Free Chicago Hustle by Odie Hawkins Page A

he knew, ignoring those he didn’t know. He lushed the double down in four swallows, paid the tab, and stumbled off the stool and out of the door, fucked up at last.
    â€œMannnn,” one of the regulars leaned across the bar to comment to Sly Bob. “What’s happenin’ with ’Lijah? I ain’t never seen him to down like that.”
    Sly Bob watched Elijah bump into the side of the door frame on his way out. “Ain’t no tellin’ what’s goin’ down. Lotsa shit be happenin’ secretly in a dude’s life sometimes. Some shit be so deep that you can’t do nothin’ but weep ’n drink.”
    The regular, a player and a tender heart himself, reached over and slapped Bob’s fat palm lightly.
    â€œRight on, brother! righteous on!”
    Elijah trudged up the dim steps to his apartment, stumbling from time to time, drunk, but still careful to keep his hand on his knife on the dark staircase.
    For the second time he felt shock opening his door. Leelah lowered the confession magazine and held the joint she was smoking out to him.
    â€œFrom the looks of you, I don’t guess this would do anything to you,” she said, and scooched her back up a little higher on the pillow.
    Elijah reached behind him and missed the door with his first move, kicked it closed instead.
    He did a little superstraight stutter step over to the high iron railing at the bottom of the bed.
    He stood looking down at Leelah on the bed, her royal blue robe slit open to the thigh, not sure of whether he wanted to strangle her or jump on top of her and start humping like a love-crazed Congolese gorilla.
    â€œLeelah, where’ve you been and where is all my stuff?” he asked evenly, trying not to slur.
    She laid the magazine on her stomach, took a long hit on the smoke and answered coldly, “You got mo’ nerve than a brass-assed monkey, askin’ me where I’ve been! That’s what I oughta be askin’ you!”
    Elijah, seeing the dangers in trying to make something of the fact that they hadn’t been in the same space for a couple days almost, decided to stay with more concrete questions. “Damn where anybody’s been! What happened to all the stuff we had in here?”
    â€œWhat the fuck do you think happened?”
    Elijah started around the side of the bed, no longer shocked or puzzled, just angry now.
    â€œDon’t be playin’ games with me, woman!” he snarled.
    She smiled indulgently at his blustering behavior and sucked on the joint again before answering.
    â€œAwwww, you know I sold that shit, ’Lijah. You don’t have to stand there wolfin’ at me. I ain’t scared o’ you, and you know it.”
    He took a couple deep breaths, cooling himself out, satisfied that they had it all back together again.
    She passed the half-smoked tuskie to his outstretched fingers.
    â€œUhh, well, you know … I thought … I thought, with all the shit goin’ on these days that maybe somebody had kidnapped you and ripped us off too.”
    Leelah’s laughter shook the bed and forced tears out of her eyes. “Elijah! Elijah Brookes, the first! hahhh hahhh! hahhh! stop! please stop! hahhh hahhh hahhhaaahh! you ’bout fulla shit as a Christmas turkey!”
    Elijah permitted himself a slight smile, realizing that she was right.
    â€œHow much we get? Browney take everything?”
    â€œYep, everything, for six bills.”
    He passed the roach to her with an incredulous look on his face. “Six bills!? Six suits was worth six bills.”
    â€œWell, actually I got seven,” she purred at him, pushing the magazine off her stomach as she arched her back yawning, “but I bought a few things, and I copped a li’l taste for us. You want some?”
    â€œYeahh, yeah, I could dig some. Who’d you cop from?”
    â€œChink,” she answered as she reached down under the side of the bed for