Down by Law

by Ni-Ni Simone

  “I tell you what, cat daddy. I’ll drop them digits for you after you buy a few bags of this bud from me.” I winked and moved my shoulders to the beat.

  “Bud? You got some weed? Word? What you got?”

  “I got nickel bags of kush. It’s that good smoke too. Straight from Cali. West Side, Loc. You feel me?” I slid a bag out of my pouch and handed it to him.

  He stuck his nose to the bag and sucked in the weed’s aroma. “Yoooooo, this right here is decent.” He looked at one of his boys, who was diggin’ through his record crates. “Yo, smell that.” He handed him the weed.

  “Oh, I got to hit this,” his boy said.

  I stepped up and said, “I got five-dollar bags. How much you need?”

  The deejay handed me forty dollars and I gave them eight bags of weed.

  “I tell you what,” the deejay said. “They call me Cuddy and I’m always giving a party. And if you give me a percentage, then I’ll keep you in business and make sure you’re at er’ party that I throw. You think you can handle that?”

  “Heck yeah.”

  “Bet.”

  “A’ight, I’ll get up witchu.” I wrote my beeper number down on a piece of paper and handed it to him. He winked and said, “I see you, ma.”

  I waved bye and worked my way over to the B-Boy side. And after I sold them a few bags, I headed for the basketball court, where I completely sold out.

  I looked at my beeper and I just knew my eyes were playing tricks on me. I’d sold all of my weed in three hours flat.

  Right about now, I didn’t care who was looking, I straight broke out into the Pac-Man and just about moon-walked to my car.

  I did everything I could to wipe the smile off of my face, so that I could walk in the apartment looking somber.

  Get it together.

  Stop grinning.

  Deep breath.

  Now walk in.

  I opened the apartment door, and Fresh was sitting on the couch with one of his boys, Saladeen.

  Sal nodded.

  “Wassup,” I said, flat, trying to be extra careful so my voice didn’t elevate.

  “You good, baby?” Fresh asked. “You back awfully soon. You a’ight?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.” I pulled a wad of money from my pouch and slid it in his hand. “Half for your payment and the other half for me to re-up. And I’ma need a half a pound this time.”

  Fresh smiled, the hardest I’d ever seen. “I see your work.”

  I leaned in and gave him a kiss. “Told you I had this.”

  35

  The weed commandments

  After two weeks of killin’ it at the park and at Cuddy’s parties, I’d made over five thousand dollars. Fresh was straight lovin’ my contribution to what he called the family business. And I had to admit, I was feelin’ it myself. And although Fresh always kept me fly, I was on my way to kicking things up a notch, from fly to fabulous.

  Fresh told me I was making too much money not to have a gun on me. So I carried a little pearl-handle twenty-two in my high-top and I also went back to tucking a blade along the side of my cheek. There were even some nights, when I was pulling in so much money that I had to hire a bodyguard to travel with me. Which was part of the reason Fresh put the word out that I was his girl so everybody on the streets would know who I hustling with.

  Hell, we were the Bonnie and Clyde of this thing here, and I planned to keep it that way.

  “You ready for school today, baby?” He pulled me in for a kiss as I set his breakfast plate of pancakes and bacon in front of him.

  “Yeah, I’m stupid hyped!” I said, now packing three lunch boxes with four jars of peanut butter, each stuffed with a sandwich baggie filled with nickel bags of weed.

  “You taking all that to school?”

  “Yup.”

  “And you sure about your crew?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “Cali and Munch are the two most loyal chicks I know. They my homies. Like family.”

  “Make sho’.”

  “They good.”

  “A’ight. And make sure you run down the rules. If either one of them hesitate or question you, dead it. And tell ’em up front they can’t hustle with you. It’s a’ight to be cool with your crew, but you gotta let ’em know at all times, that you’re in charge. And that’s bottom line.”

  “Fresh, baby.” I slung two backpacks over my shoulder. “I got this. Now let me get it.”

  I hopped in the Chevette and drove over to Da Bricks to pick up Cali and Munch. I’d already called their house last night and told ’em I was picking them up so hopefully they would be outside waiting for me.

  When I pulled up, the first person I saw was Yvette. She didn’t notice me though. She walked up to one of the dope boys. They exchanged a loaded fist bump, and she quickly rushed back into the building.

  “You gon’ open the door or what?” Cali said, as she knocked on the car window.

  I hit the automatic locks and let them in. “Y’all see Yvette?” I asked.

  “I did,” Munch said.

  “She don’t even speak to me no more,” Cali said. “She got some new chicks she hang with now.”

  “I just saw her cop,” I said, doing my all to swallow the sting that came along with saying that.

  “Yeah, she be out here all the time,” Munch said, and we all fell into an awkward moment of silence.

  “Enough of that,” Cali insisted. “Now let’s talk about this money you called us about last night.”

  “I don’t even know what it is and I’m all in.” Munch popped her lips.

  I started the car and took off up the street. “A’ight, dig. First of all understand that in order to do this you gotta be true to this.”

  “I hope you not talking about boosting,” Cali said. “’Cause Yvette was the only one who could pull that off. I can’t do that. I ain’t cut out for going to jail, and especially behind no underwear. No, ma’am.”

  “Would you be quiet?” I said, stopping at a red light. “Ain’t noooooobody up in here tryna boost. With the money we can make, we can buy our own gear.”

  “So get to it. What we gotta do?” Munch asked.

  “I’m ’bout to take y’all to the next level,” I said.

  “How?” they asked simultaneously.

  “Hustle. Sell weed.” The light changed to green.

  They both froze and looked at me strangely. “You serious?” Cali asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Where we gon’ post up at?” Munch asked. “You already know truancy will be stalkin’ us if we missin’ school to be on the block.”

  I smiled. “Don’t even sweat that. We not gon’ be on the block. We gon’ bring the block to us. We gon’ hustle right here in school.” I pulled into the parking lot.

  “In school?” Cali looked amazed. “Yo, for real?”

  “Heck yeah,” I said. “This spot here is a whooooooooole untapped market and we ’bout to seize it.”

  “Who we sellin’ for?”

  A smile lit up my face. “Ourselves.”

  “Not Fresh?”

  “Nope. He’s just the connect.”

  “So when we gon’ start?” Munch asked, hyped.

  “Right now.” I reached for my backpack and handed them each a lunch box.

  “What’s this?” Cali opened the container. “Peanut butter. I ’on’t eat no peanut butter! Oh, I thought we was better than this.”

  “Cali.”

  “What?”

  “Shut. Up, and listen. Now. Inside those jars, after you scoop the first few spoonfuls of peanut butter off the top is a sandwich bag filled with nickel bags of weed.”

  “Oh, hell yeah! This is crazeeeeee!” Munch said, excited.

  “Now listen, this is how we gon’ do this. We gon’ all take a floor. It’s only three floors in the school and it’s three of us. Whatever floor your homeroom is on, that’s your floor. So I got one. Munch, you got?”

  “Three.”

  I l
ooked over at Cali. “And you got?”

  “Two.”

  “So we only sell weed on our assigned floor?” Munch asked.

  “Yep.” I nodded. “We gon’ run this just like the block and each floor is your corner. You got your corner and I got mine. Now, I want you to give one bag, only. A sample bag, to the biggest weed heads y’all know. That’s gon’ build up our clientele and I guarantee by this afternoon—”

  “We gon’ have this whole school on lock,” Cali interjected.

  “And you know it!” I gave her a high five. “Now, it’s some rules to this.”

  “Rules?” Cali frowned.

  “Rules,” I said. “Er’body got rules, Catherine. So let me break it down. Rule number one: Don’t be braggin’ ’bout the dough you make. ’Cause it only takes one broke and jealous ho to call five-oh and then we got a problem.”

  I looked at Munch and Cali, and they both nodded.

  I continued, “Rule number two: No credit. If they ask, walk away and tell ’em to come back another day. Rule number three: Don’t take no work to class. Period. All work stays in your locker, in the peanut butter jars.”

  “How we gon’ do that?”

  “First you get the cash. Then you go to yo’ stash. Meet them somewhere safe to make the pass. And walk away from ’em.”

  “Rule number four is the most important rule of all: Have my money. Period. All of it. Fresh is my man, but this weed ain’t free and he wants his cut up front. Now we all family and we all gotta eat. But. I will beat you like a ho in the street if my dough needs Columbo. Feel me?”

  They laughed.

  “I’m serious.”

  “A’ight.” They nodded. “We got you.”

  A smile lit up my face. “Now, let’s go get paid!”

  36

  Here, and now, and then

  Six months later

  Back to life... back to reality . . . boomed through my hot-pink baby Benz’s system, as I rolled up in front of Da Bricks to scoop my crew.

  For the last six months, we’d been living life like something outta a movie. We was gettin’ money hand over fist.

  Throwin’ parties.

  Hanging out at all the clubs. Mph, with the money we was makin’, age was no longer a factor.

  We’d even became cool with some rappers and were gettin’ backstage passes on the regular.

  And gear? Psst. Please.

  We had a tailor.

  Rocked Chanel bags.

  Louie V.

  MCM.

  Furs in every color.

  Fresh kicks for every day of the week, six-inch heels for the weekend.

  And not only that, we had a sweet, sweet stash not just in one safe, but in two safes for each of us.

  The only thing that I had that Munch and Cali didn’t was a car, and that’s because they didn’t know how to drive. Within a few weeks, we’d be changing all of that.

  Me and my girls was making moves all over Newark. Not only was we hustling in school, but we branched out to the basketball and the football games. We served at all of Cuddy’s parties.

  Fresh was super proud of me, and all he’d say was, “Damn, baby, you in the game now.”

  “Isis, what, you don’t know me no more?” I looked up and Yvette was leaning against the passenger side of the car, looking at me through the window. She was a hundred pounds, at most. Her collarbone stuck out and her eyes seemed to sink into her cheeks. She had an odor and her too-big clothes looked like she’d been wearing them for the last week.

  I sucked my teeth. “No, I don’t know you. All I know is your name. The chick that I used to know died in a pipe dream.”

  “No, it ain’t like that. I’m clean. I’ll admit that I went through some things, but I’ve changed. I’m clean. I ain’t with Flip no more. You was right about him. He ain’t nothin’. I shouldn’t have ever let him come between us. We family, right?”

  “You mean family friends.”

  “Okay . . . okay. Maybe I deserve that. But, umm, this what I wanna know. I wanna know if you’ll let me get down with you and Cali and Munch.” She looked up at them and smiled, and that’s when I noticed that they were at the car. She took a step back and let them get in.

  “Y’all gettin’ money, looking good, and I just wanna be a part of it. That’s it.”

  “What? You better get outta here with that. Go sit down somewhere. When I came to you, before I went to anybody else, you cussed me out and told me no. You said you had your hustle. Boosting. Now go boost and be up outta my face. We got this and no, you can’t get it.”

  “To hell wit’ you, Isis! You always thought you was better than somebody! Always thought somebody needed you!”

  “You needed me. And I used to need you. We was all we had. But now you out there in the streets with a monkey on your back and you think I’ma put you down. Hell no!” Tears filled my eyes and I quickly wiped them away. “Know what, you better back up and move out my way or I’ma run you over!”

  37

  Flavor of the nonbelievers

  Brggggggggggg!

  The late bell.

  Dang.

  We’d all missed homeroom because of that stupid Yvette. I swear, already she was messing with my money. And now I had to deal with this witch, my history teacher, Ms. Costen. This was the one class that I tried not to say too much in. Mostly because I hated this tramp and didn’t ever wanna cuss her out. ’Cause cussin’ her out meant suspension. And suspension meant my money for the week would be short.

  Not an option.

  I eased into the last desk at the back of the classroom. Ms. Costen turned around, as if she had eyes in the back of her head and had seen me come in. “Isis. Did you intend to come to class or was your plan to lollygag in the hallway?”

  I sucked my teeth.

  Let this go. Just let it go.

  I opened my textbook to the chapter she had written on the board, crossed my legs, and then looked at this heifer like she was sick.

  “I asked you a question,” she pressed, not knowing that she needed to leave well enough alone. I’d already had enough, thanks to Yvette. And I for sure wasn’t in the mood for this.

  She continued, “Answer me.”

  “Would you just teach your class?”

  Most of the class laughed.

  Ms. Costen shook her head. “Quiet.” She looked around the class and then turned back to me. “You need to learn some respect. Sitting up in here with these expensive bags, draped in jewels. I don’t know how long you think that’s going to last with no education. These drug dealers will not take care of you forever.”

  “Know what? If you keep talking, I’ma haul off and smack the crap outta you! You don’t know what you talkin’ about and I for sure don’t know who you talkin’ to. So what you better do is learn to leave well enough alone.” I slammed my book closed. “I don’t have to take this!” I raised up outta my seat and stormed out of the classroom. I already knew that this whore was gon’ call security and then call the office to have me suspended, but whatever. I’d just head to my locker, get my stash and serve my customers at the end of the day.

  “Isis Carter,” came from behind me. I stopped in my tracks and shook my head. I knew it was security. I didn’t even turn around. “I’m going to my locker to get my things and then I’m out. No need to escort me.”

  “Isis Carter. Stop and place your hands behind your back.”

  “What?” I whipped around and there were at least five cops behind me. I started to run, but when I looked toward the stairs, there were more cops standing there.

  My heart dropped to my feet as two cops walked up on me. One of them placed my hands behind my back and said, “You’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. . . .”

  38

  U don’t hear me tho

  Anything you say can and will be used against you. . . . I sat in the police station, cuffed to a metal table, across from two pigs who clearly thought they had the nice-cop/pisse
d-cop routine down to a science. “You may as well tell us the truth.” Officer Nice smiled as he leaned forward in his chair, and his partner stood against the wall and ice grilled me. “I like you.”

  I sucked my teeth. “Yeah, I’m sure you like er’body you arrest.”

  “Not everybody. But I like you. But Detective Johnson over here, not so much.”

  “I don’t like him either, so we even. And you.” I twisted my lips. “I don’t even know yo’ corny ass and you definitely don’t know me.”

  “I know enough to know you’re a good kid. Just made some bad decisions. Your father started a new family and your mother walked off, leaving you pretty much alone. You live with your grandmother, but she’s never really wanted to be bothered with you. And you never really had any guidance, which is why we’re here.”

  Silence.

  He continued, “And all of that is why I wanna help you.”

  More silence.

  “But first, I need you to help me.”

  I looked the narc dead in the eyes. “I don’t care what you need. You could need air to breathe and I wouldn’t even blow on you.”

  “Do you realize the trouble you’re in?” His voice became elevated, stern, and judging by how red his knuckles were when he gripped the edge of the table, he was a few questions away from me getting completely under his skin.

  I shrugged and Officer Pissed jumped in. “Listen. My partner has the patience of Job. I don’t. All I know is that your little friends are talking, especially the little white one. She’s putting it all on you. And who do you think the judge is going to believe? So I suggest you cut the crap and give us some answers.”

  “You just said my friends was talking. Seems to me if y’all asked the right questions, then they’ve already given you the answers you need. So what you sweatin’ me for? You gon’ send me to juvie or not?”

  Pissed Off continued, “We were told this was your operation. Told that you got the drugs from your boyfriend.” He looked over at his partner. “I believe Fresh is his name.”