The Legend of Johnny Hustle: Crown Me King (20 page)

The first store we stopped in, which I couldn’t comprehend, was Victoria’s Secret.  I followed Cashmere as he walked in and spotted the most elegant Black woman.  After just a few words in her ear, he was helping her pick out negligees.  He made her promise that he would be able to see her wear them.  She had to be over fifty, but when she pulled out her wallet, I started putting the pieces together.  Platinum and gold cards lined her case, and tucked in the side was a neat wad of cash.  Cashmere walked and talked with her while she paid for the things he selected.  When they walked past me, exiting the store, he said, “Playa, I’ll be right with you,” and they headed in the direction of a men’s shoe store.

I waited outside for Cashmere and his lady friend.  Ten minutes later the new couple walked out of the store.  One of Cashmere’s hands was around the woman’s waist, and the other hand held a plastic bag with a shoebox in it.  Mesmerized by his words, the woman toyed with the keys to a Lexus.  When their conversation was over, she tried to kiss Cashmere on the cheek and he said, “Baby, I don’t do that.  You take care of that withdrawal from the bank, and I’ll see you later.” He quickly scanned her from head to toe.  She smiled at him.  “Go on, Mama—with your fine self.”

Blushing couldn’t describe the look on her face.  When she walked away, he did his dance.  I shook my head and said, “Man, that woman is damn near twice your age.”

He stopped short, rocked down from side-to-side, and squatted down to the floor.  While shaking his hips from left to right, he came back up.  “You got a lot to learn.  The older they get, the less they get.”  He started his dance again. “And with a simple touch, they get oh, so wet.  Can you imagine, playa, how long it’s been since she’s been with a man?  These lames don’t realize that these older women got everything in they life except a good man.  Older ladies
know
what they want, and they don’t care about the price.  They know life is too short to be playing games, and a playa like me, just can’t discriminate.”

He opened the shoebox. “How you like these six hundred dollar gators playa?  And I just got here.  Playa—playa!”

We walked around the mall with all eyes on us.  Cashmere schooled me on the best clothes to buy.  He then stopped and looked over the frames of his glasses. ”You like sports, Johnny?”

I thought about the addiction I had for boxing and basketball back when I was a square. “Don’t every man?”

Cashmere smoothed out the hairs on his chin. “What sports fans lack in they life is intrigue.  For a healthy man to fall victim to games is ‘cause something in it prods his imagination.  He looks for actors in the drama of a sport to pull him out of the pain of his sorry ass life.  For playa’s like you and me, women ain’t no game, and a playa’s life don’t make no couch potatoes.  Work hard, play to win, and leave them games with balls alone.”

I felt a transformation take place.  I knew I was a natural thief.  I had more money than most, but the one thing I was lacking was the full confidence Cashmere had.  Instantly, it became my duty to prove to myself that I could win with all women.

We walked around and visited only the expensive stores.  As we were coming down the escalators, a short, physically fit, Latino looking woman with long hair down her back caught my attention.  She looked like she weighed a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet.  With a closer look, my stroll sense told me that she was pick pocketing marks with the quickest finesse I had ever seen.  I tapped Cashmere. “Look at that.  Watch her work.”

He saw how fast she moved and said, “Man I don’t know how you see that playa.  Y’all jostlers got a different set of eyes.”

I watched the woman walk away after her last sting and then drop the wallet into her open purse.  I figured that she was going to double back so that she could get another victim.  I didn’t have a wallet and I knew Cashmere didn’t have one, so I quickly took the wallet off the man in front of me.  When she turned around, I told Cashmere, “Watch this.”

I put the sable back on my shoulders and hung the wallet out of my inside pocket.  A child would have been able to take it.  A pro would have avoided me and thought I was a cop.  I hoped the woman wasn’t a pro, and that she was a bit greedy.  When I saw her coming my way, I looked behind me while walking directly towards her.

Cashmere and I stopped.  She then stopped, bumped me, and said, “Oh, excuse me.”

When she bumped me, her hand went for my wallet and my hand went into her purse and removed three that she stole.  I opened one of the wallets and looked at the ID and said, “Oh sorry. Oh, you’re not Harold Washington.”  Her head snapped around nervously looking for onlookers.  I then opened the second wallet and looked at the ID. “Well, I know you’re not Linda Flynn.”  I then opened the third wallet and saw her ID—my mouth dropped.  A NYPD badge and identification card was inside.  I silently read the name on the ID while comparing her to the photo.

“That’s right.  Renee Blanca, N-Y-P-D,” her raspy voice commanded.  “Now turn it over.”

Cashmere tapped me with his elbow and pulled me out of my trance.  “Playa, this ain’t New York.  That piece a tin don’t mean nothing on this side of the water.”

My mind went into movie mode. “Nah, I think I’ll take this to One Police Plaza after I turn you over to the New Jersey State troopers.”

All the life came out of her.  She stepped closer to me with a sad face and tears welling up in her beautiful brown eyes.  In a whisper that felt like velvet she said, “Please don’t do that.”  Her hands were shaking when she held them up.  “Whatever you want.  I’ll do it, or pay you for it.  Just don’t turn me in.  One thief to the next.”

I liked the sound of her pleading. “Anything huh?”

With a look of defeat she said, “Anything, lets just leave here, away from these crowds.”

I smiled at Cashmere while putting my arm around her 5’ 4” shoulders and headed for the escalators.  When I reached the Andrew Marc store, I stopped in front.

“You're gonna be Linda Flynn,” I told her, watching the pain grow into her face like wrinkles.  “I’m going shopping, and you gonna pay for it.  In the mean time, I’m going to hold onto your badge and ID, okay?”

She nodded quickly, holding back tears.  I ignored her emotional breakdown and walked into the store.  I purchased a caramel colored, butter-soft leather shirt, pants, belt, and a full-length trench coat.  I then picked up matching ankle length boots with lamb’s wool at the top.  With my appearance, and her looking like a typical White woman, the salesclerk took the credit cards and didn’t even ask for ID.

When I stepped out of the store, two women were in my sight.  A well-dressed Black woman, who was close to two hundred pounds, was talking to Cashmere.  He was leaning on a railing to the side, ignoring the gorgeous one.  He looked into the eyes of the big woman like it was love at first sight.  I thought of Joy and then looked at the big woman and tried to see what he saw.  I think I was learning his game.  Her earrings were giant rocks that glistened.  The gold necklace she wore was tasteful, and she had close to six diamond tennis bracelets on her large wrist.  Her clothes were new and her boots spoke in volumes.  Overall, the woman was polished.

Renee stood next to me and asked, “Okay, we’re done; may I have my badge back?”

I figured I could be a player, too. “Run along and I’ll give you a call so you can meet me and get your badge back.”

She crossed her arms in protest. “I own a gun.  I don’t have time for you to be playing with me.”

“Well, we can always go to the police, or I can call my cousin, David Dinkins, and see where you’ll work after that?” I said with a grin.

“I don’t need the job.  I just work there to have something to do, so you know what?  Make the call.  Keep the badge, and just give me my driver’s license.”

Cashmere was ready to go, so I said, “See you in the city.  I’m Johnny Hustle.  I promise, I’ll call.”

We walked away and Renee stomped her feet and reached in her bag for her car keys.  I knew Cashmere was impressed that the stranger took me shopping.  When I knew she was out of my sight, I turned to Cashmere.  In an effort to avoid a reprimand, I humbled myself and said, “School me on the big woman.”

Before opening the door to the parking lot, he twisted his mink hat to the side.  “First of all, you ain’t impress nobody with the kleptomaniac back there.  You don’t get props for doing what you suppose to do.  Second of all, big mama was fine, and she had the right things on.  In five minutes she knew where I stood, and I knew what she wanted.  How can I beat that?  On top of that, she
gotta
know how to cook, ‘cause she like to eat.  Now, the last and final chapter to the big body book is this, the sex is so hot it make your toes curl, and when you wake up in the morning, you’ll be appreciated.  Pretty women don’t appreciate jack, and a skinny woman want somebody to feed her, so I don’t need her.”

Joy taught me the pleasures of a big woman, and I was satisfied with keeping that wonderful secret to myself.

16

Renee

              Cashmere picked me up the next morning.  We drove over to a new ColeHaan store on Columbus Avenue.  I picked up a pair of shoes and a coat.  We then stopped over to the Nautica shop.  I picked up an outfit.  I had to stop Cashmere from buying every item in black.

              “Playa, I reevaluated the way you made that move last night.  I see you know what you worth now, playa.  That confidence can’t ever leave you now.”  He said as we walked out the door.

              “So what happen to you last night?”  I asked, curious to see what went on.

              “Gerald and me?  That’s Levert, playa.  We hung out at an after party with some hoochies and promised to hook up on the West Coast.  By the time I got to my lady, she was steaming.  She had the nerve to ask me where I was.”

              “So what you…” Of course I had no time to get the words in.

              “What I do?  I told her I was where I was, and will be where I be; and if she ever get it twisted, she won’t ever see me.”  He squealed.  “Then I teased her for about an hour, making her cum twice without touching her.  Then when she started begging me for more, playa, I scooped up the cash and told her I had to go.”

              The stories he told were hard to believe, but he was the only man I met with the level of confidence that told the world he was really God’s gift to women.

“So what should I do about the cop?”

              “Playa, I’m glad you asked.  Steel sharpens steel, and just like I got Pierre, you got me.  What you got to do, playa, is quiz her and find out her nature.  You got to know what makes her tick.  Why would a cop be a petty thief?  The answer is simple.  She a klepto and can’t help herself.  She go to Jersey to avoid the embarrassment of getting busted in New York.  You see, playa, you got to make sense out of nonsense, that’s your job as a man.  A woman don’t want to hear excuses, they want a man to produce results.  So with the officer, you got to captivate her mind—that’s where her world is.  You got to show her that all she needs to steal is your heart, or to steal for you.”  He picked up his car phone and said, “Here.  Fish through her wallet.  Let’s go down to her house, call outside the door, and
tell her
you on the way in.  Make her jump through some hoops, playa.  She’s the law, and you never, ever, ever turn down an officer in distress.”

I decided to give it a try.  She lived on 56
th
Street, at Sutton Place.  When we pulled up, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I never knew Manhattan had such beautiful areas.  The neighborhood was so impressive, Cashmere tapped me and said, “You might be out of your league, playa.”  He then put his arm around my shoulder.  “Let me have her.”

I made the call to Renee.  After telling her I was at her door, she told me that she would be right down.  I was totally unsure of what the situation would be like.  I was hesitant about allowing Cashmere to leave, so I asked him to wait.

$$$

Renee came to the door, wearing an official New York Mets jersey—with enough buttons undone to reveal her cleavage, and a pair of ragged blue-jean shorts that hugged her small, well-developed frame.  Her hair was in a long ponytail displaying her oval face and beautiful eyes.  The brisk January weather invaded her doorway, causing the nipples of her C-cup breasts to stand at attention.  Bouncing from one bare foot to the other, she said, “Would you come on in before you let all of the heat out.”

I stepped into the warm foyer of the immaculate house.  Earth tones invaded my senses.  Her home was decorated in an antique décor with art canvases on every wall.  She had heated marble floor tiles, and the place was spotless.  As I followed behind her, I passed a marble mini-bar with high stools.  I stepped onto the brown, thick, soft living room carpet, and nodded.  She had class.

“Click.”

I heard the hammer of the small .38 revolver snap back into the single action position.  When I looked up, Renee stood at the entrance of the massive living room, aiming her gun at me.  I looked behind her and saw the view of the East River through a sliding door.  I thought about jumping out of it until she made her announcement.

“I’ll have you know that I’m an expert marksman.  If you attempt to flee, I won’t miss.”  I could see that she was dead serious.  “Just put the badge and ID down.  Then take your bags and leave.  I will go to work, and we’ll live apart happily ever after.”

              What was I supposed to do?  I thought of Yoda, the crazy hillbilly that shot me in the service, and then I thought of Cashmere.  With my life on the line, I made sense out of nonsense and thought like a hustler.  I looked in the ocean of honey in her eyes and said, “Shoot.”

              “What?  Don’t tempt me,” she muttered, stepping closer to me.

              “Let me get this right?  You’re going to shoot the Mayor’s cousin in
your
house?  That
you
let in, in this neighborhood?  I have a witness outside that door who’s expecting me in a few minutes.  Just because you’re a klepto and can’t face the music?  Go ahead, shoot.”

              The gun bounced in her tight grip.  As her tapered eyebrows closed together in frustration, her puffy lips quivered and she snapped, “Don’t call me that.”

              “What?”  I asked, as I stepped closer.  “A kleptomaniac?  You ashamed that you a thief because you’re on the other side of the law?  All the politicians and executives you protect steal more than you ever can.”

“Don’t come any closer,” she cried as I quickly stepped closer.

I was a foot away from the gun.  “I told you to shoot.  As fine as you are, I’ll take a bullet.”  I walked up to her and put my chest to the nose of the gun.  “I just want to make all your pain go away, and teach you that the only thing you need to steal is my heart.”  With my pick pocketing hands I quickly reached and snatched the gun away.  “Put your hands behind your head and get on your knees,” I ordered.

To my surprise, she surrendered.  She acted as if she wanted me to put an end to whatever pain she felt.  I didn’t know what I was doing.  My brain was on auto-pilot.  I looked over at her marble counter and saw her handcuffs.  While keeping the gun aimed at her, I snatched the cuffs.  I then slapped them on her wrists the way officer’s Jackson and Vance had done to me.

Tears formed in her eyes. Sobbing she said, “I don’t care anymore.  Just take me down to the station or call your cousin.  Just do whatever it is that you have to do.”

What she didn’t realize was that I was playing everything by ear.  I didn’t know what I was suppose to do next, so I picked her up.  I sat her in one of her antique chairs and asked, “You married?  You have a man?  Is there anyone else in the house?”

“No.  To all of the above, what?  Are you gonna rob
me
now?” she asked.  Her chest heaved up and down, revealing more cleavage.

“Relax,” I said while putting the gun down and wiping my prints off it.  I then slipped off my jacket and said, “We’re gonna make a deal.  You tell me three things I want to know, and I’ll let you go and walk out the door.  Deal?”

She blew a strand of brown hair out of her face. “Sure.  Whatever.”

I had a seat and folded one leg over the other.  “Okay, question number one, Renee.  Was I right that you steal because you can’t help it?”

With her emotions intact, sounding like a tough guy she said, “Give the man a prize.  Next question.”

I had to figure out more about her, but I didn’t know how to, so I said, “Tell me your life story.”

“You got to be kidding me.  Are you serious?” she asked, looking like she wanted to jump out of the seat and kick my ass.

“A deal is a deal,” I told her, trying to make her compromise.

She sighed in annoyance before saying, “My parents are from Naples, that’s Italy in case you can’t comprehend.  My mother is where I get my eyes from, and I’ve been stealing since I was eight.  I became a cop at One Police Plaza, in the forgery division, because I knew that one day I would get caught.  The badge has saved me quite a few times.  I’m single, tired of men like you, and now that you busted me, you should receive a medal.  Last question.”

She had me stumped, but a deal was a deal. “This place must cost close to a mill, how do you afford it.”

“Whew,” she blew out.  “My dad is a Jazz musician.  He taught me how to steal.  That’s how we ate when I was a little girl.  One day he wanted to play the drums and made more money than he ever thought was possible.  He’ll tell you that he hadn’t the slightest idea that he was gifted.  All he knew was that people loved it, they paid a lot of money to hear him play, and we were never hungry from that point on.  I never stopped stealing, and you know the rest.  It was nice talking to you.  Blah-blah-blah.  Now uncuff me.  A deal is a deal, so get the keys from the mini-bar and uncuff me.  You can leave now, I did my part.  I fulfilled my end of the deal.”  I uncuffed her.

When I reached for my bag, she slapped the cuffs on my wrists, did some kind of jujitsu move—twisting my arms, and by the time my knees were on the ground, she had both hands of my hands cuffed behind my head.

“Not so tough now, huh?” she bragged, standing directly in front of me.

My mouth got me into the situation, so I had to use it to get me out of it.  Renee placed a metal chair with chrome pillars in front me.  She turned it around so that the back of the chair was facing me.  She straddled the seat, leaning on the tips of her polished toes.  I looked through the slit at the leg of her shorts, eyeing the pubic hairs that peeked out.

“What are you looking down there for?” She motioned with the gun.  “Look up here at me,” she demanded.

I slowly licked my lips and bounced my eyebrows like Omar. “I like what I see.”

“Forget that, buddy.”  She looked at my wedding band. “You talk real slick for a married man.” She scanned me and then ran her tongue under her top lip.  “Now it’s your turn to answer three questions, and maybe I’ll let
you
go.”  She looked over my shoulder to make sure I was secure.  I wasn’t going anywhere if I could.  “First, how did you get all three wallets out of my bag in the time I took to take your wallet?”

Her eyes narrowed to slits like I was schooling her to sharpen her craft.  I didn’t know how I was going to get out of the situation.  So before I answered, my eyes slowly scanned her aqua toenails, her unblemished knees, her crotch, and her erect nipples.  She noticed me undressing her with my eyes and dropped her voice to a soft tone. “If you’re married, why are you looking at me like that?”

“That’s two questions,” I answered.  I then lowered my voice so that she would have to come closer to hear me.  I whispered, “I took those wallets with ease because I’m a thief.  Just like you.  The difference with me is that I hustle for mine.  For the most part, nobody gets hurt.  I know I’m a thief, and I know there are casualties involved, I embrace it.  Just like your dad, I’m gifted, and I never want to be hungry again.  Unlike you, I don’t run away from it and try to live a double life.”

“This is not about me,” she complained, in a shallow attempt at being firm, but then her body relaxed.

I had to keep her off balance.  “Now for your other question, because this
is
about you.”  My eyes scanned her body, slower this time.  “I look at you this way because I see this innocent little girl who was born to be a hustler.  You got a hidden family and no real friends.  Probably had a few affairs down at the station until you finally realized that a cop’s life is no life to have.  So you lost interest in the boys in blue.  Probably took counseling because you can’t stop stealing.  Now you met your partner in crime, Johnny Hustle.  I can keep you focused.”

My words hit home like a rich preacher’s sermon.  Her French tipped fingers opened and closed.  Resisting the truth, she closed her eyes.  Tight.  When she finally looked at me, I licked my lips and looked at her like she had my future in her hands.  She gave no resistance to my stare, so I seized the opportunity.  “You already know why I look at you like that.  I’m a man sweetheart.  I’m not one of those boys you’re used to dealing with down at the station.  You’re too fine to go to waste.  I would be crazy
not to
look at you.”  She swallowed hard and closed her eyes again.  I turned it up.

“You’re a fraud, Renee, so why don’t you finally come over to what’s real?”  She squirmed in her seat like a hypocrite in church.  “You know I’m here to save you, and me being married really doesn’t matter.  You knew from the moment I walked through that door that you wanted me.  Unless of course, you meet everybody at the door without panties and bra?”  Her face turned crimson.  She made an attempt to cover her harden nipples, and I figured I’d go all the way to get those cuffs off of me.  “Your whole life, you’ve been waiting for me to come along.  You should let me love you, and then you can stop being a fraud.”  The hand that held the gun dropped to her side and her legs opened as she looked away.  “You’re probably creaming in your pants right now.  Stop fighting yourself and surrender, sweetheart.  Be what you know you’re suppose to be.”