SOUTHSIDE HUSTLE: a gripping action thriller full of suspense Read Free Page B

wiped his sandy-brown moustache with his thumb and said, “Damn that tastes good.” He let out a long sigh. “I’m going to give my parole officer your address as my residence.”
    “Why not? S’ok with me.”
    “So, you’re out of the business?” Trick picked up a copy of Penthouse from the coffee table and thumbed through a layout with nude photos of Madonna.
    “Yeah. After you got popped, then Mossimo, then Herbie. I knew what time it was.”
    “Don’t blame you,” Trick said, settling back on the couch. “It’s not the same out there. Guys rolling over on each other left and right. No honor left.”
    “What was it like? I was only in jail once, for a few hours in Chicago lockup. I can’t imagine. What did you do, like, three years?”
    “Just about,” Trick said, pulling at a loose edge of the gold Michelob label. “Prison is not what you think. Not like the movies, TV shows. Hollywood writers need to make their stories interesting so there’s all this shit about guys getting shanked or raped every day. It’s not like that. What it is … is boring. Every day’s like the last. Once in a while there’s a fight. No big deal.”
    “Anybody ever try anything funny with you? You know.”
    “No, man. No. You got to understand.” Trick paused, running his fingertips over the rough synthetic sofa fabric. “Men don’t suddenly turn queer because they have a set of bars in front of them. If a guy’s got a proclivity toward men on the outside, he’ll have it on the inside. The ones that do get reamed are usually just the punks, guys who want it. They get passed around. I don’t care if I was locked up for the rest of my life; I’m not going down that road.”
    Reggie shook his head. “Hope I never have to find out.”
    “You’d do OK.” Trick held his beer bottle up to the light, watching bubbles race to the top as he chose his words. “I didn’t have much trouble. A couple of little scrapes. Most of those thugs didn’t want to mess with me. They saw me jogging the yard in ninety-degree weather, hitting the weights every day, doing handstand pushups against the wall … Enough about prison, talking about it is almost as boring as being there. I’m out and I’m not going back. I’m through dealing too.”
    “Gonna get a straight job? Won’t be easy for you. Gettin’ by from week to week. You were up there. How much were you makin’?”
    “For a while there, for over a year, I was pulling in at least ten a week.”
    Reggie’s eyes popped open, “G’s?”
    “Yeah. It was a lot of fun. Taking Ginger to all the five-star restaurants downtown, shopping on the Magnificent Mile. I dropped over ten grand on clothes one week.”
    “Yeah, but, where’s all that scratch now?”
    “The money’s gone, all of it. What the cops didn’t confiscate I spent on lawyers and appeals. I’d have been better off just copping a plea. Would have got out sooner and saved a lot of dough.”
    “Speakin’ of money. You got the run of my condo the next three months and we forget about the $2,500 I owe you. Right?”
    “That’s a little steep. Let’s say we knock $1,800 off the balance for rent. I’m going to need a little operating capital. Ginger’s already leaning on me for child support.”
    “I got a thousand. How ‘bout I give you half?” Reggie stood and opened his wallet. He flipped through a stack of bills, counted and held some out toward Trick. “I’m gonna need a little foldin’ money for the trip to Alaska in the mornin’.”
    “Yeah, that’s cool … for now.” Trick took a swig of cold brew and asked, “What’s going on with Richie?”
    “Rich Quigley?”
    “No, man. You know, Richie C.”
    “Oh, I haven’t seen that guy around in a couple years.”
    Trick leaned forward, setting his empty beer bottle on a Year of the Ox coaster. “Ask around about him, will you? Me and Richie were doing a few things together before they revoked my bond. Gave him the last of my dough for