by Dorian Sykes
Wink kind of nodded to the men on his way inside Hank’s. The men didn’t seem to be paying Wink any mind. He walked to the back cooler and grabbed a two-liter Pepsi, two bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, and some Snickers bars. He knew he and Krazy would have the munchies after smoking the leftover weed they had back at the spot.
There were four chicks standing at the counter, directing one of Hank’s Arab brothers as to which slices of pizza they wanted. Two of them were bucketheads, cool for the late night. But Wink was caught up on the two yellowbones. They looked as if they were sisters or cousins.
Damn, thought Wink as he allowed his eyes to travel up both girls’ gleaming thick legs, resting on their onions.
“You gon’ go?” a guy behind Wink asked.
“What?” asked Wink, snapping out of his trance. “Oh, my bad,” he said, setting the chips and Pepsi on the counter.
“You J-Bo’s li’l man, ain’t you?” asked the man as he watched Wink dig out one of the stacks of money.
“Yeah, that’s my nigga,” said Wink. He wasn’t paying ole boy behind him no never mind. He was too busy flaunting the bankroll, hoping the girls would catch a glimpse of it.
“Yeah, and let me get a pack of Zig-Zags,” he said to ole Hank.
Wink caught the eye of one of the girls. He motioned her over, using the bankroll as bait.
The man who had been standing behind Wink in line was Keon, one of J-Bo’s cohorts. He slipped out of the store and walked over to the pay phone. He put a quarter into the slot and dialed seven quick digits, then turned to face the entrance of the store.
“Come on, pick up,” he said as he tapped his foot a thousand miles per second.
“Hello,” answered J-Bo.
“Bo, it’s me, Keon.”
“What’s the business?”
“I’m up here at Hank’s, and ya worker is up here flossin’ with all yo’ money on him.”
“Word,” said J-Bo. He became furious.
“Yeah, what you want me to do?”
“The only thing to do. Teach his ass a lesson. But don’t hurt him,” ordered J-Bo.
“I got you. Here he comes now.” Click.
Wink came walking out the store with the four girls in tow. Zeta, the one he pulled, was on his side. She was all smiles as she jotted her number down on a lottery ticket.
“When you gon’ call me?” asked Zeta as the group stopped in front of the parking lot. Her sister and two butt-ugly friends were standing a few feet back, snickering like little schoolgirls.
“I’ma hit you up tonight. We can set something up for tomorrow,” said Wink.
“Okay,” gushed Zeta. She turned on her heels and purposely threw her thick ass as she walked away.
Wink was already making plans on how he’d get up in that young pussy, then maybe her sister, too, if he was lucky. Wink daydreamed on his way through the parking lot. That was the kind of respect he knew he deserved and was worthy of receiving.
“It’s all about the money,” he told himself.
Wink set the bag of munchies on the roof of the car, then opened the door. Before he could reach for the bag and get in, an empty forty-ounce of Old English shattered across the back of his head, sending him straight to the ground. He was dazed but came to when he felt hands probing his body.
“Get the fuck off me!” yelled Wink. He lay on his back with his feet propped up, ready to kick the two men like a wild horse if necessary.
“You wanna kick, huh?” asked Keon. He pulled out a chrome .45 with a pearl-white handle. He pointed it down at Wink’s face. “You ready to die, young nigga?” he asked.
“Nah, man,” Wink answered. He lowered his legs in defeat. His throat was dry, and his lips became instantly chapped. “Don’t kill me, man. Please.”
“Get that up off him,” Keon ordered his cohort.
This cock-diesel, shitty-black nigga bent down and snatched both stacks of money and handed them to Keon.
“Now close your eyes,” ordered Keon.
“Please don’t kill me,” pleaded Wink. He was so scared he nearly shitted himself.
“Nigga, close your eyes!” yelled Keon as he cocked the hammer back on his .45.
Wink closed his eyes and sparked a conversation with God. He hadn’t called on the Lord all his life, never went to church, now all of a sudden, some nigga standing over him about to cancel Christmas, and he wanted to call on God.
That day, God must have been listening, because when Wink opened his eyes, he was still alive. He scanned the parking lot, and it was empty. He hurriedly rolled onto his knees and stood up. Pain shot through his entire body, starting at his head where the bottle had struck him. He patted the back of his head, then looked at his hand, covered with blood.
Just like a nigga, Wink forgot to thank God, the one who saved his life. He jumped in the Escort and spun out the lot. He shifted gears like he was part of the Daytona 500 and made two sharp turns, reaching Linwood Ave. Wink pulled up at the spot and jumped out of the car, leaving the engine running. He climbed the porch four steps at a time, ignoring the begging crackheads. Wink busted through the door of the spot, startling Krazy from what he was doing. He was butt-ass naked on the floor with Amy and her friend. Krazy was in mid-stroke, fucking Amy from the back while she ate her best friend’s pussy. And that’s exactly what the spot smelled like—beat-up pussy.
“Fuck happen to you?” asked Krazy as he slid out of Amy’s pussy. He stood up and put his boxers on, then walked over to the fireplace mirror, where Wink stood nursing his wound and picking glass out of his scalp. “What happened, my nigga?” asked Krazy.
“Some niggas just got out on me up at the liquor store. They took all the money too,” said Wink, turning to face Krazy.
“What?” yelled Krazy. He quickly got dressed, all the while talking shit. This was what Krazy lived for—drama.
“Where them bitch niggas at? We gon’ go through there and lay all they ass down.”
“They’re long gone. Forget that, Krazy.”
“Forget about it? Fuck that! We can’t let that shit ride. It’s the principle. We gon’ go find them pussies and give ’em the business,” said Krazy.
“We don’t even have a gun, Krazy. They do. A big chrome gun.”
“Shit, we can ride to the hood, and I’ll snatch my grandfather’s twelve-gauge.”
“We’ll see them again. I need to worry about how I’ma explain this shit to J-Bo.”
As soon as Wink said that, J-Bo came walking through the door. Wink’s stomach dropped, and his heart started beating a hundred miles per second.
“What the hell is that smell?” asked J-Bo as he bent the corner into the living room. “It smells like booty, dick, and pussy up in here.” J-Bo stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Amy and her friend, lying across the carpet, ass naked and smoking crack.
“What’s this?” J-Bo waved his hand at the two snow bunnies while looking at Wink.
“They, uh...” stuttered Wink.
“They spending some money, or are y’all up in here trickin’ off?” asked J-Bo. From the strong stench of pussy, he already knew the answer. He handed the two women their clothes and politely sent them on their way.
“J-Bo, I can explain, man,” Wink said as the two women left.
“Ain’t no need to explain. Let’s just not let it happen again. I keep tellin’ y’all this is a place of business, not a chill spot. Now, let’s count that money.” J-Bo walked into the living room and took a seat on the sofa.
Krazy handed J-Bo the seven hundred dollars he had made while Wink was gone.
“Okay, where’s the rest of it?” asked J-Bo.
Wink took a deep breath, then looked up at the ceiling.
“Just tell ’im,” said Krazy.
“Tell me what?” asked J-Bo.
Wink gulped, then told J-Bo what had happened in the parking lot. Silence lingered between them for a few moments. Wink couldn’t tell whether J-Bo was mad, because his face showed nothin
g.
“What does that have to do with my ends? I’m sure that I told you to always separate mine’s from yours. So, what you tellin’ me? You had mine’s with yours?” asked J-Bo.
“I went home to change clothes and forgot that I had the money on me,” said Wink.
“But that’s not what I told you. Now you sittin’ here givin’ me a sob story about how some niggas robbed you.”
Wink just stood there with the shit face while J-Bo continued to scold his ass. “You’s a spot worker. You don’t do shit like that. You was probably flashin’ all my money in the store, and some niggas laid on you.”
“The dude did say he knew you,” said Wink.
“That could be anybody. The whole city knows who I am. But that’s not my concern. I’m concerned with my ends. Ole boy didn’t rob me. He robbed you.”
“J-Bo, man, I’ll make it up. Just give me another chance,” pleaded Wink.
“You damn right you gon’ make it up, and it can never happen again, ’cause then I’ma feel like you playing on me.”
“It won’t happen again. I’ll die first before I get caught slipppin’ again.”
“You owe me thirty-three hundred still. I’ma deduct the grand you would have been gettin’ tomorrow, so you owe me twenty-three hundred,” said J-Bo.
“What?” snapped Krazy. “Some niggas robbed my man, and you want us to work that shit?”
“I keep tellin’ y’all this is a business. I gave y’all clear instructions. You didn’t follow them, so now you owe up. It’s the game,” said J-Bo.
“Just say when,” said Wink.
“I’ll be through tomorrow around two. Be ready.” J-Bo stood up and walked around the table into the kitchen.
Wink was at his heels. He held the door open for J-Bo. “I was gon’ ask you if I could bring my other niggas with me,” said Wink.
“The more, the better. But I’m holding you responsible for any losses,” said J-Bo. “A’int gon’ be no more losses.” J-Bo pulled back a smile, then said, “Young dawg, in this game, there’s always gon’ be losses. You just gotta hope your losses don’t outweigh your wins. Tomorrow,” He said, then turned to leave.
Wink watched as J-Bo’s head got small. That was his first lesson of the game. Many more were sure to follow.
Chapter Five
“This like some gay shit for real. I don’t think I can do it,” said Trey. He set the cucumber-size baggie on the bathroom sink. He and Wink were locked in the bathroom at the spot.
“Y’all hurry up in there! We gotta be hittin’ the road!” yelled Gator.
“My nigga, they all waitin’ on us. It ain’t no gay shit. It’s some money shit,” said Wink as he pulled the shower curtain back and stepped out the tub. He stepped over to the sink and washed the lotion off his hands.
“It didn’t hurt?” asked Trey. He was talking about the four and a half ounces of cocaine Wink had just boofed up his asshole.
“Nah, that’s what the lotion is for. It just feels like you gotta shit, that’s all. Hurry up and get that shit missin’ so we can be out,” said Wink.
Trey picked up the log of cocaine and smeared lotion all over it. “Here goes,” he said, climbing into the shower.
“I’ll be out front,” said Wink as he opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the living room, where Willie, Gator, and Krazy sat.
“You get it up all right?” asked Gator.
“Yeah, but I don’t know how long it’s going to stay put,” said Wink.
“What about what’s-his-face?” asked Gator.
Trey came walking in the living room, looking like he just got off a bull. Krazy and Willie were in tears, laughing.
“Fuck both you niggas. Next go ’round it’s y’all turn,” said Trey. His asshole and manhood felt a little violated. But to Wink, it was all about the come up. J-Bo always had his workers boof the coke when hitting the highway. A police dog can’t sniff the inside of a man’s ass, was J-Bo’s logic, and so far, it had been working.
* * *
J-Bo had rented a conversion van for the trip, and he paid Gator a nice little something in crack to make the trip. He had been working with J-Bo for a few years now and knew just what to expect at every turn. J-Bo was a real calculated nigga, always plotting and thinking. He made it to the level in the game that he was on because he understood that most niggas, you have to think for them as well. Otherwise, they’d grow a brain and fuck everything up in the process.
Today was no different. J-Bo had everything already mapped out. He was the coach, drawing all the plays. All Wink and the rest of them had to do was follow the play.
“Man, we been drivin’ for hours. Where the fuck is we going, and when is we gon’ get there?” Krazy asked from the back seat of the van.
“J-Bo told me not to tell y’all. He says it’s not important,” Gator answered, looking in the rearview for a second. He gripped the wheel with both hands and sat up in his seat with his back arched perfectly.
Wink rode shotgun, despite Gator’s instructions to sit in the back with the rest of them. Wink was watching the signs on the highway. He wanted to know exactly where they were headed. He leaned forward in his seat as he squinted at the sign ahead.
WELCOME TO DAVENPORT, the sign read.
Gator reached across the seat and put his arm on Wink’s chest. “Sit back,” he said, then nodded at two state troopers sitting in the cut just yards ahead.
Gator looked in his side mirror as soon as he passed the two cruisers, and sure enough, they pulled behind him.
“Listen up!” Gator announced as he turned off the radio. “Don’t look back for nothin’ in the world, but we got two Ohio state troopers tailing us. If they flick us, everybody knows what to say. Don’t add nothin’, and don’t take nothin’.”
No sooner than Gator had finished his spiel, both squad cars hit their lights. One of the crackers got on the intercom “Pull it over!” he ordered.
Gator eased the van over to the shoulder. One cruiser boxed them in at the front, while the other one sealed off the back.
“Whatever y’all do, don’t panic,” whispered Gator as he looked in his side mirrors. The troopers were approaching on both sides.
Gator cracked his window a smidge and tried speaking in his white voice. “What seems to be the problem, officer?”
“License and registration,” said the trooper standing on the driver’s side. His tone said it all: What are you niggers doing in Davenport?
“Here you go,” said Gator as he passed his credentials out the window.
Wink was nervous as shit. His stomach was tossing and turning, and the brick of coke packed in his ass wasn’t helping matters any. The second trooper stood at the passenger-side window at an angle, with his hands on his pistol. He peered into the van at Wink, then at Krazy, Willie, and Trey in the back seat. The trooper kept a watchful eye on the group while his partner went back to his cruiser to run Gator’s information.
“We going to jail,” whispered Willie.
“Ain’t nobody going nowhere long as we play it cool,” Gator said through clenched teeth. His grill was so fucked up, it was hard to tell if he was talking or not. He looked in the side mirror at the trooper as he walked back up to the van.
“Where are you headed?” asked the trooper as he passed Gator his information back through the window.
“Cedar Point Amusement Park,” said Gator.
“And who are these men you got with you?”
“They’re not men. This here’s my son.” Gator pointed at Wink. “And those are his friends in the back.”
“You know we don’t take kindly to you people coming through Davenport. There’s been a lot of you runnin’ drugs in and out.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but that’s not why we’re out here,” said Gator. He looked in his side mirror only to spot what he’d already suspected. The trooper had stalled him out long enough for a K-9 unit to arrive.
“You mind if we take a look
around?” asked the first trooper.
Gator was a seasoned vet in the game. He knew that it was all a play on words. When the trooper asked if he minded, that meant consent—and Gator wasn’t about to consent to anything.
“Yeah, I mind. What’s the cause?”
“You runnin’ drugs.”
“Am I under arrest?” asked Gator.
“Not yet. But when—”
“You’re not going to find anything, because I’m not moving anything. Unless I’m under arrest, I am going to be on my way,” snapped Gator.
The K-9 unit officer had walked his dog around the van three times as slowly as he could. He stopped in front of the van and made eye contact with the trooper who had been talking to Gator. He shook his head no. The trooper turned beet red because he had to let them go when his gut told him they were drug runners.
“I suggest you get going, boy. And I don’t want to see your smart ass out here drivin’ these roads again.” The trooper slapped the hood of the van.
Gator had already started the engine. He pulled the shift down to drive and peeled away from the shoulder, kicking up a dust cloud in those honkies’ faces.
Wink had to crack the window to let out the smell of his nervous fart. He just knew they were on their way to jail. Trey was in the back seat, thinking the same exact thing, and Why did I let this nigga talk me into this shit?
Willie turned around and peeked out the back-window curtain to see the distance between them and the troopers. “You handled they cracker-dog asses, O.G,” he said, turning back in his seat.
“Yeah, I thought we was gon’ have to beat they ass and get little on foot,” said Krazy.
Gator looked in the mirror at the bunch and decided to give them all some game, for they had earned it by not panicking. He said, “See, the first thing you gotta know when you ridin’ dirty is what these pigs can and can’t do. If all your paperwork is legit and you’re not smoking or drinkin’, then they can’t search you unless you let them. So, always have your shit together. And no matter what they say, never get out the car. Make ’em drag you out if they want to search that bad. That way, even if they do find something, you’ll beat the charge on illegal search and seizure.”