6 Miles of Chronicles

Acknowledgments

This is the sixth time God has rewarded me for my efforts by blessing me with a complete body of work, and I would like to thank Him for showing me He is Who He says He is! He has blessed me and my family and has always provided a way when the world said it was impossible.

This book was a little more challenging than my others because I lost so many friends and family members throughout the time, I spent working on it. RIP to all my people who lost their lives over senseless violence as hazards of the game.

Back in the day when I was coming up, getting my feet wet in the blood of the streets, the hustlers use to have a saying. THE GAME AIN’T TO BE TOLD. IT’S TO BE SOLD! That’s exactly what I’m doing now! I’m writing about it and entertaining people with my intelligence, instead of ignorance!

I dedicate this one to all my fallen 6 Mile soldiers: RIP

Lil Yo

Big Dion

Bokie Mac

Eddie

Lil Bobby

RayRay

Chip

Pig

And the rest of the fallen soldiers everywhere!

SALUTE

6 Mile

Chronicles

The Birth of a Hustler

Part One

CHAPTER 1

Fox lay across his bed livid, speaking to Antoine on the phone. He’d had to move to the eastside of Detroit. Fox had grown up running the streets of his neighborhood, so the transition to a new area was an unwanted experience for him.

I’m telling you, my-nigga, Fox said into the telephone, these niggaz over here are corny-as-hell! I can’t wait to get back to the west. This shit’s shakin’ a-nigga up.

I feel you, dawg. Antoine felt him, but he had ulterior motives. I need yo’ slick-talkin’-ass back over here so you can talk Keisha into given me some of that pussy. He chuckled before going silent. Aww shit! My mom’s callin’ me. Hold up. The telephone went silent when Antoine set it down.

Fox held the phone to his ear for a while, but it went dead. He was sure Antoine was in a fucked-up situation after that. He felt bad for his boy because Antoine had been catching it bad from his mother lately. The beating had started about six months ago, or shortly after his father vanished from their lives. Fox knew about the beatings and the abuse because he and Antoine were best friends and they shared everything, especially secrets. After Antoine’s father left their household, his mother had gone into a vicious state of alcoholism. She would get drunk and take all her misplaced frustration out on Antoine. He looked identical to his father, so it was evident he was getting everything she wanted to put on his old man.

Antoine’s father, Diamond, was an extremely-abusive-type-of-nigga. He would savagely beat Antoine’s mother religiously, so naturally after his pops left, the cycle continued—only his mother was the abuser and Antoine was the victim. He was getting the repercussion of his father’s actions. For him, this was the beginning of his birth into the streets.

•

After putting Fox on hold, Antoine went into the living room where his mother was waiting for him. He was sure she had heard his and Fox’s conversation, but he tried to play it smooth by asking her what she wanted. There wasn’t any sense in initiating a situation that didn’t have to happen. 

What’s up?

His guilt-ridden look said more than his mother needed to hear. She went into a cursing tirade before slapping him across his mouth and making him hang up the telephone. This had become a frequent occurrence for him and he was becoming fed up with it.

Antoine lay on his bedroom floor, holding his swollen mouth and mumbling profanities. He was sure Fox knew what was going on because they talked about everything that went on in their lives, including the abuse he’d been receiving from his mother. It was an embarrassing ordeal, but Fox was his-nigga and he felt at liberty to share that type of shit with him. Antoine angrily kicked the bed post.

I gotta get-the-fuck outta this muthafuckin house! he mumbled to himself, trying not to fuel his mother’s rage any further.

He considered himself to be a man, at the age of fourteen, so being slapped across his face by his mother was unacceptable. He’d been putting suckers to sleep with his hand since he was a youngster, and now he was being bullied by his mother. What part of the game was that? Although he loved his mom deeply, it was time. He was ready to leave the nest before he continued to be beaten for no reason other than someone’s drunken rage. This was the type-of-shit that happened on television and now it was happening in his own life to him.

‘Fuck this shit!’ he thought.

His mother had always been an authoritarian, but the-shit she’d been putting down lately was on another level. The drinking had become medication for the mental wounds Diamond had left her with, and it had eventually caused a negative whirlwind that intensified everything about her, including her anger. Fox had assured Antoine he was receiving the backlash of the years of abuse his father had given his mother, and he was starting to take his word as the truth.

Antoine peeked out his room and saw his mother sprawled across the living room sofa in a drunken sleep. She looked horrible. He shook his head with empathy. His mother was at her worst. Although his parents were a solid couple on the outside, he knew his dad had taken a lot out on his mother—mentally, emotionally, and especially, physically—because his mother was an unbelievably-attractive broad.

She was a light-skinned sister with deep dimples and a head full of cinnamon-brown hair. It fell across her back like a cape, and her thin waist was followed by a mountainous ass. She was the envy of plenty of women in their neighborhood. Antoine had seen his mother’s naked body when he was eight and the thought always popped in his head when he thought about what she used to be.

That day, he was awakened by a loud thumping sound followed by muffled panting and moaning. After full awakening, he realized the voice was his mother’s. She was screaming and violently panting.

Ooooo . . . please! Diamond, don’t do me like this. Ooooh!

Something was crashing against the wall causing the thunderous pounding that had woken him. At eight years old, Antoine was terrified. He thought his father was putting another cruel beating on his mother. This was something that had awakened him on several occasions and he was fed up. How could his pops treat his mother like that? It was time for him to defend her. He reached into his closet and came out with a baseball bat. It was on.

He slowly crept down the hallway leading to his parents’ bedroom, fearful his father would hear him before he could get a swing off. The closer he got, the more violent the screams became. He wanted to turn around and run back to the safety of his bedroom closet, but he was afraid Diamond would kill his mother. Once he reached their bedroom, he pushed the door opened and rushed in, swinging the slugger wildly. He stopped and stood by the bedroom entrance, wide-eyed after realizing what he’d stumbled onto. His father had his mother in the doggy-style position, pounding her deeply, with his hand glued to the back of her head pressing her face into the bed.

Antoine chuckled and shook his head at the thought of the night. ‘Man, I miss my pops,’ he thought, taking another peep into the living room at his mom. He shook his head again, but this time it was in disappointment.

I miss my mom too, he said softly. because that drunk out there on the couch ain't her. I gotta get some paper so I can get mom dukes some help.

He slipped back into his room and stared out the window.

•

Fox threw his television remote to the floor. He was angry because he knew Antoine was catching-hell at home. Fox loved his mother, but he’d sworn to himself he’d never let anyone treat him like Antoine was being treated. He shook his head defiantly.

‘Ain't no muhfuckin way,’ he thought.

He was facing some of the same plights Antoine was. His father had been killed around the same time Antoine’s father had disappeared, so his situation at the crib was fucked-up too, but his mother wasn’t wilding-out like Antoine’s.

Fox’s father Alfredo was a majority breadwinner in the household. He was a great provider. Alfredo was a true-to-life, four-corner hustler. He shot craps, sold heroin and cocaine, and would even put a-bitch on the track. If there was a dollar to be made, Alfredo wanted in on it, and his family benefited swell. Fox had been spoiled rotten until tragedy struck. After his father got smoked, things got real tight for his family. They were forced to leave their middle-class lifestyle because his mother couldn’t afford the mortgage on their home at her moderate pay rate. Fox put on a strong façade, but he was affected by his father death.

Alfredo was supposedly killed during a drug deal gone bad. He was usually a skeptical and alert-type of cat, but this was one he’d never seen coming. The police detective overseeing the murder claimed Alfredo was sitting inside his car with two kilos of cocaine waiting on the buyer, when someone jumped in on the passenger side and blew the top of his head through the driver’s side window. Since the person who committed the murder didn’t take the drugs, the detectives assumed the killing was drug deal gone bad rather than a robbery. In addition, there were no witnesses to the murder, so the details were still speculative.

The thought of Alfredo’s death haunted Fox from time to time, but he kept it bottled up. His pops had raised a gangster, and there was no way he’d show the streets any sign of weakness. He shook his head.

Hell nah! he whispered to himself, looking around at his current living conditions. A nigga’s gotta man-up ’cause being broke ain’t hittin’ on shit!

He knew it was time to do what he had to because his mother’s clerk job couldn’t afford him the luxuries he’d become accustomed to while his father was alive. It was his own responsibility now. His sister Sherry had escaped what he was facing. She’d married Rone, a major-nigga from their father’s clique. They had chips and helped out his mother’s request, but that black pride prevented her from asking often, and Fox didn’t blame her. He was sure it was hard for a woman to fall from the top of the world and becoming a beggar.

Sherry did the right thing by latching on to Rone. She was a piece of eye candy no nigga could resist. She stood five-foot-ten and was dark-skinned. Her jet-black hair was that silky-looking shit, and she had thick lashes and perfectly-sculpted eyebrows to complement them. Her toned, bowed legs carried a heart-shaped-ass that made niggaz eyes pop out their heads. When she spun her web, Rone had fallen in willingly.

Sherry and Fox were tight-to-death too. As his older sister, it was natural they vibed, but their relationship had an even-more powerful synergy than DNA alone. Fox would lie down, or lay ten men down, for his sister, and he was sure she would do the same for him. That’s just how they got down for one another.

The night was closing in on the city as Fox lay on his bed thinking about a way to get at that gwap. He knew there was something he could do to get his feet wet before jumping all the way in. It hadn’t come to him yet, but he was sure it would. The hustle was in his bloodline, so getting rich was his destiny.

CHAPTER 2

Fox lounged around the house waiting on his aunt to return his call. He’d racked his brain for days trying to figure out a way to stack some paper. He’d considered jumping off the porch, head-first into the game, but he’d quickly changed his mind. He knew selling dope was a hard grind, which would eventually lead him to the next best thing. While he waited, he mapped out a few moves he could make to put a lock on shit. He was sure he’d have to make a way for Antoine, too, because his boy could use some bread also. They looked out for one another like that, but their friendship wasn’t always as solid as it is now. In fact, they’d started off as enemies. Fox had just started at his new school, and he and Antoine had immediately set the tone of their dislike for one another.

Get your-bitch-ass outta my face, Antoine said and looked around to see who was watching. Fox just chuckled.

Although Fox had parents who would beat all-the-hell out of him at any sign of fucking-up in school, he was still down to put hands on any youngster on the playground who wanted it with him. Just so happened, Antoine really wanted it. He didn’t know the little time Alfredo spent at home with his family was usually spent teaching Fox to use his hands. Alfredo was the truth with his knuckle-game. He’d learned from the best in the game and had passed what he knew on to his son, so dropping a-nigga on his knees was effortless for Fox.

Yo momma’s a bitch, hustlah, Fox replied nastily and stepped back into a standard southpaw position.

As Antoine rushed him, swinging a windmill of wild punches, Fox stepped aside and tripped him. The entire playground erupted into earsplitting laughter seeing Antoine go down to the gravel. His pants were ripped in the crotch area and he looked defeated, but Fox wasn’t finished with him. Fox knelt to the ground and punched Antoine in the face repeatedly. He’d really humiliated him with that one, but things had changed. It took some time, but they did.

A new youngster named Jackson moved into their school district and was placed in their class. Fox had animosity against the young cat instantly. Jackson was a true-to-life, down-south stereotype. He was dark-skinned with a thick build and a heavy southern drawl. He tried to intimidate everyone in their school, but Fox wasn’t buying into his bully tactics. One day after class, Fox was busy chasing some little mami’s around when he saw Jackson shaking Antoine down for his candy. Although he didn’t like Antoine much either, he’d grown to detest Jackson, and this was his way to check the water. You know how it is in the ghetto: a-nigga always want to know if the hype is gospel. He ran over to them and pushed Jackson away.

Hold up, dawg!

Fox stood between him and Antoine, who was visibly shaken. He’d chosen sides and he wanted it to be clear.

Wassup, bwoy?

Jackson threw his hand in the air like he wanted trouble. Fox shot a quick left hand to his throat. He choked and gagged for air, grabbing for his throat. Fox tugged at Antoine’s arm.

Come on, hustlah! Fox said, running off.

Antoine quickly followed behind him. That was the first of many acts of violence for them because, after that day, they were inseparable.

The telephone rang, disturbing Fox’s thoughts. He rushed over and answered it.

Hello? he spoke into the phone, knowing it was his aunt Stacey.

Did your mother call me? Stacey asked after hearing Fox’s voice.

Nah, Auntie; I did. I need a favor from you.

Stacey chuckled. You must not need it too bad because I told you about calling me auntie, she said sassily.

She was a dime piece too, a light-skinned honey with an ass and thighs like Beyoncé.

If someone hears you say that shit, I’m fuckin-you-up, she teased, knowing she couldn’t do anything to hurt her little man.

She loved Fox just like everyone else did. Fox was more cunning at fourteen than most fully-grown men. He’d picked up a lot of game from his old man and he wasn’t shy about using it.

No doubt aun—I mean, Stacey. He caught himself because he was sure Stacey would pull back on the help he needed. I need some of those syringes you be bringin’ home from work sometimes.

Stacey was a home healthcare nurse. She visited outpatients at their homes to make sure they were being properly cared for. She brought them medical supplies and other things they needed and sometimes she’d bring things home.

What do you need with syringes? Her cut-nature-attitude quickly became evil. Don’t have me come over there, boy! I have a forty-five-minute lunch break coming up, and I’ll spend it beating-the-shit outta you!

She was livid and hoped Fox wasn’t doing what she thought. Fox chuckled lightly. He wanted to break the stench of anger that had fallen into their conversation. Stacey always overreacted to anything concerning Fox, but he quickly defused the situation.

Stacey, you trippin’. Tee’s mom got laid off from work a few months ago and they cut her insurance last week. She can’t afford her syringes to take her insulin shots. He lied without any signs of dishonestly.

Oh, okay. She calmed into a soft giggle. Yeah, I can do that, but I thought I was gonna have to fuck-you-up. Y’all just moved to the eastside, but I’ve been here all my life, so I know ghetto. Her snicker continued.

Soon after hanging up with Stacey, Fox’s manipulative mind continued working. He dialed number after number, setting things up. He’d done a lot of odd jobs for the gangsters and shot-callers in the city during his childhood. He’d cleaned up a few bars, looked out for a couple of drugs houses, and helped out around some juke joints. He was sure he’d have a welcome reception back into those establishments, but it wouldn’t be as a worker, instead it would be as an entrepreneur. After getting the okay from his old bosses, he called Antoine.

What up wit’ it, hustlah? Fox asked gaily after hearing Antoine voice come through the phone.

Shit, what it do? Antoine replied.

He was nonchalant with his greeting, but Fox was sure Antoine’s mood was about to change after hearing what he had to say.

We ’bout to get paid, my-nigga! That’s what’s up!

Fox was expecting to hear some enthusiasm in Antoine response, but it didn’t happen. Although those were words Antoine had desperately wanted to hear, his reply was doubtful.

How?

You ask too many questions, hustlah. If I wanted an interview, I would’ve gotten us a job instead of a hustle, Fox teased and Antoine chuckled.

Fuck you. 

On some real shit, though, do you still have your bus pass?

Yeah, I got it. Now, what’s up? Antoine questioned.

He wanted to know what type-of-shit Fox had come up with because he needed to get it cracking immediately. Shit was getting uglier and uglier around his parts.

Meet me at the Burger King inside the Greyhound station downtown. Be there at ten in the morning! he demanded.

Punctuation meant everything to Fox, especially knowing his father’s life had been taken because a nigga was late for the buy.

A’ight then! It’s a bet.

Bet it up.

Fox hung up the phone and began putting the details together in the privacy of his mischievous mind.

•

After hanging up the phone, Antoine sat around in his bedroom trying to figure out what Fox was up to. He was aware of Fox’s urgency to get some paper, but he was skeptical about the whole situation. He wondered why Fox was being so secretive about what he had planned for their come-up. Antoine knew how ambitious his-nigga was. That’s what type of guy his boy was, but sometimes, he’d push it to the edge to get something accomplished. During their childhood, they’d gotten into all kinds of shit, and Fox would always had an-out for them.

One time, they’d gotten suspended from school for putting a stomping on a-nigga from across the tracks. Neither of them had been into any trouble in their junior high school at that point, so their parents hadn’t been to the school. Right after they got their suspension slips, Fox started running a con.

Dang, Fox said with despair as the principal walked away. Auntie is gonna kill us for getting in trouble at school."

He made sure his statement was loud enough for the principal to hear it as they walked off in the other direction.

What-the-fuck was that about? Antoine asked after they got into the hallway. He was confused and didn’t know what Fox was putting down.

My pops said a nigga s’pose to plant seeds at the beginning of the season. He nodded like he’d just dropped a jewel on Antoine. Just roll with me, hustlah. He smiled sinisterly, knowing he could pull it off.

During their walk home, Antoine pestered Fox about what they were going to do. He was scared out of his mind because he knew his mother was looking for a reason to put a whipping on his-ass. Fox assured him his parents wouldn’t find out they’d been suspended and told him to meet him in front of the school the following day. The next morning, Antoine reluctantly walked up to the building, knowing his-ass was cooked if Fox’s plan failed.

He saw Fox talking to a scrawny-looking woman and rushed over to them. He gave Fox pound and waited to hear the play. Fox wanted him to stand silently and look regretful while the older woman did the talking. Antoine looked over to her and shook his head. He was sure he had an ass-whipping coming because she looked smoked out of her mind. How could she help them do anything? Her mind was far away from some kiddie-disco-shit! She was thinking about her next blow. He just dropped his head and followed them into the building.

Luckily, just as Fox had planned, they were let back into school, and their parents never found out. Fox paid a basehead-hoe ten dollars to act like their aunt, and she earned it because her performance was Oscar winning.

Antoine laughed at the memory. Fox’s juvenile display of manipulation was one of the reasons why he was so skeptical about what his boy was up to.

•

Fox’s eyes roamed the room looking for Antoine immediately after he arrived to the bus depot. He sat in the terminal only briefly before hearing Antoine’s voice near the arcade area. He saw his boy at the Millipede game and walked over to him. He gave Antoine a pound.

What up, doe? Fox greeted. How long you been here?

Since nine-thirty. You said on time, so here I is, nigga. He chuckled.

I’m on time too.

He knew Fox would be tripping if he was late, which was understandable to him because of what had gone down with Alfredo.

Fox was impressed. Being on time was usually a problem for Antoine, so seeing him there let Fox know Antoine was just as serious as he was about getting money. He knew Antoine wanted to help his mother out, which was motivation enough, but he was impressed, nonetheless.

Peep it, hustlah, Fox began. I got three boxes of syringes, wit’ a hundred in each box!

He was excited. Fox knew it wasn’t like a ton of blow getting dropped off in the port of Miami, but he did expect to hear some type of cheer from Antoine. Instead, Antoine’s eyes squinted into an evil stare.

What? he asked nastily. I know you ain’t got me downtown at nine o’clock in the-muhfuckin-mornin’ talkin ’bout no hospital equipment! I ain’t no-muhfuckin-surgeon! He was fervid, especially after seeing Fox’s nonchalant head shake.

Is you finish? Fox patronized him. He was disappointed in Antoine’s quickness to shoot him down.

‘Yeah, I’m finished. I should raise up outta this muhfucka!’ he thought, staring toward the exit of the building.

Look, nigga . . . Fox’s tone was stern. He meant business, and whether Antoine was with it or not, he was going to make that scratch. We fixin’ to get paid. I got these from the lady down the street from me. She’s a basehead who works at the pharmacy. She gets the five-finger discount and we get the basehead discount. Nigga, I sold my mini-bike for these muthafuckas. Each one goes for four dollars on the streets all day. We gon cut it in half and push ’em fo’ two since we gettin’ ’em so cheap. That’s two hundred a box.

Fox leaned back in his seat and smiled. He was sure Antoine would be with it now.

Antoine looked dumbfounded. He’d placed his foot into his mouth before hearing Fox out. After briefly sitting silent, he rubbed his head and chuckled.

My bad fo’ doubtin’ you, my-nigga. He gave Fox a pound with his apology. I was trippin’.

"Tee, you my peoples. Don’t trip ’cause I appreciate our little differences. If you agreed with me about everything, I wouldn’t trust you. So, what’s up? You at this cake or