The Golden Hustla Read online

  “WMM? Is this what this is about? You fucker! You tricked me to come to your office under false pretenses! I should sue your ass!” Nina stood up and grabbed her purse. “My name is Nina Coles not WMM.” She turned to leave the office.

  That’s when Houser hit the play button on his recorder. Booming through its speakers was the conversation between her and Bob Tokowsky. Nina abruptly turned around at the sound of her sales voice and stood frozen in place.

  Agents Parker and Radcliff entered the office. They both slid several folders in front of Houser and took their seats. Agent Parker looked as if he had a blond toupee sitting on top of his head. His wrinkled plaid suit drooped over his scrawny frame. He reminded Nina of an anorexic Homer Simpson. Radcliff was grossly overweight and sloppy looking. His oily black hair was slicked back into a ponytail. He looked like a goldfish.

  After they listened to Nina yell, “Bob! Bob!” Houser turned off the tape.

  The room grew silent. Except for Radcliff’s wheezing.

  “Please, have a seat, Ms. Coles.”

  Nina clutched tighter onto her Gucci bag under her arm.

  “Fuck you! I am going to sue your ass for purgery and for wasting my time. Kiss my ass!” And she stormed out of the office.

  Houser jumped from his chair, stood in the hallway in front of his office and said, “Murder, Ms. Coles. If you don’t get your ass back in here, you’re going down for murder.”

  Nina spun around and practically ran to get in Houser’s face. “Murder? You wannabe FBI agent! I ain’t got nothing to do with no murder. You people have really lost your minds! Find someone else to fuck with,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Ms. Coles, your client Bob Tokowsky died. Dropped dead of a heart attack while you were trying to scam him with your ‘millions’ in gold coins.” Houser motioned with two fingers from each hand to emphasize quote-unquote “millions.” “That’s right, we know all about the scamming and scheming of WMM. We know your boss, Rinaldo Haywood, aka Brian Stout, aka Tommy Green, aka John Bennett. We know about his office in the Florida Keys run by his cohorts Brandon Ingram and Charlie Adams. We know your phone name Alexis Greenspan. Very catchy. We—”

  “Hold up, you asshole. I don’t give a fuck what you know. I’m a sales associate. A damned good one at that. I sell to business owners. If the client decides to patronize our firm and at the same time gamble at a chance of getting a bunch of gold coins, so the fuck what? That’s not illegal! This is America, you muthafucka!” Nina ranted as she turned to walk out.

  “Nina, Alexis or Kelly, whatever character you’re in right now”—Radcliff chuckled as Houser began his negotiations—“this is your only chance to help yourself. You know what’s going on over there is against the law. All I have to do is say the word and the feds will be all over that place. Not only will you go down for money laundering, conspiracy and wire fraud, you also have a murder hanging over your head.”

  Parker finally decided to put his two cents in. “Look, Ms. Coles. He’s right, the company is going down whether you help yourself or not. If I was—”

  “Look.” Nina sighed as she stepped back into the office and shut the door to emphasize her point. “If y’all really had something, then you wouldn’t need me.” She snatched open the door and then slammed it shut behind her. “Fucking pigs!” she yelled out. Then mumbled, “Ain’t nothing snitch about Nina muthafuckin’ Coles.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  HOW IT ALL GOT STARTED

  After leaving the GBI headquarters, Nina drove straight home and was now parked in front of her condo in the Cherry Ridge subdivision in Decatur, Georgia. Sitting in her brand-new Mercedes E430, she sucked hard on a swisher sweet filled with purple haze and allowed her thoughts to drift. Going back to work was no longer on her agenda for the day. Nina glanced at the facade of her condo. The four-bedroom, three-bathroom condo was her dream home, but in reality, she hated it. It was lonely. There was no laughter to come home to, no kids running around, no live parties or friends to share it with. It was a place to live, but deep inside Nina didn’t feel that this house was really a home. WMM and her co-workers had sadly become her whole life.

  “Shit!” Nina slapped her steering wheel after putting out the blunt in the ashtray. I didn’t come all the way to Atlanta to catch a murder case. I was lucky enough to commit a murder and get away with it, then barely escape New Jersey with my life intact.

  After everything that had happened back in Trenton, New Jersey, relocating to Atlanta had been the best answer to her problems. Then shortly after that, she learned that her youngest daughter’s father, Supreme, who was incarcerated, had successfully orchestrated the kidnapping of their child.

  “That bitch beefing with the Blood niggas, done got one of her brothers killed, one paralyzed and her best friend got smoked, too. Now she’s on the run and hiding out in Atlanta somewhere. She’s an unfit mother and I don’t want my seed around all that negative shit.”

  Nina could hear Supreme’s words coming from his mouth as her mother relayed them to her. To compound her grief, she hadn’t been able to attend the funerals for her brother or her best friend. The only solace she had been able to find was in the small gesture of secretly paying for both funerals. With one child gone, that left her with two children to worry about. They wanted their mommy and couldn’t seem to understand at first why they couldn’t be with her. Their tears had hit her hard and permeated her heart to its core. Even as she struggled to withstand her mother’s scathing tirades. Her middle-aged mother, who wasn’t supposed to be raising two small children, was the same mother who had kicked her out into the streets when Nina became pregnant while still in high school.

  All of that had been over a year and a half ago, and since then she had not stepped one foot on New Jersey soil and had no plans to do so anytime soon. Even though she missed her kids something awful and they begged her to come and get them, she felt as if she wasn’t ready and that she let them down. She felt like she had to learn to be a mother all over again. The private investigator she hired to find her daughter still had no leads. The only peace she had was in knowing that her missing daughter’s father wouldn’t let a hair on her head be harmed, but still he wouldn’t let her know where she was. WMM had certainly turned her into someone that she didn’t even know. Yes, she had come a long way. She came from being a Section 8 mother to masterminding prosperous check-cashing schemes to now having a corner office and making over $100,000 a year. She thought that her Jersey hustling and scamming days were something to brag about. Shit, those hustles were a joke compared to that of WMM’s. They took shit to a whole ’nother level. Undoubtedly she was proud of her accomplishments… up until recently. Now there was the possibility of being under investigation by the GBI and brought up on murder? Nina had to laugh at that one, in order to keep from crying.

  Now, instead of leaving her children behind in Jersey, she wished she had left something else. The toxic relationship that she was back involved in. The one with Akil, aka Cream, her ex. Cream was the person responsible for her plush job at WMM.

  “Once you take out the trash, you never go outside and bring it back in.”

  Nina leaned her seat back and let the purple haze’s seductive embrace will her into a peaceful place as she thought about what her mother had always told her about men and trash. But contrary to what her mother had told her, bringing the trash back into the house was exactly what Nina had done. After robbing him for those ten keys in Jersey, she had run into him in Georgia, of all places, and allowed herself to be persuaded into picking up right where they left off. It was too late to curse the afternoon that she ran into him, but it was definitely a day that she wished had never happened. Closing her eyes, Nina allowed that day to replay in her head as if it were being projected in HD…

  “Can I help the next person in line?” the cashier asked.

  “Yeah, gimme two grande hazelnut lattes. Put a shot of vanilla in one of them. But make both light and sweet. Throw
in an orange juice as well.”

  The hairs on Nina’s neck stood up. That voice. Oh, hell no. It couldn’t be! She turned around and looked at the dude next to her. He had his cell phone glued to his ear while going through his wallet. She turned away and started easing off before he could recoginze her. Damn. He still looked good. Light, curly fine hair, medium build like the singer Christopher Williams. He had put on a few pounds but he still looked the same. The coke. That was his coke in the trunk of her Jetta. The last time she actually saw Cream was the night she busted him driving some hood rat around in her car. That was the same night she vowed to leave him alone. Forever. That night ended with the police taking him away in handcuffs.

  “Nina?” Cream’s voice boomed, causing her body to tremble.

  Shit. She realized she didn’t walk away quick enough.

  “Nina. What the fuck? Look at you. It’s really you. This is un-fuckin’-believable. Yo, Mo, this my lucky muthafuckin’ day. You not gonna believe who I’m standing here looking at. Nina, man. Let me hit you right back. Make sure them niggas is layin’ down those tracks. Time is money, nigga.”

  “Cream,” Nina said dryly.

  “Cream? That’s all you can manage to say to the nigga who used to fuck yo brains out? Have you creamin’ all in yo’ jeans?”

  Nina sucked her teeth. “Don’t flatter yourself, Cream.”

  “Give me some love, girl. You still fine as shit.” He grabbed her, feeling her ass, and pulled her close. Then he kissed her on the cheek. “So this is where you ran off to?”

  “Tell everybody my business, why don’t you?” She made an attempt to break away from him.

  “Girl, these people don’t know you like I know you.” The tone of his voice went from warm to ice. He grabbed her by the back of her neck, snatched her out of the line and took her outside.

  “Nigga, what the fuck is the matter with you?” She tried to break away from his grip.

  “Bitch, don’t get cute. I’ll snap yo fuckin’ neck.”

  “What do you want, Cream?”

  “Nina, where you rest at?” He squeezed her neck harder and it was making her dizzy. “Answer me, girl!” He slammed her against a truck. She was seeing different colors.

  “I’m in Decatur,” she said, damn near out of breath, almost pissing on herself.

  “Decatur, huh? You better not be lying. Let me see your license.” He snatched her bag that was already hanging off of her shoulder and dumped its contents out onto the hood of the truck. She scrambled trying to gather everything together but he snatched up her wallet.

  “Give me my shit, Cream.”

  He pushed her hard enough to cause her to go tumbling backwards. She almost fell. She charged at him, lunging for her wallet. He quickly turned his back to her and was able to take out her license and social security card.

  “Give me my shit, Cream.” She was grabbing for her ID. “What the fuck is the matter with you?” She punched him in the back.

  “Bitch, yo’ dumb ass stole ten kilos that wasn’t even mines. I took the rap for that shit and had to pay them muthafuckas off and leave from up East. That’s what the fuck is the matter with me. Girl, you owe me. I know your slick ass figured that you would just take the coke and dance happily off into the sunset.”

  Damn. Those keys. She swallowed hard. Those ten kilos had come back to haunt her.

  “Cat got your tongue?”

  “Your keys? Muthafucka, you forgot how y’all got away and that bastard held me hostage for almost two weeks? That shit is just as much mines as it is yours,” she snapped.

  “I been paid you for that, Nina.”

  “The fuck you did! You crazy! You could never repay me for that shit.”

  “Get your bag, let’s go back inside. We need to talk for a few minutes.”

  Nina was trying to buy time by gathering up the stuff that had been inside her purse. She was considering jumping into her car and pulling off but since he had her license that wouldn’t do any good. She had to get her license back. Cream was standing over her watching her every move. “You should be putting my shit back into my purse. You dumped it out,” Nina snapped.

  “C’mon. Let’s go. I’m right behind you.” He grabbed on to her elbow.

  Nina sighed but led the way back into Starbucks. She went to the counter and paid for their drinks.

  “How’s the children?” he had the nerve to ask her as if he didn’t just finish tossing her around.

  “They’re fine.” Nina grabbed her Frappuccino off the counter.

  “Who you down here with?”

  “What do you mean who I’m down here with? I’m down here by myself. You should already know that since you seem to know about every other goddamn thing,” she snapped as she headed for the exit.

  He grabbed her hand. “Naw. I ain’t finished with you yet. Let’s grab a seat. We gotta talk. We gotta play catch-up.”

  “I gotta go, Cream. You’re making me late for work. What do you want?”

  “You work?” He asked skeptically. “Where you work?” He wouldn’t let her hand go.

  Nina caught the sarcasm in his voice. “In Chamblee. A company called APS.”

  “What do you do?”

  “It’s a telemarketing job. I sell magazines,” she stated dryly.

  “Magazines?” Cream started laughing. “The check queen selling magazines! Well I’ll be damned. What has the world come to?”

  “Nigga, fuck you!” Nina snatched her hand away.

  “Naw, wait. Magazines? I can’t have my girl going out like that.”

  “I’m not your girl, Cream.”

  “Sheeit. You’ll always be my girl. And like I said, you owe me but I’ma help you out. I can get you a much better job than selling some damn magazines. Plus, you’ll be doing me a favor.”

  “Cream, excuse me. But I make nice money at this job. It pays my rent, car expenses, food and I have a savings account. And most importantly I’m legal. I actually like sales and I’m good at it.”

  “Sales, that’s what’s up. Today is really my lucky day. So how much you make?” Cream challenged.

  “That’s none of your business, Cream.”

  “What? You make four hundred a week? Five hundred?”

  “I told you it’s none of your business.” Nina was still easing her way towards the exit. But this time he grabbed her by both of her shoulders, led her to a table and sat her down. He sat down in the chair across from her.

  “I can hook you up with a job paying triple that. How does six hundred times three a week sound?”

  “Cream, I don’t have no time for your get-rich-quick schemes and I’m definitely not trying to go to prison.”

  “Prison?” A sly and mischievous grin spread across Cream’s face.

  “It’s funny that you mentioned that, Nina. Remember outside when I told you that you owe me? Well, you happen to owe me for a lot more than those keys you stole.”

  “What the fuck are you talkin’ about, Cream?” Nina asked indignantly.

  “Remember that movie called I Know What You Did Last Summer? The one that had Brandy—”

  “Cut the shit, Cream, and spit it out. What else do I owe you for?”

  “My silence, then and now.”

  She didn’t know why, but all of a sudden, there was a creepy, eerie feeling in the base of her stomach. The self-assured look on Cream’s face gave her the chills. “Your silence?”

  “That’s right, baby. Let’s just say I know what you did a year and a half ago.”

  “Cream, if you don’t tell me what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, I’m getting up and I’m gonna leave. You can keep my license…”

  “You ain’t going nowhere, Nina. Not till I say so. After I discovered that my spot had been tampered with, I know you were the culprit. But I couldn’t prove it. So I copped me a cream-colored Infiniti M35… one that you had never seen before, and followed you around for a while. I know all about the robbery that went bad back home, Nina. I know tha
t your punk-ass brother D-Rock was involved and eventually killed behind it. I know that the Bloods back at home want to kill your ass.

  “I also know that you gave Peedie your car while you rode around with Michelle. I know that the Bloods killed Michelle and shot Peedie up. And here’s the best part of all, I know that you went back to a house out in Ewing, but you went through the alley to get there. I know that Peedie’s girl Darlene lived on that block, and for some reason after Peedie was shot, Darlene ended up dead the next morning. I was parked on the block when you came out of the alley that night, Nina. I know that you killed Darlene. That’s why I say it’s funny that you say you don’t wanna go to prison. I never told a soul about that night, Nina, and I also let you go. At that point, I didn’t care if you had the keys or not, you were knee-deep in a pile of shit that stunk to the heavens. You didn’t duck me, baby. I could’ve killed you that night, but like I said, I let you go… and I kept my mouth shut then, and I’ma still keep my mouth shut now. I can call up top and talk to a few niggas and them Blood cats would be on your ass down here in a New York minute. And you know what I’m sayin’ is true. So you help me and I’ll help you. And I’ll continue to keep quiet. How does that sound?”

  When Nina had failed to respond, Cream went on.

  “You said you can sell, right? I told you I know people, and the job I need you to take is in sales. You’ll be selling high-priced promo shit to businesses. Fuck, a five-dollar magazine! What’s your cut? Fifty cents? Who you think you foolin’? You know that ain’t even your steelo. Hustling is in your blood, Nina.”

  “Cream, you know people? What kind of people?”

  “The kind of people that will kill you and your family for stealing their dope.” He glared at her.

  Damn. She was stupid to think that she would never cross paths with Cream again. Not in this lifetime.

  But now here he was. Cream had Nina’s attention, but in her stubborness and pride she didn’t want him to know it. Plus, she knew it would be major strings attatched. But… six hundred times three a week? That’s eighteen hundred dollars. Shit, that was hustle money for her. He damn sure knew what to use to get her open.