Natural Born Hustler (7 page)

Fame was a different kind of hustler—some people did the wrong thing for the right reason, and were looked upon as criminals, some did the right thing for the wrong reason, and were looked upon as heroes. Fame fell under neither of these categories: he robbed because he was good at it. He chose flashy drug dealers because, in his mind, they deserved to be robbed if they were caught slipping. Better him than the police.

He sat in his car, up the block from his target. He knew from staking out the house for the past week and listening to people run their mouth that the chump who lived there was called Big Ty. He migrated to Charlotte from the Big Apple (or Rotten Apple, depending on who you ask) about four or five years ago and quickly added to the already growing drug trade in the otherwise welcoming area.

Word on the street was that Big Ty had the best, unlimited crystallized Peruvian flake the area had ever seen. Drought, famine or recession—dude always had work. And to keep the Feds off, supposedly, he never sold more than an ounce at a time, although the jury was still out on whether the “no weight” policy was a precaution or just another way to increase his profit.

Fame checked the time on his dashboard clock. It was 1:55
P.M.
His phone rang. Against his better judgment, he answered, in case it was important.

“Hey, baby,” he said into the Bluetooth.

“Hey, you.”

“What’s going on? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is cool. I was just thinking of you, that’s all.”

“Can you do me a favor?” he asked, his eyes glued to the house and his surroundings.

“Do a chicken lay eggs?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Then you would be taking it the right way. What’s up?”

Looking down at the remaining breakfast sandwich, he told her, “I want you to make dinner for me.” Desember wasn’t the best cook but she was getting better and he appreciated the effort she put in.

“You promise you gonna be home for dinner?” she asked.

“Fa ’certain, baby. I’ll be there naked with bells on by six.”

She chuckled. “A’ight, what you want me to cook, baby?”

“I want turkey wings and some yellow rice.”

“Okay, baby, what else?”

“A nice bottle of champagne,” he requested, although neither was old enough to drink.

“Okay, what else?” she asked. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“I want you to find something nice and sexy to wear for your man.”

“What else?”

“Oh, make some mashed potatoes too.”

“Okay, baby, what else?”

“And I will bring the stacks of money when I come home.”

“Then we don’t need anything else.”

“A’ight, I got to get off of here and focus so I can get the job done.”

“You always get the job done,” she said in a sexy tone.

Fame ended the call with Desember and took his eyes from the ranch-style brick house to steal another look at the time. Big Ty’s girl left the house every day at 2:20, and this day was no
different.
Right on schedule. Probably going to work
. But Fame didn’t know for sure. However, he did know that she was always away from the house for hours. He waited an extra thirty-five minutes just in case she might have forgotten something and returned. If things got ugly, he thought, it was always better to leave one dead body behind, rather than two. But then again, if it came down to it, dead was dead.

Showtime!

Getting out of the car, Fame took one last good look around, went to his trunk and removed a small black and gray toolbox and a clipboard. He placed a cable company hat on his head and headed toward Big Ty’s residence. He wore a blue work uniform and black soft-bottom boots and appeared to be an average everyday worker trying to make a living.

Once on the porch, he could hear the faint sound of music on the other side of the door, and though he couldn’t make out which cut it was, he was sure it was something by Jay-Z. Fame pressed the doorbell.

“Who is it?” someone asked from the other side.

“Cable man.” Fame had disconnected the wire that sent the main feed to Big Ty’s system earlier that morning. He knew it would take at least twenty-four hours before the real cable company would respond. That type of attention to detail is what kept him on point when it came to his job. He had uniforms and equipment from all the major companies, as well as access to their dispatch systems.

“That’s what’s up, son,” Ty said, opening the door. “I didn’t expect you guys to send someone so quick.”

“Dispatcher said that there would be a lady expecting me. She was adamant that we needed to get out here sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah, that’s my bitch and shit. She can’t live without that Lifetime shit, but she gone to work and forgot to tell me that y’all was coming. Glad you got here, though, son.”

Fame hated when niggas from up top hit him with that “son” shit, but now wasn’t the time to reveal his personal hang-ups. Not right now, anyway.

Big Ty stepped to the side so that Fame could enter.

That was the best part to Fame. When he robbed cats, it was always at least 50 percent con and the rest robbery, sometimes more con than stickup. By the time the victim knew he was being beguiled, it was too late.

“So,” Fame said, “exactly what’s going on with the cable?”

“The shit won’t show a picture,” Big Ty complained.

“So you’re not getting any channels at all?”

“None,” Big Ty told him. “All I’m getting is a few hundred channels of snow, son.” New York accent in full bloom.

“How many different sets do you have hooked up to your system?”

“Well.” Big Ty pointed toward a fifty-inch flat screen mounted on the wall. “There’s this one. Then there’s three more in the bedrooms. Oh, and the one in the game room. That’s in the basement.”

“That’s five in all.” Fame quickly tabulated as he pretended to jot something down on the clipboard. “Do you mind showing me where they are? I need to check the feed to each unit before running a circuit test on the main line,” he bullshitted.

What he wanted to do was make sure no one else was inside the house. He hated surprises, and an unknown guest was the last thing he needed; it could cost him everything … most of all, his life.

“Not a problem, son.” Big Ty led the way, his Levi’s hanging
off his butt, his crack showing. He was a big guy, standing about 6′2″, over 250 pounds. He was built solid and was much bigger than Fame, but Fame knew size didn’t mean a damn thing. After all, the nickel nine millimeter that Fame was packing had taken down even bigger guys, and he was sure that Ty wouldn’t dare to challenge it.

“Yo, you from out here, son?” Ty asked.

Wanting to hurry up and get this over with, Fame nodded at Ty though technically he wasn’t from that part of the state. He knew better than to shit where he slept.

Big Ty took Fame into the three bedrooms, and Fame, playing his part to the hilt, turned on each television, touching the cables running from the back of each with a current detector he’d gotten from Home Depot.

Nobody was upstairs but them. Fame said, “Okay, you say there’s a fifth one around here somewhere?” The round schoolboy glasses he wore sat crooked on his face. The perfect nerd look.

“In the basement, son.” Big Ty stole a glance at his oversized diamond watch. “How long do you think this is going to take?” he added.

“After the basement,” Fame said, “it’s pretty much a wrap, son.”

“Word,” Big Ty said with more enthusiasm in his voice than before. “It’s this way.” Fame followed him down the hallway, through the kitchen and down a flight of carpeted steps.

The bottom level was one giant room, covering the length of the house. A professional-sized pool table with crimson felt was off to the right. To its left was a six-chair poker table. The opposite side of the floor space was set up like a den, with a
couch, love seat, recliner, two red end tables with glass tops, and a 62-inch Sony television as the focal point.

“Nice lil setup you got yourself here,” Fame complimented the man.

“Yeah, I know,” Big Ty said, with great pride and confidence in his voice, “A man has to have his own little sanctuary, even in his own home.”

“That’s what’s up.” Fame groped down into the toolbox he was carrying, came up with the nickel nine and a pair of matching cuffs. Big Ty’s eyes grew to twice their size. Fame threw the metal cuffs to Big Ty and said in a firm tone, “Put these on. Talk only when spoken to. Say nothing stupid and maybe you’ll live to enjoy it again. Oh.” He pointed the Llama between Big Ty’s eyes, just above his nose. “Don’t ever call me ‘son.’ I hate that dumb shit.”

After being restrained and threatened, Big Ty did the right thing. Neither the money nor the cocaine was worth his life.

“The money and the work are in a safe upstairs, in the office closet. Take it … take it all. Just don’t kill me.” He didn’t sound nearly as confident or arrogant as before. His voice was a pitch or two higher and the corners of his eyes showed fear and were wet from the tears beginning to form. “Please just don’t kill me.”

“I’m a man of my word; do as I say and you’ll live.” The tears didn’t evoke any sympathy from Fame, but they did bring on a smile as he asked a final question: “What’s the combination to the safe?”

When it was all over Big Ty was ashamed that he had pissed his briefs, but was happy to be alive. He would never forget the incident or the man who pulled it off.

7.
Just the 2 of Us

Fame loved when a well-thought-out plan came together. The hit on Big Ty was sweeter than expected. He’d scored over two hundred thousand and ten keys of 80 percent pure coke.

As Fame had promised, he was in the crib before six, waiting for Desember to finish hooking up dinner. He admired her toned legs and petite frame as she stood over the stove cooking in her birthday suit.

He walked up behind her. “You are busted.” He kissed her on the neck.

“Busted?” she asked, feeling his manhood growing against her bare butt.

“I’m calling
Cheaters
on you.”

She turned to face him and shot him a look. “You been drinking?”

“Naw, but you’re busted.”

She had no idea what she was busted for.

“That Crock-Pot filled with the wonderful smell isn’t ours. It’s yo’ momma’s.”

Desember almost choked she laughed so hard. “You got me. Damn, you good, Detective Famous.”

The truth of the matter was that Desember wasn’t a good cook, and she knew it. Yet Fame never complained and tried all of her cooking and ate it until the last bite was off his plate, no matter how horrible it was.

At the dinner table, Desember asked Fame to say the blessing. He looked unsure for a moment and then the look melted away. After clearing his throat, he closed his eyes and began:

“God, we ask that you may bless this food, and if you see fit, protect us from our friends, for we don’t always know their intentions for us. I’ll take care of our enemies, for theirs are more obvious.” He opened his eyes. “Amen. Now let’s eat.”

Desember watched as Fame enjoyed the tender turkey wings that Angie had done her thing to. The woman may not have been perfect, but she cooked divinely. They were interrupted by the Lil Wayne ringtone.

Desember gave Fame a chastising look. “No phones at the dinner table, darling!”

“I know, baby, but it’s my brother.”

Desember knew there was no point in arguing with him, especially when it came to his family.

She couldn’t tell much by the one-sided conversation. Fame mostly listened, only asking, “Where at?” and “How long?”

Once he hung up, he turned toward Desember and said, “I gotta go do something for Frank.”

“When?” she asked, and then made up her own answer to the question. “Sometime tomorrow, right?”

“Nah, it gotta be done now.”

“So you leaving out right now?” she protested.

“I got to.”

“You don’t have to.”

He nodded. “Yeah I do. It’s important.”

“Baby, I stopped doing what I was doing so that I could come home and be Mrs. Domestic and now you gonna eat and run. That shit ain’t right.”

“I know, but you act like I planned it—something important just came up, that’s all.”

Desember didn’t hide the fact that she was pissed. She raised her voice. “More important than spending time with me?”

“You know nothing is more important than spending time with you. You know that.” He attempted to kiss her, but she turned away.

“Don’t try to play me.”

“What, you mean don’t kiss you?”

“You probably leaving me here because Frank is introducing you to some bitch since he can’t stand me. He doesn’t want us together no way.”

“Baby, that ain’t true. Frank fucks with you and you know it,” he tried rationalizing with her.

“Fuck that.” She raised her voice again. “I’m not gonna keep taking the backseat to your family. I don’t do that shit to you. You move me in here and barely stay home, now you gonna leave me by myself to go deal with Frank’s ass. You know he ain’t nothing but trouble.”

“Actually, it ain’t even Frank’s shit. Fabian asked that Frank go deal with it and he can’t, so I’m gonna handle it. It’s in and out. Just picking up some money, that’s it.”

“Just money?” she questioned, still skeptical, but wavering somewhat.

He nodded. “Yeah, just money.”

“Then cool,” she said, walking out of the kitchen and into the bedroom.

Fame sat in the front room gathering his thoughts before he left. He hated when they argued—and besides, he needed to have a clear head when he went into the trenches.

Before he knew it, Desember was back. She had thrown on a BeBe sweat suit and sneakers to match. “A’ight, I’m ready.”

“D, where you going?” he asked, out of curiosity.

“What you mean, where I’m going?” She shot him a look like he was asking her an absurd question. “I’m going with you.”

“No, you not. You can’t go with me.”

“Why, if it’s going to be so simple, quick, in and out?”

“Because where I’m going is no place for a lady.” Fame tried to put down his foot without raising his voice. He never yelled at Desember. He’d done enough of that when they were kids.