Playing By The Rules

By K.O. Hiller

THE FOLLOWING IS ABOUT THE AUTHOR:..."For those who read the book PLAYING BY THE RULES and those that haven't gotten that chance, it's a nicely put together urban novel from K.O. explaining just how treacherous them mean streets can be! The reviews have been kind, as well as comments, actually all good ones! Nobody had anything to say in the neg

• Language: English
• Publisher: Urban Novel
• Release date: Sep 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9781088046975

Book preview

chapter 1

Time.  There’s always time.  It can hang suspended like an early morning fog.  There’s passing time, killing time, and in some cases doing time.  Once a year you gain time only to give it back five months later.

My name is Jamal Myers and I work for Comcast Cable as an installer.  A job I’ve had for the past six months. Eww.

Finishing an installation, I began to recover what was left of cable wire carrying my toolbox back to the company’s van.  I liked this sort of work.  The people were always decent.  That was the most intriguing part of the job.  It was always nice meeting new people of different lifestyles.

Collecting my tools and supplies, I leaned over the driver seat to hang my tool belt on a hook behind the headrest. A lot had changed in six months I thought to myself.

It was evening time, quitting time, the best part of my day.

Disturbing the neighborhood block, the whine of a loud motorcycle caught my attention as it roared down the block. Continuing to gather my tools, I noticed the passing motorcyclist who wore no helmet, just dark sunglasses.  Cruising to the stop sign, the motorcyclist looked in my direction as if he had recognized me from somewhere. Placing my toolbox on the van’s floor, I heard someone call my name. Mal, Mal whasup!

I wasn’t sure if it was the guy on the motorcycle whom by now paused at the stop sign. Suddenly, he made a U-turn roaring the cycle up the pavement next to the company van.  I didn’t recognize him until he slid his sunglasses to the top of his braids.

I thought that was you. I heard you was home, he said, extending his hand for a handshake.

It was my young bull Shyheed. I had not seen him in almost five years. I taught him damn near everything he knew, from selling drugs to every grimy street tactic a hustler needs to know if he wanted to survive in the game. Shyheed was the little brother I never had.

Five years ago, using bad judgment, I was arrested and sent to prison for selling eighteen ounces of cocaine directly to an undercover cop.  Leaving Shyheed in charge of my growing business proved to be a big mistake.  He ran through all of my money and drugs in less than six months.  Burnt every bridge I had built, the other street hustlers showed no mercy in helping Shyheed back to his feet.  Feeling like the streets owed him more, he resulted to robbing any and everybody he could.

What’s the matter? he said, noticing I wasn’t too excited to see him.

When I was incarcerated, I vowed upon my release not to hold any grudges against anyone I had ever had beef with including Shy.

Damn Bro, when did you come home? asked Shy.

Six months ago, I replied

You definitely missed a lot, he said, avoiding eye contact.

I bet I did.

So, what you do while you were in there?

This sort of questioning really irritated me.  I mean, what else is there to do in jail?  I tried to be as candid as possible but this kind of question brought up some old feelings.

I wasted a lot of time doing push-ups.

Whatcha driving nowadays?

I gestured to the van, pointing to the printed six-inch letters alongside of the van reading, COMCAST CABLE.

You’re looking at it, I said confidently.

A flash of disapproval appeared on Shy’s face.

We gotta get you up outta this van!  You to thorough for this shit, things are different now.  I make shit happen round here.  Ya feel me…..

Yeah, I hear you talking but I’m cool.

Alright, I respect that.  Just give me your phone number and we’ll holla.

Shy, are you listening…I’m done wit the game.  I'm a working man now.  Ball games and popcorn you know.

Aye! That’s cool.  Matter fact, I got a party jumping tonight. I figure you being away for a while ya might wanna come through, meet some new people, and maybe some old friends. Ain’t nothing-illegal bout that homey.  Take a night out with the boys.

I don’t know…I gotta get up in the morning.

C’mon!  It’s time to party!  My man’s home and you don’t think we should celebrate?

With the vans slide door wide open, I noticed Shy studying the contents inside. I closed the slide door intending on ending our unplanned reunion. 

Shy’s cellphone rang…

I gotta go, he said. But I'm a call you later and give you directions. Just an hour out tonight.  That’s all I’m asking.

Not wanting to hold any old grudges, I wrote my number on the back of an old cable invoice.  Shy folded it and tucked it into his back pocket of his jeans.  Climbing back on his motorcycle, he pressed a button igniting the engine.  He revved the cycle a few times then adjusted his sunglasses.

Aye dogg, I’ma hit you up tonight, said Shy rolling the cycle off the pavement.

I thought to myself, I hope I don’t regret ever giving Shy my phone number, as I watched him speed through the intersection disregarding a stop sign. When I was incarcerated, I facilitated various twelve-step programs. One of the main topics we touched on was how to avoid and identify what was known as triggers. A trigger is something more than a substance like a drug. More than a device on a pistol. It can be an old acquaintance bringing negativity back into your life triggering old habits to the surface producing the worst possible outcome.  Something told me, Shy would be my trigger if I was not careful.

***************************************

With all the supplies and tools secured in the van, it was time to drop the work orders and van off at the main office.  Quitting time was always the best part of the day for me.

Since released, my life had become less complicated. I’d wake up early in the morning for breakfast, exercise moderately, and then go to work. Once I’d get off work, I went straight home for dinner, fall asleep soon after watching television only to repeat this routine all over the next day. On special occasions, dinner and a movie was my ideal reward.

My cellphone rang. I wondered if it was Shy checking to make sure I’d given him the right number. But after a quick glance at the caller ID, it told me otherwise. 

Hey babygirl...Whasup! I said excitingly. 

You ready for me to pick you up? said the soft raspy voice.

Yup, I’m on my way to the office now. I should be there in ten minutes. Where are you?

At the office waiting on you. I thought I’d surprise you.

What you got off work early?

Kinda!  My last two clients rescheduled for another day. I did have a late appointment but I rescheduled her for the same day as the others. This way I’ll have some time with you.

That’s whasup baby.

Is this you pulling up now?

It can’t be. I’m still blocks away.

Oh…I’m sitting here looking at these different vans pulling up thinking one of them is you.

Don’t worry, ya knight in shining armor is on his way!

Well, he’d better hurry up cause I’m an impatient woman.  Which van you in?

I quickly looked at the dashboard for the sticker that identifies a particular van.  Unfortunately, the van I was driving was an older model. The sticker had worn out making the visibility complicated.  Then I looked at the cracked windshield.  I knew she hated this van.

I’m in the one with the broken windshield.

Baby, I thought we talked about that? You know you shouldn’t be operating that one especially under your circumstances. It’s too dangerous. Suppose you get a ticket?

I know. I know. Any police contact has to be reported to my parole officer.

Exactly!

We continued conversing until I reached the office.  I got out of the van blowing a kiss to her as I watched her sit patiently behind the tinted glass windows of the GS Lexus. 

I’ll be right out, I said hoping she could hear me. I gotta drop these work orders off.

Once I entered the office, the all too familiar scent of cigar smoke caught my attention. The further I got into the office; thick clouds of smoke appeared in my path.  Irritated by the smoke and smell struggling to hold my breath, I searched for the drop off completed work order basket.

A deep voice pierced the clouds of smoke. 

Damn Man, I thought we was gonna have to file a missing person’s report on you to find you!

It was my boss Tony Brown, known for puffing expensive Cuban cigars, keeping everybody in check. He hired me on the spot six months ago once I told him I was just released from jail and wanted a second chance.

I never held any punches with Tony and him the same with me. Without bragging, I made him aware I’d sold more drugs than Rite-Aid. I assured him, that lifestyle was far behind me now.

I had a lot of respect for Tony. A divorced forty-five-year-old black man standing well over six-foot-three.  Resembling a defensive linebacker walking down a dark alley looking for someone to rob, Tony wouldn’t be a thug’s first pick.

Isss gittin dark out and you out bullshittin, he said in his usual aggressive manner. I got shit to do too ya know. 

My bad. I bumped into an old friend on my last job and time flew.

Well next time you out and about and a reunion come into play, use T-Mobile and show some consideration by calling me. This paperwork gotta be dropped off by five o’clock or none of us git paid. 

I handed Tony the completed work orders as I watched his expressionless face hold the cigar in his mouth. 

Alright Tone, I’ll see you tomorrow.

I couldn’t wait to get out of the building with all that cigar smoke. 

Walking out of the building into the street where my lady waited in the car was my moment of fresh air. 

And there she was, my soon to be wife Sterling Smith patiently reclining in the driver seat.  Nothing meant more to me than Sterling, and I knew deep down she felt the same as I.

Sterling is an aspiring Philly hairdresser buried with clientele throughout the city.  Her working crazy hours almost every day left me too much time on my hands committing crimes like selling drugs. Through the most challenging situations, she’s always stuck by her man.

Hustling on the graveyard shift lead to numerous arrests, and each and every time she’d bail me right out. With a line of drug cases pending, I was forced to make one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever encountered.  Facing twelve years in prison for the pending drug cases, I hired some new big-shot attorney who worked out a deal with the prosecutor for me to serve only four years, as hard as it was, I plead guilty and started what felt like signing my life over to the enemy.  Every week while in prison for four years, Sterling would visit me and make sure my books were nothing less of one-hundred dollars.  She held me down faithfully.

Sitting in the driver seat looking prettier than a bag of money with her hair resting on her shoulders, I was always anxious to see her excited expression when we were in each other’s company.  She wore Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses which were arched from the smile that filled her face.  She would always show her concern for everything concerning me. That’s what made her so special to me.

How was your day, Baby? she asked.

I couldn’t help but notice she wore those jeans I loved by True Religion. The jeans made each and every curve to her body from her waist down visible.

See you got my fuck you jeans on huh?

Boy how was your day? she said glancing down in her lap, as she gave me her famous sexy smirk.

Not bad.  A little tiresome but not bad.

I didn’t wanna tell her about my encounter with Shy. I knew mentioning him would ruin our moment so I kept it to myself at least for now.

I’m so proud of you, she said. And thank you."

For what?

Working overtime trying to do the right thing to provide for us. It’s things like that which means so much to me.

Me and Sterling wanted so much more in life together. We’d held off on having children so we could travel, a lifestyle that could be both exclusive and spontaneous. A lifestyle she’d convinced me into living.

"Are you hungry?

Definitely. I skipped lunch to finish up on another install.

Good, cause I’ve already made plans for us.

You know I love surprises especially when food is involved.  I gotta take a shower first.  Gots to get up outta these rags ASAP.

Rarely would we eat at home.  Both of us were always on the go.  We were basically surviving off fast food restaurants.  Sometimes we’d eat off one another’s plate showing our affection and comfortability. 

Where are we going? Anywhere special? 

Home, baby. I cooked for you. 

This was definitely a big surprise, since she almost never cooks.  I wouldn’t miss this dinner for the world.

Chapter 2

Our apartment had its own aroma. The scent of us and a combination of fresh leather from the sofa and the smell of potpourri welcomed us every day. The dining room table was set for two. Multiple forks, knives, and plates told me not only did she carefully plan this but there must be several courses to eat. I took my Timberland boots off to let the fine thick carpet work its magic on my feet.

Imma need about twenty minutes of preparation to finish one of the dishes. Take your shower and dinner will be on the table bout time you done. 

After hugging her, I gave her an affectionate kiss then headed to the bedroom.  I tossed my company shirt in the hamper then opened the closet we shared in search of something comfortable to wear once I took my shower.

My cellphone rang…

I reached it by the second ring.  The caller ID displayed the caller as private.  Everyone knows I hate private callers.  This had better be important I thought to myself.

Hello! I answered in irritation.

I recognized Shy’s voice in the background of the call surrounded by loud music.

That’s how we do! We make it rain in this bitch! A voice yelled.

Hello! I repeated.  This time in a louder tone.

My bad Dawg! said Shy. Aye, it’s going down. You got’s to get down here. This joint is off the chain!

Get where?

Club Matrix. This joint is crazy. You know where it’s at?

I heard of it. But Sterling just cooked me a big dinner and she’d be pissed if I just left out for some club. She probably been cooking all day.

C’mon…tell her to put it in the microwave until you get back. Dawg…you gotta get down here.

I haven’t even taken my shower yet.

Aye, Sho-Time asked bout you.  You do remember Sho right?

Yeah, I remember em. Tell him I said whasup.

You can tell him yourself. You gotta get here Big Bro. He got this club doing the pussy!

Damn! I whispered in frustration.

Mal, we haven’t seen you in like five years. All ya homies are waiting to see you. You can’t let ya homies down. I’ve been waiting five years for this.

I didn’t want to go or maybe I didn’t wanna want to go.  Either way, Shy had a way of pulling me places I wasn’t willing as if chains bonded us.  Sometimes I felt I had the same feeling of commitment to my friends as I did to Sterling.

I’ll see, I said knowing he understood what