The Art of the Hustle 2 (Complete)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

It was nearly two in the morning when Trevor was awoken by the vibration of his cell phone. It was charging on the night table by his bed.

Rolling over, he checked the number. He didn't recognize it so he ignored it and went back to bed. A few minutes later, the same number called again. This time Trevor picked up.

"Hello," he said with a groggy voice. He listened to the person on the other end and then said, "Okay, I'll be right down."

Trevor peeled back the covers and put on some clothes. He didn't expect to venture outside so late, but it wasn't like he had work in the morning.

He had one of his cars parked at the hotel, although he didn't drive it much. Entering the car, Trevor started the engine, and then cranked the heat.

There was hardly any traffic driving across the Cambie Bridge, which allowed him to arrive at his destination quicker than he anticipated. Trevor found parking and walked inside the police station.

"Mr. Morrison, pleasure to meet you," one of the officers said, recognizing him immediately.

"Where is he?" Trevor asked

"He's in a holding cell. Do you know this kid?"

"Not well enough apparently."

"He's under arrest for vandalism, we caught him writing graffiti. We can release him tonight, but a court date will be set and he will have to appear."

"Okay, thanks for letting me know."

"I've let him know the severity of the incident. I told him if he's convicted, he can face up to a ten thousand dollar fine and community service."

"I'm sure that will be enough to set him straight, officer."

"Because he's a minor, he's free to go tonight under your supervision. Otherwise, we'll have to keep him here overnight until a parent or legal guardian can vouch for him. Are you Mr. Smith's legal guardian?"

"No, but I am looking after him. Can you please release him under my custody tonight and I will ensure he makes his court date."

"Very well then."

Trevor was escorted to the holding cells where he saw Deon lying down trying to get some rest. When he heard the officer jingle his keys, Deon opened his eyes and saw Trevor standing there, looking at him with disappointment. Deon looked at Trevor with shame.

"Yo T-Money, I'm sorry. I appreciate you bailing me out," Deon said, sitting up.

The officer opened the cell door and allowed Deon to exit. Trevor had yet to say a word, which was almost worse. Deon could tell Trevor was upset. He felt bad for disappointing him. Trevor wasn't going to scold Deon like some little kid, he simply escorted Deon outside.

"T-Money, my man, coming through!" Deon said, excited.

"Quit calling me 'money' or 'T-Money', or whatever else nickname you have for me," Trevor said.

"Yo, my bad."

"Just get in the car," Trevor said, deactivating the alarm on his pearl white Bentley Continental."

"Ah, snap! This is your whip! It's lit," Deon said in excitement, looking at Trevor's. It was as if the car completely erased his memory of the arrest. "Can I drive?"

"Can you drive?" Trevor repeated with disdain. "Do you not understand that I just bailed you out of jail at two in the morning?" Trevor shouted, finally losing his patience with Deon. "Do you have any sense of consequences and taking responsibility for your actions?"

"I don't need a lecture," Deon said.

"No, that's exactly what you need. I'm not sure what kind of upbringing you had, but you obviously missed some very important lessons along the way. You seem to have a total lack of respect for law and authority. You're joking around the second we leave the jail."

Deon wisely kept his mouth shut. Together they drove into downtown and toward Deon's apartment. Not much was spoken between them. Trevor wasn't sure how he was going to address the issue. He didn't have any experience raising kids, especially a delinquent like Deon. However, shouting didn't seem like the way to get through to him.

"Things have to change, Deon." Trevor said, driving down Beach Ave. "This lifestyle you're leading where you're getting kicked out of school, getting girls pregnant, getting in trouble with the law, and acting as if you're too cool for society, it ends here. The friends you're hanging out with are knuckleheads. If you stay on this path, your life is going nowhere. I'll give you a choice: you can be the coolest single dad, graffiti artist, wanna thug in the city — have a total disregard for people's property and laws. And I promise you will live a miserable life. You will be broke, single, most likely homeless, addicted to drugs, and end up either dead or in jail by 35. That's how that story ends."

"Wow, that's a pretty harsh, man. What's the second option?" Deon asked.

"You can be rich and successful like me. Drive nice cars, live in expensive homes, eat at nice restaurants, travel the world—"

"Date hot chicks?"

"The hottest," Trevor said in an attempt to appeal to what mattered most to the young kid. He needed a way to motivate him and figured this was the best way.

"Done. Sign me up."

"Okay, but you have to get your act together. I'm not playing with you, Deon. This is your last chance. Don't make me regret helping you."

Trevor recognized his role with Deon. He wasn't his father, nor was he there to punish him. What Deon needed in his life was a stable figure who cared for him. Someone who wouldn't turn his back on him; someone to look up to for wisdom and guidance. Therefore, Trevor could not be upset for Deon showing a lack of wisdom and misguidance. No one ever took the time to show him the way.

"I'm happy that you found a passion in writing graffiti and starting a fight club and whatever else you do, but I encourage you to find legal ways to channel that passion. I don't know how your life will turn out. Maybe you will become a graphic designer, start a clothing company, or be a fight promoter. My point is, there are legal avenues you can take that utilize your skill sets and interests."

"I understand," Deon said.

"Look, Deon, I get it, I was a former graffiti writer myself and had a number of side hustles growing up as well. But with that comes a certain type of culture. It's a rebellious culture by nature where people tend to get involved in nefarious activities. If you associate with shady characters and get pulled that lifestyle, you will never escape.

"You're seventeen. You have your whole life ahead of you. You will make mistakes, that's fine. Just promise me not to do anything illegal."

"Okay."

"I will help you, but I don't want to waste my time with you."

"You won't, I promise," Deon said remorsefully.

"If you stay out of trouble and do everything I say, maybe I will let you drive my car."