I grew up in Inglewood, L.A. and as a kid I was an avid reader. I would read mostly Archie books and Hardy boys, but as I got older I wanted to get into something more interesting. I went down to a place called Roy's Bookshop. It is your typical used book store: buy, sell, trade. Roy is a black man, kind of reggae style about him. I was 13-14 at the time and aside from reading my interests were trying to figure out how to get laid. He took me under his wing and showed me some books on how to read body language, talk to girls, and basic sex tips.
I started to spend a lot of time at Roy's bookshop, just chatting and picking up books and then return to discuss. As I spent more and more time there, I noticed a lot of shady characters coming in and out. Some would not come out for hours while some would come for just 4-5 minutes and then come out. When I turned 16, Roy sat me down and asked me if I seriously thought he supported himself selling used fukking books in Inglewood. I said I never really thought about it. That's when he led me to a backroom, which had a secret door leading to a basement I did not know existed. The basement was a fukkin paradise compared to the dusty upstairs. There were roulette wheels, TVs in every corner, guys in suites smoking cigars with babes on their laps. My eyes were wide open and people were giving me looks like what the fukk am I doing there. At the front of the room there is a big desk that is kind of gold coloured and had some kind of powder on it which I later realized was yayo. I swear that desk is the same one Tony Montana had in Scarface. Behind the desk is a giant chalkboard with all these short abbreviations and numbers like NYY -120, BOS +110, etc. etc.
Roy explained to me what was going on and I couldn't believe it. I asked him how come the cops don't bust him. He pointed to one of the guys in the corner now getting a bj under the table, and told me he is the assistant to the chief of police. This was mathy's first experience in how the real world worked.
After school every day I would go to the shop and pal around with the guys in the basement. They would pat my head and throw a couple bucks to go get them a soda or a burger at the joint across the street. They would ask me who I liked and I would always give them the play with the biggest chalk on the board!! Roy paid me extra for this as he grossly inflated lines on big favs and home teams.
Eventually the assistant to the chief owed Roy over 50 dimes so rather than pay up he just sent the cops in. That was the saddest day of my life. This big rogue cop broke the chalkboard on his knee and his cronies drew penises in chalk all over the wall and stuffed cash in their pockets. I never saw Roy again. I think he left town and is currently homeless. I sort of took over the place for awhile, but without the basement the bookshop was a moneydrain. I sort of set up the bookcases in a special way towards the back and had a guy like RogueScholar working a gloryhole through the bookcase, but that was more hassle than it was worth. If you just wanted to whack off in the corner you would go to the self-help section, if you wanted a handjob you would go to the handyman section and sort of make room between a couple of the books. For BJs there was no real section that made sense so you would just go around past romantic fiction/real crime, and wait around near home & gardening. Fights would break out over spots that were preferred for good arm support and privacy. I closed it down when cops started to poke around and could not open some books on certain pages.
I believe the place is now a tanning salon and juice bar.
We are hoping to be back to those days soon.
Mathy
I started to spend a lot of time at Roy's bookshop, just chatting and picking up books and then return to discuss. As I spent more and more time there, I noticed a lot of shady characters coming in and out. Some would not come out for hours while some would come for just 4-5 minutes and then come out. When I turned 16, Roy sat me down and asked me if I seriously thought he supported himself selling used fukking books in Inglewood. I said I never really thought about it. That's when he led me to a backroom, which had a secret door leading to a basement I did not know existed. The basement was a fukkin paradise compared to the dusty upstairs. There were roulette wheels, TVs in every corner, guys in suites smoking cigars with babes on their laps. My eyes were wide open and people were giving me looks like what the fukk am I doing there. At the front of the room there is a big desk that is kind of gold coloured and had some kind of powder on it which I later realized was yayo. I swear that desk is the same one Tony Montana had in Scarface. Behind the desk is a giant chalkboard with all these short abbreviations and numbers like NYY -120, BOS +110, etc. etc.
Roy explained to me what was going on and I couldn't believe it. I asked him how come the cops don't bust him. He pointed to one of the guys in the corner now getting a bj under the table, and told me he is the assistant to the chief of police. This was mathy's first experience in how the real world worked.
After school every day I would go to the shop and pal around with the guys in the basement. They would pat my head and throw a couple bucks to go get them a soda or a burger at the joint across the street. They would ask me who I liked and I would always give them the play with the biggest chalk on the board!! Roy paid me extra for this as he grossly inflated lines on big favs and home teams.
Eventually the assistant to the chief owed Roy over 50 dimes so rather than pay up he just sent the cops in. That was the saddest day of my life. This big rogue cop broke the chalkboard on his knee and his cronies drew penises in chalk all over the wall and stuffed cash in their pockets. I never saw Roy again. I think he left town and is currently homeless. I sort of took over the place for awhile, but without the basement the bookshop was a moneydrain. I sort of set up the bookcases in a special way towards the back and had a guy like RogueScholar working a gloryhole through the bookcase, but that was more hassle than it was worth. If you just wanted to whack off in the corner you would go to the self-help section, if you wanted a handjob you would go to the handyman section and sort of make room between a couple of the books. For BJs there was no real section that made sense so you would just go around past romantic fiction/real crime, and wait around near home & gardening. Fights would break out over spots that were preferred for good arm support and privacy. I closed it down when cops started to poke around and could not open some books on certain pages.
I believe the place is now a tanning salon and juice bar.
We are hoping to be back to those days soon.
Mathy
