Illegal Shakes

Hustling ain’t easy.

You never know just what type of person will come strolling down that alley after dark. Mostly, it’s just normal folks looking for a little bit of respect. Every so often, you get a high powered business type, just looking to reminisce about the days when business was conducted like gentleman, and a handshake meant something respectable. Those are my favorite types of clients. Quick, discreet, clean, and rife with cash. You couldn’t hope for a better customer. Then there are the junkies. They’re always looking for a fix. Easy to spot, you can tell they want what you’ve got to offer, just by their constantly twitching, air clutching, hands. Hands eternally looking for the satisfaction of a firm grip; a shred of respect thrown their way. You have to look out for these types of people, the dejected, defeated. As if life had beaten them down and this shady back-alley was all they had left to live for. Their tattered dress shirts torn, their ties frayed, leather shoes, dulled. Look out for these types of people, they like to hit and run. They’ll take you for a ride, then try to leave you high and dry, leaving as quickly as they came. Always get their payment upfront.

It was just another night out on the hustle. I’ve had a few regulars come along, a few newcomers, nothing too out of the ordinary for a Tuesday night. Rent was due tomorrow, and I had almost made it. Just one or two more clients and I’d be there. The wife would sleep easy tonight, knowing the kids would keep a roof over their heads for another month. That’s when I spotted him, an extremely well-dressed gentleman. He looked around, probably checking to make sure no one saw him duck into my alley. After all, what he was looking for is illegal. The man cautiously approached me, his dress shoes clicking softly as he walked. Hands in the pockets of his coat, he spoke softly, but deliberately.

“I hear you’re the man to see for a service I need.”

I simply nodded to the man, not speaking, until I knew he was serious. He looked like he’d be able to pay the remainder of my rent, and then some.

The man spoke again, “I can pay upfront, cash.”

He discreetly flashed a glance of what appeared to be several hundred dollar bills. I nodded again before speaking.

“That’ll get you a couple of shakes. You name what you want, and you’ve got it.”

The man finally looked up and made eye contact. His piercing grey eyes sent a chill down my spine, but his outstretched hand contained enough cash to take care of my family for the next month. I smiled at him and my hand met his. His grip was firm, a little too firm, if you asked me. That’s when I noticed it… He was wearing a wire! The man smirked as he took in the mixture of shock and anger that played across my face. He attempted to pull me down to the ground, trying to detain me.

I panicked, thinking of my wife and children waiting for me at home. If he caught me, this would be the end. I would never see them again. The punishment for turning shakes was life behind bars. My family wouldn’t make it without me, they’d end up on the streets, shaking, just like I was. The kids were so young. I had envisioned another life for them, a better one. A life where they would attend school and never have to know the life I lived. One where they could make money respectably, and give their kids the life I couldn’t give them. No, being caught was not an option.

I pulled my left arm back, and swung forward, putting the entire weight of my body behind it. My closed fist exploded in pain as it made contact with the narcs’ skull; I felt something crunch. Blood sprayed across his face and exploded onto the ground. His grip relaxed just enough for me to shake myself free, and dislodge the cash he held as well. I turned to run and heard a commotion in the background.

“You! Stop right there!”

Shit! It was the narcs backup. I heard the sound of guns being drawn as I sprinted down the alley. A loud crack reverberated off the walls, bullets sped past me, sending chunks of brick and mortar flying by my face, peppering me with small scrapes and cuts. I ran, barely making it around the corner, out of the alleyway, and onto the busy street. I did my best to remain calm and blend into the lifeless crowd, but it was difficult to blend while moving quickly. I’m not entirely sure how I managed it, but I eventually walked the few blocks to my apartment without being noticed.

I unlocked the door and stepped across the threshold and was greeted by my smiling wife and loving children, as they clambered up my legs, fighting for attention. I hobbled over to my wife, with the kids still attached to my legs, to greet her. As I kissed her, like I did every day, I placed the large wad of bills into her hand. Her face lit up, knowing we’d be okay for the rest of the month. I smiled back. I might not have the most respectable profession, and I knew I'd eventually have to get out of the game, but right now, it provided for us. Seeing my family happy and relaxed made me remember why I turned shakes in the first place. I did it for them, for us. I did it to provide a good life for my family, and that was enough to keep me going back… for now.