Kelvin Jackson: It Was All A Dream

Mattie hadn’t been a weed smoker until she’d met K. Before that she would only occasionally indulge in alcohol. But, K smoked so much that the contact she would catch from the smoke, especially in his car would have her slightly high. That feeling was what piqued her curiosity. She would never forget the first time that she smoked a blunt with him. They were still living in NY before moving to Virginia and decided to spend a nice quiet Saturday night at home. She had remembered how good food would taste after inhaling all that weed smoke in the car.

She’d been just putting the final touches on a five course meal and K had lit some scented candles and a blunt as thick as a Cuban cigar.

“I wanna get high with you tonight,” she said.

“Nah ma. Please don’t start no bad habits on my watch.”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle it. I promise I won’t do it with anybody but you,” she said lying to herself convincingly.

Had she known that she was starting a habit that she would carry with her for years to come, she would have never taken that first puff. K gave it to her and after choking and gagging off the first two pulls, her eyelids began to get heavy and she couldn’t stop smiling. Before she knew it three quarters of the blunt was gone and they had both totally forgotten about the food.

“I want something to drink. My mouth is dry,” said Mattie with a silly ass look on her face.

But K also recognized another familiar look. He made her a rum and coke which she drank entirely too fast. He made it a little strong and she frowned from the burn when it went down.

Then it happened.

She slowly put her index finger between her teeth and smiled a wicked seductive smile.

“What?” K asked

“My pussy is tingling,” she said falling back on the couch, pulling off her thong and skirt in one swift motion.

“What tha-?” he started but she quickly cut him off.

“I want you to fuck me right now! “She said in a tone of voice that left no room for questions.

And for the next two hours she asked for it and got it in every position possible. As K pounded the pussy in the scissor position, she felt sensations that she didn’t know existed.

“Oh…oh…oooohh…shit!Why…does…it…feel…so…fuckin…goooood?!Daddy…oooh shiiit! “she moaned in ecstasy.

Ever since then she kept a sack on standby. But smoking weed had also become a way that she was able to temporarily escape her reality. And so she puffed away as she rode and listened to her music. Ten minutes later she could see the lights of her extravagantly lit up workplace. It was only an eight dollar fare, but she always gave Paul $20 because he didn’t make passes at her and he let her smoke her weed.

“We’re here,” Paul said as he swung the cab into the crowed parking lot.

He knew that he would get his usual twenty bucks from Mattie and that would give him just enough to go over to Wyandanch and get him a gram for $40 from a new spot that had just recently opened up shop. Fuck it, he thought. If he had to drive a couple towns over to cop, he knew he would get more bang for his buck.

Mattie gathered her bags and removed her wallet from her bag. She removed a twenty dollar bill and handed it to Paul.

“You know I always look out for you,” she said to Paul.

She returned her wallet to her bag, but didn’t realize that she’d dropped something.

“See ya soon Paul,” she said climbing out of the cab with her bags and closing the door.

She never looked back as she went to work in one of the biggest strip clubs on Long island.

The unmarked undercover police cruiser rolled slowly past the large circle of hustlers as weed smoke hovered above the crowd. White clouds floated slowly across the parking lot and thickened the air of the mild early August evening. The crowd temporarily tensed up and a few cats removed their hoods in a weak attempt to not look suspicious. They watched out of the corners of their eyes until the cruiser bent the corner on their routine pass through and then the scene returned to normal.

“Aight-all down is a bet!” K yelled out to the other hustlers participating in the cee-lo game.

Numerous bets dropped to the black top parking lot in front of the other 15 players. Bets ranged from the ten dollars from those trying to make a come-up, to two-hundred dollars and better around the inside of the circle.

“What’s the bank K?” Duke called out.

“Bank Money! If you drop it, it’s covered,” said K shaking the dice about to roll. K’s two young gunna’s Shooky Brim aka Pookie and Billy Blass held him down wit da burners watching his back and making sure aint nobody try no slick shit.

“I’m coming out!” K stated as the dice left his hand and bounced towards the center of the large circle.

The dice came to a halt on three sixes.

“3 sixes! Mark of the beast! Nobody move, you know what it is,” K said as he made his way around the circle picking up bets and handing the money to Blass who was holding the bank.

“Dam K, you on fire tonight! You aint rolled a point under a five in the last 20 rolls, “said GS Mike Seabury.

“This whip hand fam. Anything I touch wit it blow up! “Said K talkin big shit.

Just then a carfull of outta town cuties pulled in the parking lot and slowly rolled past the game eyeing the Crimedanch hustlas curiously. They pulled to the rear of the parking lot and found a spot where they could enjoy the show. And a show it was. Always! As a matter of fact they were only one car of many that filled Kentucky Fried Chicken parking lot on the fast paced active Friday night.

It was a typical payday in the hood. There were maad (a lot of) crackheads moving with motivation as money exchanged hands quicker than Wall Street. The mixed smells of the Colonel’s original recipe and the Chinese food spot with the banging house specials across MLK Boulevard aka Straight Path made it a constant battle of which type of grease the blunt smoker’s munchies would lead them to.

K had been home from a short stint in county jail for a few weeks and was already hugging the block like he never left. At 290 pounds he was to hustling what Barry White had been to R and B. But to the niggahs in his hood he was $K-Money$; known for his car and hustle game.

“Yo Pook. Let me hit that,” K stated reaching for the 40 ounce of St. Ides malt liquor he was holding.

Pookie handed K the bottle and whispered,“Yo, my cousin from Central Islip just pulled up. He called earlier and said he needed a big 8 if I could find it for him.”

“ I gotta check and see what I got left, but I should have at least that. He know the numbers (price) is the same as last time, right?

“$ 2,750.”

“No doubt. Go holla at em’ and find out what’s up.”

After a couple more rolls of the dice, K lost the bank to a ten dollar bettor that rolled 4-5-6. That meant automatic surrender of the bank and the timing was perfect. He counted his winnings as him and Billy Blass were walking away from the game. Minus the $1500 K had in his pocket before the game, he had a total of $4,200 in profit. Not bad for a couple hours killing time. K took out $1200 and gave it to Pook and Blass to split for holding him down.

After Pook talked to his cousin, he met up with K and Blass as they were headed to the rental car.

“He said he want a bigs(125 grams) and another half a big (62? grams) if you got it. He said it’s poppin in his hood and the block is dry.”

“I got the big 8 fa-sho, but its Friday and I got 3 spots to supply. I only brought 840 grams uptown yesterday and I’m still in grind mode trying to get back on top,” said K putting the rental in drive.

“I know K. And I know you been lookin out cause that’s my fam. Do what you can and he just gotta understand it is what it is.”