Chapter 12 ( Gabos)

Hustlin’ Hard

   Life is too short to wake up with regrets. Love those who treat you right and forget the ones who don’t!

“Dog, this shit been gravvy, the last two weeks we done made over five grand, doing nothing.”

“Yeah, dog. Shit, been popping since we, well, since I left school, and you got expelled.” Pokey said.

“Hell yeah, dog, we been on the grind heavy. Everything seems to be falling in place like a puzzle,” Fatboy said.

“We making money, and business is booming. At least that’s what Mr. Big is telling us being that we been opening and closing, while Boo Boo and Shine make runs look like we got what we want,” Pokey said.

“What’s that, dog?” Fatboy asked.

“Our own trap house.”

“Yeah, we doing us. But you forgot I got court today. And if them crackers lock my ass up you know you on your own, till Flick come home from school,” Fatboy said.

“Yeah, dog, I’m praying for the best but imagining the worst. Feel me? ’Cause without you shit want to be the same. Damn, I hope these crackers spare you.” Pokey said.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Dog, we gotta start being extra careful. If them crackers lock you up, when you jump, we gotta have a plan. Remember what Mr. Big’s told us?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Fatboy said. “It’s two things you got to preserve in life: your health, followed by your freedom. You lose one, you lose both.”

“Yeah, but life’s challenges shouldn’t paralyze you. They’re to help you discover who you really are,” Fatboy said. “If they lock me up, dog, it’s just a setback that I’ll use to make me stronger here,” he said, tapping the side of his head.

“Word,” Pokey said.

“Ay,” Fatboy.

“Yeah, dirty. Did they tell you what judge you had?”

“Some cracker name Futch,” Fatboy said.

“Damn, they giving you the meanest judge on the bench.”

“It is what it is,” Fatboy said.

“The cracker nasty-ass fuck, that’s the one who gave me those eighteen months,” Pokey said.

“Yeah, an’ this your what five or six time in trouble. The cracker can’t be too bad! Anyways, dog, I’mma let go and let God. Feel me?” Fatboy asked.

“Hold up, nigga, when you became all religious?”

“Oh, I ain’t religious. I just believe in a higher power, that’s all,” Fatboy said.

“Look, let’s go get our hustle on till it’s time to roll over to the courthouse. Let’s ride then you know how we do. I bet them niggas Boo Boo and Shine in here knocked out.”

“Probably is. Shit, I would be sleep too if I didn’t have to open up shop with your ass,” Fatboy, said laughing.

“Nigga, if them crackers look your ass up today, trust me you’ll get more than enough sleep,” Pokey said, playing with his dog. As he took out his key and opened the door, “Damn, this bitch stink-ass fuck,” Pokey said as he opened the door.

“Yeah, dog, leave the door open and let this bitch air out,” Fatboy said, taking a whiff of the foul-smelling odor. Looking ’round the room he saw where the smell was coming from Double D.

“Nigga, get your azz up and get outta here.”

“Damn, nigga, you done shitted on yourself.”

“What? Huh? Oh, what’s up, jitty bugs?” Double D said.

“Nigga, fuck all that,” Pokey said, touching his side. “What the hell you doing in here? And where the fuck Shine and Boo Boo at?”

“Man, y’all chill out. Y’all act like a nigga done rob y’all or some shit. Them niggas Shine and Boo Boo told me I could chill here till this morning ’cause the police was looking for me.”

“Look like ya ass was high off crack to me,” Pokey said. “Man, let’s find out if this nigga telling the truth. Ay yo, Shine, Boo Boo, man, y’all check this out.”

“What’s up? What the fuck you yelling a nigga name all loud and shit for? A nigga trying to sleep and y’all acting like the police coming or some shit,” Boo Boo said, wiping sleep from his eyes with Shine looking crazy as a motherfucker, holding his pistol.

“Look y’all told this nigga he could crash here.”

“Oh yeah, we did that. The nigga said he was running from the police, so I told him he could chill till this morning. Why, what’s up?” Shine asked. “What he did?”

“For one he shitted on his self, and two the nigga is a baser,” Fatboy said, looking at Double D wiping his nose with the back of his hands.

“Man, he a friend of my momma, so he a friend of ours,” Boo Boo said, feeling sorry for Double D.

“Whatever, man,” Pokey said. “All right, Double D, get your ass up and get outta here.”

“Ay, Double D, I hope it’s no hard feelings, old school,” Fatboy said.

“Na’ll, dog, we cool,” Double D said, walking out the door.

“Hey, Pok, give me a pack,” Fatboy said.

“For what, dog?”

“Man, just give me a fifty pack. I’ll pay for it.”

“Huh then,” Pokey said, tossing his dog a fifty, watching Fatboy run to the door.

“Ay, Double D, here you go, old school,” Fatboy said, tossing Double D the pack. “No hard feelings, right?” Fatboy asked.

“I told you, jit, we were cool, but thanks anyway,” Double D, said shooting a bird and running off like a kid on Christmas day.

        “Dog, why you gave that nigga that?” Pokey asked.

“To keep the nigga on our team. I said some flaw shit to the man, and you never know how people take words,” Fatboy said. “Dog, remember life is too short to wake up with regrets. Love those who treat you right and fuck the ones who don’t.”

“My bad, dog, you dead-ass right. That was a slick ass move,” Pokey said.

As Boo Boo and Shine watched with pride, “How these young nigga just handled that!”

“Look, let’s get this shit started,” Pokey said, “’cause I won’t be here too long, ’round 12:30 we out. Fatboy got court today, and I gotta see what these crackers trying to do with my dirty,” Pokey said.

“Ay, Pokey, you got a custy at the door nigga Bright and Earle.”

“What’s up, old school? You trying to catch the worm?”

“Na’ll young in, I’m trying to get high, but I got like five dollars, and a nick ain’t gonna do shit for me. So can I get a dime and I’ll pay you tomorrow or the next time?” the fiend said. Scratching his head, almost feeling sorry for this nigga, but not sorry enough to take money out his pockets to supply another nigga habits.

“Hell no, you know how it goes. You get what you pay for, old school. You know, GABOS,” Pokey said. “We trying to eat just like you, we ain’t hustling for nothing. Now what you got?”

“I got four dollars and thirty-five cents, that’s all I got, man. Please help a brother out. My dick is in the dirt,” the baser cried.

“Give me the money,” Pokey said. As the fiend slid the money to Pokey, Pokey snatched the money and said huh, giving the man a nickel. “Now got the hell on somewhere.”

“Damn, Pokey, that’s fucked up. We just talked about this shit,” Fatboy said, getting heated. “We all know GABOS, but at the same time, you gotta start thinking, dog. If you treat a nigga right, put a lil food in his belly, he’ll be ya best friend. You gotta learn sometimes it’s good to tilt ya hand a little and let the crumbs hit the ground, ’cause you never know who you may be blessing. All you had to do, homie, was give the basing-ass nigga the dime, and tell him next time come correct with the loot. Always remember what Sterling, a.k.a Mr. Big, told us, ‘It’s the customers that make us, not the drugs’,” Fatboy was telling his dog Pokey.

“Ay, dog. You dead ass right,” Pokey said. “I’mma keep that in mind,” as he began to think, “We came a longs ways, and our journey is not at its end.”

He was thinking as Fatboy said, “Yeah, dirty, you gotta remember how I said life is too short to wake up with regrets, so we gotta treat these niggas and bitches like they our friends, then they’ll always be in our corner! If not then when someone else comes along pushing shit just as good, they’ll forget us and move on to the next man. All because we ain’t treating them right,” Fatboy said, trying to explain to his friends.

“All right, dog. Damn, please don’t start preaching to me ’cause I said I heard cha,” Pokey said. “Look, here comes these two dirty-ass niggas, and I bet they ain’t got more than ten dollars.” Pokey said.

“Well, let’s see,” Fatboy said, just to see how his friend would handle things. As the two fiends walked up, they started yelling, “What’s up, y’all? What’s up, y’all?

Until Pokey said, “Man, hold that shit down. What you want anyways?”

“Man, can we get a twenty? We got fourteen dollars to our name.”

Pokey gave Fatboy a look, like nigga what I told you. As Fatboy just shrugged his shoulder, like do you.

“Hold up,” Pokey said to the crack heads, “let me see what I can do for y’all, huh, man,” he said, giving them a twenty rock. “Look, y’all, next time be on point with the money. I’mma bless y’all this time, but don’t look for blessings from me all the time ’cause I ain’t God. All right, man?”

“Thank you,” the two fiends said. Bending the corner.

“Dog, that’s what’s up!” Fatboy said. “Now look, Pokey, you made them niggas day. A happy nigga is a good nigga,” Fatboy said.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear all that. But if them niggas keep coming up short they came be taking money but our pockets,” Pokey said, “and that shit and gonna keep happening,” Pokey said.

“Dog, next time I bet them niggas have the bread right!” Fatboy said, smiling for the first time.

“We’ll see, but if they don’t, the money coming outta your pockets,” Pokey said in an angry tone.

Within the next three and a half hours, things were running smoothly, everything was sold out, but a few sacks of weed! When Shine and Boo Boo finally came back from the sleeping dead, they were surprised to see that most of the products were gone. Looking around and saying, “Damn, y’all niggas been booming hard this morning,” Boo Boo said, giving us some dap. Like he really couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah, dog, we did our thing today. Gotta make some extra cash to keep my dog tight, in case my nigga gotta do a lil time,” Pokey said, with a sad expression. “Look, we ’bout to make a move,” Pokey said, “the money in the stash spot, and y’all gotta get in touch with Sterling, a.k.a. Mr. Big, and re-up or close down shop for today and have these fiends lined up at the door, like the government giving out free cheese,” Pokey said, laughing.

“I got it, dog, I’mma hit the nigga up,” Shine said, giving Fatboy some dap and a hug.

“Good luck, my nigga, appreciate it, ’cause I’mma need it,” Fatboy said. “Let’s roll, dog, if you coming. It’s about that time, and I gotta go change clothes and get cleaned. Gotta make a good impression for the judge,” Fatboy said, walking out the door, laughing to himself, with Pokey right behind him, counting money.

Five minutes later, they were walking up the stairs to Fatboy’s mom’s crib. As he opened the door, he noticed his mother bent over the sofa, on her knees praying.

“Ma, you all right?” Fatboy asked.

“Oh yeah, baby, I’m all right,” she said, wiping a falling tear from her cheek as she got up.

“I was just praying, that’s all.” When she seen Pokey, she looked at him with disgust in her eyes.

“Hey, Mrs. Walls,” Pokey said.

“Hi, boy,” she said, trying to be polite. “Fatboy, you know you got court in about thirty minutes, so you better hurry up.”

“I’m coming, Ma. Just give me a minute,” as he ran to his room. He grabbed his shoe box that held all his money and took it and placed it in the top drawer. So his mother would know where to look if she ever needed money, or if they locked him up and he needed money, she would know where to get it from. As he started changing fits, he grabbed his favorite CD, All Eyes on Me by Tupac and put it in his back pocket and ran out the door.

“All right, Momma, I’m ready to roll.” As they all walked out the door and toward the car, Mrs. Walls stopped dead in her tracks.

“Hold up, where you going?” she asked Pokey.

“I’m rolling with y’all, Mrs. Walls,” Pokey said. “That’s all right, ain’t it?” he said, feeling a lil hurt.

“Momma, why you tripping on my dog?” Fatboy asked.

“’Cuz he might be the reason your ass get locked up today, that’s why!”

When Pokey heard that, he began to walk off but turned around and told his friend, “Dog, I’m hoping for the best, and I’ll get up with you later. If the worst happen, I’mma write you and shit and hold the fort down,” Pokey said, walking off.

“Dang, Momma, that’s how you gonna do my friend. Don’t you think if he didn’t feel bad enough, he would’ve never paid you all the money back with extra that you bonded me out with? All he wanna do is ride with us, to make sure I’mma be okay.”

As Mrs. Walls heard the sadness in her son’s voice, her heart began to break, and she realized that we all make mistakes. “All right, baby, call your friend and tell him come on.”

“Thank you, Momma. Hey Pokey, Pokey. Come on, dog.”

As Pokey turned ’round and walked back with a smile on his face, Mrs. Walls said, “Boy, I apologize. I’m just frustrated right now.”

“I understand that, Mrs. Walls,” Pokey said. As they got into the car, Fatboy pulled the CD out his pocket and placed it in the CD player and pushed play, and the song began to play. Fatboy turned around and told his friend, “This one for you.” As Tupac began to rap “I Ain’t Mad at Cha,” he was playing this song for a reason, to let his dog know no matter what happens today in court, I still ain’t mad at cha. Fatboy was thinking, “We was once two niggas of the same kind / used to holla at a hoochie with the same line / You were just a little smaller but you still rolled,” as they started bopping they heads to the beat. Mrs. Walls looked at her son and began to smile. She knew in her heart things would turn out all right as she listened to her son rap along.

“In my cell thinking hell I know one day I’ll be back.

As soon as I touch down. I told my girl I’ll be there, so prepare to get fucked down. The homies wanna kick it, but I’m just laughing at cha, cause you’re a down ass bitch and I ain’t mad at cha. 

As the song found its ending, they pulled up in front of the courthouse.

“Before y’all get out,” Mrs. Wall asked, “let’s say a prayer.” As she began, the boys bowed their heads. When she was done, they shouted, “We’ll amen to that!” And they hopped out the car, feeling better about the outcome. As they entered the courthouse, they were told to walk through the scanner, to check for any weapons, which no one had. Once past all the bullshit, they proceeded to court room 3A.

About ten minutes later, the judge said, “Gore v. State.”

“Well, that’s me y’all,” Fatboy said as he walked up to the front. Once there a white lady by the name of Mrs. Clark said she was my public defender and said she would be representing me today. “All right, cool,” Fatboy said.

“Listen, Mr. Gore, this is your first time in trouble, but you already said it was your gun and not someone else’s, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Fatboy said.

“Well, being that this is your first offense, the judge is willing to give you two years’ probation, if you plead guilty right now.”

“Shit. Oh my bad, I mean shoot. Where do I sign okay?”

“Hold on,” the PD said. “Your Honor, my client is willing to plead guilty to the gun charge in exchange for the two years’ probation.”

“Son, is that correct?” the judge asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“And you know if you mess up, it’s a 99 percent chance you’ll be locked up.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“And you’re sure you’re willing to plead guilty right now?”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

“Son, you do know two years’ probation is nothing compared to what I could do give you. But I feel in my heart, you made a mistake that you won’t make again. Am I right?”

“Yes, sir judge.”

“All right. You can go now. You probation officer will let you know what’s what,” the judge said.

As Fatboy began to walk off, he looked at his mother who was smiling and hoping this would open her son’s eyes.

“Baby, you know everything happens for a reason. If you get a chance, take it. If it changes your life, let it. Nobody said it would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it,” his mother said holding her tears back.

“Momma, I got you. And trust me, I’mma be all right. Two years on probation ain’t nothing, it’s like taking candy from a baby,” he said, hopping in the car and pushing play on the CD, turning it up to hear Tupac’s “Life Goes On,” as his mother drove them back to the projects.

“It’s always another day but the same ole shit!” Pokey was thinking.

“Damn, now I’m on papers. A nigga can’t do shit,” Fatboy said. Once his mother was outta sight, “Chill, dog, everything gonna be good,” Pokey said.

“Shit, as long as we making this money, all you really gotta do is pay that shit off, and them crackers will take you off that shit. You know they don’t want shit, but money from a nigga anyways.”

“All right, dog. Whatever,” Fatboy said, taking a sit on the steps. As he watched his friend, he realized, “Maybe this ain’t the life I wanna live, but knew it was too late ’cause he put his bid in. already, so I’mma ride to the end,” he was thinking. “I just hope it’s worth it in the end.”

        “Look, Pok, I’mma go in the crib and chill out a minute. I’ll meet you ’round Shine and Boo Boo house in about two hours.”

“All right, dog, that’s what’s up,” Pokey said, getting ready to leave.

“Hey, before you go, check this out.”

“What’s up?” Pokey asked.

“Dog, in a few months it’s your B-day, and that’s when ya unc is supposed to put you on. Well, if so, let’s get all the money we can and fall back from the game,” Fatboy said.

“All right, dog. We’ll do that,” Pokey said, looking at his friend sideways, wondering where all this was coming from. As he turned around and walked off, he had a bad feeling, “Damn, I hope this nigga ain’t getting soft on me, ’cause if so, he know the rules to the game. Once you in, it’s only two ways to get out, buy out or death,” Pokey was thinking. But just as fast he shuck the thought, “Na’ll, that’s my dog,” he said, walking in the house. “He living better than that thug life.”