my piece.

  “I wanna get put on.” Kyope looked at me and then at his crew. They all laughed hysterically.

  “Lil nigga, are you serious? Who the fuck are you?” Kyope continued.

  “I’m from down south and I’m trynna get put on. I heard you can help me wit’ that. I wanna work for you.” Silence. Only the club music could be heard.

  “Give me one reason why I should put you on?”

  “For one, I can drop this nigga right where he stand,” I said talkin’ ‘bout Prangsta. They all laughed again. My face was void of emotion.

  When Kyope’s laughs diminished he said, “Prove it.”

  “This nigga couldn’t-,”

  I don’t know what Prangsta was ‘bout to say but I laid him on his back. His body fell onto the table behind him. Bottles and cups toppled on his face and chest as he hit the floor. When he got his self up, he tried to step to me but Kyope stopped him.

  “I ain’t ‘bout to just let this nigga hit me,” Prangsta said as he rubbed his jaw.

  “I already did, slim” I informed him.

  Kyope’s squad reached for their weapons, but again, nothing was there. I pulled out mine and aimed.

  Kyope looked at Crane, Spikes and Prangsta. He must’ve been wonderin’ where they heat was. Kyope was visibly disgusted. Prangsta continued to pat himself as if his gun would miraculously reappear. When Kyope looked toward the ceilin’, and looked back down shakin’ his head, I could tell it finally registered that O got them for they swammies.

  “You got it, lil man,” Kyope smiled obviously tight at his squad. They acted like pitbulls ready to rip my throat out. The only thing stoppin’ them was Kyope. “Everybody ease up. We all good here.” Spectators stopped what they was doin’ and waited for the next move. “Now…I’ma need you to put that piece up, before somebody get hurt.” I looked at his squad makin’ it clear wit’out words that I would use it if I had too. And then I tucked it in the back of my shirt. When it was put away, Kyope asked, “Why you wanna get put on?”

  “Cuz I’m hungry. I’m up here by myself and not livin’ the way I know I can. And judgin’ by the looks of things, you need somebody you can count on.” That verbal blow was for his crew. They grunted but I knew Kyope was wit me considerin’ they let a bitch get ‘em for they guns.

  I was so impressed that I made them look like idiots that I ain’t see Crane step away from Kyope and his crew. I guess he ain’t hear when Kyope told them to fall back bein’ as though he was deaf. Before I knew it, I was on the ground. Blood escaped my cracked lip. I could’ve gone two different ways
. Got up, cracked him in his head to return the favor, or…let that shit ride seein’ the bigger picture. For now, I let him have that.

  “Just like I thought,” I said touchin’ my lip. “You need me cuz this nigga can’t hit for shit.”

  Kyope prevented him from comin’ at me again. If not…an all out war would’ve ensued.

  “You gotta a lot of heart, young blood,” he said sizin’me up. “Ain’t no doubt you got balls. But you come in here, disrespect my crew and then hit my man in the face. Give me one reason why I should let you live? And before you answer, take your shades off.”

  Hesitantly I complied and said, “For starters, you need someone to have your back at all times. Just cuz pussy present don’t mean you clock out. Your squad obviously forgot that.”

  “Why he even still talkin’ Kyope?” Prangsta asked.

  “Wait a minute,” Kyope said like he remembered somethin’. He looked into my eyes. “Have we met?” The thumpin’ of my heart moved my chest.

  “Naw, slim.”

  “You sure?” He persisted. “I feel like I met you somewhere before.”

  “Never. I just be in this muthafucka day in and out. Now look, either you feelin’ me or you not! I’m not ‘bout to waste my time. What’s it gonna be?”

  There was a long period of silence before he said, “Let’s talk.” I got him! I placed my shades back on. “Meet me here next week so we can talk alone.”

  “You got it,” I told him eager to get into this nigga’s life and fuck shit up.

  “But I got somethin’ for you to do first.”

  “Name it.”

  “I need you to get my tools back and merk that bitch who took ‘em. Tonight.”

  Saturday, 10:22 pm

  ****

  Shit is finally movin’ according to plan. Then why do I feel so fucked up?

  -Kelsi

  I had some time to kill before O met me at this pizza joint in the city. The small restaurant was overcrowded wit’ New Yorkers gettin’ slices wit’ extra cheese. I sat quietly in the corner waitin’ to see O, checkin’ my surroundings in between. It had been five days since Kyope signed me on and I’d already started to wreak havoc. Kyope played me close though. He ain’t tell me much. And wit’ his crew peepin’ errything I did and said…it was virtually impossible to do all the things I wanted done. Most of the shit I learned ‘bout his operation I learned from askin’ ‘round ‘bout “The Crown”. I wanted to know which hoods was pumpin’ it and who was in charge. Most of my research ended in vain. People thought I was a cop. But wit’ the little info I did discover, I was able to put a dent in his force that I was sure would sting Kyope’s ass.

  Last Night

  “I gotta roll, man,” Marble told his soldiers as he exited one of the buildings at the Nicholas Houses projects, in New York. It was a dark cool night and his two soldiers were manning the front. “I’ma be late.”

  “No problem, my dude,” one of the two responded. “We got you. Just make sure you hit me off if you win big.”

  “If I win, I got you… no problemo,” he lied. His Spanish accent was thick as normal. “Just make sure you hold shit down out here. We still don’t know who this fool is shuttin’ down our shit. Kyope wants us to keep our eyes peeled.”

  “No doubt. You just watch your own ass.”

  “Please,” he said waving them off. “Ain’t nobody crazy ‘nough to fuck wit’ me.” With that he dipped off. Kyope’s men had a tendency to think they were untouchable.

  All he was thinking about was rushing to his truck which held his white prize winning pit bull, Ether, in the back seat. His mind was on taking him to a match to see him rip another dog’s throat out. Ether won every match he entered. On a tight schedule, Marble jogged to his old navy blue Suburban. He had twenty minutes to make it to his destination. Time was of the essence.

  Standing about five feet tall, they called him Marble because although he claimed not to have any African American in him, everyone was pretty sure he did. His hair was a little kinkier than other people of Spanish descent.

  “Aight, Ether!” he said opening his car door and sliding inside. “You gotta win big tonight, papi! I’m tryin’ to cop that new Beamer. “Noticing the dog was silent he turned around and saw him lying comfortably on the back seat.

  “Ether,” he said as he drove down W 127th slowly. “I know you ain’t sleep. We got too much to…-,”

  Before he could get out another word, from the third row seat, Kelsi sent a bullet through his head which exited out the front window. Marble didn’t know what hit him. The truck rolled into a few cars parked along the street and stopped. Earlier Kelsi had placed crushed up Tylenol PM in some fresh ground beef and thrown it inside the window Marble left down to give the dog some air. He waited patiently for the dog to drift off to sleep and entered waiting for Marble. With Marble executed, he exited.

  “Stupid ass, nigga,” Kelsi said out loud. “Got caught slippin’.”

  Slumpin’ Marble was definitely a good look cuz he had been wit’ Kyope forever. Marble had killed so many in the name of business, that niggas was afraid to fuck wit’ his operation. But I wasn’t the average nigga. I was a nigga on a mission. While waitin’ on O, I decided to call my lil brother, Lorenzo Jr. Before I left Maryland, I could tell he was fucked up that I was leavin’. I spent a lot of time wit’ him before I left. Wit’ my mother dead, he was the only person alive I considered family. The doctors called him retarded but I knew he understood more than people gave him credit for.

  Thinkin’ ‘bout the reason he was retarded was fucked up. Our so-called father beat his mother while she was pregnant tryin’ to make her miscarry. It seems being a father wasn’t the only thing he ain’t do right, cuz my brother survived. Sometimes I wish me and my moms had gone through wit’ murderin’ my father for the insurance money. Either way I’m sure he’ll rot in hell sooner or later.

  “Where you at big, brother? And how come you don’t live here no more?” I looked around the restaurant focusin’ on random people. Random faces.

  “I’ll be there when I can,” I told him. Truth was…I ain’t know if I was ever goin’ back to Shelly’s. One things for sure, I wasn’t thinkin’ ‘bout leavin’ New York ‘til I dealt wit’ Jarvis and Kyope.

  “You wit’ your mommy?” he asked soundin’ like a two year old kid, even though we the same age.

  “Naw, man…I wish I was.”

  I wasn’t ‘bout to waste time explainin’ to him that my mother was murdered and that I missed her everyday of my life. I breathed out heavily and played wit’ the white napkin on the table, lookin’ up once more to see if O was on her way in. She wasn’t.

  And then I heard, “Who you talking to J.R?!”

  It was Shelly. I sat up straight preparin’ myself to talk to this bitch. She may have been his moms but she wasn’t mine and I was tired of her questionin’ me like I was a kid. Before the boy could answer she’d snatched the phone out his hands.

  “Kelsi, is that you?” her voice irritated yet concerned.

  “Yeah.”

  “Kelsi, where are you? Do you realize how worried me and your father have been? And that Nick Fearson person has been by here a lot. He said he tryin’ to solve your mother’s murder and Delonte’s.”

  That cop was gettin’ on my nerve! Delonte was dead and my mother was gone! Fuck he want with me?

  “Listen…I told you I got some shit to handle. When I’m done I’ll be back. And tell that cop he can suck my dick.”

  “Watch your tone!”

  “Whateva, Shelly.”

  “You betta not be gettin’ in no trouble, Kelsi. You still a child.” She was wrong.

  I wasn’t. I seen and did too much dirt to ever be able to call myself a kid. “Cuz if you get in trouble, it’ll be your own fault,” she continued. “And just so you know I filed a missing person’s report on you.”

  “Whateva, Shelly,” She was five seconds from gettin’ cussed the fuck out. “I just called to
check on J.R. don’t worry ‘bout me, I’m good.”

  Without waitin’ for a response I hung up. And the moment I did, O slow rolled past the front of the restaurant in a red Altima with New York City license plates looking for a place to park. When she walked in, she was wearin’ a tight pink velour sweat suit. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and I couldn’t help but smile at her natural beauty. She eased into the booth style seat directly in front of me.

  “What’s goin’ on, Aven?” she asked, her nose was beet red. “Why you wanna meet me so late?” I ain’t been ‘round her a lot, but from what I could tell, when she was nervous, her nose turned red.

  “You nervous?”

  “No. She lied. I just wanna know why I’m here.”

  “It’s only 10:00, O.”

  “It’s after 10:00,” she said as she placed her purse on the table, rubbed her hair wit’ her hand and waited. “Plus you know I gotta dance tonight.”

  “You hungry?”

  “No,” she said foldin’ her hands in front of her.

  “Okay,” I said as I looked down at the worn white table. What was wrong wit’ me? Why was I findin’ it so hard to be real wit’ her? “Bout that spot…you don’t dance there no more.”

  “What?”

  “You can’t work there no more.” I repeated.

  “I wasn’t gonna leave until next month,” she advised thinkin’ I was talkin’ ‘bout her movin’ back to Atlanta. “I wanna save up some more money first.”

  “O…You don’t work there no more startin’ tonight. I’m not fuckin’ playin’. It’s ova for you there.”

  “Explain, Aven.”

  “Them niggas you got for they guns ordered me to kill you. So unless you wanna die…you don’t work there no more.”