Durty South Grind (25 page)

“B” got up from the table, grabbed his shoulders, then held him at arm's length. “Man, why you didn't let me know that you was coming over this way?”

Sparkle hunched his shoulders. “Shit, dog, I didn't really know myself until Sis there caught me getting off the bus on Candler Road. So what's up?”

The commotion drew the attention of the people at the high stakes table. “Come on, JJ, Debra and you, too,” Al said. “‘B,' I
see you raking coins over there. Your black ass is welcome over here, too.”

“I'm on my way now, big timer!” Debra shouted as she reached over Sparkle's shoulder with her palms up, wiggling her fingers.

Sparkle looked down at her hand. “What…what's that for?” He arched his brows with curiosity.

Debra spun around. “Damn, Bro, you hit up really good over here the other day. Give a bitch a few coins to chunk at these greedy muthafuckas.”

Sparkle's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise as he smiled down at her. His thoughts immediately shot back to the days when he had first revealed to Debra the art of cheating. Ain't no way her ass was still in training and thinking that he'd go for that okeydoke move. He knew that she had bank in her purse. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been so anxious to get over here in the first place. But she was Baby Sis, so he gave in, reached into his pocket and eased a couple of hundred into her palm.

There were things he wanted to kick around with Johnny B anyhow. She batted her eyes and gave him a smirk of a smile and turned to the table. “Hold up there, playa. Can a bitch get a cut of them cards there? I ain't like a ho; trust any of ya'll dogs, know what I'm saying.”

“Girl, your ass need to be paying attention instead of running your mouth at folk who ain't even tossing bills in that bitch!” somebody shouted. She ignored whomever it was and picked the deck up to reshuffle herself.

Al removed the thick cigar out of his mouth and mumbled, “Nigga, you know damn well that you need to let folk cut the deck whenever they want to. Uh-huh, yo dirty ass probably trying to sneak one of your deals in, but that ain't about to happen. Is it, girls?” His tone was gentle but persuasive.

A chorus of “fuck you” erupted around the table. Sparkle smiled at the banter and began studying the players to see whatever cheat tactics they were using. However, he would never reveal anything if he saw one of them doing something. That was straight-up taboo as far as he was concerned. Besides, it would only wire them up that he had those abilities, too.

Shortly afterward, he felt “B”'s gnarled hand grasp his shoulder as he whispered in his ear, “Yo, partner, we got a lot of updating to do, so whatcha say we go get a couple of foosball games in. Shit, this game is nearly done anyways.”

Sparkle told him that he wanted to get in only a few hands just for show, which he acknowledged with respect. After getting off a few rounds, in which he won three hands without having to use any of his cheat tactics, he pushed away from the table and joined his boy at the mini fridge in the corner where they got a few cans of Olde English before they headed to the game room.

“Well, what have you settled into, partner, and have you caught up with Rainbow yet?”

Sparkle shook his head. “No, I haven't had the chance to see him yet.” He put the beer down on the coffee table, belched and added, “I'm aight as far as aight goes. What I do need though is the rundown on a bitch I met.”

“B” rubbed the stubble on his chin with the back of his hand. “That's all. Shit, depends on what ho you talking about. Let's see, I've already told you about that bitch Dee.”

Sparkle took a long swig of the beer, picked up the remote off the arm of the chair and flicked until he settled for a video on BET. “Yeah, you have and…”

“B” interrupted him as he leaned back, laughing. “Yep, man, I remember her little ass from back in the day when we was trapping and robbing in Buttermilk Bottom. I know you can recall back
when she used to try to get us to buy reefer and those bootleg tapes at the poolroom beside the 617 Club.”

Sparkle joined in the laughter and leaned forward on his knees. “Uh-huh, her little tomboy-ass bitch thought cowgirl boots were the only way to go.”

“Yep, but hell, that girl ain't nowhere near little no more. Mmmhh, whew, that thang done grew into a brick house from the old school.” “B” smiled, visualizing that fat ass of hers.

“Oh hell yeah, she definitely ain't,” Sparkle joked before he got serious. “Anyways, I done gave her some shit to work with for me.”

“B” cocked his head to the side and started rubbing his neck. “All I can say about that one there, partner, is that as long as the folk are flowing through her crib, your shit will be alright but—”

Sparkle cut him off, “But don't give her no fresh package after two on Saturday night, especially early Sunday morning because most folk be spent out by then and only looking for a nigga to do them a favor. And her ass is gonna keep getting high as long as there is some dope around.”

“B” laughed at that one. “Well, at least she done wired you up on that, so she trying to play straight with you. Can't ask for much more than that there, dog. On those times there, just deal with her on a money-now basis. She'll understand, even though she'll definitely try you; that's for sho.”

Sparkle sat back up straight. “Let me get this straight; you mean to tell me that there ain't no money to make except for on Thursday, Friday and Saturday.”

“B” scooped up the beer Sparkle had been drinking and finished it off. “No, dog, there is plenty of money to make on what I call the cell phone route. And it's a twenty-four-seven job because folks out there in the suburbs, the ones with the real money, will be calling you at all times of the week. So what I'm really saying
is for you to handle your dealers with a long one because when the traffic stops in the inner city that don't mean that they stop getting high. And most of them ain't got that long green like those white folk in the burbs; that's what I'm saying.”

Sparkle nodded in understanding. “Okay, dog, I get whatcha saying. Thanks, partner.”

“B” turned his mouth down like he was in some kind of junkie nod, with his eyelashes lowered as he scanned the room. Satisfied that no one was paying them any attention, he reached inside his jacket pocket and removed a cherry blend cigar. He thumped it on the back of his fist a couple times before he put it to blaze. After a few hard jaw-sinking pulls, he handed it to Sparkle. “Yo dog, hit this bitch here. It's reefer laced with boy and girl—the way we used to do back in the day.”

Sparkle took the same room scan and then got his head blitzed right along with him.
Ah man, it sure do feel good being back around my real folk again,
he thought as the euphoria of the three-way hit massaged his senses.

He smiled at “B” in a dream-like daze from the rush. “B”'s words were coming out in a low buzz and his movement was in slow motion.

“B” smiled at him. “Now that we feeling kinda good, are you planning on doing any of your old hustles, because I still got the check machine we took out of that drugstore all those years ago—that is if you want to hang some paper.”

Sparkle forced his eyes open, shook off the nod that was trying to take over. “For real, dude?”

“B” leaned back cheesing. “Hell yeah, and I can let you work some of my girls on the creep and snatch. Shit, ain't no way any of these shops at all the malls around here can be hip to your face. Hell, and besides, I need to have them lazy-ass whores get off
their asses and do something other than laying around waiting for a geeker to come around to score; know what I'm saying?”

Same old “B” gorilla clocking muthafucking dollars,
Sparkle thought. “All that'll work in time, my nigga. Just let me get my feet wet for a while first. Then it's on, for sho.” He pinched his nose and started massaging the side of his face with his fingertips. “But check this here out. Whatcha know about this old lady that I met over Dee's the other night named Violet? She sure do seem to be a real sharp babe; know what I'm saying?”

“B” stared at him for a few seconds and then shook his head.
Shit, partner here is about to snatch up a real hood star. Sure do hope that he's still got his game together though because old
“
V” is definitely one of a kind and a handful for any nigga.
“Man, you got to be talking about old queen thief lady Violet, who be dressing all fly and shit; hair cut like Halle Berry; looks like a black Chinese.”

Sparkle's face broke out in a wide smile.
Damn, he hit her right on the head with that one there.
“Yeah, that'll be about how I'd describe her fly ass.” He started squirming in his seat, anticipating the reaction.

“My nigga, you ain't gonna believe this but that's Yolanda's aunt,” “B” said matter-of-factly.

“On the real, man?” Sparkle replied with a frown.

“Yeah, man, on the real. And peep this here: She's the hottie that turned Yolanda and a lot of other whores to the boosting game. Shit, on the up and up, that old playette done turned out a lot of the best boosters in Atlanta, including all those bitches that Rainbow and a lot of other pimps be getting paid from.”

“Damn, she like that, dog?” Sparkle inquired with sparks flying from his eyes.

“Hell yeah, and this one here is really gonna hit ya good. Mama's old man was big Joe Hankerson, uh-huh, and he used to march
right along with Martin Luther King, Jr.—hell, like one step behind Jesse Jackson, Andrew and Ralph.”

Now that had Sparkle thinking that his boy was tripping for real as he said shockingly, “What the fuck that's got to do with anything?”

“B” shook his head like he couldn't believe that he wasn't getting the message. “Man, beside from stealing her ass off, she gets something like forty-five hundred dollars every fucking month for her and her son, JoJo, from social security. Shit, Big Joe was in the money, player. The biggest problem is that she always fucks up her digits buying dimes until all that shit is gone. Hell, all she needs is a real player nigga like you to manage her finances. You feel me?”

Still not quite believing his good fortune, Sparkle felt compelled to throw out one more tester to be sure. “Hold up there, partner. Are you really telling me that this is the Queen ‘V' that all the old-head pimps used to hire to school their hoes to the boost?”

“One and the same playa.” “B” smiled slyly.

Sparkle leaned back in the seat, cheeks glowing brightly as his thoughts shot back to the little time he and old gal had spent together. It was a click there, for real. He nodded his head in appreciation of the news he had just heard. “Shit, dog, Mama gave me all kinda come-get-it-nigga signs. Hell, dog, I got to hurry up and lock old girl up because a nigga could use getting all shined up and shit with some fly gear. Oh hell yeah.”

“B” folded his arms, seriously contemplating, before he crossed his legs. “Check this, homes. I'll give you a couple of days to handle whatcha got to handle. In the meantime I'll get Yolanda to set up a run with Violet to get your wardrobe flashy like you like it.”

Sparkle's cheeks rose that much higher. “Oh yeah, I sho nuff needs some rags, for sho.”

“Damn, before it slips my mind, I'm gonna get the girls to go groom up some shops so ya'll can pull some checkbooks. That is by the time you get back with me in a couple of days.” “B” plucked himself upside the head before he added in a more serious tone, “Mmmh, must be getting old, dog. I've even got a honey who can get a signature check on just about anybody who runs a business in DeKalb, Fulton and even Henry County.”

Sparkle's eyes gleamed as he shifted slightly in the seat to face him. “When you wanna get down on this?”

“B” wiped a hand across his mouth and chin. “Shit, right after Lady ‘V' gets you all dressed up. Give me a call when you ready to roll like that.”

“That's a sho nuff, partner. You know I'll let you know.”

“B” jammed an elbow into his ribs. “Just make sure that you look out for my bunnies. That's all I ask.”

The words had barely escaped his lips when Stacy stuck his head in the room and hollered, “Yo, Unc, Debra wants to tell you something.”

Sparkle leaned forward rubbing his knees and looked at “B.” “Yo, man, we gonna do that. Give me that cell number.”

“B” stood up, snatched a pen and pad off the end table, scribbled the number down and handed it to him. “Here you go, dog. Check this. I'm about to roll; got things to do myself. Just hit me when you ready,” He strolled out the door.

“That's a bet,” Sparkle said to his departing backside and followed Stacy back into the gambling room. They could hear the verbal battles at full blast as soon as they opened the door. Debra's voice shot up another octave when she noticed them while she was shuffling the cards. That let Sparkle know that she was putting a mickey in the deck. So like a proud teacher watching a prize student, he stood behind her to watch her put in work. At
the same time he was also checking out the other players around the table to see if they were on point with what she was doing. None of them was up on her moves, which was all good.

He stood there like a ghost concentrating on their giveaway reactions, like facial expressions, lip twitches, eyebrow raises, and hand and posture movements—any telltale signs that most players didn't even pay attention to.

He was standing there for about a half-hour when he felt JJ nudging him in the knee. He looked down to see him nodding toward Stacy lying back on one of the bean chairs around the room.

Sparkle eyed his downcast young nephew for a moment before he eased over to plop down beside him. “Looks like those lessons I gave you didn't do you too much good from the way your mouth is all twisted up. Another bad night, huh?”