Excerpt From The Hustler and The Kid
“So you’ve been a hustler since day one?”
“Fo’ sho’. Always. I can’t remember a time where I wasn’t hustling in some way.”
The kid shook his head with a smirk, writing the hustler’s answer in his journal.
“What was the first hustle?”
“The first time I made money hustlin?’”
“Yeah sure.”
“Shit the first person I every hustled for money was my father.”
“Damn..,ok how old were you.”
“I think it started when I was 6 or 7 and I kept doing it until I was in middle school.”
“What was it?”
“So Dad would always have quarters. Roles of quarters. He was cheap. Dad had money but he saved it all so he wouldn’t give us a damn thing. Like we didn’t get allowance or any shit like that. Mom would get her little spending money, but she always worked so hard, I never wanted to ask her for any money for candy or anything like that. But one day I remember seeing Dad pull all this change out of his pocket and put it on his dresser before he had rolled it up. He wasn’t paying attention and I grabbed some of the quarters.”
“That was a risk.”
“Yeah I had that money and I went back to my room scared as hell. I knew was going to get an ass whoopin’ if Dad found out.”
The hustler leaned back in his chair and unleashed a loud, open-mouthed laugh. The kid couldn’t help but laugh with him.
“So did you get caught?”
“Naw nigga, thats where the hustle comes in. So I was lying in bed that night thinking ‘Shit how am I going to spend the money.’ If I get ice cream from the ice cream truck Mom and Dad will ask how I got the money. Then it came to me. The next morning me and my brothers are playing out in the yard like normal. I waited until my Dad came out on the porch. Then I took the quarters out of my pocket and threw them in the yard. So as we were playing I would pick a few up and say “Look I found a quarter.”
“So it just looks like you are lucky?”
“Yeah. I was the luckiest money finding little mothafucka in the neighborhood for the next 5 or 6 years. HAHAHAHAH!!!1”
“You kept stealing from your Dad.”
“Yeah most of the time, but I would also steal from other people if it was an easy opportunity, then just do the same thing. Put the money somewhere and make it seem like I just got lucky and found some change.”
“No one ever caught on.”
“Naw. There was a court-ordered shrink who ended up speaking with me and Dad. And Dad talked about one of the reasons he thought I had so much potential was because I was always so lucky with money. HAHAHAHAH. He even told the shrink about how incredible it was that money seemed to just find me.”
“That is a damn shame. You were just lucky, huh?”
“Yeah, that was the hustle. But you know no one is lucky over and over again. If someone seems like they are getting “lucky” consistently….well that shit ain’t luck, it’s either that they have a skill or some kind of hustle.”
The kid made a few notes in his journal. When he looked across at the hustler, he was staring at the kid with a closed-mouth grin. Eyes twinkling. He was a little puzzled by the look.
“What?”
“Nah nothing. It is good to see you kid.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah in fact why don’t you take your ass over to that vending machine and get me some Doritos?”
“Doritos? You hungry?”
“Nigga who cares if I’m hungry. You ain’t gotta be hungry to eat no Doritos. Shit you asking me all these questions, least you can do is get a nigga some chips.”
“Ok…Ok. I’ll get some for you.”
The kid rose slowly from the table. He made eye contact with the guard and signaled that he was headed to the vending machine. The guard returned a nod.
“Oh damn, look how slow this fool is movin’. Those hands ain’t even made a move for those pockets.”
The kid couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m going, I’m going, calm down.”
“Cheap little nigga just like his grandpa. That’s a damn shame a man can’t get no chips during an interview.”
The kid made his way over to the vending machine, trying not to disturb the conversations going on at the other tables. This was the first time he had spoken to the hustler in this setting. The times before they had been separated by glass. Seeing these other inmates in their white jumpsuits speaking to friends, lawyers, or family members across the table reminded him of where he was. The hustler had a way of making everything seem so normal. He could relax you in almost any setting, make you feel like everything was as it should be, even when something inside you kept warning you to be on guard. The Doritos dropped. He made his way back to the table.
“Here’s your Doritos. Stop whining.”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. EMMMM. These chips are so good. I wish they had twizzlers though. But they don’t stock none of them. You remember we used to get twizzlers at the movies?”
“Yeah I remember you liked twizzlers.”
“Milk Duds. Your ass always wanted them Milk Duds.”
The kid was surprised he remembered.
“Ok so you always had an eye for the hustle? You always had some kind of scheme going?”
The hustler chewed on his chips, looking up for a second to ponder the question.
“Yeah. I guess I’ve always been a wolf. I always wanted money. And I don’t think I ever felt bad hustling someone if I was getting what I wanted out of it.”
“What about your environment? Do you think that had anything to do with it?”
“No. I mean I didn’t start hanging out with any people involved in that life…hustlin’, drug dealin’ or robbin’ or any of that until I decided to start doing it. Most of the people I brought into my crews to help me had never committed a crime before. I think if I had been richer I probably would have just found legal ways to hustle.”
The kid and the hustler sat looking at each other for a few seconds. No words. Just nods. The kid wrinkled his forehead, pensive.
“Look boy some people are born wolves and others are born sheep. No one knows why. It’s just the way it is. Maybe I could have been a different kind of wolf. But always a wolf.”
“I guess my grandfather did always say, 'Every man is born with a temperament. Just like a dog.”
“I think he was right about that. Hey, can I ask you something?”
“What’s that?”
“Why you want to know all this? About me? All these questions?”
The kid smiled. Surprised and happy that the hustler asked.
“You’re interesting to me. You always have been. I love philosophy and psychology, learning about people. Why they do things. You have a different view of it. You’ve lived this life, but at the same time you were able to make people trust you, like you so much they allowed you to hustle them multiple times.”
The hustler grinned. Proud.
“So I guess I'm interested in how you think about the world. About people.”
“I see. You about to be a college boy, but before you do that you want to get some of this hood wisdom.”
Both men laughed.
“I guess so.”
“Well…this ain’t going to be no textbook or church shit. I’m going to tell you how people really are. I’m talkin’ about reality. Because a hustler can’t have any illusions, he’s gotta deal with people how they actually are. For real. Not how they want people to see them.”
“Ok. I get that. That’s what I’d love to hear.”
“Alright then. What’s your next question?”