Finesse-n-Da-Game

By Kimothy A Clark

Buckle your seatbelt and get ready for the ride of your life.  If you’ve been looking for a good read, then you better grab a hold, because we’re about to turn it up a notch.  Finesse-n-Da-Game is no doubt a fast-paced page-turner from beginning to end.  On a scale from 1 to 10, it’s off the Richter.

As y

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kimbo Publishing
• Release date: Dec 14, 2015
• ISBN: 9781944245566

Book preview

Introduction

Buckle your seatbelt and get ready for the ride of your life. If you’ve been looking for a good read, then you better grab a hold, because we’re about to turn it up a notch. Finesse-n-Da-Game is no doubt a fast-paced page-turner from beginning to end. On a scale from 1 to 10, it’s off the Richter.

As you get into the book, you find yourself meeting characters from all walks of life. It’s so descriptive it makes you feel as if you (the reader) are actually interacting with every character. You’ll find yourself experiencing a series of emotions. One minute you’ll be laughing uncontrollably and the next minute, crying a river of tears.

For all of you wondering how someone could get so deep in the game (street life), that it seemed impossible to turn back, then this book will really open your eyes and give you an inside view.

From day one, when young Finesse was old enough to understand the value of a dollar and what it took to get it, he knew it was a must that he get his. Long before he was introduced to the ways of the streets, he was always respected and there was no mistaking that he possessed natural leadership abilities.

Once he grew up and came into his own, he realized that it wasn’t as hard as people made it seem to have any and everything a young black man could ever want. Part of the process would be him understanding why people called him Finesse and living up to what it meant, To handle or deal with a situation skillfully and artfully.

With his down broad Terry on his team and his mentor, Old George, supplying him with old school wisdom and the best work, Finesse knew it was his time. There was only one way it could be done, and that was with Finesse.

As Finesse climbs the ladder, entering in a world some could only dream about, he soaks up game from every one and every situation around him. Learning the best way to survive in a pool of sharks has never been an easy task for anyone. There’s a lesson to be learned and if a lesson isn’t learned, that same lesson will return.

Finesse-n-Da-Game is funny, sensitive, sexy, exciting, and it’s gutter full of surprises. Once you start reading, you won’t want to stop. It will have you waking up out of your sleep wanting to know what’s going to happen next. This is one of the hardest and best adult urban-fiction novels written. Every event and character is made up and created to give the story a more realistic feel. I now present to you, Finesse-n Da Game.

How It All Began

I was born June 1970, at Grady Memorial Hospital in Fulton County, Atlanta, Georgia. From day one, I was a known knucklehead who every one referred to as a Bad Ass. There was not a day that went by that I wasn’t into something. And it was no secret that people had written me off early in life. I’m sure I had been counted out long before I ever reached adulthood, but how wrong they were. God proved them wrong because he had another plan for me.

As far back as I can remember I’ve never felt really close to my parents. Where most kids felt comfortable being able to talk to their parents about things, I couldn’t do that with my parents. There was always this underlying fear there. I was afraid of being rejected and screamed at. Every time I attempted to talk to them about something that was going on with me, there they were again hollering, Boy you need to do this, or boy you need to do that! Ain’t nothing wrong with your butt, you just crazy!

This was always discouraging and left me filled to the brim with a ton of frustration. And unbeknown to my parents, this caused me to act the way they said I was already acting. Crazy!!! The more they were reluctant to hear me out, the worse I got and the crazier I acted.

Momma use to make me catch that big, ugly, raggedy church bus on Sunday mornings that rolled around the neighborhood with the front wheel about to fall off. We never knew if we would make it to the church in that thing.

Mr. Morton would scrape gears almost every time he tried to shift. Sometimes it would take every bit of 5 minutes for us to get up a hill. Because the front wheel was so messed up, Mr. Morton wouldn’t let anyone sit in front of the bus when we had a hill to climb. We’d all be sitting in the middle and toward the back, packed like sardines in a can.

On this one particular Sunday, (one I’ll never forget) momma sent me to get my Sunday shoes out of the car. She had a blue Ford Falcon equipped with a 289-engine. I remember running through the house toward the back door mad as the devil ‘cause momma decided to pack my head full of cooking lard, since she was catching hell combing it. And let me tell you, that stuff had the funniest smell.

I opened the car door, searching for my shoes. One was under each seat. I slid them on while I was sitting in the front seat. Like any other kid, I took a little time toying around in the car like I was driving, making car sounds with my mouth and turning the steering wheel left and right, and hitting the gas peddle and brakes. In my mind, I was already driving down the street and heading across town.

I use to love being in the car with my uncles and their friends when they would race around the neighborhood. The most exciting part was when they would lock down the brakes doing a burnout. Then they would come out of the smoke fishtailing, and down the street, they would go.

I’d made up my mind that I wanted to be a drag racer when I grew up. I don’t know what made me do it, but that day I decided I wanted to crank momma’s car up. I pressed the starter two times. It didn’t crank, but on the third try, the engine came alive.

Listening to that 289-engine purr like a cat excited the hell out of me. I sat on the seat looking in the mirror, patting my greasy afro down. Although I was big for my age, I was imagining I was grown and Lord knows I was about to do the unthinkable, something that would definitely warrant for a real beating.

As I pressed the gas pedal, I pulled the gearshift down to low gear. I was instantly flung back in the seat with my foot still pressing the gas pedal all the way down. In the process, I somehow knocked the door lock down, locking the doors. The knob was off and momma used to have to use pliers to pull it up. I immediately felt it tear into my skin.

Not even a second afterward from the corner of my eye, I saw the screen door fly open. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to recognize how mad momma was. As the car inched forward and the tires spun, momma was shaking the door handle, screaming mad. When I say mad, I mean mad! With a capital M. A. and D!!! Not knowing what I should do, I decided to turn the wheel away from momma and take my chances by taking off in the car. Like I really was going to get away?

With the gas pedal down to the floor, the car acted like it didn’t want to move. The tires were spinning in the mud and the engine was revved up so high the entire car seemed to be vibrating. Momma was shaking the door handle, screaming and cursing something fierce.

As the car continued to move forward, momma lost her footing and fell. When I so happened to steal a look in the mirror I saw momma bobbing and weaving like the fighter Joe Louis used to do in the ring.

I also could see rocks and pears flying from under the tires, one even busted the washroom window where grandpa was. A split second before it hit the window I saw grandpa duck. Second’s later grandpa came running out of the house.

As the car topped the incline in the backyard, momma and grandpa started bobbing and weaving, trying to dodge the rocks and pears coming their way. Lord knows I was tickled pink, but also scared as hell.

By the time grandpa reached the car I was headed straight toward the pear tree. I narrowly missed it by inches, ripping the side mirror from the car. Grandpa was trying to snatch the door open to no avail as we continued to go round and round doing donuts. Every time I went around the tree, I could see momma running from around the other side of the house, beating herself and jumping up and down. Grandpa still held the door handle as we continued to go round and round. It wasn’t until I hit the flat where water often settles that the car got stuck and couldn’t go any further. Grandpa quickly took advantage of this opportunity.

Crawling through the mud on his knees, he somehow made it to the passenger side of the car where he managed to open the door, turn off the engine, and quickly snatch me out. I barely recognized him with all the mud in his hair and on his face.

To make things worse, when I was finally out of the car, I saw that his shoes were scuffed to hell and his suspenders were broken. Not to mention, he was holding on to me with one hand and holding his pants up with the other. Talk about a funny sight. WOW!!!!!!!!!!!

I could see momma still running around the house jumping up and down, steady beating herself. I thought she was having some kind of fit.

AH GOD! AHHH! GET -EM OFF ME! GET-EM OFF ME! she screamed. Grandpa let go of my hand and took off after momma, still holding his pants up with one hand. Along the way, he scooped up his hat and as soon as he reached momma he started beating her with it.

Just like any other kid who knew he had done wrong, I approached with caution, my head down and my finger in my mouth. Suddenly, momma and grandpa were running toward me. My eyes got as big as two Kennedy fifty-cent pieces. I instantly started crying, thinking momma was about to lay that beating on me that I’d surely earned. But to my surprise she ran past me, still screaming, with grandpa and the hornets in tow. I turned around in time to see momma diving in the puddle of water where the car was. She was flopping around like a seal while grandpa continued to beat the hornets off her as well as himself.

Before I knew it both of them were up and running again, this time toward the front of the house and down the street. Every bit of five minutes had passed before I finally made it to the front of the house to see where they went. Just as I reached the end of the driveway, I could see grandpa and momma coming back up the street.

Momma was soaking wet and her clothes were torn all to hell. She was crying like a baby too. Grandpa was also soaking wet, muddy with tattered clothes, walking with a limp with one shoe in his hand and holding his pants up. He’d taken his shirt off and wrapped it around momma’s chest. It seemed as if all the neighbors had come out to see what all the commotion was about.

As grandpa and momma got closer to the house, I could see momma’s face was swollen. As bad and teary as her eyes were, they never left me.

I’m going to kill him daddy! I’m going kill him! momma kept saying.

Grandpa grabbed my hand, pulling me back toward the house with them.

Son, come on back in the house and get cleaned up and ready for church. We ain’t gonna let that old Gump devil stop us from praising the Lawd, grandpa said between breaths.

When we got in the house, grandpa went in his room to shower and change clothes and momma did the same. I sat on the sofa in the living room with my Uncle Poppy, laughing our butts off.

While I thought he was laughing with me, I soon realized he was really laughing at me, because he witnessed the entire scene and knew what was about to happen.

Yo’ momma gone’ beat yo’ ass! he chuckled, shaking his head slowly and pointing at me.

At that point, the shit wasn’t funny anymore. But just like he always did, he kept on picking at me and laughing until we heard Grandpa come out of his room. Then he crept back to his room and lay down as if he was still asleep. I used to get mad because they would always make me go to church and my uncle Poppy didn’t have to.

Dressed in a fresh pinstriped suit and bible in hand, grandpa checked on momma, who was still in the cold shower.

You alright in there Kitty? grandpa asked.

Make sure you put ‘bac-ca juice on ‘dem wounds. Daddy is off to church now.

Grandma had left early that morning to help the ushers at the church where she and grandpa would be visiting Sunday. Knowing that momma was mad and knowing that as soon as she got the opportunity she was going to beat me, I decided to try to be slick and walk out the door with grandpa.

Son, you can’t go with me this morning ‘cause I might be gone too late, so you go back in there and wait on yo’ momma. O-Kay Lil-Boo-Boo! he said as he patted me on