Flippin' the Hustle (3 page)

Derrick shook his head and threw his hands up in a mock surrender.

The security guard cracked a smile and motioned him to follow him inside the club.

Derrick made his way down the flight of stairs and went straight to the bar where he purchased a double shot of Patron. As he leaned against the bar enjoying his drink, he scanned the crowd of partygoers who danced to the thunderous bass of club music. Derrick eyed the dance floor closely as throngs of sensually dancing women held his attention.

After a minute, Derrick reluctantly broke the trance that the booty shaking girls held on him. He focused on the VIP area. It was almost impossible to get a good look inside the dimly lit area reserved for the city's top ballers. Nonetheless, he kept an attentive eye in that direction.

As he stood against the bar nodding his head to the music, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey! Wassup, Tree? I didn't expect to see you so soon,” Asia stated.

Derrick turned and noticed the familiar face of the woman he'd met just a few days before. He smirked and focused his attention on the scantily dressed woman.

******

Derrick sat across from Asia as she babbled incessantly. He had ceased listening to her chatter long ago. But something was making him attempt to assess her beauty. He interpreted her scantily dressed frame as a sign of her shallowness. Yet, he could not deny that she possessed a certain level of beauty.

“Why you looking at me like that?” she asked.

Derrick grinned. “So you're attacking me for admiring your beauty?”

Asia put her hand on his leg and rubbed it. “You said it, not me.”

As he leaned in closer, Derrick realized that Asia had lived a rigorous life that had taken a toll on her. She looked much older than what she really was. But Asia's body didn't look a day older than her twenty-six years of age. She had the body of a sex goddess. Derrick watched the way her hips flared and her ass curved. Men openly gawked at her. The dress that she wore only added to her curves. Derrick inspected her all the way down her thighs to her BCBG sandals.

“You hear me, Tree?” Asia asked, snapping him from his salacious thoughts. “Still admiring, huh?” She blushed.

“Can you blame me?”

With an incredulous smirk on her face, she said, “You ain't heard nothing I said.”

“A'ight, you got me, ma. It's just that I was so caught up in your, um. Um . . .” Derrick paused, eyeing her breasts. “. . . beauty that I ain't even hear you.”

Asia placed her hand over his and looked into his eyes. “Thank you so much, Tree.”

Derrick grinned and allowed Asia to grab his hand and lead him through the crowded club toward the exit.

Once they made it to Derrick's truck and prepared to pull off, Derrick noticed two CLS Mercedes Benzes creeping by the club. Had it not been for them blocking his exit, he wouldn't have even noticed each cars' vanity license plate. As he silently read the inscription, he nearly froze.
BTB-INC,
the tags read.

“Black Tar Boyz.” The words slipped from Derrick's mouth unintentionally.

Asia shot him a contemptuous glare, and said, “Please tell me you don't fuck with Lil' Roy and them.”

Derrick replied, “Nah. I just heard of them niggas, but I don't fuck with them.” It was clear that Asia had a personal relationship with someone in their crew presently or at some time. Derrick just hoped that this person was the right one.

A
fter Derrick romanced Asia for a few weeks, he easily succeeded in getting into her underwear. And although she was a hood rat at best, she didn't carry herself as one. The awkward, regal demeanor she attempted to emulate sometimes amused Derrick.

As he pulled in front of the beauty salon in which Asia worked, Derrick chuckled under his breath. For him not to have been a true hustler, he had the game down to a science.

After sexing Asia crazy, she had introduced him to every dealer she knew. That is, everyone except anyone from the Black Tar Boyz. Asia, so blinded by the superb lovemaking Derrick had been laying on her, would have introduced him to just about anyone. He knew that his chance to meet a BTB member would come. He just didn't know how soon.

As Asia exited the building in a playful trot, he eyed her shapely frame as it jiggled.

“Hey boo,” she said as she flopped into the passenger seat of his BMW. “What's up?”

“You what's up. It's all about you,” he replied as he shifted the car into gear.

“That's my kind of talk.” Asia leaned in close and huffed in his ear, “I hope we're going to your place so I can show you how much I missed you today.”

“We can do whatever you want. It's your world.”

“You're sooo sweet.”

“But first, I got to make a quick stop, then . . .” He paused. The sight of Asia's skirt rising up her thighs impeded his train of thought. “On second thought, I can make that run later.” He quickly made the detour in the direction of his home.

******

Derrick hovered over Asia sprawled across his bed. Eyeing her luscious body, he slid the Magnum XL over his shaft.

Asia lay there licking her lips in anticipation of what Derrick had in store for her. Every one of their episodes was memorable. She had become addicted to his whopping ten-inch shaft. Even in her most promiscuous times, she had never encountered such a well-endowed man.

Derrick slowly crawled between her thick thighs and placed the head of his dick at the entrance of her slick lips. Methodically, he rubbed the head into her juices, while witnessing her entire body prepare for his entrance. Sex with her served a dual purpose—Derrick could fulfill his sexual desires while keeping her pleased. The happier she was, the more comfortable she was with him and likely to reveal information about BTB.

“Tree, you got my pussy
sooo
wet right now,” she announced in a raspy tone. “Please put it in me, boo. I need you to fuck me, baby.”

“Oh, yeah,” he whispered.

“Yeah, I need it bad,” she crooned, grinding against his dick.

Asia's vulgar tone ignited an animalistic surge in Derrick's dick, because instantly it gained another inch. He pushed her thighs back and gave himself full access to her love canal. Slowly, he slid his massive dick into her throbbing pussy.

“Shit!” Asia threw her head back in bliss and wrapped her creamy thighs around his waist as his extraordinary girth filled her. “Mmmm hmmm, I love the way you feel inside me,” she hissed.

Derrick locked her legs with his forearms, and then pushed the remaining length into her. Instantly, he noticed the painful grimace that appeared on Asia's face, as his shaft invaded foreign crevices in her center.

“Oh . . . my . . . fucking . . . God! Fuck! Tr . . . ee! Please fu . . . ck me!” she panted.

As he pounded into her pussy furiously, he noticed a white cream oozing from her, and then suddenly her body stiffened under his.

“I'm cum-ming! Fuck! I'm cumming! Baby! Please!” she yelled as her body spasmed through the earth-shattering orgasm.

The contractions of Asia's vagina nearly caused Derrick to explode also, yet he managed to hold it. He leaned into a visibly distraught Asia and whispered, “Turn over. I want to hit it from the back.” As he withdrew from her, he eyed her juices covering his shaft.

Nearly in slow motion, Asia rolled over onto her stomach, and then raised her round bottom toward Derrick. “This ass belongs to you.”

Derrick smiled. He loved it when she talked dirty and was submissive.

“Just fuck me right.” Just as Derrick's condom-clad penis made contact with her pussy, she turned to him and said, “But please don't hurt me, boo.”

Derrick mounted Asia's shapely ass. With ease he pushed his entire length into her fat pussy. All the while he savored the way her muscles gripped his shaft snugly. The more he pumped the more she pushed her bottom up toward him. This gave him a much better vantage point of her womanhood. He gripped her hips firmly, and then began to fuck her with long, slow strokes.

Asia clutched the silk sheets with her freshly manicured nails as her eyes began to roll into her head. It was clear that her body was in blissful ecstasy. “Tree! Please cum. Please cum with me, boo!” she screeched urgently.

Derrick eyed her shapely ass, and then with each stroke he pounded into her forcefully.

“Yess, like that, baby. Fuck me just right.”

The more he eyed his shaft sliding into her effortlessly, the closer he came to reaching his own orgasm. Suddenly the feeling of her warm juices coating his dick brought him to a climatic explosion.

“That's right, baby. Cum for me, boo. Cum for me,” she crooned.

Derrick's body jerked uncontrollably as he reached his peak. He looked down at Asia as she lay in ecstasy, her breathing heavy. Sex with her was also becoming a stress reliever as Derrick worked toward infiltrating BTB and helping his mother.

Derrick removed his hat as he stepped into his mother's hospital room. Velma Richards was heavily sedated after enduring a treatment session. A few tears streamed from Derrick's eyes as he slowly paced toward the woman who'd birthed him. Her eyes were closed, and her eyebrows had vanished with the rest of her hair. It hurt Derrick each time he watched his mother's baldhead. Not only because she looked awkward, but because she was a beautifier by trade. It was such an ironic set of circumstances.

He turned his head toward the doctor entering the room.

“Hello, Mr. Richards,” said the doctor.

Derrick nodded. “Talk to me.”

The doctor adjusted the machine that was attached to Velma Richards. He checked her breathing with a stethoscope, and then headed toward the door with Derrick in tow.

“Your mother is a fighter.”

Derrick exhaled.

“But the hospital needs that payment. I overheard my coworkers in billing discussing it.”

“I have five thousand today. That covers more than half. I'll have the rest before the week is out.”

“It's not up to me. It's the administrators in the billing department. I just know the hospital won't continue to allow me to provide care for your mother if we are not compensated in a timely fashion.”

Derrick nodded. “I know, but—”

“I have to go.” He was cut short by the doctor.

Derrick clenched his teeth as he watched the doctor walk off. He looked around, furious as thoughts of his ailing mother dominated his mind. Derrick began walking. He stopped at a receptionist desk and asked for directions to the billing department. He then boarded an elevator and sped through a corridor until he spoke with a secretary and was escorted into the plush office of a hospital administrator in the billing department.

“So how can I help you?” the balding white man asked with a smile.

“It's about my mother.” Derrick went on to explain his mother's situation and his inability to pay her bills in full.

The administration shook his head and frowned. “Sir, I'm sorry.” He paused. “I really don't know what to tell you. I mean, I'm not the head of the department, but I know the procedure. And based on what you've said, the chances of you being granted another extension to finance you mother's health care are slim.”

“So you're going to just deny my mother the right to live.”

“That's a harsh statement.”

“A true statement.”

The man shook his head and sighed. He looked at his watch. “Sir, I sympathize with you, but I have a meeting to attend.”

“I'm not looking for sympathy,” Derrick said, raising his voice.

“As I said earlier, I'm in no position to accommodate you.” He stood and reached his hand out to shake Derrick's hand.

Derrick gritted his teeth, staring at the man's hand. “This is some bullshit,” Derrick mumbled as he stood.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard what the fuck I said!” Derrick barked, causing the aging man to jump back in fear.

“Profanity is totally uncalled for.”

“My mother is damn near dying and you're worried about me fucking cursing!” Derrick's eyes cut into the timid, red-faced man. “Fuck you! How about that?” Derrick stormed out of the office. He was nearly as disgusted, as he was frustrated and angry. Although he was prepared to spend the last of his savings, he was still short. There had to be a way out and Derrick was determined to find it.

* * *

It was almost midnight on the day Derrick left his mother in a Virginia hospital. He sat on his bed counting out $30,000 he had just made from a heroin sale to a man in Crown Heights, Brooklyn that Asia had introduced him to. The man was one of several that Derrick had been making moves with, generating enough money to get his mother the best health care available in the country. Derrick slowly rubbed the stacks of bills between his hands, and then ran the money under his nose. “But all this shit is accounted for,” he mumbled at the thought of dipping on the money the DEA was expecting him to turn in within forty-eight hours. So he put the money in a bag and set it in his safe.

* * *

W
ord had spread throughout Brooklyn about the unfamiliar foreign cars with Virginia plates steered by an unknown face who often had Asia in the passenger seat. Even Robert ‘RJ' Jordan was about to get wind of the man known as Tree. RJ cruised through the streets of Brooklyn with his phone glued to his ear.

“So, if this nigga ain't fucking with our paper, why are you even telling me about him?” he yelled into the phone as he whipped his Range Rover Sport into a parking lot. With the phone still glued to his ear, he parked beside the black CLS Mercedes already parked in the lot. “Look! If son ain't interfering with our business, fuck ‘im.” He concluded the call.

Royal ‘Lil' Roy' Bradley appeared at the truck's passenger window. “You ready to do—” Lil' Roy said before he was cut off by RJ's cell phone vibrating on the expensive wood grain.

Quickly, RJ snatched the phone from the console and eyed the number conspicuously. He held up his index finger signaling Lil' Roy to be quiet. “Yeah. Baby, wassup,” he replied.

“Are you coming to get me or are you going to make me catch a cab?” RJ's girlfriend, Trina asked, full of attitude.

“Damn! My fault, give me ten minutes and I'll be there.”

“Robert, just hurry up. Asia finished my hair twenty minutes ago and the shop's about to close.”

“A'ight! I'm on my way!” he retorted hastily. Once he turned back to Lil' Roy, he instantly reverted to his business demeanor.

“Hold off on making that move for a couple of hours. I got to run downtown and scoop Trina real quick,” he explained as he turned the ignition.

Lil' Roy quickly stepped back from the truck without any sort of reply. RJ was the boss, and he respected anything he did. If it was one thing he'd learned about his childhood friend over the years, it was to never second-guess him on anything, especially his personal affairs.

******

Derrick sat behind the wheel of the BMW in a heated discussion with the supervisor of the seizure department.

“I'm telling you, I need at least 500 grams!” Derrick bellowed into the unseen receiver, as he kept a close eye on the entrance of Golden Creations.

“Damn, Richards! Five hundred fucking grams! What the fuck are you doing?” the seizure department supervisor asked. “Trying to—”

Derrick's voice sliced through the air, cutting him off in mid sentence. “Listen motherfucker! DC is backing me on this shit! If you've got a fucking problem I can–”

“Whoa! Whoa! Derrick, man, I know you've got an all access pass on this one. It's just that I don't have that amount at this time. But, hey man, give me a couple of days, and I'll get you enough
junk
to kill off half the fucking city.” He chuckled.

Derrick instantly felt a pang of guilt as the man's comment might have held some level of validity. The heroin that Derrick obtained from the agency had been distributed into the streets and then snorted or injected into drug addicts across the city. Derrick's job seemed more foul each moment he thought of it.

“So we straight?” the supervisor asked.

Unable to mount a suitable reply, he simply said, “Yeah whatever.” Then he ended the call. Derrick laid his head against the headrest with his eyes closed in deep thought. The sound of the low bass from a powerful audio system made him quickly open his eyes. This was nothing too shocking, seeing as though he was sitting in front of one of the city's premier hair salons. As his eyes focused on the dark gray Range Rover, sitting on 24-inch Spreewells with a personalized New York license plate that read:
BTB-INC
, he knew it was officially show time.

******

RJ pulled up to Golden Creations and scrolled through the list of persons who'd called him last. As he pushed the button to dial the number for the hair salon, the sight of a tall, brown-skinned brother stepping from a 760 BMW caught his attention. His mind replayed the conversation that had taken place earlier that afternoon between him and Sherm.

“I'm telling you, son, it's going to be a problem,” Sherm warned.

“Is the nigga stepping on our toes, yo!” RJ asked in a frustrating tone.

“Nah, son ain't fucking wit' our flow, yet. But I'm—”

“So if this nigga ain't fucking wit' our business, why is you telling me about him?”

Now that RJ was face to face with the mysterious out-of-towner, who was pushing China White heroin and an even whiter V-12 BMW, he immediately understood Sherm's increased skepticism.

Just as the driver of the BMW made it to the doors of the salon, Trina and Asia exited. RJ expected his woman and her friend to continue walking toward him, but was surprised when they abruptly stopped and began to chat with the stranger. Once he witnessed the tall dude wrap his arm around Asia's shoulder, he understood exactly what it was.

After they exchanged pleasantries, Trina sashayed over to the Range, while Asia and Derrick made their way to his car.

Once Trina was inside the truck with RJ, she looked over to him as he eyed her quizzically.

“What!” she asked defensively.

“I ain't say nothing,” he replied with a smirk plastered on his face.

“You ain't have to, Robert. I know you. Besides, that was Asia's friend, and I invited them to the party on the Spirit of New York next weekend, so . . .”

“Shit, it's your party. I don't care who you invite. But don't say shit if Lil' Roy toss him overboard. You know that water cold as a motherfucker around this time of the year.”

“Please, Robert. You know just as well as I do that Asia and Lil' Roy are a thing of the past. Besides, do you really think Lil' Roy could throw him anywhere? What is Roy? Five-five and a hundred pounds soaking wet.” Trina giggled.

“I hope you're right and Lil Roy don't get so mad he wanna do more than just lay hands on homie.”

******

Derrick navigated his BMW through the streets of New York, while Asia babbled uncontrollably about what the following weekend's events held for each of them. Although Derrick acted as if he was the least bit enthused by the invite, internally he was ecstatic.

“Boo, this is going to be so much fun! I just can't wait to see everybody's face when we walk in,” she stated with excitement, slapping her thigh for emphasis. “I've got to get that new Dior dress,” she said more to herself than to Derrick.

As much as he wanted to tell Asia to
shut the fuck up!
he couldn't. He needed her now more than ever. This was his interview into BTB, and there was no room for mishaps.

Shortly after he dropped Asia off, he parked the highly visible 760 and hopped into his own Corvette, and made his way to DEA headquarters.

******

After RJ made the trip to drop Trina off, he jumped into his black CL 600 and allowed the purplish hyper-violet headlights to guide him back into the city. He couldn't wait to tell Sherm that the guy he so desperately wanted to put out of business was coming to Trina's party. This, in addition to the look that would appear on Lil' Roy's face once he found out it was Asia who was chaperoning the man, caused RJ to chuckle lightly.

RJ laughed to himself, but he knew the encounter could easily turn violent. He felt that once the Virginia native witnessed how the Black Tar Boyz were balling, he'd either roll with them or get rolled over.

As he pulled his Benz onto his old block, people began to flock around his luxury vehicle as if they were waiting to see a New York rapper or ball player. Even though RJ garnered the attention like the professional baller, he was simply a baller who carried himself professionally.

Standing an even six feet and weighing a feathery 170 pounds, RJ's demeanor demanded respect. As a youngster running the streets of Brooklyn, the hazel eyed, curly haired boy always presented himself as a leader. Those who attempted to test the skinny, pretty boy quickly found themselves being the object of his rage. There was even a gruesome tale of RJ murdering a man who called him ‘Pretty RJ'.

Slowly, he exited his car in the midst of the fanfare while nonchalantly attempting to acknowledge all who were present. The hood loved Robert ‘RJ' Jordan, and he loved them back. He dug into his pockets and began to hand the bills out to all those who stood around. This only made the scene appear to be that much more chaotic.

Suddenly, the thunderous bass from twin CLS Benzes garnered everyone's attention as they rounded each corner onto Grand Avenue. One black Benz came from Fulton Street and the other white Benz simultaneously appeared from the opposite direction on the avenue. Children in the crowd began to dance to the loud music coming from the vehicles.

Just as the festive atmosphere began, it ended. As soon as Lil' Roy, Eli, Sherm, and Damien excited the vehicles, they immediately followed their boss into the house across the street.

******

Derrick eyed the off-white substance through scrutinizing eyes. Suddenly, he turned his attention to the supervisor of the seizure department and yelled, “This is a death wish! I can't go out there with this shit!”

“Come on, Richards, man. What are you doing with this stuff?” the short, nerdy white guy inquired. “I mean junk is junk, man.”

“Spoken like someone who mans an office. You need to play the field sometimes.”

“I didn't always sit behind a desk,” he responded.

“Look! I'm in the midst of a serious investigation!”

“You and every other agent in this building.”

“Well, after this evening if I have any more problems out of you, I won't hesitate to go to the top!” Derrick exploded. He snatched the bag of drugs and stormed from the office.