A Girl From Flint (11 page)
Authors: Treasure Hernandez
She lay down in her bed and thought about what she would buy with the money she got from Lloyd. “I got to get it first,” she said aloud. She turned off her cell phone, put the covers over her head, and went to sleep thinking about Lloyd and the money that was to be made.
I still can't believe he didn't buy me anything at the mall yesterday, ol' stingy-ass nigga. I bet you when he get a shot of this pussy he gon' be coming out his pockets!
I still can't believe he didn't buy me anything at the mall yesterday, ol' stingy-ass nigga. I bet you when he get a shot of this pussy he gon' be coming out his pockets!
Chapter Eight
O
nce Manolo caught wind of Amra's new boyfriend, he quickly convinced her to juice Lloyd for money too. Manolo didn't care what the girls did, as long as they helped him make money. He knew how to manipulate people and get them to do exactly what he wanted. He taught Amra how to hit Lloyd's pockets slowly, guaranteeing her it would only take three months for her to do it, and told her that this type of lick paid even more, because it was continuous. He told her to get into Lloyd's head, and his pockets would soon follow.
nce Manolo caught wind of Amra's new boyfriend, he quickly convinced her to juice Lloyd for money too. Manolo didn't care what the girls did, as long as they helped him make money. He knew how to manipulate people and get them to do exactly what he wanted. He taught Amra how to hit Lloyd's pockets slowly, guaranteeing her it would only take three months for her to do it, and told her that this type of lick paid even more, because it was continuous. He told her to get into Lloyd's head, and his pockets would soon follow.
Amra followed his instructions carefully, and just as Manolo predicted, Lloyd was quickly giving Amra thousands of dollars at a time.
The other girls quickly adapted to this hustle, because it wasn't as dangerous as setting groups of men up to get robbed. It wasn't hard for the girls to get money out of men, so it was even easier for Manolo to convince them to do it.
Manolo promised to put them up on some of the most 'hood-rich niggas in Flint, if they stayed on his team. The only thing he asked for was a small finder's fee. “I can have you associating in circles that you couldn't get into on your own. I know a lot of people.”
There was no denying that Manolo's shit was tight. He knew where to be, who was gon' be there, and what they were worth. No matter how private a party was supposed to be, Manolo knew somebody who knew somebody that could get them in.
Once the foundation of their hustle was laid, it was easy for Tasha, Mimi, Amra, and Honey to get anything they wanted from any man.
Amra had quickly hustled $7,000 from Lloyd, and the rest of the girls quickly followed suit.
All four girls sat on the floor in the room. “Hell yeah!” Mimi exclaimed as she counted out the $6,500 that she got from some dude.
Honey pulled out a wad of money and said, “Six gees!”
Tasha laughed and threw twenty-dollar bills in the air. “Eighty-five hundred, beating all y'all hoes!”
They gave each other high fives and looked at all the money that lay scattered in the middle of the floor. Between the four of them, they had hustled $28,000. It was easier than they had expected. The three months had basically flown by, and after the first month of a dry spell, the money just poured in.
Mimi pulled out a bottle of Hennessy from underneath her bed. “Fuck me, pay me!”
“Save that shit for later, Mimi. We got to go see Manolo.” Honey pulled out her cell phone. She put her finger to her mouth and motioned for her girls to be quiet as she called him.
The phone rang twice before Manolo answered his cell, “Yo?” He answered coolly, not knowing who was on the other line.
“Manolo, this is Honey. I got something for you,” she said in a teasing way, trying to make him think she was talking about more than money.
“Come through then,” he said.
Honey smiled and hung up her phone. “Let's go.” She hopped up off the floor with the money that she had made in her hand.
The girls quickly grabbed their money off the floor and followed Honey out to Tammy's car.
Manolo rubbed his chin. “So what you got for me?”
The girls pulled the money out of their purses and placed it on the table that separated them from Manolo.
Manolo eyes lit up. He didn't expect them to get this much money on their first hustle. He looked at Honey's cocoa-colored skin and model-type appearance, Tasha's curvy, but perfectly proportioned shape and hazel eyes, Amra's skinny figure and big breasts, and Mimi's fat ass and full lips.
Shit! A man would have to be a fool not to fall for any one of them.
He looked at Honey, and wondered what it would be like to have sex with her.
Shit! A man would have to be a fool not to fall for any one of them.
He looked at Honey, and wondered what it would be like to have sex with her.
He grabbed the money from the table and started counting it. It didn't take him long, because he was an expert when it came to counting money. “Twenty-eight thousand.” He took $2,800 off the top and handed each girl $6,300. He didn't mind that his share was smaller, because they would get better and better.
The more money they make, the more money I make
.
The more money they make, the more money I make
.
Mimi liked the feel of six thousand in her pocket, and wanted to make more. “You got another clique for us to get at?”
Manolo shook his head. “Nah, ma. We gon' hit a 'hood then switch it up. That way, y'all won't get hot. Niggas won't know y'all coming. I'll have more information in a couple days, so just keep your phones on. I'll be calling.”
The girls waited anxiously for Manolo's call. They liked hustling dudes for their money. It was like a catand-mouse game, and they were perfecting it with every clique they went through. Each girl had her own unique style, her own way of getting her way with a man.
Honey was smart, and it was easy for her to get inside the heads of the men that she hustled. She made them feel like they were the only one for her, and she stroked their ego by calling them Daddy, and doing anything they asked of her. It didn't matter to her what. She did whatever she thought would please a man. If a nigga told her to shut up, then she stopped talking. If he wanted her to cook him food, she made him the best meal he'd ever tasted. If he asked her to wash his nastyass drawers, she hand-washed them to make sure that they smelled as good as they possibly could before he put them on his ass again. She never complained and never got into his business. She didn't even question him about other chicks or pester him about when he was going to spend time with her. She simply made herself available whenever he wanted to see her, and made him think he was the only one she was making herself available for. She knew that by the end of the three months, he would pay for everything she had done for him.
Even though Honey did whatever they asked of her, she was always in control. “A good woman always makes the man think that your ideas are his ideas,” she always told Amra whenever they talked about the game.
But Amra had her own way of hustling dudes, and it paid off hansomely. She used sex to her advantage. She didn't care what she did. If she thought it would get her money, she was all for it. She would meet her target “by chance” in the club, or on the street, and that night, she would be in his bed. When they wanted their dick sucked, she sucked it. If they wanted to run trains, she let them. “Fuck me, pay me!” had quickly become her motto as well. Amra knew her pussy was good. Once men got a taste of it, they always begged for more, so it was easy for her to ask them for whatever she wanted. She knew they would give it to her just to keep fucking her.
Amra wanted endless money, though, so she picked up the habit of hustling different niggas at the same time, blatantly ignoring Manolo's rule to not hustle more than one dude from the same 'hood. As long as they had the paper, she was insistent on taking it from whatever dude was dumb enough to fall for her game. She would suck or fuck anybody for the right price. “I don't give a fuck who he is or where he's from,” she would tell Mimi whenever she tried to warn her about breaking the rule.
Mimi, on the other hand, was like the chick from the 'hood. She had grown up in the middle of the Fifth Ward, so she could relate to anyone from the streets. Niggas liked to keep her around because she already knew her role. She was hip to the streets, so she was easy to tame . . . or so she made them think. Mimi used her sexuality to satisfy her marks too, and was willing to do any and everything to get the job done. She made niggas trust her, and it wasn't long before they had her cooking the coke and bagging the weed.
Mimi became the down-ass bitch to any thug Manolo referred her to. She always made sure she made extra money, though. Since the thugs she dealt with almost always trusted her with whatever supply they were dealing, she always put a little bit in the baggy and a little bit in her purse. When Tasha tried to stop her from taking shit from the dudes she conned, she would say, “A hundred or two extra dollars a week wasn't bad for drugs that I got for free in the first place.”
Tasha's method was different from all of her girls. She thought highly of herself, and simply gave niggas the pleasure of having her on their arms. She made niggas feel honored to be in her presence, and made sure to establish a friendship before she talked about being their woman. Tasha never asked for money, and when they offered it to her, she always said no. She knew what she was doing though, because the next time she checked her purse or coat, there would always be hundreds, sometimes thousands of dollars inside. She caught men by their hearts, not by their dicks, which was one reason her hustle worked so well.
Tasha never had sex with anyone she was trying to hustle, because she looked at each situation as a job. Since she wasn't a prostitute, she didn't feel that fucking men was necessary. There were other ways to get money out of them. She was simply “arm candy” and good company, nothing more.
Tasha didn't act like a ho from the block, so niggas didn't treat her like one. She was always showered with fur coats, diamond bracelets, earrings, and clothes. Since she was getting this stuff from the men she conned, she figured she didn't have to spend her money on material shit that didn't matter.
Tasha knew that eventually the money would stop coming, so she kept a shoebox underneath her bed with all of her savings. She had a hustle plan: save enough money so she could go to one of the colleges in Michigan. “Hopefully, Michigan State,” she'd tell her friends when they laughed at her attempts to save money.
Tasha walked into the bathroom and saw Amra standing in the mirror. “Are you okay?” she asked Amra, noticing that her friend looked frail and worn down.
“Yeah, I'm cool. I think I'm catching the flu though. My throat hurts like hell, and I feel weak.”
“It's flu season, and that shit has been going around like crazy. Well, let me get away from you before I catch it.” Tasha walked out of the bathroom and yelled, “Let me know when you are done in there!”
Tasha thought about the late nights Amra had been keeping lately.
I hope she ain't taking this hustling shit too far. She is starting to look burnt out, like she's doing too much. She's trying to hustle four and five different niggas at a time. That shit is going to catch up with her. Manolo's putting her on to more capers than any of us. I hope he ain't trying to turn her out. That nigga been trying to play his hand at being a pimp. I hope she ain't getting into no dumb shit by fucking with him.
I hope she ain't taking this hustling shit too far. She is starting to look burnt out, like she's doing too much. She's trying to hustle four and five different niggas at a time. That shit is going to catch up with her. Manolo's putting her on to more capers than any of us. I hope he ain't trying to turn her out. That nigga been trying to play his hand at being a pimp. I hope she ain't getting into no dumb shit by fucking with him.
Tasha was engrossed in her thoughts when Honey walked into the room. “Tasha, someone's on the phone for you,” she said.
Tasha frowned. She hadn't given anyone Tammy's number. “Who is it?” she asked.
Honey shrugged her shoulders and threw Tasha the cordless phone. “I don't know, but it sounds important.”
Tasha caught the phone and put it to her ear. “Hello?” she said, wondering who was on the other line.
“Hi. This is Dr. Danson from Grace Sinai Hospital in New York. We found your number in the purse of Patricia Rodgers. I assume this is her daughter.”
“The hospital? Is she alright?”
The doctor remained calm. “I can't release information to anyone but family. Is this a family member that I am speaking with?”
“Yes, I'm her daughter. Is she okay?”
The doctor was silent for a minute.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Rodgers is in intensive care. She collapsed at her workplace. We found a cancerous tumor that needs to be tended to. She is conscious, but this needs to be taken care of before the cancer spreads. Is there any way you can come to the hospital?”
Tasha felt like she'd been smacked. She just stood there gripping the phone.
Cancer? How could Ms. Pat have cancer?
She walked over to her dresser, and with shaky hands grabbed a pen and paper. She was in such a rush that she knocked some pictures off the top.
Cancer? How could Ms. Pat have cancer?
She walked over to her dresser, and with shaky hands grabbed a pen and paper. She was in such a rush that she knocked some pictures off the top.
Amra came prancing into the room and immediately saw Tasha's worried look.
“Yes. My sister and I will be there as soon as we can. Please take care of her.” Tasha hung up the phone and looked at Amra.
Amra could see that something was wrong. “What's up?”
“It's your mom. She's in the hospital. They think that she has cancer.”
Amra looked at Tasha, not wanting to believe what she had told her. She hadn't spoken to her mother since they'd left New York a year ago. “We have to go home,” she said as tears started to flow down her face.
Tasha walked over to Amra and hugged her tightly. “Everything is going to be okay,” Tasha said, but inside her heart, she knew cancer was deadly, and she prayed that Ms. Pat would be okay.
Other books
The Forbidden Room (Fairy Tales Behaving Badly) by Eppa, Annie
A Little Christmas Magic by Alison Roberts
Orwell's Luck by Richard W. Jennings
Waiting Fate by Kinnette, W.B.
Enter the Bad Boy (Sweet Surrender) by Coolomon, Matt
Golden Hope by Johanna Nicholls
Here & There by Joshua V. Scher
Soul Identity by Dennis Batchelder
StrategicSurrender by Elizabeth Lapthorne
Eve of the Emperor Penguin by Mary Pope Osborne
