Free The Deal, the Dance, and the Devil by Victoria Christopher Murray Page B

however, also brought him notoriety with the police—not that they were ever able to put anything on him. Cash was always way out in front of Five-O, and if it had only been the police that Cash had had to worry about, he might still have been in the game.
    But it was the other hustlers, the younger, tougher guys who’d risen up as the millennium had approached, who’d driven Cash to do what no one else could.
    “Man, I’m getting too old for this,” Cash had told Adam one night when he’d come to our home. Though the two had remained really good friends, I hadn’t liked Cash in our house, hadn’t liked him or his game around our little girls.
    But on that night, Cash had called—Duke had been murdered—and he’d needed to talk to Adam. I’d been scared, not sure what Duke’s murder had meant for Cash. But with the way Cash had sounded, I’d known that if I hadn’t said he could come to us, Adam would have gone to his friend. With me just days away from giving birth to our third child. I’d needed Adam with me. So, Cash had arrived, looking far more sad than scared.
    As I’d sat next to Adam, Cash had confessed that it was time.
    “There was no reason for them to take out Duke! They just wanted to drop him. They’ll drop anyone in a minute over nothing.” Cash had shaken his head, as if he’d still been in shock. “They don’t respect their own lives, so why would they respect mine? I’ve gotta get out … now.”
    “Then do it.” Adam had been trying to pull Cash from the streets for years. “Duke’s death is a sign. Get out.”
    Cash had nodded, then just as quickly had shaken his head. “But what am I gonna do? All I know is hustling.”
    At first when I’d started moaning, Adam and Cash had thought I was just reacting to Cash’s words. But then, the three of us had looked down at the water dripping down my legs. There had been no time to talk to Cash about his future—Adam had had to get me to the hospital.
    The next morning, our son, Ethan, was born—and so, too, Cash’s new hustle. Somewhere during the midnight hours, Cash had had an ephiphany.
    “Just like Evia, I gave birth. To a new idea,” was how he’d explained it to Adam.
    That had been the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard; except within a year, Cash had some kind of online divinity degree. Next, in his quest to become the right reverend, he’d married his number one ride-or-die, off-and-on chick, Brooklyn, because now that he’d been serious, he’d needed a first lady. And by the end of 2002, Holy Deliverance had been established.
    When Adam said that he wanted to go to Holy Deliverance when it first opened, I’d agreed. That had shocked him; I was sure that he’d expected me to say that I wanted to stay at Solid Rock AME, where we’d been going, first with Big Mama, and after she’d passed, with Adam’s mother.
    But I’d had to go to Holy Deliverance—at least once. Not only was the first lady my best friend but I’d also been curious—what was a drug hustler gonna do in a pulpit?
    So on the morning of the church opening, Adam and I had taken his mother and our children to Holy Deliverance. In his very first service, Cash had brought it. Seriously … like he had really learned something from that quickie, bootleg onlineclass. Either he had done some real studying, or a hustler was just a hustler no matter what the game.
    Though I loved his preaching, I did have to admit—he was a different kind of minister. First, unlike the pastor at Solid Rock AME, Cash never opened the Bible or really talked about scripture. His approach was more motivational, more positive, more uplifting than what I’d heard at Solid Rock. Cash preached about the goodness of God and how he wanted us to be prosperous—especially financially. How the Lord wanted blessings and not curses in our lives. And how all we had to do was claim what we wanted and with the right amount of faith, it would be ours. I left Holy Deliverance that