Flippin' the Hustle Read online

  Massaging his temples in contemplation, RJ asked, “You think so?”

  “I know so!” Sherm retorted.

  Thinking for a moment, RJ said, “I’ll tell you what. Set something up for me, you, and dude to sit down and talk.”

  Sherm nodded, and then headed for the exit. Before he was out the door, RJ’s voice stopped him.

  “Sherm! Don’t do anything until we sit down. All right!”

  Sherm looked him in the eyes. “A’ight. I got you.”

  Derrick had just exited Lil’ John’s Atlantic Avenue home and hopped into his Escalade, when his cell phone vibrated on his hip. He snatched the apparatus from his hip and flipped it open.

  “Hello?”

  “Yeah, what up, Tree? This Sherm.”

  “Ain’t shit, son. What’s poppin’ wit’ you?”

  “Um . . . I was trying to hook up wit’ you and . . . um talk some business.”

  “Oh yeah. Well, as I told you, if your numbers aren’t fucking wit’ my peeps, I’ma have to pass,” Derrick stated casually.

  “I’ll tell you what. Meet me at Yolonda’s in Brooklyn in an hour.” Sherm quickly hung up without waiting for a response.

  Derrick tossed his cell phone into the passenger seat, and then took a right turn onto Lafayette Avenue. Instinctively, he peered into his rearview mirror and noticed a set of headlights that had been traveling dangerously close. Instantly, his tactical training kicked in as he methodically began to lead his followers into a vulnerable position. Derrick was leading the pursuers into a position where they felt he was most vulnerable, encouraging them to do what they’d planned to. However, once the smoke cleared, Derrick had no doubt that he’d be the last man standing.

  Steering the Escalade, Derrick was careful not to exceed the speed limit, making sure that his pursuers followed closely. He took a quick peep into the rearview mirror, noticing the silver Ford Expedition with at least three occupants, still following him. Clutching a Colt .45 in his right hand, Derrick could feel the taste for war rising in his throat.

  As he casually traveled Lafayette, he knew this was an opportune spot for his attackers to strike, if they in fact, were attackers.

  Once the Escalade cruised to a stop at the stoplight, Derrick went to work fast. He quickly slammed the Escalade gearshift into park. Derrick slid his shoe off and jammed it into the brake, causing the brake lights to stay on. Taking a quick look back, he noticed two men hastily exit the Expedition from both sides and converge on his vehicle in a crouched manner.

  Smoothly, Derrick slid into the rear seat as if he was the passenger behind the driver. With his arm aimed high, he calmly waited for the men to make their move.

  As two assailants approached from both sides, Derrick planned to use this to his advantage. Glancing up at the stoplight, he couldn’t believe that the light had actually afforded his would-be murderers the allotted time to commit an atrocious act.

  Suddenly, the driver door was snatched open. Derrick didn’t even give his attacker time to realize that he wasn’t there before he squeezed the trigger on his weapon, placing a well-aimed .45 slug into the man’s head. Almost simultaneously, the passenger door was pulled open. With his weapon aimed in the perfect angle, Derrick pulled the trigger again. The shot rang out, causing nearly half of the second attacker’s brain to splatter against the window.

  Quickly sliding from the rear driver door, Derrick witnessed the Expedition leap from its sitting position as the driver stomped the gas pedal.

  He eyed the nearly six thousand pound vehicle coming directly toward him. Derrick calmly leveled the high-powered handgun and squeezed off numerous well-placed shots, until the SUV abruptly swerved and then slammed into a telephone pole.

  Derrick threw a fresh clip into his gun and cautiously approached the Expedition. Snatching the driver’s door open, he noticed two nickel sized holes in the third attacker’s mask. He pulled the ski mask from over the man’s swollen head and recognized his face immediately. It was Sherm. Snatching the diamond encrusted BTB necklace from his neck, he quickly made his way back to his truck.

  Hopping back into his Escalade, he looked up and noticed the stoplight had ironically just turned green. As he pulled away from the atrocious scene, he dialed DEA headquarters and reported the three bullet riddled corpses.

  ***

  Driving through the streets of New York, Derrick battled with the fact that Sherm had actually tried to murder him. Nonetheless, it went without saying that the streets were definitely treacherous. Derrick still wasn’t sure if the hit had come from RJ or not, and there was only one way of finding out.

  He picked his phone up from the passenger seat, and dialed Asia’s number.

  “Hello,” she blurted on the first ring.

  “What’s up, Asia? I need to see you,” he announced in his sexiest voice.

  “Oh really. I thought you’d be busy.”

  “Nah, I’m trying to see you.”

  “A’ight. Come on,” she stated, faking as if she’d been pressured.

  “I’m on my way.”

  ******

  Pacing back and forth inside the house on Grand Avenue, RJ glared at each man accusingly. “How the fuck did this shit happen!” he yelled.

  Each man attempted to avert RJ’s piercing gaze, prompting him to sarcastically add, “Don’t everybody speak at once!”

  Again, there was complete silence. RJ stepped over to where Damien sat with his head in his palms. “Damien! What the fuck happened, yo?”

  Damien shook his head in a somber manner. “Dude was fucking wit’ them niggas in the projects.” Throwing his hands up, he said, “I guess they got him crossed up in some dumb shit.”

  “Some dumb shit, huh!” RJ barked incredulously, and then moved on to the next man. “What you got to say, Lil’ Roy?”

  “Man, you know how Sherm was. Dude was out there running with them young boys, beefin’ wit’ niggas and got slumped,” he said. “But truthfully, I heard he was trying to stick dude from Virginia.”

  RJ’s aggressive demeanor changed as he replayed the conversation he and Sherm had had no less than thirty-six hours before.

  “Sherm! Don’t do anything until we sit down. A’ight!”

  “A’ight. I got you, yo.”

  At that very moment, RJ knew exactly what happened to Sherm and his young crew. Apparently, the charismatic dude from Virginia wasn’t as vulnerable as Sherm assumed.

  “I told his stupid ass to be cool!” RJ yelled, drawing confused stares from his crew. Looking each of them in the eyes he said, “Y’all niggas lay low for a few days until I check some shit out. And I mean lay low!” he advised firmly, and then stormed from the house.

  ******

  “Oooh! Tree, fuck me deeper! Oh yes!” Asia screamed as Derrick pounded into her from the rear. Her naturally juicy pussy was now gushing cum as it trickled down the inside of her thighs.

  Derrick eyed his condom-covered shaft sliding in and out of her pussy as the sound of her wetness nearly pushed him over the edge.

  “Damn, Tree! You so fucking . . . deep in my pussy,” she crooned through clenched teeth. The sight of his dick sliding effortless into her became too much for him to bear.

  As he began to jackhammer into her furiously, he felt his seed fill the condom to its capacity.

  “Oooh, yes! Give me my shit!” Asia yelled, winding her buttocks rhythmically.

  Flopping down onto her back, spent, Derrick’s heavy breathing stood as an indicator of just how good sex with Asia actually was.

  Rubbing the side of Derrick’s face soothingly, she said, “Asia got that good shit, don’t she?”

  “Mmmm hmmm,” Derrick replied, attempting to regain control of his labored breathing. Once he recuperated from the vigorous sex, his mind instantly reve
rted to his initial reason for the unexpected visit. Sex was just a prerequisite to his means.

  “Asia, I need you to do me a favor.” He paused for a moment to judge her reaction to his serious tone. “I need you to call Trina and get her to relay a message to Robert for me.”

  Asia reached over to the bedside nightstand and grabbed the phone. She began dialing. “What you want me to tell her?” she asked.

  Derrick carefully chose the words that would ultimately make or break his investigation.

  ******

  Derrick casually entered the dimly lit restaurant as the mellow sounds of Steele Pulse played through the establishment’s stereo. Dressed in his Andrew Tiziano’s sweater, Gucci jeans, and white Air Force 1′s, Derrick blended in easily.

  He noticed RJ sitting in a dark corner alone with his phone glued to his ear. As Derrick made his way to the table where RJ sat, he inconspicuously pulled the BTB medallion that he’d taken from Sherm from his pocket and gripped it in his hand. He gave RJ a murderous glare and took a seat opposite him. Without saying a word, he tossed it onto the table, causing a loud clank.

  RJ asked, “What’s this?”

  “That’s what I took from your boy after he tried to murder me,” Derrick said.

  “Look, man, I ain’t have shit to do with what dude did. In fact, I specifically told dude to set something up so I could holler at you,” he explained.

  “Really?” Derrick responded. “I don’t seem to recall him saying anything about that while he was trying to blow my fucking head off!”

  “You can believe what you want! Now, we can handle this like some men, or we can handle it like some gangsters.”

  Derrick knew he had RJ exactly where he wanted him. “A’ight, let’s handle it like men.”

  “That’s what’s up, yo.” RJ allowed a faint smile to appear on his face. He raised his hand to beckon a server, and then ordered a bottle of champagne and both he and Derrick a seafood dinner.

  “So what did you want to talk about at this sit down you mentioned trying to arrange earlier?” Derrick asked.

  “Business.”

  “That’s a broad statement.”

  RJ smiled. “We seem to be in the same line of work.”

  “Me and a million other dudes in Brooklyn.”

  “Brooklyn, not VA.” RJ pointed at Derrick with a grin.

  “So you like Virginia?”

  “Used to hustle down there.”

  Derrick’s eyebrows rose. “Oh yeah?”

  “Virginia Beach. I was a teenager back then. Going hand-to-hand for some older dudes from Brownsville.”

  “So you know how to get around.”

  “And I know the prices. I understand the dynamics of profit margins there versus New York,” RJ said with a smile. “And since I been tolerating you making money in Brooklyn, you gonna help me make some money in Virginia.”

  “Tolerating,” Derrick said with a snicker.

  RJ’s face turned grim. “Oh yeah. Brooklyn motherfuckers hustle in any city in America. But nobody in they right mind come to Brooklyn and set up shop.”

  “So I guess I’m insane.”

  “Or suicidal.”

  Derrick leaned back in his chair and poured some champagne. “I like you.”

  “That’s good, because people that dislike me don’t live long.”

  “So what exactly do you have going on in Brooklyn?”

  RJ grinned.

  “That wasn’t supposed to be funny.”

  “Why all the questions? You writing a book or something?”

  Derrick chuckled. “Now that was funny.”

  “Serious. I’m not asking you much yet, and I expect the same in return.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I just gave you a proposition. That’s enough for one day.”

  Derrick nodded.

  “Tonight, just enjoy your meal and the Moet.”

  Derrick ate and listened to RJ, trying to figure him out as the Brooklynite talked in ambiguous language about his wealth and the operation responsible for it. Derrick would sporadically interject with something that grabbed RJ’s attention and caused the hustler to smile. He was breaking down the wall RJ had erected. Derrick knew that it would take a while, but RJ was interested in doing business with him, and eventually his business in Brooklyn would be revealed. BTB would be infiltrated and eradicated.

  * * * * *

  Derrick had spent a lot of time with RJ over the weeks that followed their introduction in the restaurant. Derrick had informed his superiors at the agency of RJ’s desire to set up shop in Virginia. It was a Monday night when he found himself in the same restaurant along with the same goons that had previously flocked to RJ.

  “So you ready to get this money, or what?” Derrick asked.

  RJ nodded slowly. “So you ready to open up in VA?”

  “That’s my question to you.”

  “After you work with me out here.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  RJ nodded. No use in you getting all that money by yourself and me doing my thing solo.”

  “So we combine our efforts?”

  “That’s my line of thinking.”

  “So what exactly do you bring to the table?”

  RJ began to break down his operation’s innermost details. He even mentioned his connect a few times, which Derrick knew was a definite ‘no no’ in the drug trade. Derrick listened closely as the man broke down his order of operations, which began to enlighten Derrick on why none of the locals were able to infiltrate his empire. When RJ was finished breaking down how his business was run, Derrick asked, “So where do I fit into all that?”

  RJ replied, “Well, that depends on you, playboy.”

  Chapter Seven

  It had been nearly two months since Derrick and RJ had their meeting of the minds, and Derrick was no closer to actually witnessing RJ in any illicit activities than before. Even though he was receiving a kilo of the infamous ‘Black Tar’ heroin via Damien, not once did he deal directly with RJ. Derrick was building a solid conspiracy case, but the agency wanted more. Derrick grew frustrated, because he didn’t understand why. Plenty of drug dealers had been sent to prison for lengthy amounts of time on conspiracy charges.

  Derrick paced back and forth in front of his bed, thinking about how his mother’s life lay in the balance and of his superiors wanting to prosecute the perfect case, when they had a solid case already. Added to that was the fact that Derrick’s life was in jeopardy the longer he stayed undercover with the deadly clique. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Marvin.

  “If it isn’t my favorite agent.”

  “It isn’t, the way you guys are treating me.”

  “Why the sour grapes, Derrick?”

  “Why the overkill is the question. We got RJ good, but good is not enough. You guys want magnificent.”

  “What’s good to you, a conspiracy charge?” Marv chuckled. “RJ is a big fish, and when we make our catch, it won’t be with a bullshit reel. It’ll be in a massive net.”

  “I watched the judge sentence a guy I arrested to 188 months on conspiracy charges. Doesn’t sound too flimsy to me.”

  “Derrick, trust me when I tell you. RJ is not the average kingpin.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Let’s just put it like this, this guy’s got some serious bargaining chips,” Marv said.

  “And?”

  “Sammy the Bull walked away scot-free after confessing to over twenty murders. Why? Because he knew how to bargain.”

  “Sammy was the small fry. Gotti was the big fish. In our case, there is no fish bigger than RJ.”

  “You’d be surprised. And this fish swims in our pond.”

  �
�An agent?” Derrick blurted as he stopped pacing. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m going to seal my mouth at this level, and I suggest you do the same.”

  Before Derrick could respond, Marv hung up the phone. Derrick couldn’t believe it. RJ was sitting on information about some dirty cop or agent that he could use as a get out of jail free card. That meant all of the good police work Derrick had done was being compromised by some dirty cop or agent. Derrick felt disrespected. He was trapped. He and his mother were immobilized by the corruption of someone on Derrick’s team who had taken an oath to uphold the law. Cash rules, not the law, he thought. As he pondered deeper about what he had just learned, Derrick realized that he had to devise a scheme that would bring him closer to his ultimate goal.

  * * * * *

  Damien felt he was on his A-game as he rode through the streets of New York, leaning extra hard in the Mercedes. It seemed as if every person loitering the corners of New York looked to him in awe.

  Damien was en route to drop off Derrick’s regularly scheduled brick of heroin when he noticed an undercover police car make a U-turn in his direction. “Fuck.” He straightened his posture behind the wheel and continued to navigate the car in the direction of his assigned drop-off.

  Nearly a mile later, he also noticed a marked city patrol car tailing him. Smoothly, he jammed his Glock into the middle console and watched it disappear along with the bag of heroin.

  Just as he was about to turn onto Atlantic Avenue, the patrol car’s bright lights and siren blared to life. Damien pulled the Benz over. What he thought was a routine traffic stop instantly became chaotic, as cars swarmed from every direction. Officers rushed him with guns drawn.

  “Get the fuck out of the vehicle, now!” a cop yelled as his partner opened the door, snatched Damien, and threw him to the ground.

  With a sinister smile on his face, Damien yelled, “You motherfuckers just got y’all a fresh lawsuit!”

  Once Damien was transported downtown to DEA headquarters, he began to understand the seriousness of the situation. His cockiness transformed into passivity, once the agents produced the bag of drugs and the gun that he’d hidden in the secret stash compartment in the Mercedes.