Change For A Dollar

By Aaron Bebo

Change For A Dollar is a fast paced tale about transition and the road one hustler takes to try and win it all in the process.
Malcolm Quarters Andrews is a shrewd street hustler trying to leave the game to chase his childhood dream of being in the music industry.
But he soon learns the game has a magnetic pull and sometimes one has no choice but to get pulled in the wrong direction. Betrayal, deceit, money, and murder is a hard juggling act.
Facing bad odds in any situation a thug needs a lady for a piece of sanity in all the chaos. His hot blooded down ass Dominican chick Boo is the perfect fit. She has a madame's bedroom manner and a hair pin trigger attitude.
The only thing that can calm her is him and the only thing in her way, was his wife Nikki. But while he plots on ways to get money and stay a step ahead of the game She’s plotting on ways to trap him for herself. Killing all that try to get in her way, or his.
This tale unfolds right before your eyes like a gangster film for the big screen. By the time you’re done you’ll know the quickest way to make change for a dollar is quarters.

In life change is imminent. In the street life change is usually brought on by money. Malcolm 'Quarters' Andrews is struggling with the hardest transition he has ever faced as he tries to remain true to his wife, cohorts, his own heart, and the 'Game'.
Malcolm's role in street apothecary keeps him constantly trying to outwit the ever present peril of his twisted profession. Federal agents, stick-up artist, other dealers', gold diggers; and even friends. Keeps his mind on high alert to the odds in the stack deck he's playing against.
Even in an attempt to bridge his street ventures into the entertainment industry Quarters is met by the same horns of dilemma he's trying to escape. He realizes the corporate word is a face of glitz and glamour over-shadowed by greed and shadiness. Quarters is forced to return to his roots in the soil of the concrete jungle.
All money exchanges, it's just the price you have to pay to earn the change. A prolific street poet once said; 'A thug changes, love changes, and best friends become strangers.' Will Quarters survive the 'GAME' without changing for a dollar.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bad Apple Cru
• Release date: Jan 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386265436

Aaron Bebo

Aaron Bebo is the author of the Love Drugs 7 Hip Hop series, and a list of other urban street based novels. He has been dubbed The Director With A Pen by his loyal readership. For the derail attributes of his writing. His debut Change For A dollar is a certified street classic. Aaron started his writing career in the mid-eighties. Composing song lyrics with thoughts of becoming an entertainer. He was detoured from pursuing a music career due to poor choices. Choices which eventually lead to his incarceration. While incarcerated he read and developed his writing to a point, he could express himself in stories. Once released he focused on getting his work published. He used his knowledge on publishing he learned from the music business, and within a year of his release he had published his debut title. Since releasing the title Aaron his contributed several other novels, and has appeared in many anthologies.  Aside from writing he is also a host on Real Raw Radio. A Blogtalk show in which he along with other co-host interview celebrities, and discuss life issues. He hopes to work in radio and television one day, possibly doing voice overs, commercials or hosting some type of syndicated show. Feeling his voice will add value to those markets. His overall objective is to touch the people through his words, and continue to be a voice that brings the urban sub-culture to the surface. He currently resides in the south-east United states.    

Book preview

A NOTE TO READERS, EDITORS, AUTHORS THANGS JUST AIN’T THE SAME FOR GANGSTAS

I wonder what Urban Street Lit would be like today if Donald Goines was still around penning. Donald was a great writer and storyteller. Beyond that he was consistent and creative, and although he was writing within the boundaries of fiction, his tales were life-like to the reader. Goines gave a clear description to the social ills surrounding him and many others living in and around the conditions he was writing about. More importantly, he kept it GANGSTER, without over- exaggerating the plot. He signed his signature in word of every title he put out and he had it all: introduction, characterization, action, suspense, highs, lows, and a consistent flow all the way to the climax.

For some time now, Street Lit has been receiving harsh criticisms from some book reviewers and readers alike. A few of these criticisms are justified because of the presentation of the product. For instance, when the author has written the work in a manner that doesn’t actually put the reader there, but rather speaks to the reader as if he/she was actually present at the time of the events in question in which he or she gives little or no background or foundation to the events that are taking place. This includes no proper character introduction, scene transitions, and lack of description or details. On the other hand, some of these criticisms are in bad taste, like giving a book a bad review on content alone. A reviewer may cite a book as a poor presentation because he or she thought it contained too much drugs or sex in the book. In my opinion, this is a weak excuse for a bad review. The author may be using these things to show character or plot development. If a person is always smoking, having sex, or being violent, the author quite possibly is trying to give the reader a look into the character’s personality. Personally, I would want as much detail as possible whether it was drug, sex, or whatever as a reader because I don’t know the characters yet. I just met them. Along with a physical

description I would like to know the character’s habits and mind mechanics especially if I am going to be following this character throughout the book.

Also, as a reviewer you have to be able to decipher the many different genres that exist under the umbrella of Urban Fiction, i.e. Street Lit. I’m not expecting the same thing from a Terry McMillan that I am expecting from a Nikki Turner. Both are great authors of different content. I understand there are other elements that are supposed to help the story along and when applied properly they give a nice highlight to the flow of the story, but these elements can’t and shouldn’t overshadow the key point of the story. If the main character is a drug dealer, chances are his actions and surroundings are going to reflect that of a drug dealer. I think reviewers should be more critical of things like: Did the story flow as the author presented the events? Did the author stick to the storyline as he or she presented them? Was the plot set and developed from the beginning to the climax?

I’ll admit consistency and originality is lacking in the Street Lit genre and repetitiveness kills creativity which will eventually kill the craft for most Street Lit authors who are penning today. Most authors come off like they just rewrote their favorite author’s story by changing the character’s names and stripping the plot to avoid recognition of the original author’s work. That’s where the repetitiveness comes in. By all means you are penning fiction, but you are also penning in a genre where reality is the pivotal focus of your audience. Glamour and exaggeration are a marriage, but all marriages have their problems. As a writer, you have to realize that glamour is really in the eye of the reader. The glamour that surrounds the tragedy in most Street Lit tales should only be used as a prop in the true writer’s showcase. Even through repetitiveness, our use of language coupled with our personal style should allow us to be crafty in our expressions.

Prisons and jails are a huge piece of the Street Lit market, however, brothers and sisters that are incarcerated are starting to go from wanting to read the story to penning the story. I can dig it, get that money, and while you’re at it bring that color to the art. These incarcerated individuals show me two things: First, the generation after Goines took the torch from him but have yet to run the race. When your audience closes your book and says, I can do that, or

even worse, I can do that better, it’s time to tighten up your craft. People weren’t rushing to write books when Goines was doing his thing because he was too good. Sure there were others that were writing back then and to their credit, they were true authors of the script. But Goines was good and consistent because he put out sixteen books in a five year period. The second thing I observed is that the readers are searching for something that has yet to present itself or if it has presented itself it hasn’t remained present throughout the course of titles in the market right now. I’m hoping to refresh that spark into the true readers and fans of Street Lit.

To reiterate, as a Street Lit author, I realize that my principal audience is going to be the people that are living in and around the conditions that I am writing about. I try to keep that fresh in my mind as I write so my creativity doesn’t take me away from my element. I want the reader walking with me every step of the way. I always aim for vision through words. I boldly incorporate the mannerisms and structures around my characters from the urban fashion to urban terrain. I don’t believe there’s a such thing as being too detailed or visual in writing. If a character walks in the room I want to be in that room as an observer and it is the author’s job to take me there. I hope to find or restore whatever the readers of Street Lit feel is missing. There are so many different elements to the urban subculture that can be put into book format. When I first started writing, I largely wrote about hustlers of narcotics, but as I continued to grow as a writer, I realized I could write about many different things in the urban subculture as well as other themes outside of the urban subculture. That’s what I think completes me as an author. When I read your joint, I want to be able to relate all the way through if you are writing about the streets because I am from the streets. Although your book maybe a street fable, you face one of the toughest critics out there because like all things in the streets things are critical. Do your research. Things just ain’t the same for gangstas. If you’re going to write Street Lit give it that edge, that grit. Make me fall in love with the rogue, the desperado, the thug, the hood. I’m a fan first. How about some hardcore?

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

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As always my first acknowledgment goes to the unseen force which guides me through life. The source from which my create was birth, as well as my life. To my grandmother Sadie Mae Morris much thanks is required for your unconditional love and care for me over the years of my life. I thank you for always being at my side regardless of my circumstances in life. To my brother Winston Bebo I an author am at a lost for words to describe the genuine nature of your presence in life. Without you by my side I couldn't create or balance life on proper scales. You saved my life, and I love you. Alisha Bebo my sister your dedication to sustaining a constant family structure and genuine love for life is an inspiration to a soul such as mines. Thank you for everything. To my son Aaron Rhem the courses we take in life sometimes leads us away from the true meaning of our existence here on this rock. In the midst of our travels hopefully we find ourselves and along with that discovery hopefully we find purpose and meaning. Correction is not discovered in the confines of any institution. Correction is found within self, within the recognition of our own flaws and shortcomings; and the knowledge to eliminate these things from our being. I am confidant that by this time you are a jeweler and recognize the jewels set before you. I love you with all that I am. You are my legacy. Hold your thoughts in sound comfort. Elijah Kellum the shining light on my shady side, my life long co­defendant. Your soul is so pure, the circumstances of the 'game', we played in eclipses your great character. Tia Conage you are a great spectrum of light in my life. I walked alone for a longtime, it feels good to finally have a partner to walk with. I thank you and love you. My sisters Quanair, Yusavia, Angela, and Genetha. I love you. Yusavia you up for a name change but the love don't change stay the same. Congratulations on your engagement and plans for marriage. I'll be there. Cherrelle Leggett thank you for your support the first time around. I'm going to make sure you get this one on the strength. Dianne Bates my true friend thank you for all your support and love over

the years. You already know what it is. To my aunts Joanne, Ella and Caroline I love you. To all my nieces and nephews, I wish for none of you to walk the path in which I walked to come to where I am today. I desire for you to blaze a trail that will lead the world in a better direction. My cousin Demetria so many years of separation between us unglued the bond we once shared. I never knew my actions in life were effecting you, until you said to me one day; Why you always going away from me? At that time I had no answer for you. Today though as I stand in a new light in my life I can tell you it wasn't personal. I was lost and searching for myself. I hope you can see who I am today, and love that person. Tanja Lashay Thomas it has been some years since I have seen you. I hope all is blessed in your life. I had a sociology professor who once said; the difference between men and women in the age range of 17 and 25, is that the woman at that time in her life is more focused on life long goals such as, career, marriage and family. While the average male is still in an experimental stage in his life. In hindsight of our relationship, he couldn't have been more right. You were too mature for me back then. You are special stay blessed. To everybody in the St. Mary's Housing projects in The Bronx 152nd and Westchester Ave. My fam Vernon 'Vic Willis, Rudy. Jerome (Freedom) Fogg, Annette, Stacy Boo" Edwaeds, Just, Manny, Gary, Tank, Tone, Lance (L.A. Luv), Pumkin, April, Valencia, Avery, Kendra, Eitty, Cory, Green Eyes, Breezy, Dolan, Tre Bag, rest in peace to Timothy 'Born' Greene, Umar (Snake) and Stephan. To all my niggas I fucked with over the years, I hope you've found your life's path and are blessed in your travels. Kristopher 'Nakeem' Moses, Kory 'Shine' Moses, Christopher Mott, To my team and fam GRAVE YARD SHIFT, Skitz, Noonie, H.B., Pretty M Dot, H-2, Squad, Godson, Hardwork, Big Troy, Bleu Skey, Naim Turner of GIVE IT UP DVD. A shot to CAMP LOYALTY keep grindin that's how stars are born. Hey Sonya, I've been tryin to get breakfast in bed for a minute now! LOL!!!!! Stay up. Author Endy Greene what's good. You like Neo gurl, you the ONE. Keep doing your thing and thanks for always keeping it real with a

brother. You've shown me how genuine you are as a person and how creative and fierce you are as an author. I love that you are you. Stay up. Conrad Glover I'm proud to have met you. Thank you for your genuine character and helpful information. Keep doing your thang. Stay up. Wahida Clark to you from me much is owed in the form of gratitude. It was you who first took an interest in my craft. You seen in me and my work, what I myself didn't even recognize. Without your initial guidance and approval I may have abandoned this craft of mines. I never forgot what you did for me; and in a lot of ways you maybe responsible for saving my life; because I was living reckless. You gave me another window to look out of. I finally opened it and took in some air. Thank you so much. Nikki Bosompem my editor, thank you for all your advice on this project. We locked in. Stay up. Leila Jefferson thank you very much for all you have done for me through the course of this project. I wish you continued success. Stay up. Keisha Green, Kerry Wagner, Shani Greene Dowdell, Felicia Trotter, Kamah Scott, Kali Queen Pen Syncere Lee. Allyson Deese, Kim Morris of KIMZ WIMZ thank you for everything. To all other authors of the craft I wish you success even in the midst of the competitive field we thrive. I am a fan of the art first and an author second. To my FACEBOOK FAM stay up, especially the ones I do communicate with on there. Blaqbuttafly Tarver you gotta put these cats out here on to what you can do, come from behind the curtain. Nicole Ayers Bolden my life long friend we grew up, lol. Santo Bolden you one of the realist niggas I know. Don't ever change. Sunshine Toblessed, Mia Johnson and Sahn Vega ya'll keep it interesting; smdh lol. Stay up. Lastly, I would like to give acknowledgment to all my peoples who have passed away over the years. To my grandfather Nemiah Andrews you were the ultimate hustler and a rare breed, you are missed greatly. My brother Jesse 'COUNT' Caldwell you were the coolest nigga I knew growing up. I wish you were here by my side to enjoy this moment. I know the things you endured in life. May you now rest in peace. Odessa Crump, Jonnie Mae Bowens. My final acknowledgment is to the family and friends of Larry Omar Miller and Lamel Wells Robinson. I have no words I can

express to put things in there proper perspective. I am powerless, aside from offering my continual deepest condolences...  If I forgotten you here, there is the possibility that you too may have forgotten me somewhere in life. Clearly we moved apart in life in some form or fashion. Keep it movin and be blessed. 

CHAPTER ONE

alcolm rested easily in the leather driver’s seat of the luxury sedan. He was parked on the corner of Burnside Ave and Loring Place. He

watched the activity on University Ave as he smoked a Dutch Master filled with Elliot. Mary J. Blige played softly on the Lexus stereo system. She sang about a seven-day love affair. Malcolm barely listened as the song played. He was drifting again into memories that would invade his mind as long as he lived.

In his live dream, he along with Manny, Vernon, and Cory were exiting the Number 2 train on Intervale. Cory wanted White Castle’s. Vernon saw the two kids first, Oh shit look at Duke’s chain! Vernon said.

What up? Manny got the heat? Cory chimed in.

They all turned to look at Malcolm who just shrugged his shoulders. They followed the kids into White Castle’s. As they walked in Malcolm saw three girls he knew from Bronx Chester. Clarise, Boo, and Shawna were sitting together at a table. When they saw Malcolm they waved him over to where they were sitting. Malcolm glanced at the two kids they followed in. They were placing their orders at the counter. He walked to the table where the three girls sat.

What up ya’ll?

My sex drive, Boo said. Clarise and Shawna laughed. Clarise had a caramel complexion with long hair just below her shoulders. She had an athletic figure and light brown eyes. Shawna was dark skinned with a slim figure and big breasts for her size. Her auburn tinted hair was cut short in an early Toni Braxton-like

The most outspoken of the trio, Boo, was dark brown skinned. She was built in portions with small, cute feet that were always pedicured when exposed, thick thighs, a shapely butt, and her C cups were rumored to have the support of a bra without one. She had nice full lips and bedroom eyes. The fact that she was Dominican would never cross your mind unless you heard her speak Spanish or she told you. Boo looked right in Malcolm’s eyes and said, So when you gonna stop running from this pussy?

I’m not running Boo. Have you ever considered the fact that you may be too much woman for me?

Oh you tryin to be funny nigga? Boo smiled mischievously. You scared you may fall in love between these thighs?

Naw I’m scared I may not be able to keep up with you. And I know you’ll clown a nigga.

You don’t got to worry bout that. I know you got a big dick. I was there when you fucked Elaine. Besides I take it in the ass! I know you like that freaky shit. I only clown niggas with big mouths and little dicks. Oh yeah, size matters ya heard!

Shawna gave Boo a high five, like she had just given a speech declaring women's independence.

That’s my bitch! Clarise said.

Boo smiled at Malcolm. So what’s up Malcolm? Why don’t you go grab Cory? My girl Shawna wanna get wit that anyway. Maybe Clarise will do a little sumtin’ sumtin’ for Manny.

Clarise looked at Boo. No thanks, I’ll pass.

Listen Boo, I’ll call you, alright? Anything after eleven is a booty call, alright? Malcolm said, with a hint of a smile.

Naw it ain’t alright. One day you gonna want this pussy, and I’m still gonna give it to you despite all this.

Manny yelled over. If he don’t want it I’ll take it.

That’s the only way you’ll ever get it. If you take it, nigga! Boo yelled back.

Malcolm noticed Vernon motioning with his head at the two kids they were casing for the jux. He told Boo and company bye, and fell in behind his friends.

The weather was brisk for early September. Malcolm zipped up his leather. Vernon slapped his arm. "Yo look they ain’t

even going up 163rd. They are going straight up Westchester."

Vernon’s enthusiasm came from the fact that this part of Westchester was dimly lit. Also only one side of the street was good for walking on. The other side forced you to walk in the street underneath the elevated transit tracks, which happened to be the side they were walking on. As they advanced on the kids from behind, Cory pulled out a cigarette and Manny pulled out the gun. Manny kept the pistol pressed to the side of his leg. Cory and Vernon reached the two kids first.

A yo homeboy you got a light? Cory asked

The two kids stopped and one of them started sifting through his pockets. Malcolm stood off to the side on the broken sidewalk leaning against a fence. Manny was up on the two kids now. He brandished the gun so they could see it. Malcolm was out of ear shot, but he stood in the darkness with a silent smile dancing on his lips. The White Castle’s bags had been tossed aside and the kids were kneeling. Then all of a sudden something crazy happened.

Pop, pop, pop. Malcolm couldn’t believe what he just saw. He ran up on the scene. He saw that one of the kids was dead. The other one was alive, but just barely. The kid was moving his lips, but blood came out when it should have been sound. Malcolm took in the scene in seconds. Vernon and Cory had already run off toward Prospect Ave. He looked at Manny and shook his head. You a stupid muthafucka! Malcolm heard sirens in the distance. He turned and walked back toward White Castle. He never saw which way Manny went. He didn’t care.

When he reached White Castle he noticed that Boo, Clarise and Shawna were gone. Malcolm went to the girl behind the glass. He asked her if she saw where the trio had gone. The girl just stared at him blankly and said, They left.

Malcolm walked back outside and looked up the block. There were police vehicles where he was standing moments earlier. He heard more sirens approaching. He stepped out in the street and hailed a cab. Once he got in he told the driver, 1220 Seneca!

The cab driver spun around and looked at him. Hunts Point? Huh! Every time I go over there I get pulled over. Nuthin’ over there but cops, dope addicts, and whores. Ten dollars!

Malcolm started to get out the cab, but he saw more police

than there were before. The flashing lights lit up the night. Malcolm pushed the ten dollars in the money tray.

The driver was looking in his rearview. Looks like somtin’ jumped off up there. Wonder what happened?

Save the sightseeing for the tourists. Get going, Malcolm said. He pulled a half of a Dutch out his jacket pocket.

As soon as he lit it, the driver scowled, No smoking in here. You tryin’ to get me locked up?

Malcolm pushed another five-dollar bill through the tray, Just drive!

Hey if I get pulled over, you’re on your own.

The tapping on the window was light and insistent. Malcolm looked out the window. It was his wife, Nikki. He was back in the Lexus, mind, body, and soul. Malcolm noticed the Dutch had gone out between his fingers. Nikki had a look of concern on her face as he exited the car.

Are you alright?

Yes, I was just day dreaming.

They walked toward the building Nikki’s sister lived in. They had been invited to dinner. Malcolm had come out of the Port Authority five and a half hours ago. He was returning to New York after a five year bid in the Department of Corrections.

Keisha thought you had left you stayed in the car so long. Kev will be happy to see you.

Malcolm smiled. Your sister knows better than that. How are things between her and Kev? Malcolm asked.

Alright I suppose... She made oxtails and rice.

When they reached the door of the apartment, Nikki just walked in with Malcolm close behind her. The apartment looked like it would have been small, had it not been for all the furniture in it. As they stepped out of the tiny hallway that lead to the living room, they were able to see all the way into the dining room. The living room itself was done in all white. There was a three piece leather living room set. The carpet was off white and felt plush under their feet as they walked. The entertainment system which was also birch white, ran almost the entire length of the longest wall. There was a birch white table where the entertainment system ended. The table had doors like a cabinet and housed a computer inside. In the center of the floor sat a glass table that doubled as an

aquarium. Inside the base of the table were all types of small and colorful fish.

Keisha wore a baggy Sean John sweat suit with grey clogs to match. Her hair was in a ponytail held by a scrunchie. She walked right into Malcolm’s out-stretched arms and gave him a big hug. Umm, glad to have you back with us. So how you feel?

I’m good. Where Kev at? Malcolm asked, releasing Keisha.

He in the room. He just got out the shower.

At that moment Kev came forward from the same hallway Keisha had just come from. Kev was short and light skinned. His 5’6 frame was one hundred and eighty pounds of muscle. Kev entered the room smiling at the sight of Malcolm. What up, my nigga? Kev said, giving Malcolm a strong pound and hug.

I can’t call it. You the one wit the twenty-four karat smile.

It helps hide the cavities. I’m glad you home. You ready to eat? Kev asked Malcolm.

Yea, long as it’s not Mackerel or octopus."

Nope, oxtails with rice, and ice cold Heineken, Keisha said.

The four of them sat at the dining room table conversing. During dinner they brought Malcolm up to date on everything that had been going on since he had last been home. Keisha had suffered a miscarriage five months ago; she and Kev were working on her getting pregnant again.

After they had eaten dinner, the four of them played spades. When the game ended, Malcolm announced that he was going outside for some air and smoke the rest of his Dutch. Kev said he would join him. As they exited the building a Spanish chick with blond hair approached the building and asked Kev to hold the door.

She spoke with a thick Latina accent. What up Kev who’s your friend? Never saw him before.

He belongs to Nikki, which means off limits to you.

Malcolm was eyeing the chick now; her bluntness along with Kev’s response caught his attention. She wore a plain white T-shirt with no bra showing her small firm breasts. She had on white nylon sweatpants and white Reebok classics. She gave Malcolm the once over and then turned back to Kev. "I guess that would be

like you belonging to Keisha," she said as she brushed past him though the doorway. Then, as an after thought she turned around and looked directly at Malcolm.

Bye silence, she said and continued up the stairs. Malcolm looked at Kev who was smiling a sheepish grin.

That’s Evon, she’s a real piece of work. She kept pressing me so I hit it. Her man comes home earlier than usual from where ever, so I have to slide in the kid’s room while she gets him in the shower. Then I slide out. How that nigga didn’t know something was going on is crazy, but not as crazy as that bitch.

"Damn! Shorty is a piece of work," Malcolm said, shooting Kev a smile.

She says that she is looking for a man to sexually exhaust her.

Damn! Like that huh, Malcolm said, passing the Dutch to Kev.

They walked up Burnside to University. They took a left on University and walked toward Bronx Community College.

"A yo