“Juan, Bryant wants you on the phone,” yelled Keisha. I ran over to Rob’s station and picked up the cordless.
“Hey,” I answered cheerfully.
“J, what the fuck is going on there?”
“The manager and one of my employees got into a fight, that’s all,” I explained.
“You aiight?”
“Yeah, I’m fine but my office is a mess. What time are you comin’ through?” I asked, trying to drown out the sound of the paramedics as they began to carry Jeff out.
“I’ll be there around eight, I’ll call you later,” he said, hanging up the phone before I could respond. I pushed the “end” button on the phone as the white officer came over to me to make a statement.
Once everything was done I walked back into my office to a mess of disarray. Papers that were very important to me were lost in a pile of ruckus. My desk was overturned with water spilled through the grains of my cherrywood panels. I couldn’t deal with what was set in front of me at that second.
“I’m going out to lunch. Look after the shop,” I said to Rob as I grabbed my man bag and walked out of the salon as if nothing had happened. My stomach was empty because I was hungry; not for a meal from McDonald’s but for what the person who stood in front of McDonald’s had in their stash.
I stopped by the ATM on Broad and South and withdrew four hundred big ones. When I got back to the shop, I was gonna be full from what Rob’s connect had in store for me on this day—guaranteed.
X
HEARTBURN
“Yo dawg, check it. How much you got?” asked a tall light-skinned gentleman that Tony had made connections with. He stood about six-one of pure solid muscle. I could tell that he must’ve recently gotten out of jail because he had that look—clean cut with black, shiny waves flowing through his head like an ocean.
His hairline flowed into sideburns that connected so gracefully to his beard, which lined up so well with his mustache. He stood posted up on the side of the McDonald’s wall wearing a pair of tan khakis rolled up at the bottom with a pair of black Air Force Ones sporting an oh-so-fresh wife beater. He handled my money very delicately when I placed the entire four hundred in the palm of his hand.
“Here’s four hundred dollars but I’ll bring you back a little more later. What can you give me for this?” I asked, turning around to the streets to see if anyone I knew spotted me. I couldn’t believe that I was doing this in broad daylight but after what had just happened I needed a lift.
“I got you, hol’ up,” he said, taking my money and stuffing it into his pocket. I waited on the side of the building while he walked around in the parking lot to his car. After about fifteen minutes he returned with a small brown paper bag full of all kinds of goodies and treats for me.
“Ayo, what’s ya name, dawg?” he asked me while looking dead into my eyes.
“Just call me J.J.”
I took the bag and walked quickly toward my car. I hopped in and sped off down Broad Street. I rode all the way until I got in the back of the Wachovia Center where all the concerts are held. I remember one time when I was in high school I took some dude in the back of the building and sucked him off real nice. He was the star of our high school basketball team and almost every time I saw him in school he would wink at me.
Well, even though he was dating one of the baddest honeys in school, she wasn’t giving him what I could give him and he knew it. He made it his business to meet me in back of the Wachovia Center every Thursday after seven in the evening. I could feel the precum rising to the forefront of my dick just thinking about it.
I pulled all the way around to the back where other than someone emptying a bag of garbage, no one would see me. I pulled over to the side of the car where the sun had gleamed down on the top of my head, causing my activator to shine more. I opened my bag of goodies and smiled as I sniffed the contents containing so many biohazardous materials to get me well on my way. I took out the first lump of white grain wrapped in Saran Wrap and opened it to watch the substance take a breather of the fresh air.
I got my hands on a crispy twenty-dollar bill and twirled it ever so tight until it was as tight as I could get it. I always watched movies where people had done this and once in a while I’d see Bryant do it before our sexcapade. I lined the sweet candy on the front of my makeup mirror and, without any hesitation I sniffed the entire line of the bill as each substance glowed through my nose straight to my membrane.
“Aww” was the sound I made as the candy shot up my nose to my brain. My head bounced back onto the headrest with a little snot still hanging from my nose. I wiped my nose on my sleeve with the back of my hand. I sat in my Lexus coupe with my head down. The wind blew through my window as my car stood still. I was in my zone. I overheard the birds chirping along with the whistle of the trees. I felt the burning sensation in my brain.
Just that fast, all the uncontrollable bullshit that had gone on today was controllable. Everything was okay. The man who shot me out of his dick was now dying of cancer but that was okay. Everything was okay. The mess that I left in my office wasn’t so bad that it couldn’t be handled. I felt very sleepy. All I wanted to do was rest. I grabbed my cell phone from my man bag and called the salon. Rob picked up on the first ring.
“Ché Mystic, how can I help you?” he greeted.
“Hey, Rob, it’s me, Juan,” I responded in a slurred tone.
“Where are you? That muthafucka is talking shit. Talkin’ ’bout he gonna bring his cousin up here to kick my ass. Where are you?” he yelled.
“I was calling to tell you to close the shop tonight. I won’t be able to make it,” I said, hoping that I could get off the phone without him having further questions.
“I will but I’m telling you now, that piece of shit better not come back here with no dumb shit or she’s gonna get knocked.” Before he could go any further I closed my phone. I then opened it to give Bryant a call.
“Yeah, what’s up,” he answered.
“Hey, Bryant, it’s me.”
“Me? Who the fuck is me?”
“It’s me, Juan. What, you don’t know my voice?”
“Fuck no, nigga, you sound fucked up. Where are you?” he asked as if he were laughing.
“I’m about to go home. I was letting you know that I’ll be there instead of the salon.”
“Aight, I’ma come through like eight or nine. What you got for me tonight? What’s so special that you must see me tonight?” He sounded like someone was trying to get his attention in the background.
“I wanna go see a play with you tonight; that’s all. Who is trying to get your attention?” I asked, getting a sense of where he was.
“Naw, that’s my bull. I’ll be at your crib lata. Aiight?”
“Bryant, I…”
“One,” he said before hanging up the phone.
I put the key in the ignition and fired up my Lex with the hopes of going home to get prepared for my evening with Bryant.
By the time I got home it was already a quarter after five. I took the stairs to my apartment because the elevator was on the outs. By the time I reached the top, the effects of my candy were wearing away. So after opening the door of my apartment, I stormed in the kitchen to catch another buzz. But this time I decided to take two of the little green pills that were also in the bag and, instead of snorting my candy, I smoked it.
I sat on the couch in my boxer briefs feeling lovely. I put the table fan on rotate so that it could rotate my high all around the room. I sat the Dutch in the ashtray and lay back on the couch.
Bang, bang, bang. “Open up, it’s the police,” yelled the officer. I jumped up from my couch in complete darkness and immediately looked over at the clock that read 12:55 a.m.
Bang, bang, bang. “If someone’s in there open the door, if not we will force our way in.” I ran over to the door in my boxer briefs and opened the door.
“Okay, now step away from the door,” said the officer who I could not see due to th
e bright flashlight in my face. “Have a seat on the couch,” he said, walking in slowly with about ten officers following behind being escorted by two dogs.
“Is there a light in here?” asked one of the officers.
“Yeah, right here,” I said, turning on the switch from the lamp that sat on the end table next to the couch. “What’s the matter, officer?”
“Is this your apartment?” he asked with the flashlight still shining in my face.
“Yes.”
“Are you a drug dealer, sir?” asked the officer who looked as if he could be a redneck.
“No, sir.”
“Do you run drugs for someone?” He looked down at the brown paper bag that sat on the coffee table that I’d brought in earlier.
“No, sir, I don’t deal with drugs,” I lied. He walked over to the bag as my heart thumped with every step that he took. He picked up the bag and sniffed it before looking in it to see the contents.
“You lied to me. That’s not good,” he said before turning around to face the other officers. “Let the dogs loose,” he demanded as two of the other officers did as they were told. I sat on the couch shaking as the dogs ran loose throughout my apartment with the cops following them.
“So do you use drugs, sir?” the redneck-looking officer asked me as he handed the brown bag to an officer who seemed to be of higher rank. The other officers flooded my apartment with their bodies.
“Can I go put something on?” I asked the officer.
“No, you stay right there. Is there anyone else in the apartment with you?”
“No, I’m here alone,” I responded, hoping that this was some type of misunderstanding.
“Does anyone else live here with you, sir?”
“No, I stay here alone.”
“We found something,” yelled an officer from my bedroom. “We found something in the closet.” The dogs began to bark loudly as I sat on the couch, shaking from the hallway draft.
“You wait right here with him,” said the redneck to another officer before he and the captain walked toward my bedroom area. I sat on the couch, dazed and confused about what they could have found in my bedroom.
Three officers walked from my bedroom and into the kitchen and threw about four shopping bags on top of my glass table.
Boom! I heard the bags as they hit the table. I tried my best to stretch my neck to look but I could not see anything. The redneck came from the kitchen and back into the living room where he was removing his handcuffs from his pouch.
“Please stand up and put your hands behind your back.” He grabbed my arm to help me stand.
“Am I being arrested, officer? What am I being arrested for?” I said as chills started to creep down my spine. Never in my life had there been a time when I was placed in handcuffs. The dogs and the other officer came walking from my bedroom and now were going in and out of the hall closets.
“You’re being arrested for possession of cocaine and marijuana, drug trafficking with the intent to distribute,” said the redneck, tightening the metal cuffs.
“What? Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t have any drugs here.”
“Yeah, well, a few kilos of cocaine and marijuana bags on your table tell us otherwise.” He pushed me toward the door as the other officer and the residents who lived on my floor watched. I was being taken out in my underwear without any clothes. I had never in my life been so humiliated and embarrassed.
“May I ask where you’re taking me?” I said with the redneck rushing me down the hall.
“You’re going to jail.”
“Jail!” I yelled. “For how long? I have a business to run.”
“Well, tonight you’re going down to the police station and you have to have charges officially brought up on you. Then you will be booked and you will go in front of a judge first thing in the morning and he will set bail.” He literally dragged me onto the elevator, out of the door, and threw me into the car. Tonight of all nights had a cool chill in the air and me not having on any clothes didn’t help me get comfortable.
I recollected my thoughts. Bryant and I were supposed to go out tonight so that meant he never called. How did the drugs get into my house and who the hell put them there? It must have been Bryant and he must have done it while I was sleep.
“Can I make a phone call?” I said to the redneck once we got to the station. I was about to have my picture taken and be fingerprinted.
“In a little while,” he said. My feet were as cold as ice as I sat on the cold bench admiring my heels ash up. I was in desperate need for some lotion. I sat in the cell and laid my head back onto the cold wall. The cell was no bigger than my bathroom. I would say maybe eight-by-ten feet. I didn’t know what was in store for me at this point. Maybe I was set up. Maybe the drugs were always there even before I had moved into the place.
“Mr. Jiles,” the officer said.
“Yes.”
“We’re ready to start the booking process now,” he said, taking one of his big metal keys and unlocking the cell door.
“Can I ask you a question, officer?”
“Sure.”
“I know that you said that drugs were found in my apartment but where specifically where they?” I asked.
“They were in the floorboards in your closet. You should know, you put them there,” he said sarcastically.
“No, I did not put them there.”
“Well, look, don’t say it to me, tell it to the judge.” He closed the cell door and grabbed my arm and walked me toward a camera.
I held up a blackboard in front of me that stated my name and birthdate along with a few other numbers beneath my chin. He took about five pictures, one from each angle, then led me to a table to be fingerprinted.
“Can I make my phone call now?” I said after the fingerprinting process was over. He led me into a little room that had a wood chair and wood table with a phone on it. I sat in the chair.
“You have five minutes,” stated the redneck before closing the door. My first call was to Bryant’s cell phone.
“Yerp,” he answered in a sly tone.
“Hello, Bryant. It’s me, Juan,” I said quickly before the phone went dead. Astonished by what had just happened, I hurriedly dialed his number again.
“Yerp,” he repeated.
“Bryant, don’t hang up. It’s me, Juan.” The phone quickly went dead again. After trying for the third time the phone went straight to his voice mail. I didn’t leave a message; instead I called Rob.
“Hello,” he answered.
“Hey, Rob, it’s Juan.”
“Bitch, where the hell are you? It’s coming up unknown on my caller ID and you know I don’t normally answer unknown numbers, girl.”
“Listen, Rob, I’m in a lot of trouble and I need your help,” I stated as quickly as I could before my call time was up. “I’m in jail and instead of opening the shop tomorrow, I need you to come down to the court at nine thirty at City Hall.”
“Girl, what have you gotten yourself into?” Rob hissed.
“I can’t explain right now. So we’re gonna close the shop for tomorrow and I also need you to call all of our appointments for tomorrow and reschedule.”
“Well, bitch, for one thing you’re about to pick your mouth up off the floor because tomorrow is the Alicia Keys concert and she has an appointment scheduled for four-thirty. And today, after you left, two guys came in looking for you and I told them that you weren’t in so they gave me an envelope with a paper in it addressed to you. Do you want me to open it?”
“No, not right now. Just call Alicia Keys’ contact person and tell them you apologize for the inconvenience and tell her that we owe her one. Shit, if you have to, send her next door to Chez Sonia’s.”
“Time up,” said the redneck as he stood outside the room watching me through the window.
“Okay, Rob, I gotta go. Make sure you’re down at City Hall tomorrow by nine thirty sharp.”
“Okay, I’ll be
there,” he confirmed before the line went dead.
The redneck escorted me back to my cell where I would spend the next six hours shivering in my boxer briefs.
He closed the door behind me as I took a seat on the concrete bench where I was supposed to lie down and get a good night’s rest. I think not. I said a prayer to God asking Him to get me out of the situation. I had to be set free because there was nothing for me to be guilty about. I had done nothing wrong. I hadn’t stashed any drugs in the floorboards of my home. I decided I would lie back and think of all the good times in my life. The first thought that would always pop into my mind was when I was a child and the way my mother always would hold me in her arms and rock me back and forth with the notion that everything would be okay.
See, in my household we grew up like the kids on TV. I guess you could say that we were the Huxtables. My mother would stay home and cook and clean and take care of the house until my dad came home from work. Well, we weren’t so much the Huxtables; more like the Cleavers because my dad was not a doctor and my mother was damn sure not a lawyer. And of course we didn’t have all that damn money.
I’m not saying that we grew up poor either but we always had. Whenever I needed something, whether it was for school or something I wanted to have, my mother and my father would always try to make a way for me to have it. Even though it got lonely sometimes, I loved being the only child because there wasn’t enough love to go around. There was only enough love for me. Those were the good old days before my dad starting flipping out when he’d come home from work to catch me playing Double Dutch with the girls instead playing ball with the guys.
One time, when I had to be about seven or eight years old, I was sitting on the steps playing with my cousins minding my own business. On that particular day I was more excited than any other day because my cousin Simone’s mother had brought her the new Malibu Barbie for her birthday and she said I could play with it. I would style the doll’s hair in styles that hadn’t even been invented yet and I made sure that doll had on the flyest clothes to match. I had created my own fantasy in a Barbie. My Dad strolled up the street coming from work, sipping his can a beer through a straw as usual. Sipping a can of beer through a straw was my dad’s MO.
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