Chapter Five

Kemo crawled back a few feet from his attackers and then lifted up his t-shirt and yanked out his gun. He flipped the safety off, pointed, and pulled back on the trigger with more force than was needed. Two bullets struck the driver. The first entered his thigh because Kemo was shooting from the ground. When Kemo raised the gun higher, the second bullet pierced his upper right shoulder.

All the self training Kemo had given himself at the shooting range was of no use at that moment. Kemo was unwillingly aiming blindly at his targets. Everything was happening too fast for him to take the time to slow down, focus, and aim properly. The driver of the Caprice limped quickly back to his car while holding his bleeding shoulder as Kemo continued to shoot at his buddies. The guy who had struck Jasmine ducked and ran for cover. Every bullet after the first two missed their targets.

Once back inside his car, the driver franticly turned the car on and moved the gear to drive. The first passenger to reach the back door yanked it open and threw himself inside, as did the others. They all piled up on top of one another in the back seat of the Caprice. Kemo’s tiny torpedoes blew out the back window of the Caprice. Kemo’s gun soon ran out of rounds.

He swiftly moved his hand to his holster and pulled out the extra clip that was located on the side of the holster. He pressed the release button on the 357 and the empty clip dropped to the ground. He reloaded and quickly aimed at the Caprice in case the guy with the gun tried to fire at him. The car then sped away erratically down the same street just as the car that had caused the entire mayhem to begin with had done. Kemo figured that the guy with the gun was one of those individuals who carried a gun, but didn’t have the guts to use it. Kemo imagined his friends were yelling at him at that moment, “Why didn’t you shoot?”

Kemo wanted to relax, take some deep breaths and collect his thoughts after seeing the car flee, but he quickly thought of Jasmine. He snapped his head to the right and saw that she was already looking at him with a bloody nose and a look of astonishment. Kemo rose up off the ground, picked up his empty clip, and walked up to Jasmine. He lifted her up, and then they both got in their car and drove home... hurt, but alive.

For weeks Kemo wondered if the police knew what happened. Did the driver go to the hospital and tell the police everything? Or did the police arrive at the scene that night and discover the shells on the ground? Would it be traced back to him? Kemo would eventually get his answer.

For the first couple of months after the incident, Kemo didn’t carry his gun. After more time passed, though, he started carrying it with him again. One hot afternoon though, because he was wearing a tight wife beater, he decided to remove his holster, along with the gun and clips, and place them under his seat.

Kemo was fidgeting with the radio as he drove. Kemo looked far ahead up the road and saw that, even though the light was green, several cars in the lane next to his were stopped. Kemo paid it no mind and continued driving. As his car came a few feet from the intersection, Kemo looked to his left and spotted some kids illegally crossing the street. Kemo, nor the kids were able to see each other because of the cars that had stopped to let them pass. Just in the knick of the time, one of the kids spotted Kemo. He jumped back, yelling to warn his friends. And it had to be the grace and mercy of a higher power that kept Kemo from running over them with his car.

“Whoa!” said Kemo as his heart jumped from the sudden spook. The kids seemed to have come out of nowhere. They stopped in their tracks and allowed Kemo to pass, but not without giving him the finger and yelling out obscenities.

As Kemo continued driving, he looked in his rearview mirror at the stunned kids. Kemo then returned his focus back to the road. But a few seconds later he was forced to look at his rearview mirror once again as a cop car switched its sirens on behind Kemo. Kemo pulled over and rolled down the window. The officer stepped out of his vehicle and approached Kemo.

“Step out of the car, son,” ordered the cop.

“Why?” Kemo asked.

“For failing to yield to pedestrians,” the officer informed Kemo.

“What? Ah come on. I couldn’t even see ’em. It wasn’t my fault,” Kemo tried to explain.

The officer opened the car door for Kemo. Kemo stepped out and the officer then said, “Put your hands behind you’re back. I’m detaining you for now while I look through your car.”

Once upon a time Kemo might have thought that what the officer was doing was illegal; that he had to have some type of grounds to search his car without permission or probable cause. But the officer was exercising the Three Way Search Clause.

Kemo knew better than to try to protest anyway since he was still on probation. The cop was free to do whatever he wanted with him as long as he was still on probation. The officer was just exercising the power that was given to him when Kemo gave up his rights by agreeing to probation. He knew Kemo was on probation by running the plates on his car. The car was under Kemo’s name.

The officer sat Kemo on the curb and then began searching his car. Kemo prayed that he didn’t look under the seat. That was the first place the officer looked. He lifted the holster, gun, and clips out then walked towards Kemo.

“You wanna tell me something about this?” asked the officer.

“It’s registered to my girl, sir,” replied Kemo.

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still going to jail for it, buddy,” said the cop with a grin.

Not again, thought Kemo.

Kemo then instantly remembered the shooting incident at the train tracks that had gone down almost six months prior. He wondered what the outcome was going to be this time around as he sat in the back of the patrol car. He knew that he might very well be facing attempted murder charges if they matched the bullets that he fired that fateful night with his gun. He tightly closed his eyes as he hoped and prayed they didn’t.

The intake process was almost exactly the same as his first time, except for a few new faces. The only thing that did remain exactly the same was the horrid stench in the holding tank. Days later, after being shuffled around from court date to court date, the judge sentenced Kemo to three months in county jail and five years felony probation. Kemo had earned himself his very first felony. Kemo was just glad that they hadn’t brought up anything related to the shooting he was involved in. He had no clue the effect that felony would come to have on his life.

Throughout his three month stretch in jail, he did what most inmates do; read. He read several novels and instructional books. One story he read inspired him to write a story himself, not because the story was good, but because he felt it wasn’t. If they could do it, so could I, thought Kemo. Kemo was a huge movie enthusiast, so he decided to write a short screenplay with the help of a book he read that instructed readers on how to properly write a screenplay. He finished the script in a week.

A week before he was scheduled to be released, he began thinking a lot more about his murdered neighbors, his family, and on how to get them out of the gutter they lived in. Obviously, carrying a gun to protect them was only tearing him away from them. The money that he and Jasmine brought in wasn’t enough to help them relocate. He thought about it several times a day while his time to be released drew closer.

On one of those days, as Kemo thought about his family while watching T.V, he began hearing several inmates yell.

“Don’t even play like that, dog,” yelled out one inmate.

“Get down before you fall down,” hollered another.

Kemo slowly turned around to see what was happening. Kemo noticed everyone looking up towards the upper tier. A new arrival to the jail had stood on top of the upper tiers railings threatening suicide. There was a terrified look on the young guy’s face.

He’s not gonna do it, Thought Kemo.

Just then, the guy leaped off, head first, on to the hard waxed floor beneath him. Several blends of emotional reactions were then heard from many inmates. Kemo wasn’t able to understand any of those reactions. They all drowned each other out. But what he did hear, and wouldn’t be able to ever forget, was the sound the guy’s head made when it landed on the hard surface.

Almost instantly, all the T.V’s were shut off and every door to every cell was opened. “Lock it down, gentlemen. Lock it down,” the technician instructed over the speakers. A few guards then came in yelling the same thing as they walked towards the suicide victim. All the inmates slowly walked into their cells, staring at the dying man on the floor. As soon as they stepped inside, they stood next to the fence and continued staring at the unfolding incident.

The deputy tried to communicate with the injured man, but got no response. His eyes were pointing upward, while his entire body seemed to make involuntary motions. His hands were in a tense claw like position, while his right foot jumped sporadically. Everyone then began to notice what looked like black liquid begin to slowly stream out of his ears. He then started moving his jaw in an odd manner, as if he were trying to detach it from his own body.

A medical team arrived and immediately began working to save his life. They attached heart monitors to his chest and attempted to lift his body on to a gurney. A fraction of a second before they began to lift him, his heart gave out and the monitor flat lined. They began performing CPR with the assistance of a tool that helped introduce air into the dead man’s lungs, but weren’t able to bring him back. Seconds later, they gave up. They recorded the time of death and covered his body with a white sheet. As Kemo looked down at the now deceased prisoner’s covered body, he thought, I don’t know what he was feeling to bring him to that fateful decision, but I would never want to die a prisoner.

A few days later, Kemo began reading a book on the Italian Mafia. In it, they spoke of several crimes. Most Kemo was already familiar with, except one; counterfeiting. It said that counterfeiting was the most profitable crime of all. Even more than drugs. That made a light bulb pop on inside of his mind. He continued reading the book and learned the techniques used to counterfeit money. When he was done reading, he learned that he needed to familiarize himself with computers in order to venture in to the world of counterfeiting. He found an instructional book on computers that proved to be very helpful. He learned the inner and outer workings of those complex machines just before he was scheduled to go home.

The morning of his release, Kemo sat on his bunk, anxiously waiting for his name to be called. He stood up and walked over to the restroom area as everyone else slept. The only thing that could be heard was his jail house sandals slightly slapping the floor as he walked, along with a few snores coming from some of the slumbering inmates. When he made it to the restroom, he walked over to a urinal and began using it. At the same time, he heard the door to his thirty man cell pop open. He thought it might have been a guard coming for him, but he then heard the sound of someone dragging a thin plastic wrapped mattress. That’s when he realized it was just a new inmate arriving.

When Kemo was finished, he walked over to the sink to wash his hands. He then splashed some water over his face a few times. Behind him, he heard the same sounds every inmate made when walking; the sandal slaps. But they were at a much faster pace. Kemo quickly turned around and spotted a skinny guy running directly towards him.

“Man! I gotta take a major dump!” said the skinny guy as he made a turn towards the toilets. He even knew which toilet to use. Kemo then knew that he had probably been in there before, maybe even several times.

Kemo only smiled as he saw the guy swiftly pull his underwear and pants down and almost jump on the toilet seat. The skinny guy then made a sigh of relief. Seconds later, he began talking to Kemo. “What you doing up so early?”

“Waitin’ on my release,” replied Kemo as he checked himself out in the mirror.

“I wish I was in yo’ shoes.”

“You will be. I was in yours three months ago. Just don’t kill yourself like some cat did a few days ago.”

“What? Fo’ real?”

“Yeah.”

Just then, Kemo heard the technician call out his name through the speaker. Then he heard the door to his cell pop open once again. “It’s about time.”

“A'ight then, playa. Stay up, mang,” said the skinny guy as he drew a wide smile. Kemo instantly noticed his gold teeth. He could also see what looked like a four letter word that was carved out on his four upper teeth. “What does yo’ grill say?”

“EAST,” replied the skinny guy. “East side Roble all day, feel me?”

“Oh, a'ight. Well, I gotta get goin’ dog. Don’t even trip. You’ll be out soon enough.”

“That’s right,” were the last words Kemo heard from the skinny guy as he walked towards his bunk to pick up his belongings and finally go home.

When Kemo made it through all the doors to get to the outside of the jail, he couldn’t help but think that maybe the police were waiting for him outside to take him back into custody because of the shooting incident he was involved in. For some reason, that situation just had him noided.

When he began walking away from the jail, he only noticed Jasmine and Rain waiting for him in their car; no Five-Oh. They got out and hugged him tightly. That night, Kemo gave Jasmine an overly postponed love making session that ranked at the top of her list.

Later that night, Jasmine hit Kemo with some not so good news. “Your job called you a while back.”

Kemo could tell by Jasmine’s somber tone that her next words weren’t going to be something he wanted to hear. “Oh, yeah? What did they say?”

“Nothing too much; just to let you know that with your felony, they can’t keep you on.”

Kemo sighed and shook his head. He didn’t know what to say.

“What are you gonna do?” asked Jasmine.

“Get another job I guess. I just hope that someone else will hire me. It’s rough out there for a felon trying to get a decent paying job.”

“You’ll get another job, baby.” Jasmine rubbed Kemo’s back. Everything he did, he did for his family. She knew this was a low blow for him. “I’ll help you start looking tomorrow if you want. We’ll get the paper and see what’s out there.”

“Okay,” Kemo replied, not sounding the least bit hopeful.

The next day, Kemo bought a news paper and began going through the job listings. For the next couple of months he had several job interviews, but none of the good paying jobs hired felons. So ultimately he was forced to take a minimum wage job at a warehouse that paid better than what he was receiving with his unemployment benefits.

On his first day of work, he realized just what kind of job he had acquired. He was the only American there. Everyone else was an undocumented worker. The work was grueling. He and his coworkers had to load hundred plus pound carpet rolls on to a trailer. The supervisor there was a very cruel person in Kemo’s opinion. He wouldn’t allow workers to give each other a hand and refused to fix the beltway loading machines, which would have allowed the carpet to be transferred a lot faster and safer. He wanted every worker to load a carpet roll on to their shoulder and to walk it inside the trailer all day.

Kemo had no choice but to keep working there until something better came along.

That something better came in the form of a tax return check weeks later.

“We gotta invest this money,” said Kemo to Jasmine as he held the check in his hands. They were both sitting at the kitchen table as Rain slept in the bedroom.

“How?”

“I don’t know, but we really gotta make some money to get up out of here and maybe open up a little business or something, cuz I hate working for someone else.”

“A business? What kind of business?”

“I don’t know-anything I guess. I just hate working for someone else. My supervisor is a real heartless dude.”

“Okay, but how do you wanna invest it?”

Kemo thought for a few seconds. “I got an idea, but it’s a little illegal.”

“What? Drugs?”

“No,” said Kemo with a frown.

“Why not?” asked Jasmine with a surprised expression on her face.

“Because I tried that before for a minute, and the only way to really make some money is if you’re moving real weight.” He held the tax return check in his hand. “And this check isn’t enough to do that. But even if it was, I still wouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because the only way to for real make it in the dope game is if you’re very lucky or if you snitch on people. Trust me; you either snitch or get snitched on. That mess employs way too many cops. You should see how many guys were in jail with me over a dope case.”

“Okay, how then?”

“Counterfeiting.”

“You know how to do that?” said Jasmine in shock. She never expected Kemo to know any kind of white collar crime.

“Yeah, we just need to buy some stuff.”

“How do you know about that?”

“I read about it in jail. I know exactly what to do.”

“What do you wanna counterfeit?”

“Money.”

“How much will it cost to get that started?”

“’Bout a thousand.”

Jasmine sat up right, her mind heavy in thought. She then stood up and began pacing as she replayed Kemo’s words. Moments later, she finally made her mind up. “Okay, let’s do it then.”

“Fo’ real?”

“Yeah. Go cash the check and then go buy what you need. I’ll stay here with Rain.”

“Okay,” said Kemo with a wide smile as he stood up to leave. Jasmine; always the supportive one.

A few hours later, Kemo returned to his apartment.

“What happened?” asked Jasmine.

“I got everything. I just need some sheets to cover the boxes up before I unload them out of the car so nobody can see what we bought.”

Kemo walked to his closet and pulled out a sheet. He stepped outside once again and moments later returned with a large box covered with the sheet. He placed it on his living room couch, and then yanked the sheet off of it. It was a personal computer. Jasmine walked over and began examining the box. Kemo walked outside again and returned with two smaller boxes also covered by the sheet. When he uncovered them, Jasmine saw that it was a printer and a scanner. “Is that it?” asked Jasmine. “Is that all you need?”

“Naw, I got some special printing paper. I also got a spray can of smudge protector so the prints will be waterproof. I got a paper cutter too.”

Kemo went back out to his car and brought in the remaining material to his apartment.

“How much did it all end up costing?”

“A thousand bucks.”

“Okay, hope we don’t regret this,” said Jasmine as she stared at all the equipment, knowing Kemo had basically used his entire tax return check.

“We won’t.”

Kemo began opening the boxes and setting up. When he was done setting up and installing the scanner and printer, he quickly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small face twenty dollar bill. Print date 1979. He placed it in the scanner and began scanning it to print. When the printer finished printing the freshly scanned bill, Kemo took out the authentic note from the scanner and compared it side by side with the newly printed image. They didn’t match. He figured he would have to do some adjusting with the imaging software that came along with the printer.

Moments later, after several failed attempts, he printed out an image that, in his opinion, matched the authentic note perfectly. He then began printing several images of the front of the twenty dollar, and then turning those pages over, and printing the back of the bill. Next he cut the paper up with his paper cutter. Afterwards, he began to utilize some of the techniques he learned from the mafia book to help make the phony money look and feel more authentic. He first sprayed them all with the smudge protector. He then wrinkled the money up and ironed it flat several times, to give a worn out look and feel. Sometime later, he was done and was ready to test them out.

“Let’s go see if they work,” Kemo told Jasmine.

“How?”

“I’m thinking a drive thru, so we could just peel out if they start trippin’.”

“Okay, but let’s drop off Rain at my mom’s house first.”

Kemo agreed. Just in case they did get called out on the counterfeit money, he didn’t want his daughter in the midst of it.

After dropping off Rain, Kemo and Jasmine drove to the nearest drive thru restaurant. Kemo drove up to the speaker and ordered two combo meals. There were two cars ahead of him, so minutes later when he made it to the window to pay, the lady working the drive thru window quoted his total and Kemo handed her the phony twenty dollar bill with no hesitation. She glanced at it and quickly stuffed it in the cash register. She gave Kemo his change, and then seconds later, handed him his food. “Thank you, have a nice night,” said the drive thru worker.

“Thank you,” replied Kemo as he desperately tried to hold in his excitement and laughter.

When they finally pulled away and were no longer within the drive thru worker’s sight and ear shot, they erupted in laughter and began eating the food. They then began hitting several drive thru restaurants and repeating the scam over and over, burning through the phony money. Only once did the scam fail.

Kemo had handed the employee the note. She looked at it, then did a double take when she noticed that the framing of the note was slightly off center. She stared at it for a few seconds. Kemo and Jasmine could only sit frozen in fear. All that could be heard was the engine of the car and the periodical swooshing of the passing cars from the street. Seconds later, or what seemed like forever to Kemo and Jasmine, the employee returned to the window and stuck her head out to hand them back their funny money.

“This bill is no good,” the employee said in a low tone so her co-workers wouldn’t hear her.

“Really?” asked a convincingly shocked looking Kemo.

“Yeah,” she answered back with a grin as she handed the phony money back to Kemo. “Next time, make sure it’s not off center,” the young lady informed them. The young lady working the drive thru had a few gang related tattoos on her forearms. She’d probably been in the criminal game before herself, if she still wasn’t. That’s probably why she chose not to report the incident, but instead, send Kemo and Jasmine on their way.

Kemo pulled away from the drive thru, examining the bill to give the appearance that he was baffled by the discovery that he held a false note.

In spite of that one close call; they continued cashing in the counterfeit notes, making sure that they appeared as legit as possible before using them of course. Before they knew it, they were all out of fake money and had several bags of food piled in the back of the car.

“What are we gonna do with all this food?” asked Jasmine.

Kemo looked around the neighborhood they were driving through. “Let’s give some to the homeless people,” replied Kemo.

“Naw, let’s just throw it away so we can get Rain and go home now. Plus, if we do that, we’re going to waste more gas.”

“Don’t be like that, Jasmine. Even though there’s no bloody victim or anything, we’re still breaking the law of man and of God. So let’s at least have one of them not be so angry at us by not being so selfish.”

“Since when do you give a care about man-God and all that crap?” Jasmine asked, sucking her teeth.

“I don’t. It’s just that sometimes you have to do the right thing in the midst of doing the wrong thing.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Okay Malcolm X.”

They began pulling up to different homeless people on the street and handing them bags of food. In a city like Roble, they were everywhere. Moments later, the couple spotted a homeless man in the middle of the street holding a sign that read, ‘Hungry. Anything will help. Just want to eat’

“Looks like it’s your lucky day, buddy,” said Kemo as he spotted the man with the sign.

“He really is lucky, ‘cuz it’s our last bag,” said Jasmine.

Kemo pulled up next to him and then rolled his window down. Next he reached in the back of the car and pulled out the last bag of food. “Here you go, dog. Got some food for you,” said Kemo to the homeless man as he handed the food to him.

“Thank you, man. I really appreciate it, man. Thank you very much. May God bless you,” said the homeless man to Kemo and Jasmine.

“You’re welcome.” Kemo then pulled away.

The homeless man continued staring at them until they were finally out of his sight. He then threw the bag of food into a nearby gutter as he lifted the sign back up to his chest. It was obvious that his plea for food was just a front for him really wanting people to give him money to go buy some dope.

When Kemo and Jasmine made it back home, after picking up Rain, Kemo counted the money they had acquired from the scam.

“We made a hundred and fifty three bucks,” said Kemo when he was finished counting.

“That’s not bad,” said Jasmine.

“Yeah, but it’s not good either. We were out there for like four hours. Not to mention the gas we spent driving around.”

“Better than nothing,” said Jasmine as she walked to the bathroom.

“Yeah, I guess.”

They continued working the scam for the next few months until Kemo was given something at work that made him redirect his counterfeit business.

“These are movie theater gift certificates,” said Kemo’s supervisor as he spoke to all his employees at a meeting. “It’s our way of saying thank you for all your hard work,” continued his supervisor as he handed out the gift certificates.

When Kemo received his, he noticed how simple looking they were. They were entirely in black and white, with the amount it was worth printed on top, which was ten dollars. Cheapskate thought Kemo, but then shortly thereafter began seeing dollar signs. Along with the ticket’s info, was the name of the theater company that produced them. There was also a few serial numbers printed at the very bottom, but Kemo knew he could easily change those numbers once he began counterfeiting them. Kemo figured he could do both the counterfeit money hustle and the theater ticket one as well. The more, the merrier.

As soon as he got home, Kemo began to work on those gift certificates. He changed the amount from ten dollars to sixty dollars. He also changed the serial numbers so they wouldn’t be traced back to the original purchaser. When he was ready to begin printing, he ran into a wall. He noticed that the tickets weren’t made from regular paper, but from a thin slightly glossy paper. So he quickly drove to the nearest office supply store and bought the paper that best matched the gift certificate. Once back home, he began printing them out in masses. They were three times smaller than the twenty dollar bills, so he was able to print out a lot more and a lot faster.

He was cutting up the prints when Jasmine walked in with little Rain in tow. “What’s that?” asked Jasmine.

“They’re gift certificates. They gave me one at work. I’m making more so we can go and get back the change once we buy a ticket with it.”

“You think they’ll give you money back?”

“Yeah. What else are they gonna give me back? It’s not like they got gift certificates set up like Monopoly money to give people their change back in.” At least that’s what Kemo was banking on. He probably should have thought of that before he wasted all his time and money counterfeiting the gift certificates. Too late for that now though”

“If you say so,” Jasmine shrugged.

Moments later, when Kemo was done cutting up the tickets, he asked Jasmine if she wanted to go cash them in with him.

“Naw, baby, I’m tired and I have to cook dinner. You go handle your business.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back. Love you,” said Kemo as he kissed Jasmine.

“Love you too,” replied Jasmine. Kemo then kissed Rain goodbye and walked out the door.

When he made it to the nearest theater that accepted the gift certificates, he decided to try cashing in the original ten dollar ticket as a test run to make sure that they in fact would give him cash as change. He walked up to the ticket booth and asked for one ticket to a particular movie. He got his movie ticket and some change in return. He lit up with joy inside when he finally knew that they did give out change in cash. He stepped inside and walked to the restroom. Minutes later, he stepped out from the restroom and walked to the customer service area of the theater.

“I’m not gonna be able to stay for the movie. I just got a call that I need to pick up my little girl,” said Kemo to the theater employee. “Do you give refunds?”

“You don’t wanna save it for a later date?” asked the employee.

“No, that’s okay.”

Kemo was then handed the money for the ticket and he walked out the theater and towards his car.

He then began hitting theater after theater, repeating what he had done in the first one. Three hours later, he returned home with his pockets stuffed with cash. He sat on his living room couch and yanked all the money out and threw it on the couch next to him. Several bills scattered across the cushion.

“Whoa, how much is that?” asked Jasmine as she walked up to the couch.

“I don’t know, haven’t counted it yet.”

Kemo then began counting. When he was done, he realized that he had made three hundred and twenty seven dollars in just three short hours. “It’s three hundred and twenty seven dollars,” Kemo told Jasmine.

“That’s way better than the drive thru thing,” said Jasmine.

“It is, but we’re gonna need more people to help out in order to really make more money.”

“Why?” asked Jasmine.

“Because I could only cash in one ticket at one time, but if I take you and some friends, we could cash in more at one time.”

“And how much do we give whoever we take?” asked Jasmine.

“I’m thinking half.”

“Heck naw, that’s too much.”

“They’re gonna be taking a chance too, Jasmine. Don’t be greedy. It’s all profit anyway… well at least once we make back the thousand we spent, which shouldn’t take too long.”

“A’ight…I guess.” Standing by her man hadn’t failed her yet.

“Let’s do it tomorrow,” said Kemo.

“Okay. I’ll call up Kris and Veronica to see if they wanna do it.” Kris and Veronica were their closest friends who they trusted more than anyone else.

“A’ight.”

The next night, Kemo and Jasmine picked up Kris and Veronica with a fresh stack of gift certificates. On the way to a theater, Kemo explained exactly how they were going to do it.

“We’re gonna go to a ticket window one at a time. When you come back to the car, you have to tell us which window you went to so we can go to another one. That way the worker won’t get suspicious. They might wonder why four people came with gift certificates back to back and start checking them out. Also, make sure to buy two tickets, that way it won’t look so suspicious that you’re spending a sixty dollar gift certificate on a single ticket.”

“Okay, but before we go, let’s go get some weed cuz I’m a little nervous,” said Jasmine. “I need a joint to calm my nerves.”

“A’ight,” said Kemo as he drove towards a weed spot.

When they got there, Jasmine began digging in her purse for the money to buy the weed. Kemo glanced passed all the bills in Jasmines purse and instantly had a thought surface in his head. Why not buy dope with counterfeit money? Several thoughts began racing through his mind-the pros and cons of doing something so dangerous were weighing on his ghetto intellectual scale. He knew that a lot of those guys who sold dope on the street were never sober themselves, so they wouldn’t even check the money. He would have to do it at night to better hide the money’s appearance in case one of them got suspicious. He could buy some dope, get some change back, and then sell the dope back to someone else. It’s beautiful, thought Kemo about yet another one of his schemes to make a come up.

But then he began thinking about all the things that could go wrong. What if he gets caught and they shoot him right then and there with no warning? What if word gets around that someone is buying dope with counterfeit money and they trace it back to him? Before he could finish his thoughts, Veronica reached for the money that Jasmine had pulled out and opened the door to get out. The girls always preferred to go get the weed themselves because the seller would sometimes give them the biggest sacks of weed to better befriend them in hopes of possibly sleeping with them.

Kemo analyzed the transaction like he had never before. He wanted to see just how much attention the dope dealer paid to the money that was handed to him.

“What you need li’l mama?” the dope dealer asked Veronica. The dope dealer was of average height. He was slim and wearing an all white tee shirt, blue jeans, and white Nikes-the official uniform for players in the city of Roble.

“Just one,” replied Veronica as she handed him a twenty dollar bill.

In the city of Roble, most dope purchasers asked for a sack by just stating how many they wanted since each sack is automatically worth ten dollars. If someone asked for dope by saying, “I would like to buy a ten dollar sack of marijuana,” the dealer would instantly think he or she was a cop and not sell to them.

He quickly glanced at it and stuffed it in his left pocket. He then pulled out a sack of weed and gave it to her. Next, he pulled out a wad of cash and gave Veronica her change. He then inserted the twenty dollar bill that Veronica had just given him into the rest of his cash. When Kemo noticed just how careless the guy was, he knew he was going to start buying dope with funny money.

When Veronica returned to the car, they drove to a liquor store to buy a blunt and some Hennessy for Kris and Kemo. They were gonna try to have some fun and make some money at the same time.

When they arrived at the first theater, they parked the car far away, smoked the weed and drank some of the Hennessy to help them relax a bit.

“Baby, I’m nervous. Could you go with me just this first time please?” Jasmine asked Kemo.

Kemo really didn’t want to do that. He wanted to stick with his original plan. But at the same time, he didn’t want Jasmine to be all nervous and blow their cover. So he agreed. “A’ight, but just this time.”

“Thanks.”

They then stepped out of the car and walked towards the theater. “We have to walk separately so they don’t think we’re together,” Kemo explained to Jasmine.

“Oh okay,” replied Jasmine as she began walking slower to gradually separate herself from him.

Kemo noticed that there were no other customers in line, so when he got to the ticketing windows, he walked to the window that was located on the far left side, hoping that Jasmine would notice and that she would walk to the far right side window. That way, the employees wouldn’t see that two people were simultaneously using two sixty dollar certificates.

As Kemo began asking the theater employee for tickets to a movie, he noticed that Jasmine had chosen to order her tickets right next to his window. Kemo tried hard to keep a straight face, even though he was angry at Jasmine for not thinking straight.

“Could I get one ticket please?” asked Jasmine.

“Which movie?” asked the theater employee.

“Ummm…”

Kemo felt like screaming at her, “It doesn’t matter which movie, Jasmine, because we’re going to refund the tickets anyway!”

She finally chose a movie and then said, “I got a gift certificate.”

“Oh okay,” said the theater employee.

Kemo could only rub his face in frustration. Announce it to the whole world why don’t you, Jasmine, thought Kemo. Luckily the employee who was attending to Kemo wasn’t paying the transaction taking place next to him any mind. Kemo was handed his money and tickets, and then he stepped inside the theater. Inside he bought a few snacks with another gift certificate and got change from them as well. Kemo then turned around, spotted Jasmine and walked up to her. “Go to the guy on the far right when you go buy the snacks, okay?”

“Okay,” said Jasmine.

They both then got their change and eventually exited the theatre and headed back to the car. When they both got inside the car, Kemo erupted. “Jasmine! What were you thinking?”

“What I do?” asked Jasmine in total shock. She thought she had done a great job.

“Why did you order your ticket on the window that was right next to mine?”

“Aw man, she did that? Fo’ real?” asked Kris with a tsk while shaking his head.

“Yeah! And then she gonna say all out loud that she got a gift certificate. We’re lucky the other worker didn’t hear her.” Kemo turned to Jasmine. “And why did you only buy one ticket? I thought you knew to buy two, that way it wouldn’t look so suspicious that you were buying one ticket with a sixty dollar gift certificate.”

“Sorry,” said Jasmine to Kemo as she looked at the floor.

He sighed in trying to calm down. “Forget it, it’s alright. We got the money,” said Kemo with a smile as he pulled out the cash.

Seconds later, Kris got out of the car and cashed in his ticket. Veronica did the same without a hitch. They continued the scam throughout the night until they were at the last theater. When the money was counted at the end of the night, they had accumulated close to one thousand dollars in total.

He continued doing it for a few more weeks until his business took an unexpected turn. Kris called him and asked him, “Do you have the Internet?”

“The Internet?”

“Yeah.”

“No, why?”

“Somebody at work told me that you could get free music from the Internet.”

“What? Fo’ real? Did he tell you how?”

“No. He said he didn’t know how, but I thought maybe you did since you’re all into this computer stuff.”

“Naw, I don’t know how either. But I’m gonna check it out though.”

“If you do, you can download music, burn them onto CDs and sell them to make some extra money.”

“Naw, I can’t do that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t mind messin’ with big movie theater companies, the government or whatever, but I like music and those cats already get jacked by their companies. So I couldn’t do some stuff like that.”

“Yeah, I feel you.”

“But I would get some music for us though.”

“Alright, just let me know when you get that running and hook me up with some tunes.”

“Alright, I will.”

They then hung up and Kemo wasted no time in getting informed about this free music thing that Kris had told him about. He called the office supply store and asked them how he would be able to get Internet service to his home because he was clueless when it came to that. They told him that he would have to call his phone company and order through them. Kemo thanked them for the info, hung up, and called his phone company. A few days later, they sent someone to his home to hook up the Internet. Kemo asked the installer if he knew how to get free music.

“Yeah, it’s through a program called Napster.”

“Okay. Cool. Thanks.” Kemo couldn’t wait to get started.

“No problem.” The installation guy finished up and said, “Okay, you’re ready to start surfing, buddy.” He clicked a button that launched the Internet. He clicked on a web browser that he had installed himself and began showing Kemo the different sites he could visit. Lastly, he took him to the Napster site and installed the program. Minutes later, Kemo was downloading free song after free song.

Three years went by and Kemo continued working his side hustle of counterfeiting. Over the years he had started getting requests from friends for him to create all sorts of counterfeit documents. It went from request not only from friends, but then from friends of friends or relatives of friends.

The list of documents included Social Security cards, Birth Certificates, Marriage License, Diplomas, I.D cards, car insurance papers and doctor slips. Anything that could be duplicated with paper, Kemo did it with no problem. He even began copying bar codes of cheap products, making labels of them, and sticking them on to expensive items at places like Wal Mart. When the employee would scan the item, the cheaper product would show up on the register instead of the higher costing one. They had to be the same type of product of course.

One of his favorites to do was hair clippers. He would copy a twelve dollar bar code from a cheap clipper and stick the label he made on top of a one hundred dollar top of the line clipper kit. The employee would never notice, especially if it was busy and she or he was elderly. Kemo would mix the labeled item in with groceries he was actually paying regular price for so the worker would just scan it quickly without much thought. He would then hit up the barbershops and sell the clippers for anywhere from fifty to seventy-five dollars.

Everything was going fine with his business. He’d given the gift certificate scam a rest, but then eventually went back to that when the request for counterfeit documents weren’t coming in heavy. But after only a month, one night as he, Jasmine and their friends were doing the movie ticket scam, Kemo noticed the employee at the theater place the certificate under a black light, which was suppose to reveal a logo that could only be seen by a black light. She came back to the window and told Kemo that his gift certificate was no good.

“You’re joking me,” he said, feigning anger. “Some kid comes up to me on the street and asks if I want to buy a gift certificate for half the face value. He said he got it as a gift, but he needed money to buy food for his younger siblings.”

“I’m sorry this happened to you, but someone’s been running a scam and you’re a victim just like us.”

Kemo cursed under his breath and then walked away, his heart beating so fast he thought it was going to explode out of his chest. He thanked God the clerk had bought into his act and the theater didn’t try to question him or anything and figure out that he was the one behind the entire scam.

As he walked back to the car, he looked down at the ground and noticed several tickets scattered across the parking lot that some theater goers had thrown away. He also noticed that they all had a new design. Much more complex than the original ticket design. That’s when he knew that the theaters had figured out what was going on and had redesigned everything. The gift certificate scam was officially scrapped.

Kemo needed a new way of making money to compensate for the loss he was taking on the counterfeit hustle. So he decided to do what he had been thinking about doing for a long time. He was going to attempt to buy dope with the counterfeit money.

A few days later, that’s exactly what he did. Kemo pressed out several twenty dollar bills and began hitting several dope spots. He decided to drive outside of his city to other smaller neighboring ghettos to test the scam out. He bought any drug he could get his hands on. When he returned home, he began counting the money the dope dealers had returned to him in change. He counted out all the different types of drugs he’d purchased as well, and added up in his head how much he’d profit once he flipped those.

It all totaled close to five hundred dollars, that’s if he was able to sell off all the drugs. It was the fastest money he had ever made in the shortest amount of time. He had only been out there hustling for a couple of hours. But now he had to find a way to get rid of the drugs without having to sell it on the streets like the people he bought it from. So he called his friend Kris to see if he could help him get rid of the dope.

“What’s up, Kris? Ay, I need your help with something.”

“What’s up?”

“I got hella dope I need to get rid of. It’s all bagged up already.”

“You bought some dope?”

“Naw, somebody gave it to me for some of that money,” Kemo tried to talk in code. “You know what I’m talking about?”

“Yeah.”

Kemo didn’t want to let anyone know what he was doing because he knew that it could get him in a lot of trouble…deadly trouble. He felt like he could trust Kris not to run his mouth though.

“So do you know anyone who could buy it from us?”

“Yeah, I know a few people who use it and sell it. What do you have though?”

“Everything.”

“Okay. Let me work my hands and we’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Alright.”

They hung up. Then Kemo walked to his closet and pulled out an old shoe box. There he had several rolled up wads of cash that he had been saving since starting his counterfeit business. He added his new roll and also placed the drugs inside. He only had illegal money in that box. The money he earned during the day at his minimum wage job on weekdays he spent paying rent and the bills.

The next day, Kemo and Kris began the task of selling the dope. They had no problem getting rid of it, especially since Kemo was pushing it for dirt cheap. He didn’t care, it was all profit.

Late that night, Kemo returned home from another night of drug buying, this time it was at a rave concert. Rave concerts were the easiest because the dealers were high themselves when they sold. Kemo just handed them the money for the party drugs like acid, ecstasy, and mushrooms and they never suspected a thing. Kemo knew a friend who was well connected to the rave scene, so he would let the dealers know that Kemo was okay to sell to. He of course, didn’t know that Kemo was using counterfeit notes to buy the drugs.

After entering the house, Kemo saw that Jasmine was busy vacuuming, even though it was close to one in the morning. Kemo walked up to Jasmine and shouted over the vacuum, “Why you cleaning so late?”

“It just needed to be cleaned,” replied Jasmine as she lifted her head up to talk to Kemo. That’s when Kemo noticed a white powdery substance on the tip of her nose. He instantly put two and two together and speed walked to the closet. He pulled out the shoe box and began counting the drugs he had inside. When he was done, he realized he was missing a bag of coke and a bag of meth. He walked back to Jasmine and shut off the vacuum. With an intense high tone of voice, he asked her, “Did you take any of my dope, Jasmine?”

“No, I-”

Kemo cut her off and yelled, “Don’t lie to me!” Jasmine then looked away. “It’s all over your nose. I thought I could trust you? You’ve been clean for so long. Why did you mess with it?”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to try a little for old time’s sake. I just couldn’t stop though. I’m sorry, baby,” said Jasmine without being able to look at Kemo. Kemo felt what he always felt when Jasmine would relapse back to her old ways. He felt a deep disappointment in her that made him reevaluate their relationship. But no matter what, he found it very difficult to leave her because he truly loved the unity of his family… it was all he had.

Kemo simply walked away towards the shoe box and took the bag of dope out. “I’ll be back,” said Kemo.

“Where you going?” asked Jasmine. But Kemo just simply closed the door behind him and drove off to Kris’s place.

Once he arrived at Kris’s place, Kemo asked him if he could leave the dope at his house from now on. Kris agreed. He then drove back home and both he and Jasmine fell asleep without talking about the situation any further. Kemo figured that since there were no longer any drugs in the house for Jasmine to steal from him, then that would no longer be an issue. As long as the drugs were out of sight, he prayed they would also be out of mind.

Days later, as Kemo, Jasmine and Rain were leaving the supermarket, a guy holding several DVD’s approached them and asked if they wanted to purchase any. Kemo and Jasmine began going through them and then soon realized that almost all the titles were from films that were still in theaters. They chose one, bought it and took it home. On the way home, as Jasmine drove, Kemo kept staring at the DVD.

“What are you thinking about, Kemo?” Jasmine finally asked.

“Nothing.”

“I know you are. I can tell when an idea is cracking in that little crazy head of yours.”

“I’m just wondering how much money they make doing this.” He glanced at the DVD.

“I knew it!” Jasmine exclaimed.

“What?”

“You wanna start bootlegging now?”

“Why not? I could do it during the day on weekends, do the money thing at night, and still keep my job. We can get paid! Don’t you understand, Jasmine? All this hustling is our ticket out of here.”

“That sounds like you’re trying to do too much at once, baby. Slow down.”

“Forget all that. I can do it. It would only be for a little while anyway. Once we have enough money to get up out of here, I’m done.”

“If you say so.” Jasmine was doubtful. She knew that once he was on to something, one thing always led to another.

When they made it back home, they watched the movie that they had bought. It was of low quality and barely watchable. But for only five dollars, they couldn’t complain. Afterwards, Kemo began searching the Internet to learn how to create counterfeit DVD’s. He learned that not only was music being traded online, but films as well, including triple X films. He also learned something about video and audio compression, which meant that he could add several hours of video to a single DVD. That also meant that he could charge a bit more per disc.

After learning what he needed to know, he attempted to download his very first movie. He found what he wanted and clicked on the title to begin the process.

Kemo wrote down a list of what he was going to need to get started. First he needed what was called burn towers. They allowed several disc to be recorded at once. He would also need blank disc, mailing labels to print the titles on and sleeves to protect the discs. He knew that it was going to cost him a large chunk of his saved up money, but he also knew that it was an investment and that he would make the money back in no time.

He decided to first check out the competition by visiting several locations where bootleggers were known to sell at. He studied them from afar and quickly came to realize that he didn’t like their technique. It was far too obvious for any law enforcement officer to know what they were doing. They needed to practice any kind of method that made it less obvious as to what they were doing. They just simply walked around with a bunch of cases in their hands, offering it to whoever they could.

Kemo then drove to another spot and saw a slightly different method of selling. These sellers would just simply scatter all their merchandise on the sidewalk hoping people would stop and buy. If some kind of law enforcement officer did show up to confiscate, they would simply just walk away and lose all their merchandise. Kemo felt that he needed a better method than the ones he’d witnessed. It was far too sloppy in his opinion.

Minutes later, he got hungry and decided to go to a drive thru restaurant. When he arrived, he began going through the numbered meals. “Hello,” said Kemo to the speaker when he knew what he wanted to order.

“Yes, what can I get for you?” replied the employee through the speaker.

“Let me get a number one please,” said Kemo. He then had an idea quickly hatch inside his head. A menu, thought Kemo. He could use a book with several pages. Each page would represent a certain disc. Instead of printing out several DVD covers like most did, he would just print out one page. He would number each page like they do in fast food restaurants and match the numbers to the disc.

Kemo got his food and instantly drove to the office supply store and bought what he needed. When he returned home, he quickly checked on the movie he had left downloading. It was complete. So he began the process of transferring it from computer to disc. When he was done, he played it on his player and was very much satisfied with his first recorded movie. He then began opening all the stuff he had just bought from the supply store.

The following weekend, Kemo was ready to get his new venture popping off. He had accumulated a wide variety of films and triple X videos, which he placed in the back of a black binder catalog book. The pages were also protected by sheet protectors to prevent stains and smudges. Each DVD contained up to twelve hours of video, which meant that each page displayed anywhere from five up to eight movies, depending on the film’s length. Animated films were much shorter than live action films. That meant that Kemo was able to fit more of those titles per disc. The triple X films only had four videos because each video was close to three hours each.

He drove around that Saturday morning looking for a spot to open up shop, but most were already taken. Moments later, he found a lunch truck parked in a lot that seemed to have no one selling there. So he parked in the lot and asked them if they minded him setting up shop. They gave him the okay and even became Kemo’s first customers by buying a couple discs from Kemo. Initially, when Kemo showed them the catalog, they couldn’t quite understand.

“Why are there a lot of pictures of the movies in each page and they say five in one?”

“Because each page is one DVD. You get a whole bunch for just ten bucks, but I’ll let ya’ll have whatever you want for just five,” answered Kemo.

“Really?” asked one of the workers. “You can fit that many movies on one DVD?”

“Yeah,” replied Kemo.

The guy then kept flipping pass the pages and stopped when he found the porno section. A smile quickly appeared on his face. “I’ll take these,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

Kemo gave him half off for allowing him to leave his catalog for their customers to perhaps flip through while they waited on their order. Not only that, but the man had told Kemo that he could have a free meal whenever he wanted. Kemo thanked them, left the catalog book near the ordering window and walked back to his car, which was parked right next to the lunch truck.

Minutes later, a customer showed up and ordered some food. While waiting on his order, he looked down and spotted the catalog book. He opened it and began going through it.

“Y’all selling what’s in this book?” he asked the truck workers.

They replied by pointing him in Kemo’s direction. The customer continued to flip through the book until his order was ready. He paid for his order, took his food and then walked up to Kemo’s car. Before Kemo knew it, he was buying fifty dollars worth of Kemo’s merchandise. Nobody could pass up the deal once they found out just how many films each disc contained.

Things continued like that all morning. Things got really hectic when lunch time arrived. Kemo had almost just as many customers as the truck did. He knew he was going to need more catalog books so several people could view what he had at once. When things died down, Kemo had a large amount of cash stashed in both pockets. He was going to begin to take it out to count it, but someone else approached his car. It was a homeless man.

“What’s up, dog? You think you could spare some change? I could wash your windows for you,” the homeless man asked, who appeared to be in his early forties.

“Yeah, I got you,” replied Kemo.

He then began cleaning Kemo’s windows with some news papers and a spray bottle of Windex. When he was done, Kemo asked him how much he was going to charge him.

“Whatever you could spare, man,” was his reply.

Kemo handed him seven dollars and the man was very grateful. He quickly ordered some food from the truck and noticed the catalog book as well. “You sell these?” he asked Kemo as he held the open book in his hands.

“Yeah.”

“I know a bunch of people who would like these.”

“Fo’ real?” Kemo instantly began to see dollar signs. “Let them know, and I’ll hook you up with a little bit of money for the referrals.”

“Do you have another one of these books that I could take with me to show them?” asked the homeless man.

“Naw, but I will tomorrow. Just come back early in the morning and I’ll give you one.”

“Okay,” the man replied after getting his food and then leaving.

Kemo stayed there at the truck selling until they closed at nine o’clock. He had stayed there selling from nine in the morning until nine at night. It was the weekend so he didn’t have to worry about working the next day. He hoped it was worth it once he counted the money back home. When he did make it back to his apartment, he began counting the money. Kemo never liked counting his money in public for fear that someone would see and then rob him. He also believed it was bad luck for a person to count their chips while still at the table; like in poker.

Kemo had made close to five hundred dollars. He couldn’t believe it. The movie thing was more profitable than the drug scam because the material he needed to make the money cost more, not to mention it involved more work considering that he still had to get rid of the dope once he bought it. He also knew that if he ever got pulled over by the police while he had all that dope in his car, he would go to prison for a very long time.

The only real threat with the DVD’s was that the police could confiscate his merchandise if they found it. But that’s it. Since the crime fell under federal law, state law couldn’t touch it, so most cops wouldn’t even bother with an arrest. He learned that in the Mafia book he’d read in jail. But he still didn’t just want to have his stuff all out there like some of the other dudes he’d seen hustling the DVDs.

Kemo felt as if he had struck gold. He’d finally found the real money maker in it all. The blank discs Kemo bought came in packs of a hundred, which meant that if he sold each one for ten dollars, it would total one thousand dollars per pack. And since each pack only cost thirty dollars, including the sleeves, he knew that it was going to be a very profitable business. Much more profitable than the greedy and much riskier business of selling dope.

The next day, Kemo returned to his selling spot with a few more catalog books. It took several hours of work to record what he had sold the previous day and to make the books, but felt he had gotten enough rest to do it all over again. Jasmine was beginning to get angry and impatient because Kemo couldn’t spend as much time with his family if he was out grinding all the time. But Kemo kept telling her that it was only temporary.

After Kemo set up shop, the homeless man arrived soon after on a bike. Kemo handed him one of the books. He took it and quickly pedaled away promising he’d do his best to get Kemo some business. An hour and a half later, he came back with a list of orders for Kemo to fill.

“Good looking out,” Kemo told the man after scanning the list. “Now where do I need to deliver the merchandise?” asked Kemo. Kemo didn’t want the homeless man to stink up his car, so he thought it was best if he drove there alone.

The homeless man gave him the address and Kemo drove to it. It turned out to be a dope spot. Kemo let the dope dealers know that the homeless man was working for him and that he had the DVD’s they wanted. Kemo was very paranoid. He thought it was very much possible that the homeless man might be setting him up to get robbed. He made sure to lock up all his doors, keep the engine running and to leave the gear in drive so he could smash out if he needed to. He only rolled down his window and handed them the merchandise through it as well.

They ended up spending one hundred dollars all together. Kemo drove back to the truck and gave the homeless man twenty-five percent of his earning. The homeless man was very grateful and kept saying thank you to Kemo.

While Kemo continued to sell at the truck, the homeless man would come up with a fresh batch of new customers every now and then. Kemo then began giving out his phone number to people, especially to his porno customers, which were many. His house phone then began ringing all day and all night from people asking for deliveries as far as fifty miles away. It got to be so annoying that Kemo was forced to buy a cell phone. Not many people had cell phones yet because of their high cost, but Kemo felt he could afford to dip in his savings and purchase one.

His business then took another turn when he met a girl at his selling spot who offered him an unexpected business proposition. “Hey, you’re the guy who sells twelve hour pornos,” she asked Kemo.

“Yeah, why?”

“My customers love pornos. I need everything you got,” said the girl as she pulled out some cash.

Kemo gave her all his selections and then asked her out of curiosity, “What kind of business you in?”

“I’m what one might call a lady of the night, baby,” she replied in a whisper. “Here’s my number. Call if you ever wanna party or if you know somebody that does.”

“I do know people. A lot of my porno customers ask me if I know any girls they could party with.”

“Yeah, let them know about me.”

“What do I get out of it if I bring you a lot of customers?”

“I’ll break you off some money, don’t trip.”

“Alright, I’ll call you,” said Kemo.

Kemo then began telling his porno customers about the call girl, but they all wanted to see a picture. So he called her and told her that he needed a picture of her to show the customers. She told him to meet her at a hotel where she was going to be entertaining a trick later that night. She also told him to bring a camcorder. When he got there, he stepped inside the room with a camcorder that Kris had let him borrow. Inside were four beautiful young ladies all dressed in revealing clothing.

“Did you bring the camcorder?” said the girl he met at the lunch truck.

“Yeah, Kemo replied.

“Okay. We’re gonna give you a show and you’re gonna record it so you can add it to the pornos you already have.

“What kind of show? You mean like a strip tease?” Kemo thought there was no way these chicks could be about to allow him to shoot them doing a porno for free. But then she broke it down for him.

“Let your porno customers know that they could hook up with one of us if they want. If they do, then we’ll give you a piece of the action. Let’s just say that this is kind of like a promotional-marketing thing.” She winked then said, “Trust me. We are about to get paid because we are the best at what we do. After your customers see this video, they’ll see. Start recording and you’ll see too.”

Kemo didn’t have to be told twice. He lifted the camcorder and began recording. Two of the girls began kissing and doing sexual things to each other. The other two girls eventually joined in. Moments later, Kemo wondered if he was dreaming. He couldn’t believe it. After a while of recording, one of the girls then said, “You could join us if you want.”

“Thanks, but I’m good. Lets just keep it business,” said Kemo. He didn’t want to cheat on Jasmine, especially with some prostitutes who might give him something.

Later that night though, he made love to Jasmine like never before. He then got down to the business of adding the video he’d made with the girls on to the pornos. It worked like a charm and the DVDs sold like crazy. He began getting several phone calls in regards to the girls. Kemo then added pimping to his criminal resume when he made a hundred dollars off his first girl.

It was a pretty simple thing to do. He would receive a phone call from a trick, quote a price, and either drop off a girl wherever he was at, or lead him to whichever hotel she was in. Kemo would then collect the money, take his percentage and give her the rest.

Kemo was now juggling his job on weekdays, the DVD thing on weekends, the homeless man who was selling with him, the call girls, the night time drug scam, and his somewhat neglected family. He would feel exhausted at times, but felt he couldn’t rest if money was involved. The harder he worked, the faster he could get ahead of the game and move his family to a better neighborhood. His goal was to save up ten grand, and then move his family with no financial worries whatsoever. And the last time he counted, he was almost there.

A few months later, everything changed when Jasmine decided to pay Kemo a surprise visit. One afternoon she had Veronica drive her over to the spot where he sold the DVDs.

Kemo would constantly meet beautiful women of all ages where he sold. Some single, some married. Most had children, so they would always buy animated movies from Kemo. They got to know him pretty well after a few months of him selling there. Some would play flirt with him all the time, but he would never take their advances seriously. Whenever they left, some would say goodbye with a hug.

It just so happens that when Jasmine showed up, she spotted Kemo hugging a very attractive young. As soon as Veronica parked her car, Jasmine jumped out and quickly walked up to Kemo. “Is this what you do all day here? Flirting with hoes?” screamed Jasmine.

“What? No, she’s just a customer,” replied Kemo. The woman had already walked away, thank goodness. That meant at least he wouldn’t have to break up a fight, because Jasmine probably would have snatched her up.

“Okay, you wanna play like that? We could play it like that,” said Jasmine as she began to walk away.

“Stop trippin’. I’m gonna talk to you when I get home, okay?” hollered Kemo, but Jasmine simply kept walking.

She got in Veronica’s car and left. When Kemo finally made it home that night, he had trouble getting in his apartment. There was something blocking the door. He pushed the door hard and it slowly came open. He walked in and he couldn’t take his eyes off of what was scattered on the floor of his living room. All his equipment had been smashed to pieces. The computer, the monitor, the printer, the scanner, and the burn tower were completely destroyed. The printing paper was thrown everywhere as well.

Kemo then walked to his bedroom and saw Jasmine passed out on their bed with a small empty bottle of Rum next to her. He proceeded to shake her awake.

“What did you do?” screamed out Kemo as he shook her by her shoulders.

“I hate you! Just leave me alone,” said Jasmine after waking up and pushing his hands off her.

“Why did you break up all my stuff?”

“You wanna play games and cheat on me with some stupid whores? I could make your life a living hell, Kemo. You shouldn’t have messed with me like that. I never played on you. I was always loyal, but now you messed up big time.”

“All this mess over a hug? Are you serious? I never cheated on you.”

“I don’t believe you. Just go away. Get your stuff and leave.”

“Alright, whatever; forget you too then,” said Kemo as he walked to the kitchen to grab some garbage bags. He then began tossing his belongings in the bags and taking them to his car. Lastly he grabbed the shoe box full of money and was about to leave when he asked, “Where’s Rain?”

“At my mom’s, where else?”

Kemo had gotten his answer and was then ready to leave once again. As he looked around to make sure he’d gotten everything he needed, he spotted Jasmine’s I.D lying on the floor. He picked it up and instantly noticed some white powdery substance along its edges. He licked a little off and quickly realized it was cocaine. “You still messin’ with dope, Jasmine? Is that why you acting all crazy?”

“What?”

Kemo quickly walked to the closet and pulled out a flashlight. He turned it on, walked up to Jasmine, grabbed her by the jaw and flashed the light in her eyes to see if they dilated. She put up a struggle and they were soon wrestling on the bed.

“Get off me! Leave me alone. I’m not high anymore, dummy. I can do what I want. You ain’t my man anymore. You ignore me and your daughter just so you can be out there with some stupid broads. I hate you!” shouted Jasmine.

Kemo stopped what he was doing. He stared at her for a few seconds and then he got off of her and just simply walked away towards the living room door with his shoe box. He gently closed the door and drove away.

He stayed at a hotel that night and the next morning spent the entire day buying and recreating some of what Jasmine had destroyed. When he was ready to begin selling at his spot the following weekend, the guys at the lunch truck informed him that the police had been snooping around. Apparently someone had called the police and told them that Kemo was selling drugs and DVDs out of his car. Kemo wondered if it was Jasmine who had called the cops. Or maybe it was his competitors who were angry because he was out selling them with his unique product. Several people had stopped buying from them because they would get more from Kemo for less money. The other bootleggers would ask who was selling those combo disc and Kemo’s name would always come up.

“For real?” Kemo said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yeah-I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to sell here for a little while.”

“Man,” Kemo sighed. “Alright then. Thanks,” said Kemo as he walked back to his car. He now knew that the cops were aware of what he was doing and that he couldn’t sell anywhere since they more than likely knew what he drove. He definitely couldn’t go buy dope for the same reason. He also thought that maybe Jasmine was mad enough to tell the dope dealers that he was buying drugs from them with fake money. He didn’t want to chance it so he knew he just had to lay low period.

He drove back to his hotel and lied down on the bed. He stared at the wall wondering about what he should do. Minutes later, he switched the T.V on and began flipping through channels. He then saw a commercial for Disneyland and thought about Los Angeles. Next he thought of Hollywood. Seconds later, he remembered the old screenplay he had written back when he was last in jail. I should go to L.A and try to do something with that. Even if nothing happens, I could use it as a mini vacation while things cool down here, thought Kemo.

He thought about it for a while. He was strongly considering just picking up and going. He didn’t have anything to lose, except for his job of course. He could always simply call off a couple of days. He knew if he hung out in Hollywood too long he could get fired from his job. Minutes later, he decided to throw the dice and pack up his computer stuff and a duffle bag for the six hour trip to Hollywood

When he arrived, he first got himself a room to leave all his stuff in and then he went and got something to eat. Afterwards, he bought a few beers and proceeded to think of a way to sell the screenplay. He knew he needed to stand out and grab as much attention as possible. Hours later, and several beers later, he decided to create a simple, short, three minute video for the screenplay with his computer and display it on a video projector right on Hollywood Boulevard. He wasn’t too worried about someone stealing his screenplay since he had copyrighted it shortly after being released from jail. He’d done the poor man copyright where he’d simply stuck a copy of the script in an envelope. He addressed it to himself and then mailed it certified. Once he received it, he never opened it. He’d only open it in front of a judge if he ever needed to prove the date of its creation.

That should do it, thought a drunk Kemo. He fell asleep and the next morning began working on the video. When he was done, he decided to take a short stroll down Hollywood. While walking down the street, he spotted an advertisement for a highly anticipated movie. It was a film that a lot of his customers had been bugging him about for months. They were planning on releasing it in Los Angeles a few weeks before the rest of the world got to see it. He then got another crazy idea.

I’m gonna record that flick myself, thought Kemo. Then I’ll take it back home and make a lot of money since I’ll be the only one with it. He wondered about how those guys who went into theaters and recorded movies actually did it. He heard that they just wore a large jacket and covered up the camcorder with it. Kemo wanted to try something new because he needed new money.

The next day, he headed to the theater that was showing the film he wanted to record. He bought a ticket and stepped inside the theater. He then walked over to the snack stand and bought a large bucket of popcorn and a soda. He took his soda and popcorn and walked to the restroom. He then stepped inside a stall, locked it, lifted his shirt up and pulled out his camcorder. He buried the camera inside of the popcorn, all the way to the bottom, and then cut a small hole on the bucket where the lens was located. He had to dump out half of the popcorn, but he didn’t care.

It was a perfect fit. The lens was not detectable, especially in a dark theater. Kemo then stepped out of the stall with the camcorder now recording. He walked to the screening room, sat at the very top and placed the bucket of popcorn on the arm rest of the chair, with the lens pointing towards the screen of course.

After the movie was over, he went back to his room, but before doing so, he decided to go and rent the projector he was going to need to display the video he had made. He also rented a mobile battery for him to plug the projector into. When everything was ready, later that night he drove to the nearest building on Hollywood Boulevard that had a wall where he could point the projector at. He parked the car, set everything up on the roof of his car, and began playing the video. Several pedestrians stood and watched the video.

“Did you write that?” asked one lady.

“Yeah,” replied Kemo.

“Good luck with that. It looks very interesting.”

“Thank you,” Kemo simply replied.

Minutes later, a lady approached Kemo and asked if he had a copy of the script. “I’m just breaking into the movie business myself. I’d like to see exactly what you’ve got there.”

Kemo felt any contact was a good contact. One never knew. He didn’t have a copy of the script printed out, but what he did give her was a disk that contained a copy of it as well as all his contact info. The lady thanked Kemo and walked away.

Kemo made a couple more contacts as well. Hours later, the police showed up and told him that he needed permission-some type of permit or something-to do what he was doing. People watching the video began booing at the officers as Kemo began packing his stuff up and shutting things down.

Kemo stayed in L.A for about a week, mainly selling bootleg DVD’s in the ghettos of Los Angeles. When the time to go home came, he hoped that everything with the police and Jasmine had cooled down.

When he arrived back in Robles, he went straight to his old apartment hoping to find Jasmine and Rain, but they weren’t there. So he decided to stay in a hotel until he and Jasmine could talk to smooth things over. He didn’t want her showing up clowning and causing an ugly scene.

As soon as he got his room, he began work on the video that he had recorded in L.A. He wanted to make it as clean as possible. The next day, he drove to his old selling spot and asked the workers in the lunch truck if the cops had been around.

“No, not for some time, I think it’s safe now.”

That was music to Kemo’s ears. He immediately took the catalog book out and placed it on the truck. Hours later, the homeless man who was working for Kemo before, showed up with two other guys. “Hey what’s up, man? Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you. I passed by a little while ago and saw that you were back.”

“I hear you, but I had to go out of town for a little while. Why? You ready to start working again?” said Kemo with a smile.

“That’s what these guys wanted to talk to you about,” said the homeless man as he pointed to the other two guys who were there. “I told them that I had a job. They didn’t believe me though.”

Kemo looked the men up and down. “What’s up?” asked Kemo.

“He owes us some money. He said that he would pay us back whenever he saw you again and broke him off something. Well, we feel that since he works for you, you can go ahead and pay us and then you and him can work that out,” said one of the guys.

Kemo couldn’t believe these dudes. They had to have thought he was some type of dummy. “What? Naw man, that’s his problem, not mine.” Kemo couldn’t even believe they were coming at him with that mess.

“You sure about that?” asked the other guy standing there, in almost a threatening tone.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Kemo wasn’t budging.

“Alright,” said one of the guys and they both walked away, whispering back and forth to each other while every now and then looking back over their shoulder at Kemo.

“Man, what kind of mess have you been getting into since I’ve been gone?” Kemo asked the homeless man.

“I know-I know. I’m sorry to bring trouble your way,” the man apologized, but it’s all good. I’ll put in some work for you and take care of my debt with them.”

“No problem,” Kemo said, ready to make some money. “Do you still have your book?”

“Yeah. Not on me though.”

“Well give it to me when you can. But for now I have an updated one.”He gave the new book to the homeless man, hoping he’d get back on the grind and get him business like he had before. “Go make some money so you can pay those clowns back. They seem a little loco. They must be in order for them to come at me like that.”

The homeless man apologized yet again and got back on the grind.

Later that night, as Kemo sat in his car listening to music while waiting on a customer to roll through, he noticed a man with a hoody over his head. The man was standing by a nearby bus stop while talking on a cell phone. Kemo then looked to his right and spotted another man under a tree wearing the same thing and talking on a cell phone as well.

The entire lot was empty besides the lunch truck. Only a few passing cars could be heard as well as the music that Kemo was listening to. He kept his eyes on both men. Kemo had a gut feeling that they were communicating with each other for some reason. He then spotted them both simultaneously begin to jog towards him. They both lifted up their shirts and pulled out hand guns. Kemo instantly turned his car on and shifted the gear to reverse to begin backing away from the lot. As soon as the car began to move, they began firing at Kemo. Kemo ducked as the two gunmen continued firing. The guys inside the lunch truck quickly ducked for cover.

Once the thunder stopped rolling, it was Kemo’s car that began rolling…all on it’s own. It came to a complete stop only after hitting a wall.

The gunmen quickly ran towards the car and opened the driver’s door. One of them began searching Kemo’s pockets as the other acted as a look out. They could hear Kemo wheezing as he struggled for breath. Lightening had struck; that lightening being a couple bullets finding their destination in Kemo’s upper body. Blood and shattered glass was everywhere.

Kemo slightly looked up when he felt someone digging in his pockets and instantly recognized the man who was doing it. At first Kemo thought it might have been one of the two men that had been with the homeless man earlier, but it wasn’t. It was the thin man he had met in jail the morning of his release. The man who had the gold teeth that spelled out EAST. The same man who had murdered his elderly neighbors. Could it just have been a random robbery-a bad coincidence for Kemo? But then again, he remembered his grandmother once telling him before she died that there was no such thing as a coincidence in life. That everything was God’s doing. If that was the case, then perhaps he should have gotten to know God a little better over the years-kinda got some cool points with Him. But it was too late for that. What was done was done.

The men took all the money Kemo had made that night and ran off to the awaiting Caprice Classic a few blocks away. Kemo’s mind began racing as he laid down on his front seat bleeding. He wondered why this had happened to him. Why had those men shot him? Did the dope dealers find out about the counterfeit money he’d been given them? Did the homeless man set him up? Did his competitors send the men after him? Did the call girls do it? Was Jasmine involved somehow?

He quickly wiped that last thought out of his mind. Jasmine betraying him to that degree would never happen. He knew she loved him. He knew that she was just temporarily angry with him and would eventually get over it. Everything would be okay. Him and his family would be alright.

Kemo thought of every person who could possibly have a motive to take his life, except for the one who he almost killed himself the night of the shooting incident. The man Kemo shot that night was told by his friends that they knew where Kemo was. Kemo had unknowingly sold some movies to them one day. Kemo was slightly high and intoxicated the night of the shooting so he had forgotten exactly what they looked like, besides everything had happened so fast. The man Kemo shot had been looking for Kemo throughout the week while he’d been in L.A. Coincidence? Or had God orchestrated everything? Giving Kemo a little extra time here on earth?

Kemo, feeling as though he’d take his last breath at any moment, stopped trying to figure out who was responsible for the ambush and just began praying to God for help. Surely, if his grandmother was right everything that happened in life was orchestrated by God, then God would have the answers to his prayers.

God, please don’t take me yet. My family needs me. Let me give them a better life and then you can take me, please.

The guys in the lunch truck ran out towards Kemo when they saw that the shooters were gone. “Kemo, we called 911. Don’t worry, friend; they’ll be here in a minute. Just hold on,” said one of the guys as they stood outside of Kemo’s shot up car.

“Grandma,” Kemo whispered.

“What, Kemo?” asked one of the guys when they couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“Grandma,” Kemo whispered again before falling unconscious.