Flippin' the Hustle (7 page)

Derrick
pulled the newly acquired convertible Jaguar from his garage. Once the sun beamed down, he pushed the Jag to maximum speeds, enjoying the bright spring weather. The fact that he was currently on his way to a cookout that RJ was having in the park may have attributed to his festive mood.

RJ had invited everyone, ensuring that it would be a gala event.

Derrick chose to attend the event alone, partly because he and Asia had pleasantly parted ways. After giving Asia some drawn out story of how he had problems with committing, she agreed to give him some time. Nonetheless, the sex that Derrick had been putting down left Asia like an addict going cold turkey with withdrawal symptoms.

Derrick pulled up beside RJ's Mercedes Coupe and hopped out. He stepped from between the two luxurious convertibles, noticing that he had already accumulated a small fan base. Standing off to the side, a group of thirsty females eyed him. Unsure of whether they were included in RJ's gathering or not, Derrick accepted their prolonged stares with a smile and continued on his way. He slid the Fendi shades over his eyes and made his way through the masses of people, until he noticed RJ, Lil' Roy, and a few other familiar faces in the crowd.

“What up?” RJ asked as Derrick walked over and gave him some dap.

“Ain't nothing,” Derrick responded, before showing some love to Lil Roy and the rest of the crew. Derrick looked around the large table filled with all types of condiments, nearly losing his breath at the familiar face that stared back. He tried to remain calm as the exotic specimen casually made her way around the table to where he stood.

She extended her hand. “Hi, I remember you. Your name is . . .” She paused and placed her hand on her hip. “Um . . . Tree. Right?”

“Yeah . . . yeah, I'm . . . um, Tree,” Derrick replied nervously, eyeing the beautiful woman through his tinted frames. “And you're . . .”

“Naria! My baby sister!” RJ's voice boomed over her shoulder.

Naria slapped at RJ playfully, and retorted, “Yeah, yeah, little sister, whatever! Remember, you're only ten months, nine days, and I forgot the hours older.”

Derrick eyed the interaction between the two, recognizing they had a solid bond.

“Well, let me leave you two alone,” RJ said and then walked off.

The pair stood staring at one another in silence until Naria asked, “So where's Asia?”

Derrick smiled bashfully, and then ran his hand over his baldhead.

“Come on, it couldn't have been that bad,” Naria said with a giggle.

“Worse!”

After only a short time, he and Naria were carrying on as if they'd known one another for years. Oblivious to anyone else present, their conversation persisted.

The more Naria talked, the more Derrick realized that her intelligence matched her beauty perfectly. They exchanged experiences of attending HBCU's. While Derrick had attended John C. Smith University, Naria had graduated from Morgan State. She was now the marketing manager for a local computer programming firm.

He was so engrossed in his conversation with Naria that he nearly forgot his mission. The beautiful woman that he was so taken aback by was the sister of a notorious drug kingpin, and quite possibly, she could be one of his conspirators.

Derrick sat at the picnic table enthralled with Naria's Caribbean Ocean-colored eyes, her soft honey brown complexion, and her naturally S-curve shaped body.

“Would you like to take a walk, Tree?” Naria asked, snapping him out of his appraisal of her.

“Yeah, that's cool,” he replied, sliding his long legs from under the picnic table.

Just as Derrick pulled himself to a standing position, the distinct sound of automatic gunfire erupted.

“Tat-Tat-Tat-Tat-Tat-Tat-Tat-Tat!

Instinctively, Derrick dove across the table and slammed Naria to the ground, while simultaneously snatching two hysterically screaming children. As the scene became more chaotic, Derrick eased up with his gun raised and ready to fire. He peered over the table in the direction the gunfire had come from. His eyes darted around frantically.

Had anyone paid any attention to him, it would have been evident that he was either a trained killer or a police.

Moving about the scene cautiously, Derrick yelled, “Everybody a'ight!”

Gradually, people began to come to their feet. Derrick noticed that both RJ and Lil' Roy stood unharmed. However, Lil' Roy looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

Suddenly, there was a loud cry. “I'm hit! Oh my God! Robert, I'm hit!”

Derrick and the others rushed to the screaming voice, only to see Trina, RJ's girlfriend clutching her side. Derrick knew that BTB would be going on a rampage to mete out revenge on whoever was brazen enough to harm RJ's girlfriend.

* * * * *

There was complete pandemonium in the halls of the university hospital's shock trauma unit. People moving about aimlessly as the police attempted to question those who were at the scene of the shooting.

RJ sat alone in a corner of the waiting room. His eyes displayed the rage that was boiling inside of him.

The entire time that they'd been at the hospital, Naria had stayed latched on to Derrick. Her arm was intertwined into his everywhere he went. When the doctors allowed her and RJ to go in and see Trina, she insisted that Derrick come along.

Eyeing the murderous rage in RJ's eyes, Derrick broke free from Naria and walked over to him. “You gonna be a'ight?”

“Some niggas just shot my girl, yo.”

“I know, man, but she's gonna be a'ight, son. It was ju—”

“Them niggas shot my girl, yo! And I ain't gonna sleep until all of them niggas is dead!” RJ hissed.

“How are you gonna find out who did it?”

“I've got my ways. Now you rolling or what?” RJ stood. Without waiting for a reply, RJ exited the waiting room.

As Derrick followed him out of the door, Naria grabbed his arm. “Tree, please look out for my brother.”

Giving her an understanding nod, Derrick quickly caught up with RJ, but he found it odd that Naria was asking him to look out for her brother, when RJ was more than capable of looking out for himself. Derrick's fear was that someone else would have to look out for RJ's wrath.

*****

Behind the wheel of RJ's SL55, Derrick noticed the hunger in the eyes of the men standing on each corner they passed. Drugs had definitely taken their toll on New York's inner city. He and RJ had been cruising the streets for nearly two hours, in silence. Every time Derrick asked him where it was that he wanted to go, he would curtly reply, “Just keep driving.”

Both of their cellular phones had been chiming incessantly since they'd exited the hospital, yet both men chose to ignore them.

However, once RJ's phone rang once, paused, and then rang again, he quickly answered it.

Derrick immediately picked up on the strange act, and listened to the context of the conversation closely.

“All right, yo! Give me five minutes and I'll be there,” RJ stated, and then tossed the phone onto the console. Turning toward Derrick, he said, “Go through Grand Avenue. I got to meet my niggas.”

Derrick followed RJ's order. As he navigated the Benz through Brooklyn, he was under the impression that the men they were headed to meet were the men that he already knew. However, once they reached their destination, he would be introduced to an entirely new crew. The Assassins.

Derrick pulled the Benz behind a black SS Impala parked in front of the house that supposedly contained Thunder and Lightning. Derrick eyed a group of men standing along with Lil' Roy and Eli.

Casually, he and RJ exited the car and joined the men on the sidewalk.

RJ walked into a barrage of hugs and daps, while Derrick received ‘ice grills' from everyone present.

Turning to a dark skinned man with a mouth full of diamonds, RJ asked, “So, Shay, what's the consensus?”

“Only them little niggas Taz and Meechie be on that bullshit, yo.”

“A'ight! But who did it!” RJ blurted.

“I'm almost certain them niggas did it, but as far as which one? Well, I'm a have to put the twins into action for that,” he stated, motioning to the two identically featured men standing beside him.

“Fuck the details. Even if one might be responsible, they both get it,” RJ declared.

“If we snatch one of ‘em up, I know they'll tell who was responsible. Especially when my niggas get at ‘em,” Shay commented in a smooth demeanor.

“I know where them niggas be at, too,” Eli said. “Right over in Flatbush.”

RJ was becoming even more frustrated by simply talking about the situation. “A'ight! Fuck all that! We gonna roll over there and pay these bitches a visit, yo!” He then walked off in the direction of his car.

* * *

Derrick and RJ inconspicuously sat in RJ's Benz, eyeing the traffic as it came and went at the neighborhood bar. Shay, Lil' Roy, and Eli were on the opposite corner in Shay's SS Impala.

The serene atmosphere inside the Mercedes gave Derrick's mind a moment to reflect on the day's events. The terror shown in Naria's beautiful eyes caused a chill to run down his spine. On the one hand, he wanted to protect her for the remainder of his days, and yet on the other he wanted to somehow detach his personal feelings from the situation.

Just when Derrick's mind began to toss any inhibitions out the window, he noticed one of the twins round the corner and enter the bar. Almost simultaneously, RJ's cell phone blared to life.

RJ placed it to his ear. “Speak.”

After listening to the brief back and forth, Derrick assumed the caller was either Lil' Roy or Eli. However, once RJ ended the call, he said, “Watch this.”

Instantly, the door to the bar swung open and out came a medium built light-skinned man closely followed by one of the twins. As if on cue, the other twin popped up as if he was Houdini. The approaching twin delivered a barrage of karate style kicks and punches, sending the man to the ground in a heap.

They snatched the man to his feet and threw him into an awaiting car and then pulled off.

Derrick parked behind Shay's car, which was parked behind the twin's car, which sat directly in front of an abandoned house on Lafayette Avenue in Brooklyn.

Witnessing the twins nearly drag the helpless man into the empty house, Derrick turned to RJ and asked, “Wassup? We going in or what?”

RJ pulled his phone out and began to punch in numbers. Turning to look at Derrick, he said, “Nah. We going to let them niggas do them. But believe me, if son knows anything, they will get it out of him.”

After sitting parked for nearly an hour, Lil' Roy emerged.

Once RJ pushed the button, rolling the dark tinted window down, Lil' Roy kneeled. “Shay was right, yo. That nigga Taz did that shit, but . . .” Lil' Roy stated.

“But what!” RJ yelled.

“Taz is Biggs' little brother . . . The Gucci Crew.”

“Fuck the Gucci Crew! Them niggas gotta pay, yo!” RJ blurted.

“A'ight, yo! But we gotta be smart about how.”

“Smart! Motherfucker, was this nigga being smart when he shot my girl!” RJ yelled. Without giving Lil' Roy a chance to reply, he continued, “Nah. What you're going to do is go back in there and get that nigga to give you an address! Then I'm going to handle this shit on my own!” RJ declared angrily.

After receiving the whereabouts of the man known as Taz, Derrick and RJ stopped by the house on Grand Avenue to pick up a few utensils for their mission.

RJ led the way into the dark, damp residence, and went straight to a closet near the front door.

Immediately, Derrick noticed the variety of firearms that rested neatly inside the closet. Assault rifles of every caliber lined the floor. Just above the rifles on a shelf, were handguns of every caliber imaginable.

“Grab what you want, man,” RJ stated as he walked away from the closet with a Ruger Mini-14.

Derrick selected a nickel-plated AK-47 assault rifle and a P-90 Ruger, even though he didn't plan on using them. He noticed a pile of various types of body armor. Derrick pulled down a bulletproof vest reminiscent of the ones that DEA distributed on strategic missions. As the entire pile of vests tumbled from the top shelf, Derrick's eyes zeroed in on the bright yellow logo that read DEA. Holding the vest up and scrutinizing it, he asked, “These joints official?”

“Official as they get, yo,” RJ quipped, going back to the task of loading the powerful assault rifle.

Derrick thought of Marvin mentioning that RJ had a bargaining chip that could impress a judge to release him if charged with a crime. Judging from the vest and some of the DEA apparel Derrick discovered afterwards, he assumed someone within the agency was supplying RJ with artillery and possibly information to help him avoid captivity. This reality furthered the blurred vision Derrick had begun to see the agency and RJ through. There seemed to be little to distinguish the crooks from the agents. The biggest difference in relation to Derrick, was that RJ was loyal and had his back, while the agency cared little about Derrick. He had an idea that would surely anger the higher ups. Grabbing the vest and any other official Drug Enforcement Agency apparel he could find, Derrick closed the closet and put his plan into action.

* * * * *

Not long after Derrick discovered the DEA goods, his plan was in effect. He and RJ were cruising through Flatbush, Brooklyn in a blue Chevy Lumina with dark tinted windows, dressed as if they were DEA agents on an assault mission. Derrick thought it was rather ironic that he'd been desperately trying to hide his identity, and here he was portraying what he actually was.

Parking unnoticed on a street, Derrick turned the engine off and slouched into the seat comfortably. Everything seemed comforting. Riding shotgun with RJ surprisingly put Derrick at ease more than when he was with his fellow agents.