The Golden Hustla Page 7

  Nina stormed to the door, pushing Jeff out into the hallway and pulling the door shut behind her at the same time, holding on to the doorknob. “Jeff, how you gonna sell my clients? You know how grimy Rinaldo can be and we agreed that we wouldn’t do that.”

  “Let go of my doorknob, Nina!” Rinaldo was yelling from the other side of the door, while trying to pull it open.

  “Look, Nina, you know how Rinaldo is. If the shoe was on the other foot you wouldn’t have turned down twenty thousand dollars’ worth of commission,” Jeff said, trying to justify his actions.

  “You faggot!” Nina pounced onto Jeff and began slapping and punching him. She was whipping on him as if he was her bitch.

  “Nina!” Rinaldo stepped out of his office. “What is the matter with you?” Rinaldo snatched her off of Jeff, and shoved her back into his office. Half of the workers in the company were now playing spectator or heading towards the direction of the commotion.

  “Jeff, I’ll get with you later. Everyone else, if you want to keep working here I suggest you get back on them fucking phones! Whoever doesn’t make a sale today might as well clean out their desks and don’t show up tomorrow,” Rinaldo warned. A warning the entire office knew was serious as cancer. No one comes before Rinaldo’s money. Not even his wife. He turned to go back in his office, slamming the door.

  “Okay, little Muhammad Ali. Don’t let that bullshit happen again.”

  “Fuck that shit! Whoever sells any of my clients I’ma whip their ass. And Jeff better make sure he spreads the word.”

  “Stop acting so ghetto. This is a place of business not a goddamn boxing ring. Just like you lost that twenty grand you could just as easily make it again.”

  “Can I? Are you sure about that?” She glanced down checking out her freshly manicured fingernails. “I was told that they are trying to close us down. Why didn’t you tell your Platinum Team that we were under investigation? You always question our loyalty, where is yours?”

  “Investigation? Who told you that?” Rinaldo feigned ignorant. His blue eyes stared at her, remaining focused on her like a hawk.

  “Don’t play dumb, Rinaldo. And on top of that you’re lying. How can you keep lying like this? I got scammed into going to the GBI this morning. Your ass knew damn well Bob Tokowski died. And I asked you!” She was getting madder and madder. “Your response was, ‘Nooooooooo he is no longer a client.’ Of course he couldn’t be a client. The muthafucka is dead. Then you said some bullshit about his son finding out he was sending us all of his inheritance money and that he had his father’s number changed. All of it bullshit and lies, Rinaldo. Well guess what, boss man?” she emphasized. “I ain’t going down for nobody’s murder.” Nina was steaming mad.

  Rinaldo started clapping. “And the award for leading actress in a drama goes to…” He stood there shaking his head in disbelief. “I hope you are finished because I need to know how the fuck you wound up at the GBI.”

  “I told you, they are investigating us. They know your name, all of your phone names, my phone names. They know Brandon and Charlie,” Nina stated in exasperation.

  “So what? But what were you doing down there? How long and how often have you been talking to them?”

  “Those slick bastards sent me a certified letter to come down and claim some inherited funds.”

  “And you fell for that? That is the oldest trick in the book. Why would you go to the GBI to claim some money, Nina? I thought you were smarter than that.” He shook his head as if to say, I don’t believe this.

  “It didn’t have GBI on it. It had some law firm listed, and when I got there, they were there flashing badges and asked me to follow them. So I was curious. That’s why I went. I wanted to know what the fuck was going on,” Nina spat, lying about the badges.

  “I need you to get me a copy of the certified letter they sent you. I need to get that to Mack, our attorney. This is going to be embarrassing. I can’t believe that you fell for that shit.”

  “This is fucked up, Rinaldo. The GBI is itching to come up in here. Have you heard anything I just said? We are under investigation.”

  “What else is new, Nina? Every telemarketing firm in Georgia and everywhere else in the country is being investigated. We’re talking the fuckin’ GBI not the FBI. Fuck them plastic-shoe, cheap-suit-wearing dicks. I’m not worried about them!”

  “What about Bob’s death? Why didn’t you tell me? They said I could be charged with murder.”

  “Murder? Nina, don’t be stupid. They are the GBI! There’s no way they can charge you with Bob’s murder. He died of natural causes and I didn’t inform you of it because there was no need to. He’s not your relative. You sold him over a month ago. If you were going to be charged with murder, don’t you think the FBI would have arrested you and brought you in for questioning by now? Come on, Nina, use some common—no I’ll do you one better. Use some goddamned street sense!”

  “Whatever. But, still, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because you didn’t need to know. We are about making money not mourning over the fuckin’ dead.”

  “This is crazy, Rinaldo. I’m not going to prison for nobody.”

  “Look, Nina, nobody’s going to prison. Let Mack and the other attorneys worry about the punk-ass GBI. You have a lifestyle to maintain. I have a lifestyle to maintain. And just how you are adamant about not going to prison, I’m even more adamant about allowing nothing or nobody to ruin my company or send me back to some fuckin’ trailer park. Not even you. Now I suggest you get yourself together mentally. Stay away from any officials or wannabe FBI agents. You need this job and you need me. Don’t cross that line again, Nina. Trust me. I ain’t the one to be fucked with. Don’t ever think about fucking with my paper. If this shit is too hot for you, go flip some burgers or some shit like that. Remember our slogan, We Make Millionaires. Now get on that phone and bring us in some money!”

  “You punk-ass muthafucka,” she spat, before slamming his door. She could hear his laughter as she walked down the hall. “I should take my ass home now. I need some dick.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  STAFF

  Peedie, what’s up?” Nina asked her big brother. He gave her a call to check up on her. “How is everybody? You been to Mommy’s? What are my babies up to?”

  “I just came back. Jermichael was on his computer and Daysha went to church with the deacon. What’s up with you, big-timer? Moved down to Atl, making all that cheddar.” Ever since he was paralyzed he had been taking it easy. As she was talking to her brother, Cream was standing behind her, butterball naked, kissing on her neck. “So what’s really good? How was your day at the j-o-b?”

  “Same ole shit.”

  She definitely couldn’t tell him about her morning at the GBI and then her bout with Rinaldo in his office earlier. When she left WMM she couldn’t get out of the parking lot without lighting a blunt and calling Cream. She had a big-ass problem and he had all of the answers. Ten inches of dick. After that first time when he brought over the roses and they fucked, they never stopped. As soon as the money started coming in, then the Benz, the Porsche, after that the condo, he sealed the deal on her pussy. They had a mutual understanding. She didn’t sweat him about his baby mama and he didn’t sweat her. Even though she wasn’t seeing anybody. Hell, she didn’t need to. Whenever she needed some dick, he was just a phone call away. Everybody was happy.

  “Nina, what you doing, exercising? Yo ass breathing all hard,” Peedie cracked.

  “I’m cleaning up, boy.”

  “Yeah right. You better not be fuckin’ with that rat bastard, Cream.”

  “Boy, is that all you called me for? To tell me who I better not be fuckin’?”

  “You damn right.”

  “Well in that case, I gots to go.” Nina hung up on him.

  Cream turned her around and pointed to his dick. He had a clit tickler strapped around it. He backed Nina up against the wall and lifted her up. She put him inside her and wrapped h
er legs around his back.

  “Who fucks you better?” he asked as he plunged into her pussy.

  Nina moaned and grabbed both of his ass cheeks. “You do, baby.” She closed her eyes and began riding the clit tickler. She liked being in control, that is, up to the first orgasm. After the first one she would lose control. Cream and the clit tickler would take over and have her climbing the walls having orgasm after orgasm until she sometimes fainted.

  * * *

  WMM offices were divided into two sections. The back of the building held the bathrooms, break rooms and two huge rooms for the beginning and intermediate salespeople. It also held the office of Vera, the other secretary, and the floor manager, Simeon. His job was to oversee the thirtysomething sales team. Simeon’s voice was louder than he was tall. Rinaldo’s older fraternal twin by four minutes was a crack fiend, who you never saw wearing anything other than a tailor-made suit and a tie. He had impeccable work habits except when his paycheck hit the five-thousand mark. Like clockwork he would go off on a crack binge and disappear for four or five days. And like clockwork Rinaldo would be screaming mad, pulling his hair out because even though he tried not to show it he worried about his twin. But, even worse, he left all of the work to Rinaldo, and the task he hated the most was babysitting the little salespeople.

  The front of the building had the receptionist, Deanna, Rinaldo’s office and the offices of the Platinum salespeople, which were Nina, Jeff, Greg, Shawn, Milt and Pete. The copier and fax machines were in a room next to Deanna’s office. On the left wall hung a huge whiteboard, detailing the quota for the week and all the sales activity.

  It was the job of the beginning and intermediate salespeople to lure the client in. Their potential clients were mostly senior citizens who loved to gamble and were constantly filling out sweepstakes forms. WMM would buy the sweepstakes forms, which were called leads. Those leads were then distributed among the beginning and intermediate salespeople. They would call the client and inform them that after they purchased supplies for their business they were then eligible to pick a prize of their choice: a new car, a trip to Hawaii or an undisclosed amount of pure gold American Eagle coins. The salesperson’s goal was to hype the prizes up so much that the clients would be salivating at the mouth. The goal was to excite them to the point where they got going as fast as possible for their checkbook to write out the three-thousand-dollar sum to purchase engraved office supplies with hopes of winning that new car, an all-expense paid trip or thousands of dollars worth of gold. The salesperson would then give the client a claim number that was to be treated as if it was the key to a bank vault.

  That’s how it all began.

  Two weeks later, after the engraved office supplies were delivered with about six hundred to a thousand dollars worth of gold coins, the Platinum salespeople would call the disappointed client. The Platinum Pro would tell the client not to look at it as a loss. Now that their foot is in the door, they have the golden opportunity to play with the high rollers. They now have a chance to win their fair share of one and a half million in gold American Eagle coins. But this time the client would have to shell out fifteen thousand big ones. When the client would gasp, the Platinum Pro would remind them that they are now in the big leagues and then would proceed to make them understand that to play you gotta pay or you gotta be in it to win it. The customer was constantly reminded that $15,000 is nothing but a drop in the bucket to claim their fair share of one and a half million dollars in gold American Eagle coins. Again, the sales pitch consisted mainly of painting a picture of the client running his or her hands through and tossing up in the air hundreds and thousands of gold American Eagle coins.

  Of course, you could go to a bank or coin dealer and purchase the gold American Eagle. But where was the fun in that? These were rich, greedy, living-on-the-edge, gambling individuals who wanted something for nothing. And WMM wasn’t the only vice they played with. There were companies in Vegas, Canada, New York and Hawaii with high-stake offers and oily tongued salespeople. Now mind you, the first phase with WMM or first $15,000 was just a teaser. The client already had in their possession several denominations of pure gold coins individually cased, thus whetting the appetite.

  Then again, after several weeks, additional engraved products would be delivered and their fair share of gold American Eagle coins, which would be ten to twenty percent of the $15,000. Then the sales pitch would start again. Each time the cost to play would go higher and higher. Some clients were paying $50,000 to $100,000, determined to beat the odds. This game was indeed a gambler’s vice. WMM was bringing the Las Vegas tables right into their homes.

  The day after Nina’s GBI experience and Rinaldo’s not so subtle threat, Nina was seated in Milt’s office. Out of all the people at WMM she favored Milt the most. He was true to his era. A tall, distinguised, older brother who rocked a salt-and-pepper ’fro, black-rimmed glasses and polyester suits. His conversations were always centered on the advancement of his people and how far they came and how far they had to go. When Rinaldo said they had to work on Martin Luther King’s birthday, Milt damn near formed a mutiny. But not before giving a speech on Dr. King’s accomplishments, how far we’ve come as black people and the importance of this holiday. Milt worked his ass off to support his wife, two kids both in college, a nephew and a niece who was a single parent with two kids. Family was always first with him.

  Shortly after, Shawn stuck his head in Milt’s office. The three of them along with Pete were close because they were the top salespeople, worked at WMM the longest and had formed an alliance against Rinaldo. Jeff wasn’t included in their circle. He came aboard well after the bond was already formed.

  “Yo, Nina, what the fuck is going on?” Shawn wanted to know as he invited himself in and shut the door behind him. “Why you spaz on Jeff like that?” Shawn was black as midnight with bright white shiny teeth and thick wavy hair. He had the voice of a smoker. It was deep and gruff. He considered himself a Casanova. He had a baby on the way, three different baby mamas and three children who he referred to as the terrible three. He was only twenty-seven and was determined to open his latest baby mama a beauty salon and launch his hip-hop magazine called #1 Stunna. He balanced out his co-workers with his hair-trigger temper. Milt was laid-back and smooth like a shot of Jack Daniel’s. Nina was the feisty, gangsta-chick and they both treated her like a little sister.

  “Rinaldo gave that nigga two of my best clients. Y’all know I’ve been selling the Prestons and Don Friedman for almost a year now. I remember when Rinaldo tried to give me one of Jeff’s clients, I acted like I was calling and couldn’t get through. And he was able to get him back.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” Milt tried to console her.

  “Don’t sweat it? Shit, Milt, that’s almost twenty grand in commission. What the fuck you mean don’t sweat it?” Nina snapped.

  “Listen to me now and calm down,” he said soothingly. “We all know Rinaldo is always on some bullshit and trying to sow dissension amongst us. He thinks that if we are at each other’s throats, more money for him. Let it go. Just like you got those clients, you’ll get more,” Milt tried to assure her.

  “Fuck that, Nina! I would have took it to his ass too! Money is money and this cracker done sucked us into living all lavishly, talking about ‘you only live once, and we work too hard to not treat ourselves’ and all that bullshit,” Shawn spat. “I could name a number of things I could have done with twenty stacks.”

  As soon as those words left Shawn’s mouth, Rinaldo burst into Milt’s office. “So this is where everybody is? What are y’all talking about?”

  “Damn, Rinaldo. We ain’t talking about you!” Shawn snapped.

  “We’re just talking about how to handle these clients,” Milt said, making an attempt to throw Rinaldo off.

  “Why you want to know what we talking about?” Shawn challenged. He and Rinaldo were constantly trying to prove who the bigger man was.

  “Because this is my company. Y
’all on my time,” Rinaldo snapped. “Y’all work for me.”

  “Man, go ’head with that. You act as if we can’t break to socialize. You just want us to stay on those phones nonstop. You don’t even want us to breathe,” Shawn snapped right back.

  Rinaldo loved to throw his weight around. Everyone else would let him have that and go on about their business, but Shawn never missed an opportunity to argue with him.

  “Motherfucker, you need to stay on the phones nonstop! Look at that board.” Rinaldo stepped back out of Milt’s office and motioned to the huge white sales board up on the wall. “Look at that. Thirty-seven thousand dollars in sales and it’s already Wednesday. I should erase your name, Shawn, and write ‘Lazy’! Yeah, that’s your new name from now on.”

  “Man, please. Go ’head with that bullshit. It’s something up there! You act like thirty-seven thousand dollars ain’t nothing.”

  “Anyway, as we were saying…” Shawn wanted Rinaldo to know that he could not get under his skin. This angered Rinaldo more because now he had stepped all the way into Milt’s office, closed the door behind him and stood in Shawn’s face.

  “Back up, man. You ain’t gotta stand all in my face,” Shawn warned.

  “Thirty-seven thousand dollars ain’t shit! Maybe you belong back there with the beginning salespeople. Pulling in three to ten thousand dollars a week in sales. Leave the big money to the Pros.”

  “Man, whatever. Do what you gotta do. Like I said, we are allowed a break and as long as I make my quota, you can take that lazy bullshit elsewhere.”

  “You are lazy. Y’all back here lounging around when you should be focused on that board out there. Milt, or should I say Martin Luther, you ain’t no better. You got less than him,” Rinaldo cracked.

  “I’m getting ready to close this client right here. He’s worth fifteen thousand dollars,” Milt countered.

  “Yeah, well, the check ain’t in here yet. So that means nothing to me. The only person who can afford to lounge around is Alexis. And I gave away two of her sales. I can’t understand how y’all let a girl outperform y’all. Where is your pride?” Rinaldo asked in disgust.