Smitty would take Sweets out of town to gay underground clubs, where they would partake in all types of sexual acts. Looking at Smitty, one wouldn’t know that he was gay, and even in his own eyes, he wasn’t. He was married and had a family, which is how he justified his sexuality. “Gay men don’t have wives and kids,” he told himself. And anyone who ever said otherwise always came up missing.
Smitty was a killer, and hustling was second nature to him. He groomed Sweets into the young hustler that he was today. He once told Sweets, “You don’t have to be a straight man to be a gangster. That’s something that’s just in you. Either you got it, or you don’t. Either you built for the streets, or you ain’t, simple as that. Don’t hide who you are, Sweet Tooth.”
Smitty was the one who had nicknamed Sweets in the first place, initially calling him Sweet Tooth. Sweets shortened the name himself.
“Do you, and stay true to yourself,” Smitty told his young prodigy. “You blast on any nigga who got something to say about it. I’ve lived a double life for so long that I don’t know which life is real. Don’t be like me. Don’t let another man’s judgment dictate how you want to live your life.”
Once Smitty uttered those words, Sweets ran with them. He came out of the closet, and any dude that talked that slick shit or tried to test him because of his sexual preference found himself six feet underneath the earth. And if Jamaica Joe think he’s any different, Sweets thought, I’ll put the steel to his dome.
Jamaica Joe called a meeting for all his workers and block lieutenants. He wanted to discuss the recent events with Sweets’ crew and the beef that seemed to have taken itself to a whole ’nother level. Malek and Tariq, his two most trusted soldiers, stood next to him as he addressed the roomful of hustlers.
How does this young nigga get to stand armored guard at the front of the table? I been putting in work for years and I just got to the front, ol’ pretty-boy mu’fucka, Tariq thought. I see this nigga is going to be a problem. I should be running the Fifth Ward block, not this li’l nigga. Tariq discreetly gave Malek cold stares. He hated the way that Joe took Malek under his wing so quickly.
Honestly, Tariq wished that he and Joe had the same relationship that Malek had with him. Jamaica Joe knew that Malek was a kingpin in the making. Joe would always say, “You don’t learn to be a hustla. Hustlas are born.” True indeed, Malek was just that, a born hustla.
“We just gon’ fall back for a minute,” Joe said, sitting at the head of the long red oak table.
One of the hustlers from Selby stood and said, “Why haven’t we clapped back yet? Sweets over there feeling good about that caper he pulled. We’ve already been laying low for two weeks now. Let’s get at that nigga.”
“We want him to start feeling himself. I’m playing mental chess with that nigga,” Joe replied. “You have to know when to strike and when to fall back. Once he start thinking that everything is all good, then we get at his ass. Smell me? Sweets is over there thinking that I’m just going to chalk it up as a loss, but I got tricks for that nigga.” Joe clenched his fist. “Just when he thinks shit is sweet, we gon’ swoop on ’em.” Joe tried to speak calmly, but they could hear the anxiousness in his voice.
Malek just stood back and listened. He had been reaping the rewards of being down with Jamaica Joe’s empire. Now it was time for him to prove himself and put in some real work. He never expected to be a street dude. Yeah, he was born and raised in the toughest hood in America, but he was always focusing on basketball. While his friends and teammates were falling victim to the allure of the streets, he knew that b-ball was his ticket out of the hood, so he did everything not to jeopardize it.
He had it all mapped out. He was positive that he would be drafted into the league, so he found a chick that was down for him early on in his high school career. Halleigh had been digging Malek way back in middle school, before there was even the thought of the NBA, which was why he chose her to be his girl. He didn’t want some gold-diggin’ chick to come along when he got rich; although since he and Halleigh never officially got together until tenth grade in high school, that’s exactly what his mother thought she was.
What other people thought, including his mother, didn’t change the way Malek felt about Halleigh, though. He wanted a “down chick” that he could spend his life with, and thought he’d found that in Halleigh. He’d planned on marrying her right after the draft, but life happened and interrupted all of his plans. Now instead of doing what he loved and making millions for it, he was doing what so many other dudes in Flint had died trying to do: achieve the American dream. Malek had moved up the ranks so quickly, he’d made mad enemies within his own camp already, some of whom he didn’t even know about.
Joe pulled out his gun and laid it on the table. “Y’all ready to bring the heat to this mu’fucka?”
Malek nodded.
Tariq replied, “No doubt. That’s what I do best.”
Everyone in the room was in agreement, and the tension could be felt in the air.
“Good,” Joe stated, “because blood is about to flow. Anybody who is caught associating with a South Side mu’fucka can get it. I don’t care if the mu’fucka is your uncle, your cousin, or your gotdamn daddy. Niggas gon’ have to choose. Either you South Side or North Side. I got to show this nigga who he fuckin’ with . . . and soon.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I’ll be back, Tash,” Halleigh announced as she walked into Tasha’s hotel room. “I’m about to run to the store. You want me to pick up some more condoms?”
Tasha, on the phone setting up a meeting for one of Mimi’s johns, put her finger up to signal for Halleigh to hold on. “I told you we don’t do that pissing shit,” Tasha stated into the phone, a disgusted look on her face.
After a few seconds, she said, “All right, she’s in room eight-ten. And we don’t carry change, so have your shit correct.” She hung up the phone and turned toward Halleigh. “Them white mu’fuckas be on some freaky-ass shit.” She laughed.
“Hell yeah.” Halleigh giggled. She’d had her share of them, but if she knew Mimi, for an extra twenty spot, she was about to be drinking a full glass of water and then releasing it on her next john.
Tasha looked at Halleigh and noticed that her appearance still continued to deteriorate as each day passed. She looked tired and run-down, her eyes were red as if she hadn’t slept in weeks, and her skin had lost its healthy, youthful glow.
Tasha reached into the nightstand near the bed and pulled out a ten dollar bill. “You been ripping and running to the store a lot lately. What? You trying to avoid making this money here? You know if you need a break, all you got to do is tell me. I’ll find a way to cover for you with Manolo. I’d rather you take a break and get your shit together than get to the point where you can’t make no money at all. Trust me, you don’t want to see that day.”
Halleigh yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Nah, I’m good, Tasha,” she said, lying to Tasha and herself. “I don’t even give a fuck anymore, you know. Once you’ve fucked one, you’ve fucked ’em all. I’ve accepted the fact that this is my life. Like you said, there is no way out. Besides, the same predicament that landed me here in the first place is the one that’s keeping me here. I ain’t got no other place to go.”
Tasha frowned. She’d never heard Halleigh talk like that, and she was genuinely concerned. “Hal, girl, are you okay?” She had grown to care for her and Mimi as if they were her little sisters. Those were the only two Manolo Mamis she ever fraternized with.
“Like I said, I’m good.” Halleigh held the door open and waited for Tasha’s response. “Anyway, do you need something from the store?”
Tasha extended her hand with the ten dollar bill in it. “Yeah, bring me back some condoms and a bag of hot Cheetos.”
Halleigh took the money and put it in her pocket. She hurried through the hallway and caught the elevator down to the lobby. She was almost running, she was so eager to get to her destination.
She m
ade her way to the alley up the street, where her new best friend was waiting for her.
“Hey, Li’l Rina.” Scratch knew that Halleigh would be coming. She always visited him around the same time, and he always had the drug waiting for her. He pulled open the top flap on his cardboard box and offered her a seat in his very humble abode.
She watched eagerly as he pumped poison into his arms. “Hurry up, Scratch,” she whined.
He closed his eyes as the drug took him to a state of pure bliss.
“Come on, quit hogging it.” Halleigh scratched her forearm. She attempted to snatch the belt and needle from him.
“Come on now, Li’l Rina,” Scratch said, pulling away. “I done told you that this ain’t for you.” Scratch repeated the same line he always repeated to Halleigh before he’d give in. “You too good for this. Look at yourself:” He pointed to her. “You got your whole life ahead of you.” Scratch was feeling guilty that he’d introduced her to the deadly habit, even though he saw to it that she got it on a regular, taking the cliché “misery loves company” to a whole new level.
“Look at you!” Halleigh snapped back. “You out here doing the same thing, so don’t try to give me the you-better-than-this speech! Don’t judge me. I’m tired of hearing that shit, Scratch. You need to live right yourself.” She grabbed the belt violently from him.
“I’m an old man. My life is almost over anyway. I’ve lived, you haven’t. You can still beat this.”
Halleigh didn’t even let her brain absorb the words. She disregarded him as she always did, grabbed the needle, and put it into her arm. Scratch shook his head, knowing she was going to do what she wanted to do, so he shut up about it before he blew his high arguing with her.
A few minutes later, Halleigh was so gone off her high, she forgot that she was supposed to be back at the hotel. She had messed around and stayed in the alley with Scratch for more than an hour.
Once the high began to wear down some, she came to her senses. “Gotta go, Scratch,” she said quickly as she kissed Scratch on the cheek and then stood up. He was in the middle of a lean and didn’t respond.
Halleigh jumped up and walked quickly back to the hotel. She ran into Tasha’s room and announced, “I’m back,” like she’d only been gone a hot second.
“Damn, Hal! It took your ass almost two hours to hit the corner store?” Tasha asked in irritation. She had girls who couldn’t take johns because she didn’t have any condoms, so waiting on Halleigh to return had her missing money.
“The store on this street was closed. I had to go all out the way to find the next one.”
Tasha held her hand out to Halleigh. “Well, where the condoms at?”
Halleigh just looked at her empty palm in confusion. Damn! I did tell her I was gon’ bring those back. I forgot all about that. She didn’t even have time to think of an excuse. “I forgot all about them, Tash. Sorry, girl. It slipped my mind.”
Tasha said, “And my Cheetos?” her hand still extended. But from the look on Halleigh’s face, it was evident that she’d forgotten those too. Tasha smacked her lips and dropped her hand.
Tasha frowned as she peeped Halleigh’s demeanor. She was dazed and could barely keep her eyes open. Her words came out one on top of the other in a slurring fit. Tasha could see the signs clear as day, but she didn’t want her assumption to be right. She’s been getting high. I know she ain’t noddin’.
Tasha didn’t want to outright ask, so she took an indirect approach. “Well, what you get?”
“Damn! What is this? An interrogation? I told you I forgot your shit! I ate my shit up before I came back!” she yelled.
“Look, Ms. Halleigh, you need to calm the fuck down. You ain’t foolin’ nobody. I’ve been around the block more times than you can count. I know you out there.” She looked Halleigh up and down. “And from the looks of it, you out there bad.”
Halleigh rolled her eyes up in her head, trying to keep tears from falling out of them.
“Look, Hal, you getting high ain’t gon’ solve your problems. And I’m not trying to ride you. I’m just looking out for you, girl. That shit ain’t no good. Trust me. I’ve seen that monkey beat the best.”
Halleigh heard what Tasha was saying, but she wasn’t trying to. As far as she was concerned, all Tasha wanted to do was make sure Halleigh didn’t get so far gone that she couldn’t make any more money. “I’m straight, Tasha,” Halleigh told her, “so just get off my back. I’m a grown-ass woman. You may not think so, but from the first time I opened my legs for Manolo’s lying ass, I grew up, so I can handle my shit just fine.” A single tear managed to escape Halleigh’s eyes, but she quickly and forcefully knocked it away, practically smacking herself in the face.
It hurt Tasha’s heart to see Halleigh go out like so many other young girls had done. There used to be thirteen Manolo Mamis, but three had been lost to their drug addiction. Loita died as a result of an overdose. That’s why Tasha always made it a point not to get close with any of the girls. Tasha and Loita, the half-Hispanic–half-white girl who used to pull in over a thousand dollars a night, had been tight like the fist on an Afro pick. Men used to love her exotic look, calling up and requesting her specifically, sometimes booking her a full weekend in advance.
Tasha loved Loita’s honesty and loyalty to the game. Dudes would tip her twenty, fifty, sometimes a hundred dollars, and she would always turn it in to Tasha, along with her regular earnings. But Tasha always let her keep it, to reward her honesty. In turn, Loita would always throw Tasha half of the tip for her pocket. The two looked out for each other. That’s just how it was between them.
And even though Loita ran circles around the other girls when it came to checking in loot, she had no enemies. No one was jealous or envious of her because she had such a beautiful spirit. There was nothing to hate.
If another girl came up short on dough or didn’t make enough money to please Manolo, Loita was known, on occasion, to give her tip money to make the difference. She just got down like that, and the same couldn’t be said for any other girl in the crew.
But when Loita started going MIA after a gig with a regular, Tasha sensed something was wrong. Turned out, the john got her hooked on heroin and started to pay Loita for her services with drugs instead of cash. Her appearance started to deteriorate, and so did her loyalty. She stopped checking in tips to Tasha, and just like Halleigh was doing now, spent more time at the corner store than in the hotel room.
The signs were there, but Tasha never stepped up and spoke on it. She wished she had; especially the night she had to go get the hotel manager to open Loita’s hotel room door after not hearing from her, only to find her laying dead on the bed, a needle in her arm.
Tasha couldn’t let the same thing happen to Halleigh, not under her watch. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Halleigh?” she asked.
“Why else? Because I have to. It’s the only way I know how to do this thing. It’s the only way I can keep laying on my back every day and let you send ten different niggas in my hotel room to fuck me.”
This was the boldest Halleigh had ever been with Tasha, but she was on an emotional overload right now.
“I’m only nineteen, Tash, and I’m on the track for Manolo. All I wanted was to be with my man, you know.” Tears rolled down Halleigh’s face. “Malek means everything to me, but because of Manolo, I can’t be with him. Do you know how it feels? Not being able to be with someone who your heart just burns for?” Halleigh wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I have to get high to get by, and that’s my business, not yours. Your business is making sure I turn all my money over to you.” Halleigh was throwing a guilt trip on Tasha so Tasha would feel her pain.
“You in my face day and night, acting like you care, but you don’t. All you care about is how many niggas I suck and fuck. That’s how it has always been, and that’s how it’s always going to be, so squash the act about you being all concerned about me and shit,” she screamed. Halleigh was upset with th
e world and was letting the heroin speak for her. She knew that Tasha had grown quite close to her, but she didn’t care. She needed to vent, so she continued with her rant. “No, you aren’t the one who put me on the ho stroll, but you’re the one who helped him get in my head. So don’t be trying to act all innocent, like you didn’t have shit to do with it.”
Halleigh wiped every last teardrop away. Hell, she was tired of crying. She had no more tears left. Her sadness had transformed into resentment and hatred, and she was taking it all out on Tasha.
Halleigh attempted to leave the room, but Tasha jumped up and blocked the doorway. “No, Halleigh, wait!” Tasha begged. She knew that Halleigh was telling the truth. She did help Manolo manipulate his young girls, but this time she wished she hadn’t participated. Halleigh was too pure for what Manolo had in store for her, and Tasha knew that almost from the first time she’d set eyes on her. Halleigh couldn’t handle the game, and Tasha felt obligated to get the monkey off her back, especially since she had participated in the cause that put the monkey there in the first place.
“Just calm down, sweetheart,” Tasha said, holding her hands up in surrender. “You know that I would never intentionally hurt you. You are like my sister.” Tasha choked up, her eyes filled with tears. She imagined saying the same thing to Loita. If she had, maybe Loita would still be alive today. “I know this lifestyle ain’t healthy for you. If I can get you to Malek, will you promise me you will stay off the drugs?”
Halleigh couldn’t believe her ears. Had Tasha just made her the offer she thought she heard?
“Okay, Hal?” Tasha placed a hand on either side of Halleigh’s face.
Halleigh nodded her head. “Yes,” she replied, sounding like a hopeful child. “Tasha, I swear I will. I swear to God. Just get me to Malek. Get me out of this life. Help me. Please help me.”
Tasha hugged Halleigh tightly, looked up toward the ceiling and said a short prayer. Please help me with this, God. I don’t know how I’m gon’ do it, but I have to help her out of this. It was the first time that Tasha had prayed since she was a child. She just hoped God was listening.
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