Introduction To Hard 2 Da Kore (Hard2daKore Book 1) (5 page)

 

 

 

4

   BACK AT THE SHOP                                                           
(Korey)

After I finished the car I was working on I parked it in the lot outside the garage. I was walking back into the shop when Joey pulled up in the tow truck. He was towing in the Lincoln that needed fixing. “Korey, can you help me out over here? I need to back this one inside. Can you help me out son?” asked Joey.

My man Joey is one of those wanna be extra cool Italian white boys who be acting and talking like he seen some parts of some streets somewhere. He lives downtown, in the good section of the city, and comes from a wealthy family, straight up and down upper class folks. Both his parents make really good money too. His father is a Superior Court Judge and his mom is an attorney for one of the best law firms in the state. So I guess you could say his folks were good on the money tip. Joey be hanging out with some of his “talking like they black” white boy friends in his hood. Some of them be stopping by the shop sometimes to get their cars fixed or tuned up. They all spoiled brats if you ask me. Always complaining about what their parents don’t want, or won’t let them do, or how drunk they be gettin’ all the time. They kinda remind of me of those Jersey Shore cats with their slick hair and extra dark tans an’ what not.

Joey is a die hard hip hop rap fan too. He always listening to rap music, and follows the career of just about every rapper that ever came out. He buys all the latest issues of the best hip hop magazines, and is in love with Eminem, no bullshit. I met Joey when I started working here a few years back and he always been aight with me. We never had any problems about anything, except the times I gotta get on him for using my tools. Besides that, my boy Joey Mazzo is definitely one of the hippest, coolest white boys I know. “What’s the matter, you can’t back that thang up in there without somebody guidin you in huh?” I joked at him.

“C’mon Kore, I just need to drop it right there in the door way, then we can push it in from there. I don’t want no more problems with Sal yo, that mafucka be trippin’ for real for real” He explained. “We? Whoa! What do you mean
we
can push it? Naa, I got a bad back dog.” I said, grabbing my lower back. “C’mon Kore, you know Sal ain’t gonna’ let me back this all the way in. Not after what happened yesterday. Where he at?” He whispered, glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching or listening.

“He’s in his office probably screamin’ at somebody on the phone.” I told him. I walked over to the driver’s side window of the tow truck and shook his hand. “Whassgood my cracka?” I said jokingly. “Yo whassuup my nigga’?” He replied smiling. “Yo I know Sal still mad as fuck, so I’m tryina stay as far away from his fatass as long as I can.” He said, glancing over at the shop. “I know, but he didn’t say anything about it this morning though.” I told him.

You see what had happen was… yesterday, Joey was towing a car into the shop, and as he was backing it up, he accidentally backed into Frankie’s White Corvette, and that left a little scratch on it, and Sal blew flipped out because Frankie…the owner of
FRANKIE’S AUTO REPAIR
loves that Corvette. He kept it at the shop instead of at his house because he didn’t want nobody knowing that he even had it. He would pull up to the shop in a limo or one of his other cars and have the driver wait for him for hours just so he could take it for a ride.

If you asked me, I would say that Frankie was either some type of businessman, or had some type of ties to them mobster types. Judging by the nice, expensive suits he wore, and the big bodyguard lookin type dudes that was with him wherever he went. I’d say that Frankie definitely had mob ties. As I was sayin, Joey scratched Frankie’s car so Sal went nuts because he knew that he was gonna have to answer for it because Frankie specifically told Sal. “Don’t let nobody, and I mean
nobody,
tow any cars inside this shop, Capish?” And those were his exact words.

So I wound up helping Joey bring the car into the shop without any problems. “Thanks Kore, ayo you heard that new Eminem shit? Yo that shit is off the heezy fo sheezy son!” He said excitedly. “Yeah, I heard it, that shit is mad tight, but Joey nobody says heezy fo’ sheezy no more my dude.” I replied. “I just downloaded his shit yesterday oh, but The Born Criminals, them mothafuckers new shit is dope as hell too, especially my man Righteous. He spitted some shit like:                                              

B.C.
we been around waaay
Befo’
Christ
,                                                                  mafuckas’ had cold hearts waaay
befo’
ice
,                             every time we come off that makes us waaay
mo’ nice
,                trick knowledge criminology waaay
befo’ whites
,                           ha ha haaa that shit right there son, is the illest shit ever!” Joey quoted excitedly. “Hell yeah, I like them Born Criminal cats too.” I told him. “Well, let me go in here and get screamed at again, ain’t no escaping this big mafucka Kore.” Joey said and walked into Sal’s office. I was walking over to check out the Lincoln when Mike pulled up in the shop’s hooptie. Mike parked the car and came into the shop carrying the fan belts. He was about to go into Sal’s office, but stopped and put is ear up to the door. He could hear screaming from behind the door. He looked over at me.

“Yo he’s screamin’ on him.” That’s what his lips said but no words came from his mouth. I crept in closer to the door to listen. The door swung open suddenly and Sal emerged from behind it followed closely by Joey. Mike was startled and damn near tripped into Sal’s big belly. I stopped dead in my tracks and tried to turn and walk off to the side, pretending as if I was going someplace else. Mike caught his balance and backed away as Sal and Joey stormed past him, never even noticing any of us. Sal led Joey over to a covered car and took the cover off, revealing Frankie’s white Corvette. He walked over to the bumper and leaned over to take a closer look as Joey looked on.

Mike and I walked over to them. “You mean to tell me that you couldn’t back that car up into here without smashing into something? I got my ass chewed out over this. Out of all the possible shit to crash into in here you had to bang into
this
car!” Sal screamed at him. “But Sal I’m sayin, when I backed the car in the door, I turned the wheel to the left and the car went right, no, I mean, I turned the wheel to the right and the car went, I mean, shit! I can’t really remember which way I turned the wheel Sal, but the shit went that way, and when I tried to swing back it went too far.” Joey explained, trying to illustrate to Sal what he was saying.

“Joey, just shut the hell up! You’re gonna pay for this fuck up. This is coming out of your check!” Sal interrupted. “But Sal, it’s only a tiny scratch.” Joey pleaded. “Shut up Joey!” Sal screamed, shaking his head and then stormed back into his office. Joey looked at me, then at Mike and then over at Sal’s office, then back at me. “Yo, why he trippin’ over that little ass scratch?” He said, and went back into the office behind Sal. Mike and I just stood there and stared at each other. “You think he gonna make him take a piss test?” I asked him. “Who knows.” Mike said. “Damn, that’ll be fucked up if he do, ‘cause that nigga smoke mo’ weed than a little bit.” I said. Mike’s face shifted to an unconcerned look. “Fuck em.” He said, and walked away.

“Damn you cold Mike. Joey cool peoples yo.” I explained. “Word, you think? Now I bet you your boy Joey fuck around and get a raise or some shit for crashin up shit in here. Now you know that’s Sal’s lil pet. Joey don’t do nowhere near as much work as you or me. All he do is ride around pickin up parts ‘n shit. Oh he might do a tune up or tire change here and there. Look at that mafucka’s tools over there. They clean as hell, all shiny and polished n’ shit, and he be using our tools to fix shit. You kno’ why Kore? Cause his tools don’t do shit, and ya boy Joey don’t do shit either. That’s because him and Sal, they the same peoples. They don’t give a fuck about us Kore. Them mafuckas stick together, watch you’ll see.” Mike said. I just shook my head because I didn’t understand why Mike didn’t like Joey, but I guess everybody got a right to their own opinion. I thought. Mike walked over towards his work area and placed the fan belts on top of a tire that lay nearby. I went over to the Lincoln, popped the hood and started checking it out.

A few minutes later Sal and Joey emerged from the office. Sal walked towards us while Joey jumped in the tow truck and pulled off. Mike came closer to me as Sal got nearer. “Watch this.” Mike whispered. “Okay you guys, I need you to start working on this Lincoln, first get it up on the lift, drop the tranny, open it up and see if it need any new clutch plates. If it does, replace ‘em with some of the new ones from the back. After that change the fan belt, and then please get this piece of shit out of here! Joey’s on his way to pick up the Mercedes right now. Mike you can work on that when he brings it back. The sooner yous can get it done the sooner we all can go home.” Sal instructed.

“Yo Sal, why we always get the hard jobs, and all Joey do is ride around pickin’ up cars and parts n’ shit? I don’t think that’s right. We be working our asses off, and Joey be chillin. What’s up with the favoritism?” Mike asked disgustedly. Sal paused as he looked like he just got put on the spot. “Hey look, I can’t lie, you guys are the best mechanics I got. That’s why I always put you two on the jobs that might need that extra little touch. You guys are like fuckin King Midas when it comes to fixing cars. Shit I haven’t had a complaint yet, not one. Keep up the good work guys.” Sal said and turned to walk away.

“Hold up Sal!” Mike interrupted. “I think that Joey should do more work around here like we be doin. We be workin like slaves up in here. You think I can’t see what’s goin on around here?” Mike added. “No, why don’t you tell me now what’s going on around here Mike?” Sal replied, sounding disgusted. “I think it’s cause we black that’s wh..” Mike started to say but was interrupted. “Oh come onnn Mike, don’t start with the racial profiling talk.”

“What do you mean with that racial profiling talk!? You can call it whatever you want, but all I see is y’all, meaning you and Joey, be up in here chillin while me and Korey be bustin our asses around here!” “Look Mike.” Sal interrupted. “I don’t have time for this right now! If you don’t like your job here, quit. Now I would hate to lose you, but if you’re not happy here, nobody’s stopping you from leaving. Look, I gotta go make some calls right now, you guys keep up the good work.” Sal said, then went back into his office and closed the door. “Fat motherfucka always showin’ favoritism; tryina soup us up with that King Midas bullshit. You see Kore. I told you they don’t give a fuck about us. Mike said angrily.

Even though it seems like he did have a point. I didn’t think that gave him the right to think that Joey was a bad dude. “Come on Mike let’s finish this shit so we can get outta here. When Joey comes back I’ll help you bang it out. That way we can get out of here early. My cousin Jay and nem playin some football today, I wanna try and make it down there to play with them.” I said.

“Aight, let’s bang em out then.” Mike said as he grabbed his tools. We’ve done these kinds of jobs plenty of times, so this gonna be light work for us. After all when it comes to this fixin’ cars shit, we got that Midas touch for real. I thought as Mike and I started fixing the Lincoln.

             

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5

    LET’S GET READY 4 SOME HOODBALL!

(Korey)

 

I heard my cousin Jay call out to me as Mike and I walked towards the field. When we got there I saw two of my best friends, D Nice and Raheem. Raheem was lying on the field, grabbing his stomach and in a lot of pain. “What up Jay, what’s up, what’s wrong with Rah?” I asked him. “Well looka here, looka here! If it ain’t the grease monkey Korey da Mann and Mike, his oilcan sidekick! Damn boyh, y’all look like that dirty ass Aamco man on crack ha ha ha!” Big Ox joked as his team looked on laughing. Big Ox was one of those cats from the Woodz, big as hell head, no neck dude, and a mouth just a big. Always popping some rah rah shit, a real troublesome type nigga.

 

“You aight Rah, guess them niggas bangin’ y’all up kinda bad huh?” I asked. “Yeah, I’m aight I just need to catch my breath.” He said, looking a little dazed. Raheem grunted painfully. “Yo, you can chill for a while if you want to Rah, I got this.” I told him. “Yo Mike, you feel like playin’ some hoodball with us?” I asked. “Nah Kore, I got some things I gotta take care of.” Mike said. “Awww come on Mike, you can fill in for D Nice, unless you scared of a little contact sport.” Jay said. Mike paused for a second, glanced over the field at Big Ox and the rest of his team. “Aight, fuck it, I’ll play, but only for a little while.” He said.

“Okay! Now that’s what I’m about! Some fresh meat! Break out the grill and the barbeque sauce! I’ll take that quarterback rare! I like a lotta blood if you don’t mind! What ‘bout you Jamar!?” Big Ox taunted. “Oh, I already got that new runnin’ back cat covered with the A-1 sauce homey. I want that nigga well done!” Jamar yelled as they began to huddle up. “Okay Mann and Mike, y’all fill in for D Nice and Raheem. C’mon let’s huddle up!” Jay said as we walked onto the field and huddled around him and the football. “Okay Mike, how good are you on run plays?” He asked. “Shit, I ain’t no Emmitt Smith, but I think I can handle these loud mouth mafuckas.” Mike stated. “Aight Mann, I’ma fake a pass to you near the end zone, so you play wide receiver spot on my left, and Mike, ima need you at the runnin back spot on my right. Now Mann, you run a long slant to about that third cone over there, and Mike I’ma fake you a hand off up the middle, so tuck the ball and stay low like you got it, and Mann you keep runnin, then cut right stop and turn around.

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