by Carl Weber
“Oh, shit!” I yelled as I yanked hard on the steering wheel to avoid running up under the truck. As I left the road, I felt the bulky wagon leave the ground just before it careened down a hill and crashed head-on into an oak tree. Believe it or not, I felt fortunate to have hit the tree, because the thick trunk had kept the Country Squire from a worse drop.
“Boy, ya done fucked this one up bad,” the stupid country sheriff with a badge offered from below a little while later. He had climbed down into the ditch where the car was releasing steam into the air from a busted radiator. I had climbed back up to the roadside, and I wasn’t standing there too long before the sheriff, who just happened to be driving by, pulled over to see if he could help. Now he was examining the outside of the car. The odor of antifreeze traveled up to my nose from the radiator steam. While unpleasant, I was just glad it wasn’t the smell of the cartel’s crop burning inside. If the car had caught fire, I would be running for my life, though there would be nowhere to hide.
Even if the marijuana was still intact, I was in a bad situation and in need of a solution. The cartel higher ups didn’t want idiots; they demanded those who could think on their feet.
“Hell, I’m just glad you came along,” I lied, nervous about how well my gringo accent was playing now that I had to put it to the test.
The sheriff moved on from the outside and was combing through the station wagon’s interior, nudging at things with the butt of his flashlight. The closer he came to one of the loose panels where the marijuana was stowed, the more my anxiety rose. I nervously maintained my smile, keeping my hand near the revolver beneath my Hawaiian shirt. This road didn’t have that much traffic about now, so there would be no witnesses if I acted fast and timed it just right.
“Hey, son?” he called out as something caught his attention.
“Yes, sir?” I replied as I leaned over, bracing my foot as I prepared to pull my gun from my waistband.
“Mind if I ask ya somethin’?” he questioned as he got near the panel by the backseat I was worried about.
“No. Not at all, officer,” I said, flashing a smile as I tried to position myself where I could get the upper hand before he could return fire. There was no way I was a better shot than him, so surprise would be my only chance.
“Are you really from New Jersey?” he asked, looking back at me suddenly, like I’d come down in a UFO.
“Yeah. Name’s John, by the way,” I said, struggling to conceal my nerves and my accent. Figuring it would impress this Southern hick, maybe distract him from his impromptu search of the car, I added, “I’ve been on the road selling Bibles, sir.”
“Well . . . where they at?” he said as he eyed me curiously.
“What can I say? I’m a successful salesman,” I replied with a cocky wink and my best Jersey accent. “And when it’s the Word of the Lord, people can always use that.” I made the sign of the cross. My grandmother would’ve been so proud of me.
“Hmm. Well, I’m sorry to say that your trip back up North is gonna be delayed,” he said, and I felt my heart start racing. “This here wagon is definitely gonna need some repair work.”
“Oh, noooo!” I was genuinely worried about my trip and my family. Any delays would not be good for my mother and my sisters.
“Don’t worry though, John,” he said as he stood up straight and adjusted his belt around his large waist. As he hiked back up the hill, I offered my hand to assist him. He had no idea how close he had been to making the major bust that could have cemented his career—but would’ve cost him his life. “I can have you towed up the road yonder to the next town. Somebody there should be able to fix it and get you back on your way.”
“Oh,” I said, hopeful that I could be back on the road before sundown. “What’s the name of the town?” I asked.
“Waycross,” he replied as he pointed due east.
Lou
27
After riding three busses for almost twenty hours in a cramped seat, I’d finally arrived in Atlantic City, New Jersey, where I’d immediately found a diner so I could have something decent to eat. My next plan of attack, since I couldn’t handle my business until the morning, was to find me a cathouse and release the black snake on the local population. That’s when I met Loretta, the black-as-night diner waitress. She had to be ten years my senior, and she wasn’t much to look at in the face, but her juicy ass and firm, oversized tits sure were a welcome sight to an old pussy hound like me. What most brothers didn’t know was that them ugly gals had some of the best pussy in the world. They usually weren’t much when it came to sucking your dick, but they’d fuck the black off you every time if you let ’em.
Loretta and I had made small talk to start with, but once I found out she was single with her own place, I slapped down a five spot as a tip to open her nose then nursed a cup of coffee until the end of her shift. Twenty minutes later I was in her place, fucking the shit outta her while saving myself the cost of a whore, a hotel room, and breakfast.
After a breakfast of eggs, grits, country sausage, and hash browns I had thanked Loretta with a good fuck before I got showered and dressed. On my way out the door, she kissed me then pleaded with me to come by the diner after I handled my business. I didn’t make any promises but said I’d see what I could do, because you never know when a better opportunity would present itself.
“Lou Duncan! It’s really good of you to meet me today, especially since I know it was out of your way,” Tony Dash, the suave Italian capo of the Russo family, greeted me as I entered the large, fancy restaurant deep in the bowels of A.C.
“Hey, Tony, after the good time you showed me in New York, how could I not show up with a smile on my face and fuckin’ ask questions later?” We hugged. Tony loved black pussy more than anyone I’d ever met, and got plenty of it—for both of us—the last time we were in New York together.
“We did have a good time, didn’t we?” he said with a smile. “So, how was your trip from Georgia?”
“Long as I got here, that’s all that matters. The South is fine, but there is nothing like being in A.C. The air smells better. Maybe it’s the salt from the ocean.” There was something about the way the adrenaline in my body changed when I arrived in the city.
“It smells like shit!” A guy who resembled Tony, only a few years younger, cut in as he approached us. “You got to go to the Poconos if you want to experience real fresh air,” he said as he plopped down next to his brother. “Hey! Hey! What the fuck I gotta do to get some fuckin’ service in here?” He snapped his fingers at the waiter, who looked terrified as he rushed over to him.
“Sal!” Tony’s voice came out as a warning to his brother. I’d heard that Sal was violent and brutal if you ever got on his bad side, which I made a mental note to never do. “Have some goddamn respect. We got company.”
Sal looked me up and down before deciding I wasn’t worth his attention. “What? I’m hungry,” he said to Tony.
“Why don’t you go eat up front with the boys? Lou and I need to talk.” Tony made it sound more like a demand than a suggestion.
“Fine! But they better fuckin’ feed me soon.” Sal got up and stomped into the other room.
“I’m sorry about that.” Tony sighed, frowning as his brother disappeared out of sight, his complaints still ringing behind him. “What the fuck am I going to do? He’s family. But enough about him.” He leaned in close and spoke a little lower. “The reason I invited you here is that the Russo family needs a heroin trafficker, one that we can trust to handle the Southern territories.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, because truthfully, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. This was an opportunity to be a major player. Sam was going to shit himself when he heard this.
“Well, I’m not exactly ready to shake hands on it, but I need to know if you think you can handle that much product.”
“You’re saying you want me and Sam to be the Southern arm of the business?” I checked to make sure I had heard him
correctly.
He nodded. “Look, I’ve only dealt with you. I don’t have any idea who your guy Sam is other than what you’ve told me. I thought you were working with your brothers,” he said.
“I do work with my brothers on some things, but I’m moving the drugs for Sam. He runs a cat house in Georgia, among other things, and he has a lot of connections for all kinds of things in South Georgia.”
He sat back in his chair. “Lou, one of the reasons I thought about you is because I’m a family man, and the last few times we met, you made it clear that so are you.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I said, desperate to set things right before he took the offer off the table. “I am a family man. My brothers and I are thinking about approaching the biggest numbers runner in Georgia. Well, approaching his widow, since he just passed away. It would be a huge come up for us,” I told him, my voice laced with the dread I felt in the pit of my stomach at this idea, even though I knew it sounded good.
“You don’t sound so excited.” Tony replied upon hearing the trepidation in my voice.
“Nah, it’s a great opportunity, but . . .” I trailed off, not sure how to continue.
“But what?”
“You know, it would cut out Sam, and I’m not sure I can do that. The two of us are tight, and he wants to take over this numbers business as well.”
“And you don’t want to step on his toes? That what you trying to say?” Tony asked.
“Yes. No. Well, it’s just that my brothers think I need to get out from under Sam and to be my own boss. To stop being a hired hand, even though he did just offer me the chance to be a partner.”
“And what do you think?” He sat back in his chair, curious to hear my response.
“Why make an enemy of my best friend? Sam is like a brother to me,” I admitted. The two of us had been hanging pretty close for the past five years.
“But he’s not your brother,” Tony reminded me matter-of-factly. “You have a brother. You have three brothers, so I don’t see why you need another one.”
“Yeah, but we work so well together,” I told him, realizing just how much I didn’t want to compromise my friendship.
“No,” he corrected, “from what you been telling me, you work for him. He’s the real boss. You’re just fucking so much of that free pussy he’s giving you that you can’t see it.”
I fought the urge to tell Tony that he was starting to sound like Larry.
“And your brother LC?” Tony continued, “I would listen to him. He sounds like a smart guy.”
“Yeah, that’s what people keep telling me.”
“Let me tell you something. The only people I partner with are family. You can see that my brother is a real idiot. I admit it, but I know exactly who he is, and as much as he annoys me, Sal has my back in a way that a friend can never have. You want to go into business, then do it with family. That way you’ll always know what you’re getting. There won’t be any surprises, and they’ll have your back even if they’re hating you. They have no choice,” he told me.
“My other brother, Larry, he doesn’t trust Sam at all. In fact, he can’t stand the guy. Thinks he’s corrupt and untrustworthy,” I admitted.
Tony shook his head. “I would trust my brothers before I trusted that guy. What does your brother have to gain by lying to you? Nothing. But that Sam guy? He could stab you in the back and you wouldn’t even know it until it was too late, and then you’re lying there dead.” His words jarred something in me that I didn’t want to think about. I didn’t want to be disloyal.
“But he’s like my brother,” I argued again, even though I was repeating myself.
“But he’s not your brother. My brother and I fight, but you let anybody else try and fight me, and my brother will kill them. I bet your brothers are the same way. Would Sam do that for you?”
I shook my head. If I was being honest with myself, I knew he wouldn’t.
“This man Sam has you doing his dirty work and he ain’t even paying you that well.”
“Tony, that’s a lot for me to think about,” I explained. I’d left Georgia certain about a lot of things, and in one meeting I suddenly wasn’t sure about anything.
“You keep sleeping on this guy Sam and one day you’re going to wake up with a bullet in your back. Remember I said it.”
Chippy
28
I looked up in the sky, and the clouds overhead mirrored my mood, mostly because I’d spent the past five hours reading Pimp, the book that I’d taken from LC’s room. It had opened my eyes to a lot of things about Sam and the way he’d manipulated me. I was trying not to let it bring me down, though, because I preferred to focus on how it felt to finally hear my mother’s voice, finally sober, telling me to come home. She didn’t have to ask twice before I made the decision to leave Waycross—well, that and the way LC had made me feel when he jumped out of bed and ran to Donna that day.
“You sure this is it?” Calvin asked.
Calvin was one of the few tricks whose number I had, and probably the only one I trusted enough to ask for a ride all the way to Fayetteville. Sure, I had to fuck him before we left, but I wasn’t gonna do the eight-hour trip on no bus, stopping in every hick town in between on the way. He said he had to be to work, but the chance to get some pussy away from the watchful eye of Big Sam was too good to pass up. The way he was talking, the fool probably thought he was going to replace Sam as my pimp. If he did, he was in for a big surprise. Yes, I made him some promises, but he’d also given me quite a bit of cash and a ride home.
“Yeah, this is it.”
“So, exactly who lives here anyway?” he asked at the end of our journey.
“A friend,” I replied, lying as I stared up at the gables and rose bushes that surrounded the stately front porch. Nothing had changed about them, and probably the same for the people inside. “Now, are you gonna pull around the corner and let me suck your dick, or keep asking me questions?”
He didn’t take long to make his decision, quickly parking the car and unzipping his pants. I knew just how to get him off, so it didn’t take long for Calvin to finish and fall back in his seat.
“Damn, Chippy,” Calvin gasped, his limp dick still outside his pants as he stared adoringly at me. I ignored him, checking my hair in the rearview mirror. “I ain’t never had anyone make me do the Spiderman like that. Say, when you coming back to Waycross? I’ll pick you up.”
“I ain’t comin’ back, Calvin,” I said with a grin as I left his company. Closing the door to his pale blue Buick muffled his protests. To leave a customer, and not the other way around, gave me some pleasure.
I walked around the corner then ducked behind some bushes until Calvin was gone. That determined bastard circled the block three times before he gave up and drove away.
I finally made my way to the house, but something kept me standing there outside of the house where I grew up, feeling like a ghost from my own past. As I reached out to push the doorbell, the voice in my head screamed for me to stop this nonsense and run away again, but I was hardheaded to a fault, even with myself. As much as I wanted to run, I also wanted to finally meet the mother I’d always wished I had, the woman on the phone who sounded and treated me so different from the one who raised me. It had been a long time since I’d felt truly welcome or at home in this house, and now, with her begging me to come back, I couldn’t help imagine how different it could be.
With just the two of us, life really could be so much better. I could even go back and finish school, and maybe go to college like LC. The whole ride home, I’d thought about the life I never had that suddenly seemed within my grasp. It was a normal life that didn’t look one way from the outside and another once you entered the door.
“Oh my God, Charlotte.” The softness of my mother’s voice caught me off guard, and it only accelerated my discomfort when she grabbed me in a bear hug and squeezed me so tight I thought I would burst. “Girl, I missed you so much.”
“I mi
ssed you too, Momma.”
She relaxed her hold on me, staring at me closely. I felt myself shrink under her intense gaze, because I expected the criticism and demeaning comments to follow. My mother had never taken the opportunity to build me up when she could tear me down. “You look so grown up. You’re beautiful.” She touched my face, and I was glad that the black eye had faded.
“Thank you, it’s the makeup and the hair,” I replied, my voice shaky with emotion at this kinder, gentler version of the woman who had birthed me. Although it had only been a few months since I’d left, I knew that I couldn’t possibly look like the same person. I’d done things that I couldn’t imagine when I walked out the door.
She hugged me again. “Baby, I’m so happy you’re home. Now get on in this house so I can put some meat on those bones of yours. Looks like nobody’s been feeding you.” She hustled me inside and we went straight to the kitchen.
My mother got out her favorite cast iron skillet, along with some other pots, and started to cook. In spite of everything that had happened, it felt good to be home.
“So how are you doing, Momma?” I asked as she hurried around the room, preparing food.
“I’m good. A lot better now that you’re here. Where were you anyway?” She started chopping a potato as she waited for my response.
“Well, first I went down to Savannah; then I went Jacksonville and spent the night at a fancy resort with a friend, and then, after that, I went to Orlando and Disney World. Momma, it was so beautiful down there. It was almost like a dream.”
She stopped cooking for a second and turned to me. “That all sounds good, but Disney World ain’t cheap. Where’d you get the money to do all of this jetsetting? You’re not in any trouble with the law, are you?”