Mind of a Hustler, Heart of a Gangster

By C.A. Johnson

The C.O.B. organization has quietly been on the rise in the St. Louis underworld. With an ambitious leader and mastermind in Arlo "Stacks" Johnston, there are no limits for the organization. Stacks has the perfect scheme to catapult the organization to the top, as it will gain them unlimited money, power, and respect upon execution.

However, nothing ever goes as planned. Obstacles such as trust and loyalty arise within the organization just as the C.O.B. becomes engulfed in a full-fledged street war among St. Louis's most powerful criminals for territorial seniority, vengeful retaliation, and the root of all evil.

The determination of Stacks will not be deterred as he lets nothing interfere with his plans of finally fulfilling his dream of being the most essential and important person to the criminal world of the Gateway City. Only heaven or jail will stop him. Unfortunately, one will inevitably occur, hailing a devastating blow not only to the C.O.B. organization but also to his wife and children.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Newman Springs Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 3, 2023
• ISBN: 9781684985203

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

About the Author

cover.jpg

Mind of a Hustler, Heart of a Gangster

C.A. Johnson

Copyright © 2023 C.A. Johnson

All rights reserved

First Edition

NEWMAN SPRINGS PUBLISHING

320 Broad Street

Red Bank, NJ 07701

First originally published by Newman Springs Publishing 2023

ISBN 978-1-68498-519-7 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-68498-520-3 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

To my entire family,

Blood doesn't make us family;

loyalty does.

Mind of a Hustler, Heart of a Gangster Prologue

Presented by the author of the Loso's Way Series

A novel based on true events

Errthang good, bruh, C.J. said, notifying Arlo of the status of their current business affair as he filled the empty seat across from Arlo. They were conducting business over breakfast at a homegrown restaurant in the northern county of St. Louis.

C.J. was young, and his swagger had hood written all over it. Yet he still managed to make a suit look just as professional as any CEO Arlo had ever seen. He was a very well-dressed young man and versatile in his sense of fashion. If you didn't know C.J., you'd think he had a stylist. He had everything he wore tailored to perfection. Hell, Stacks knew him and still thought he had a stylist.

Dat's wzup, Arlo said as the waitress brought them their breakfast. They didn't eat there every day, but when they did, they ate the same thing served by the same young waitress who knew not to interrupt them unnecessarily as she was tipped well for just that.

Naw, dis wzup, C.J. replied as he shook his head while picking up his knife and fork. I straight love dis shit, he said as he took a bite. I don't know if it's because we don't eat here all the time, but dis shit fire, he concluded as he pointed his knife and fork at his plate of steak and eggs.

Arlo shook his head with a smile. Did you catch da news? he asked.

Yeah, I seen it, C.J. answered. They still ain't gotta clue. They know all of 'em connected, or at least they think they do, but they still ain't got an idea of who, when, how, or what.

Dat's wzup, Stacks said as he surveyed the restaurant. Get err body togetha dis weekend and I'll meet you back at the spot.

I got us, said C.J. as his cell phone rang. Hello, he answered after screening the number.

What's the word, bruh? asked the voice on the other end.

I can't call it, my nigga, answered C.J. Tell me somethin' good.

"I got a buck-eighty saying the Bulls win by ten.

Who dey playin'?

The Heat.

We can bet dat, but I want an extra five if I gotta to you.

Naw, you ain't gotta come to me cuz I'm comin' to you.

Aiight, just fuck wit' me, C.J. concluded.

Already, responded the caller on the other end.

C.J. ended the call only to find Arlo on the phone in mid conversation, but not for long.

Let's slide, bruh, Arlo said once he hung up.

C.J. paid for the meals and left a tip as usual. What time that Miami-Chicago game on? he asked as they left the building.

7:30 tonight. Stacks opened the door to his all-black SRT8 Jeep Cherokee parked at the curb. You tryna lose some money or somethin'?

Naw, I gotta meet somebody. He opened the door to his all-black Chevrolet Camaro ZL1 parked in front of Arlo's jeep. You don't need nothin', do you?

I'm good, bruh. Hit my line later on.

Yap.

They left downtown Ferguson going different directions with the same thing on their mind: owning St. Louis. Arlo had always been a man of business, even before he was Stacks, way back when he was just Arlo Johnston. He was pretty much the average hood kid. He grew up around addicts, dealers, pimps, killers, and all-out lawbreakers. The money, jewelry, fancy cars, gold teeth, nice clothes, and lifestyle of a drug dealer attracted him as he watched and learned from their success and downfalls.

He didn't have a problem with using his brain; he was a straight A student throughout his school years. He didn't' like to indulge in what the multitude had already done but preferred to be the underdog and take his respect. He came from a neighborhood dominated by gangs mostly known as bloods. However, he opted not to join the blood gang of his native neighborhood because everybody was a blood and he thought would make him a follower. Arlo thought and believed everyone was part of a gang because he had never met anyone who wasn't in a gang. He believed that being a crip or blood was the way things were supposed to be.

Arlo and his mother moved from the neighborhood only to find themselves in another blood neighborhood. However, the schools were filled with a crip gang called the Rolling Sixty Crips, but there was also another group of crips called the Kitchen Crip gangsters, which were a rival of the Rolling Sixty Crips and outnumbered three to one. Needless to say, he joined the Kitchen Crip gang and moved back to his old neighborhood.

Even though he wore all blue, nobody tested him, plus everyone was almost family, and the ones who did try to express their gangster was made into examples.

As the years passed, Arlo planned to be the leader of his own gang and bring more money than he would be able to remember. He studied old gangster documentaries about Luciano, Capone, Boston George, Gotti, and more. Money was on his mind, organizing a new millennium syndicate with complete power and seniority control.

He knew this would be no easy task because the laws were much different from the days when gangsters like Supreme, Frank Lucas, and Jerry Lewis-Bey ran the streets. The laws have become stricter, and people don't fear gangsters the way they once had before. Snitching has become an epidemic and was at an all-time high. But Arlo knew that if he could pump enough fear into society by setting examples of consequences for people who snitched, he could be bigger than any gangster who has ever lived.

So the fear was inflicted. Four years ago, Stacks had sent out carloads of ruffians throughout the neighborhoods and counties where he conducted business. They would break into cars, houses, and apartments. They were ordered to vandalize and burglarize everything, including small businesses. They would do it once or twice a month. In between time, Stacks would send a fleet of young women with warm smiles door-to-door, advertising a new protection security program that would protect them and their property from the activities that had been occurring.

Most people denied the service, so he hit them harder the second time, and when they called the cops, he would show them that the cops wouldn't help by setting their houses on fire and sometimes cocktailing the cop cars while they took statements from the victims. Some moved, but they were still in his area, and eventually they gave in to the security program after noticing that the police weren't much help and seeing the good reviews that protection security was getting through constant emails and from word of mouth.

Money, power, and respect fell in place for Arlo as he continued his hustle. He knew the demand for drugs were high, and he also knew plenty law-abiding clientele who was in need of such a supply. As his power grew greater, he set up cookers and dispensers in the backrooms of stores, apartments, and basements.

The great depression of the twenty-first century caused smiled dealers, petty hustlers, and panhandlers to say that the crack era was over. But Stacks hadn't missed a beat even though he did some prison time, leaving the streets when kilos of cocaine were easily sixteen thousand dollars, and being released into an ever-evolving world where kilos were now priced at an outrageous thirty thousand dollars. The new price tag only gave him bigger ideas and made his plans easier.

Chapter 1

The kids ran wild as Stacks and the rest of the fellows sat in a booth over a couple of Chuck E. Cheese pizzas while the women tended to the kids. He figured this was the best time and place to meet and discuss the plan that he had everyone so anxious to hear. It was rare that anybody was a part of any of his business ideas, but when you were, it was beneficial, and everyone knew, especially after the C.O. B Affiliation (now the C.O. B.) thing still hadn't matured to a level it was projected to, but it was well, alive, and theirs.

Wzup, bruh? What you on? C.J. asked with a smile as he sat across from Stacks in the booth near the window.

Yeah, you got us out here with dese badass kids at dis fake ass birthday party, Butta said as he laughed. Butta always joked. He could make you laugh when you didn't want to. He was Stack's homeboy of a selected few. Butta was tall, six foot two, 210 pounds, with four gold teeth and long dreadlocks, almost to his waist. He was brown-skinned and had a long face and bubble eyes, but the women loved him. These lil mafuckas blowin' my high. But this pizza ain't even fire as it used to be.

Yeah, Toke said, Who you gon' have blow da candles out? he asked as he lifted the top of the box over the cake, looking for a name.

Toke also had four gold teeth across the front of his mouth. He was a lighter complexion than Butta, same height, but Toke was two hundred pounds solid. He was a workout freak, pretty-boy type. He rocked a mohawk, and it actually fit him. Stacks kept Toke close. He was a live wire to Stacks, and Stacks liked that about him. You can neva have too many shootaz is what he would say.

Bruh, you do be comin' up wit' some weird ass ideas, Reese Dawg said who also had six gold teeth and could pass as Butta's brother without question, but they weren't related at all. He and Stacks met on some business shit and been together ever since.

Y'all fucked up, Stacks laughed as he kept an eye on his wife Nikki. All my ideas be keeping us straight. He smiled.

Aiight, who birthday iz it? C.J. asked.

It's ours. Now listen. Stacks got serious. I got a lot of shit planned for us, but we gon' take it one step at a time, and if we do errthing right, we'll be rich. He paused to let them soak what he just said. We need guns, a lot of guns, big, small, preferably army type shit.

We got guns, bruh, Toke said.

Nah, Stacks said, not for dis, I need us to hit da gun train, hit da gun stores, and da plan shops all in da same night at da same time.

So let me get dis right, Butta said. You basically want us to steal every gun in St. Louis at one time.

Yeah. He anticipated the dumb questions and responses, but everybody seemed to be puzzled as they sat quiet and let Butta talk.

Bruh, he said, it's only five off us. He smiled as he held five fingers up.

Stacks smiled. Get all dem lil niggaz y'all got and have 'em on point. Let me know how many y'all got so I can know how to break 'em down.

Bruh, you know my lil niggaz don't fuck wit' dem niggaz, Toke said about Reese and Butta.

Ain't none of them gon' meet each other. They ain't even gon' know who hit what once dis shit go down.

So don't tell 'em, just have 'em ready? asked Reese.

Yeah, and let me know how many you got. He caught eye contact with Nikki and nodded for her to round the kids up. Meet me in the studio when y'all got errbody y'all need. Stacks got up and grabbed a slice of pizza