The Good Life

by Dorian Sykes

  “Let this hotel die down, though. We don’t need you sittin’ in jail too, my nigga,” Wink said.

  Willie gave Wink and Trey a hug. “I’ma miss y’all niggas. I’ll be home in a minute.”

  “We’ll be waitin’ on you when you get back,” Trey said.

  They hit rocks one last time, then Wink opened the door and walked out the room.

  “Call a nigga, Cram.” Trey laughed as he closed the door.

  Ball drove Wink and Trey to the McCall International Airport. He pulled the silver bullet around to the valet and parked. Wink reached over and gave Ball a play.

  “We ’bouts to get this money, big baby, so I hope you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready whenever you get settled.”

  “Yeah, and we gon’ get you outta this In the Heat of the Night jump-off. Get you in some new shit,” Trey said.

  “I left Willie with something. That should hold y’all until I can put something together,” said Wink as he reached for the door handle. “I’ma call you,” he said, closing the door.

  Trey fell in step with Wink as they entered the terminal. “My nigga, we might as well get used to walking through airports, ’cause we gon’ be doin’ a lot of traveling when this money starts rolling in,” said Wink as they approached the counter.

  “Stewart. I should have three tickets to Detroit,” Wink told the clerk.

  “Yes, here you are.” The white woman handed Wink three tickets to Detroit. Gary had booked their flights the day before. He didn’t want Wink riding that Greyhound anymore.

  “I got one question,” said Trey.

  “And what’s that, my nigga?”

  “What are we going to do once we get back to Detroit? I mean, just because we got some money, where we gon’ hustle at?”

  “That’s all I’ve been thinking about. You know, me and J-Bo still got some unfinished business.”

  Wink led the way through the terminal and onto their plane. A petite, short-haired black woman showed them to their seats in coach. “If you guys need anything, let me or one of the other flight attendants know, and we’ll get it for you,” said the woman from the aisle.

  “Are all the attendants as pretty as you?” asked Trey.

  The woman smiled. “Thank you, but you’ll have to be the judge of that. You guys buckle up and enjoy your flight.”

  Trey watched from the aisle seat as the woman gracefully swished away. The tight-fitting black skirt emphasized every curve down to her shapely legs.

  “Did you see those?” Trey turned to Wink. “I gotta start gettin’ me some old pussy. That’s probably some of the best pussy, ’cause it ain’t being hit like that. What you think?” Trey had locked eyes on the woman as she stood at the front of the plane, talking to some passengers. “You hear what I said?”

  “Huh?” Wink was lost in his world of thoughts. He stared out the window into the horizon.

  “That’s crazy. You ain’t heard nothin’ I done said. You over there in la-la land, missing all this pussy squishing around here.” Trey flagged down a thick white brunette as she passed down the aisle.

  “Uh, yes, can you please help me with this seat belt? I’m having trouble tightening it.”

  The woman leaned over Trey’s lap and pulled on the strap. Trey smiled at her breasts, then at her after she finished. “Thank you.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, we can start with your number, Sue,” Trey said, reading from her nametag. “I’m Trey.”

  “Maybe before you get off. Enjoy your flight.”

  Trey nudged Wink. “I got one.” He could already see himself lost between the thickness of her thighs.

  Trey was having himself a good ole time, while Wink plotted on how they were going to get that money when they got back to Detroit. Trey’s question lingered in Wink’s mind. Where would they set up shop? Niggas in the city were playing for keeps.

  I guess that’s what we’re gonna have to start doing too, Wink told himself, then closed his eyes.

  When Wink woke up, the plane was touching down at the Detroit City Airport on Gratiot Ave. He sat up in his seat and looked out the window as the plane raced down the runway, coming to a screeching stop. He pulled back a smile, knowing that they were back on familiar ground. The plane did a lap around the tarmac, then hooked up to the terminal.

  Trey was in Sue’s ass like the IRS about her math. He cornered her in the back by the coffeemakers. “Here, write your number down,” he said, taking a pen from her shirt pocket.

  Sue blushed from his persistence and the way he was handling her. Trey wasn’t taking no for an answer. Sue scribbled her number down on a napkin, then handed it to Trey.

  “Where’s this?” Trey asked, not recognizing the area code.

  “Dallas.”

  “Texas?”

  “One and only. Call me,” said Sue as she walked past Trey.

  “There you go. Come on, nigga. We got shit to handle,” Wink said after finding Trey in the back of the plane.

  “Don’t hate me ’cause yo’ dick on strike.” Trey followed Wink off the plane. He had never been to Texas, but for a piece of that ass, he’d travel to hell and back.

  Wink power-walked through the terminal, while Trey scanned for potential booty calls.

  “Damn, nigga, wait the fuck up,” he said, realizing Wink was no longer inside the terminal. He caught up with him outside the double door, getting in the back of a black Lincoln Town Car. Trey slid in beside him. “Damn. What, we too good to take a cab now?”

  “I keep tellin’ you we rich now. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. Driver, can you please take us to Zeidman’s off Gratiot?” said Wink.

  “Hello, can I speak to Sharon?” Trey had picked up the car phone between them. He wasn’t wasting no time in letting people know they were back and that it was on for the night.

  Wink let him have his fun. He gazed out the window while clutching the pawn receipt and the twenty-five hundred it was going to take to get the bracelet back. “Pull over right here,” he instructed the older black man. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Hold on. You want me to come in with you?”

  “Nah, finish setting things up for the night.” Wink climbed out the Lincoln and entered Zeidman’s. There wasn’t much of a crowd. Only two people stood in line ahead of Wink.

  When he reached the window, the same Arab who pawned the bracelet stared him in his face. Wink could tell by the look in the man’s eyes that he wasn’t pleased to see him, especially if he was there for his bracelet. The actual value of it still, after nearly twenty years, was eighteen thousand dollars.

  “I’m here to get my bracelet out of pawn.” Wink pushed the receipt through the slot.

  “You have the money along with the interest?” the man asked with a hint of an attitude.

  Winked pushed the twenty-five hundred through the slot and watched the man briskly count the bills. He looked up from the money and disappeared into the back. His funny-lookin’ ass was taking too long back there.

  Shit. It didn’t take this long to pawn my shit, thought Wink, as he started to get impatient. He dinged the silver bell a few times. Funky mothafucka probably back there switching the diamonds.

  A few minutes later, the man appeared with a manila envelope in his hand. He broke the seal in front of Wink, then slid the bracelet through the slot. Wink inspected the diamonds, then nodded at the man as he slid the bracelet onto his wrist. The diamonds sparkled under the lights, and Wink pulled back a closed smile. He left out Zeidman’s feeling a great deal of relief, having the bracelet back in his possession. He wondered what-all his dad went through to afford the thing. For Wink, it represented his platform, his means to coming up in the game. And for that, he would never part with the bracelet until death.

  “You just bought that?” asked Trey. His mouth was draped to the floor as he turned Wink’s wrist.

  “Nah, it belonged to my... to my dad. I pawned it so we could get on. Now that we’re in the gam
e, it’s time to put this boy up.”

  “This shit is fly. It’s a little old, but it still looks like money. When we get straight, I wanna have one made,” said Trey.

  “We all can get something done up. Just give it some time. We gon’ have the world.”

  Wink had the driver drop Trey off at home first. He promised they’d hook up later and go downtown to mess with the girls on Belle Isle. It was the last week of summer, and Trey wanted to make it memorable.

  “I’ma call you in a couple hours. Be ready,” Trey said as he climbed out the car.

  “I’ll be at the crib,” said Wink. He watched Trey to the door, then instructed the driver to pull off.

  Wink sank into the plush black leather seat and gave the old man directions. Wink watched the happenings of his hood from behind the tinted windows of the Lincoln. He envisioned himself taking over all the crack houses and eventually, the city. He knew what he had to do in order for that to become a reality.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Gary had everything in order when Wink got home. He handed him all his money, not a dollar short except for the six ounces he sent him. Wink spread all the money across his bed and just looked at it. Almost every dollar down to the cent was going toward something. The first priority was finishing up Krazy’s legal fees. Second, Wink was going to buy his first kilo. Gary told him that he could get it for an even twenty thousand. The rest he promised to split with Trey and Willie.

  Wink heard his mom climbing the steps to his room. He rushed over to the bed and tried to hurry up and put the blanket over the money.

  “Wayne, are you up here?”

  “Yeah, Ma.” Wink rushed over to the door to try to block his mom, but she pushed past him. She searched the room with her eyes. Wink nervously stood behind her, hoping she wouldn’t move the blanket. She turned to face Wink.

  “When you come in this house, you make sure you at least say hello to your mother.”

  “I’m sorry, Ma,” Wink said. He kissed Hope on the forehead.

  Her eyes turned to his bed. She pushed away from Wink and snatched the blanket off the bed.

  “Oh my God. Wayne! Where did you get all this money from?”

  “Ma, calm down.”

  “Don’t you tell me to calm down. Wayne, who’s going to come lookin’ for this money?”

  Wink walked over to his mom and put his arm around her. “Ma, it’s mine. Nobody’s going to come lookin’ for it, me, or nobody else. It’s mine. I swear.”

  Hope crossed her arms and shook her head, then looked down at the bed. She reached down and moved a stack of bills. The clip from Wink’s dad’s bracelet was sticking out.

  “Where’d you get this from?” She recognized the bracelet immediately.

  “I gave it to him,” Gary said from the door. He walked in the room and took the bracelet from Hope and handed it back to Wink. “It belonged to his father, so it’s in the rightful hands. Come on, Hope,” said Gary, wrapping her into his arms and starting for the door. Gary looked over his shoulder at Wink like, I’ll take care of her.

  Wink paced the floor. He was kind of glad his mom had seen the money, because now it was all out in the open. There wasn’t any question as to what he was out there in those streets doing. But still, Wink felt some type of way about having to answer to his mom. He was a grown man and didn’t need to answer to no one. Wink looked at the money and added one more plan to his list of things to do. He had to get his own space, and soon.

  Gary came back upstairs after seeing Hope off to work. He walked over and took a seat on the bed and crossed his long, skinny legs.

  “What she say?” asked Wink.

  “She’ll be all right. But that doesn’t mean she won’t worry. That’s your mom, so she going to do that.”

  “I think that it’ll be best if I got my own li’l apartment or something. That way, she won’t have to see me doing what I’m doing.”

  “I was going to say something to you about that, but it’s good to see you’re already thinking ahead. I mean, yeah. I think that’s a good move, ’cause you don’t want to have that stuff around your mom. Even when you get your own spot, you still don’t want to have no whole bunch of money laying around, and you definitely don’t want to have no drugs where you lay your head at.”

  Wink nodded at this. He hadn’t thought that far.

  “But that’s why I’m here to show everything you need to know.”

  “So, can you help me get an apartment?”

  “Sure, I can do that. You ready to go meet my partner?” Gary stood up and started for the door.

  “Yeah, just let me put this away. I’ll be down in a minute,” said Wink. He gathered up all the money with the exception of the twenty thousand he was taking with him. Gary was going to introduce Wink directly to the man himself so they could do business in the future without having to use Gary as the middleman. Wink couldn’t believe he was already going to meet his connect. He thought Gary would be dealing with him for a while until Wink proved himself. Gary was a realer nigga than Wink ever gave him credit for.

  Wink stashed everything, then scanned the room one last time before hitting the light and leaving out. Gary was waiting in his pearl-white Caddy at the curb. Wink climbed in the passenger seat and kicked back. Gary pulled the neck shift down to drive.

  “You know, outta all these years, this is the first time I’ve rode in your car,” said Wink.

  “You can get it any time. I got a few other toys you might like as well,” said Gary as he laid the pedal down and opened the boat up.

  Gary drove deep on the west side, taking 7 Mile Road the entire drive. He pulled into the parking lot of an Ace Hardware store across the Southfield Expressway.

  “Come on,” he said as he got out the car.

  Wink didn’t want to be making a pit stop at a hardware store. He was too eager to be making his connect. If Gary needed to do some handyman shit, he could have done it some other time. Now was the time for gettin’ that cheese.

  “You doing some home repair?” Wink asked.

  Gary said nothing and walked to the entrance. Wink fell in step with Gary. They entered the store.

  “Who’s this you got with you?” a wide-body black man behind the counter asked Gary.

  “This is my... my son, Wink. This is Mr. Fatts.” Gary stepped aside so that Wink could shake Mr. Fatts’ hand.

  “Wink, huh? Why they call you Wink?” When he talked, it sounded like he was on a respirator. He sounded like he was always out of breath, and his tongue protruded from his fat face.

  “Just a name my friends call me.”

  “So, you’re the one Gary’s been tellin’ me about. What a young man like yourself doin’ in the streets? You look like you should be in somebody’s college.”

  “Looks are deceiving.” Wink shrugged.

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Mr. Fatts laughed. “Y’all come on around back.”

  Wink followed Gary around the counter and into the back room. Fatts stood at the refrigerator, pulling brown bricks from the shelves. He grabbed the one he was looking for, then carried it over to a workbench where Gary and Wink stood. Wink’s eyes widened. This was Gary’s man. They weren’t there to buy hardware; they were there to buy coke.

  “You know what you’re buying here?” asked Fatts as he set the brick on the bench.

  “A kilo,” said Wink.

  Fatts laughed. He looked up at Gary and said, “I assume you’re going to lace him so that he knows the difference between flake and something some nigga done smashed with ten toes.”

  “I’ma give ’im the game. When I get done with him, he’s gon’ be the coldest young nigga in all of Detroit.” Gary smiled at Wink.

  “You see that?” Fatts busted the kilo down the middle with a knife and pulled up a chunk of powder. “You see all the oils and flakes. If it ain’t like that, then you don’t want it.”

  Wink nodded as if he understood, but he had no clue what Fatts was talking about. It l
ooked like regular cocaine to Wink. He watched as Fatts stuck the chunk back in its place, then wrapped tape around the brick. Gary nodded at Wink for him to pay Fatts.

  “Oh.” Wink understood the look and dug in his drawers. He handed Fatts the rubber bands and watched his stubby little fingers fan through the bills.

  “There you go.” Fatts nodded to the kilo. “You can come see me anytime, but just make sure it’s by yourself.”

  “I got you,” Wink said. He cradled his first kilo in the game as if it were his first born child.

  Gary handed him a brown Ace Hardware bag to put the key in. “A’ight, Fatts, I’ma get going. I’ll call you later.”

  “Y’all be easy,” Fatts said.

  Wink tailed Gary out the store and climbed in the Caddy. Gary leaned over and opened the glove box. He did something with the windshield wiper controls and pumped the brake, then the inside of the glove box fell down. Gary took the key and stuffed it inside the secret compartment, then closed up the box and locked it.

  “Where you get that done at?” asked Wink.

  “I got a few partners who own collision shops. When you get some wheels, I’ll have one put in your car.”

  Wink sat back and thought about how much game ole Gary had. If Gary had never said anything to him, Wink would have continued thinking he was just a bum living off his mom. Wink was grateful that Gary had stepped up.

  When they got back home, Gary showed Wink one last trick in the kitchen. He showed him how to stretch coke into more coke and how to whip crack. As good as the coke they just copped off Fatts was, Wink could turn that one kilo into one and a half kilos easy. Gary showed him step by step and gave him the cuts he’d need in the future. When they finished, Wink was staring fifty-six ounces of crack in the face. He was awestruck watching Gary do his thing.

  “One more thing. I need you to show me how you packaged that box up you sent me. I want to send one of my partners something.”

  “Wink, all this game I’m giving you, I don’t want you teaching no one. This is for you and you only. Hear me?”

  “I hear you.” Wink hadn’t planned on showing anyone anyway. If he was going to be top dog, he needed to be the one everyone relied on. His crew would have to pay for the game he was learning.