Lita and I are having breakfast at this little spot near her place on the southwest side of Atlanta known for its great food and even better-looking female wait staff (smile). I'm facing the door as a precautionary measure. You never know when shit might jump off. “…If I’m going down, I’m seeing the shit that’s comin my way…” is my thinking. The front door opens and in walks this Cat name Russ. Russ use to live around the corner from the house I lost to eviction. His given name is Russell (Russ) Freeman. Russ is a big dude and former track star out of Florida A & M who ran in the Olympic Trials in the 200-meter hurdles. He‘s still in great shape, chiseled physique, about 6’3 and 220 lbs. of pure stone.
I don’t know Russ well. We haven’t rolled together or anything but I know he’s cool and I can trust him. I parked my Lexus SUV in front of his crib to keep it from getting snatched when it was out for repo. He knows the deal and has my digits in case anything goes down. He calls me at 7:15 AM the morning the Marshalls find it and are bringing the tow truck in to get it.
Russ: It’s Russ Man. They here. They at your shit. You better get over here.
ME: Right. Thanks Bro. I’m on it.
I hang up the phone. Jump up off the mattress on the floor. I sold off the box springs and headboard at the fire sale. I had to liquidate everything in case I get evicted. I have on a pair of running shorts, a tee and flip flops as I bolt out the door to get around the corner to Russ’ place. The tow truck is pulling away with my shit as I get there. The Marshalls look at me and laugh. One has the nerve to look at me laughing and say “…that’ll teach your ass not to make your damn car payments on time…” Russ and I look at each other shaking our heads in disgust. I say to Russ quietly “…Uncle Tom Motherfuckers…”
(I tell Lita to hold her thought in our conversation as I excuse myself to go over to the table where Russ is now seated. I greet him at his table as he stands and we engage each other in a friendly embrace.)
ME: How you doing Bro?
Russ: Doing good Man. Good to see you. How you doing? Have a seat.
ME: I’m good Bro. I’m here with my girl Lita. She’s over there (as I point in the direction of Lita, she is standing and now walking towards us. She gets to the table and says hi to Russ as I introduce them. Then, she says “…I need to go next door and do some shopping if you guys want to talk…”
Russ: I’m here to meet someone but I’m early. Sit down. I’ve got a few minutes (Lita tells Russ it’s nice to meet him and then we embrace before she turns to leave).
ME: Good to see you Bro. How’s the Family? What you into these days? (I knew Russ had a partner and a couple kids at home. Not sure they were married and whether they were his kids. I don’t know what Russ’ hustle is)
Russ: I’m good. Still in the neighborhood but my partner Shelia left three weeks ago for Florida and took the kids. I’m staying here to hold things down for a minute. Got some irons in the fire but always looking to make a move. What about you? Where you at now? What you into? I know you Man. I know you got some shit going on.
ME: Yea Bro. You know me. Lita’s my Partner now. I lost the fucking home on Berkeley Drive to foreclosure.
Russ: Sorry to hear that Man. That shit must burn. Knew I hadn’t seen you in the neighborhood in a minute.
ME: (I give Russ the 411 on what I have in motion, my encounters with The Good Right Archbishop, Apostle and Dr. Charlotte Saunders-Wright-Johnson Smith and Mario Jones. What’s that BS about 6 degrees of separation? I don’t know which rock I turn over is gonna fucking be the right one but I’m turning them as fast as I fucking can) Look Bro, I know you’re here to meet someone. Maybe we should hook up later?
Russ: I’m meeting this honey but she may not come thru. Go ahead man. What the fuck is up? What you looking to make happen?
ME: (I share the skinny on what I need to ‘make this boiler room play happen’.) Real talk, you know anybody we can square this deal with?
Russ: I know this Cat over in Cascade Hills. He’s supposed to have big bank. They say he’s a slumlord with major properties in Atlanta and privately owns or controls some 30 CVS Franchises all over Fulton County. Word on the street is he’s also dirty. From what I know of him, he might want some of this action. He’s Shelia’s Father’s 2nd, 3rd, 4th cousin or some shit like that. I’ve been in his presence a few times. We might be able to get an audience with him because of her. But Man, sounds like you puttin a lot of miles on trying to make this joint happen. What’s the juice that’s keepin this deal rollin?
ME: Hey Bro. You know where I’ve been. When you’re rolling in this neighborhood, the fucking action is the juice.
Russ: I feel you Man. Here’s my deal. I did a 3-year piece on a bank job and got 5 years’ probation. I caught another bank case. If shit gets twisted up, I’m in the wind. I ain’t doing any more time. I’ll see if I can get you an audience with Perry but my deal is like that. I sent Shelia and the kids to Florida to get away from my shit. I can’t get attached to anything I can’t walk from. Down with running with this play but that’s my fucking deal. That’s where it’s at. Square?
ME: Hell yeah. That’s where the fuck I’m at (We dap each other as we stand to leave).
Russ: Told you that honey was schizo.
ME: Shit be’s that way but good running into you Bro. Talk soon. (My final words as we leave)
Read more about the Hunter story In These Rooms.
The Struggle Continues...
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