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Life

Page 18

by Sullivan, Leo


  “I don’t know.” I replied, knowing you never tell a man your comings and goings in this business, unless you want to come home one day and get touched.

  I bent the corner and parked at the same spot I picked up Stevey D.

  “Yo, my nigga, I got a couple stones, I’ma do a little hustling with Nina Brown,” I said, but actually I was letting him know I was getting ready to open up shop in his town. He said it was cool, but I could see larceny in his eyes. He knew that if I gave him a whole ounce I must have been straight.

  “Where ya’ll going to be serving at?” he asked. I turned to Nina Brown in the back seat. She was cleaning the brillo out of her stem, a cocaine pipe made out of a car antenna.

  “Where you want to serve at?” I asked her.

  “We gon’ be at my house,” she replied.

  “Aight,” Stevey D said, nodding his head. “You got a beeper number?”

  “When you wanna holla at me, get in contact with Nina.”

  He walked away. Nina jumped her musty ass in the front seat next to me smelling like burnt motor oils and some mo’ shit.

  As I pulled off she asked frantically, “What you doin’ drivin’ Trina’s car? What did you do to her?”

  I turned to Nina with a dead serious expression and said, “She’s in the trunk of the car.”

  “WHAT?!” Nina screeched. “Hell naw, lemme outta this bitch!”

  I laughed so hard it hurt my sides. Crackheads are some funny muthafuckas. Up the street I saw the redbone that was sitting on Stevey D’s lap. She waved at the car. When women find out a cat is from out of town and is getting money, they make themselves available. I asked Nina who she was. Nina told me she was a skeezer that sold pussy out of both drawers. I made a mental note to buy me a shot of that ass.

  *****

  Nina Brown lived in the old run down section of town that looked as if it dated back to slavery. Actually, they were Section 8 homes sitting on top of rotten wood and bricks. Strangely, across the street from where she lived was an abortion clinic. At the time it seemed so out of place. I parked my car up ahead at the gas station and sent Nina to the store to get me a pack of razors, two quarts of Olde English 800 and a pack of Newports. As we walked back to her place every moment so far had been carefully planned, parking the car at the gas station as well as walking back to her place, served as a reconnaissance move to survey the spot I was about to turn into a trap, a dope hole. Police are trained to associate cars with drug areas. I did not want to make Trina’s car hot.

  Nina Brown had not paid her light bill, so we had to use candles in the dark. Her place was eerie and damp inside with a foul malodorous smell. The wooden floors were barren and dirty. There were three rooms, a front room, kitchen and her bedroom. A worn dirty sheet served as the room divider to her room. She had a back door with a clear view to the streets. That’s where I set up. I gave Nina a half an ounce, her personal stash. She pinched off a piece and stuffed it into her stem, lighting it up. The dope crackled and she sucked on the devil’s dick and her eyes grew large. Once she filled her lungs, she began to get animated. She leaned forward and whistled, placing her hand above her head as if she was shading her eyes from the sun, looking at me from a long distance, she tapped her feet and blew out a cloud of smoke in my face. “Ooh wee! Dis be that good shit!” she exclaimed and began to smack her lips like she was trying to get her tongue unglued from the roof of her mouth.

  “Give me a plate,” I said smiling like a father who just learned that his wife delivered a healthy baby boy. Having a good product is the ultimate form of power when a hustler is trying to seize the reigns of power on the streets.

  “I’ma get you some customers,” Nina said like super woman. She now had a jerky movement about her.

  “Hold up.” I instructed her to bring the customers to the back door and to make sure she told them I ain’t got no weight. She nodded her head and took off out the back door like the place was on fire. I took my gun out placing it on the table and opened up the pack of razors and began to break down some dimes. Nina was back sooner than I expected, and true to her word, with her were some customers. I served dope out of her back door. The time went by fast. I looked at my watch, it was 3:21 in the morning. The nighttime is the most dangerous time to serve stones. In fact, most successful hustlers won’t do it. Too much risk. Even cowards get courage in the dark. However, at nighttime the money triples, just like the risk. As soon as Nina saw the size of the rocks I was serving, she tripped.

  “Hell naw! Dems too damn big. What is this, a fifty dollar rack?” she asked, dead serious. I cut up sixteen hundred out of an ounce, but I forgot in a cocaine drought, a basehead will buy just about anything to smoke.

  “Give them here. Lemme sell them,” she demanded.

  “Girl I want sixteen off this bomb,” I said and passed her an ounce. I sat right there and watched her sell some of them little ass rocks for fifty and if a person only had eight dollars, she would take that too. I peeped what she was doing, selling half and keeping half. I looked out the window, cars were lined up and a few prostitutes lounged around. Everywhere I looked, I saw people. It was easy to tell I was the only nigga in town with a package. The next ounce I cut up smaller, a lot smaller. Nina started smoking again.

  She walked in and asked to see the size of the rocks. I showed them to her. “You catch on fast,” was all she said and then asked to use my cigarette lighter. Reluctantly, I gave it to her, knowing I would never see it again. Junkies could take a cigarette lighter apart and make a flame thrower out of it. She walked back into her room. I knew that was all the work I was going to get out of her for the night, but it was all good, her place was a gold mine. The money was starting to come so fast I couldn’t count it all at times. Suddenly, she ran back into the room and slid across the floor, damn near falling. With her eyes bulging out of her head, panic stricken, she shrieked, “Don’t open the door! Don’t open the door!”

  “WHAT?” I asked incredulously, hoping she wasn’t starting to trip off the dope.

  “Jackie Boy and T-Bone!” she exhorted. “They on their way around back. They gon’ rob us. That’s all they do is rob niggas!” Nina said, horrified. I watched as she then hid her money under the sink in a pot. There was a knock at the door. Nina whispered, “Don’t open it.” I yanked her arm so hard her neck snapped. “Just do as I say!” she pleaded.

  “Them niggas ain’t going to fuck with us. Who is it?” I asked with enough base in my voice to scare a small child. Nina cringed. A voice returned.

  “T-Bone.”

  “Go ‘round the front.”

  I knew this was it. I had a feeling that Stevey D may have sent them. Now came the risk. I grabbed my gun off the table as the candles flickered our shadow on the wall, like ghosts dancing in a gloom of a murderous reality. Tomorrow ain’t promised to no one, not even a gangster in town with the odds stacked against him.

  “I’ma scare ‘em,” I said. “Go blow out all the candles in the house. As soon as they come in I want to you to stand on the other side of the room, in the opposite direction from me. Count to ten and stomp your feet as loud as you can, and get the fuck out the room.

  “Nigga, you crazy fo-real!” she said with the confidence of a woman that just had her greatest fears confirmed. What she did not understand was I had no choice in the confrontation. It was as imminent as life itself–power only concedes to counter-power when tested. These niggas had come to test me. There was little doubt in my mind that Stevey D was behind this. The only good part was cats in this town had to already know of my early record of putting them hot balls in a nigga’s ass.

  Reluctantly, Nina Brown answered the door as I instructed her. From the corner of the room, hidden in the darkness, I watched the silhouette of two figures enter the room. They both wore large coats. Nina closed the door. Complete darkness. I heard feet shuffling. A frantic voice called out, “Nina cut on some

  fuckin’ lights!”

  “Yeah, what can I d
o for ya playa?” I said.

  “Cut on the fuckin’ lights man!” an agitated voice sounded. More feet shuffling with the sound of ruffling clothes. Click … click … a cigarette lighter flickered. I cocked the hammer on Jesus and the sound resonated in the darkness.

  “Nigga cut dat muthafuckin’ light out!” I barked. The light died, along with any hope of their plan of robbery. I was aware that they pulled out their straps pointing in the direction that they heard my voice coming from. When Nina stomped her feet, it scared the hell out of me, too. I heard guns being cocked. It damn sure wasn’t mine that time. I crouched down as low as I could to the floor and headed to the kitchen door. I was certain there was going to be some gunplay. I heard someone fiddling with the door, and then it flew open, clanging against the wall. The light from the street lamps sliced through the darkness as I watched the two figures scurry out of the house falling on each other. To my surprise, Nina followed suit. She reminded me of one of them little dogs that ain’t going to do shit but yap.

  “What the hell ya’ll want anyway Jackie Boy? Don’t be bringin’ that bullshit around my house!” she scolded while walking up behind them.

  “Tell him to come out here, we just want to talk wit him,” I heard one of them say.

  I walked to the door, gun in hand, making sure they saw Jesus. He normally has an instant effect on people’s minds.

  “Look my nigga, I’m just tying to get a toe hole, I ain’t got nothin’ but smokin’ dimes.” For the first time they looked in my eyes, nodded their heads in agreement, and walked away. I knew that the two of them were going to be a problem, I could feel it in my gut. Call it a gangster’s intuition, but I felt it. Just then, three people came up complaining to Nina that they had been banging at the back door. They wanted some stones. I turned to walk back in the house. The Narcotic Taskforce car rolled through, four deep, looking out of the car window. With them is the telepathic message that they are watching me. Them white boys sent a shiver through my spine, a signal that I had to be very careful and watch out for the jackman and the policeman. The ironic part was, a dope fiend is cleverer than both of them put together, so I had to watch for them, too.

  *****

  I served out of Nina’s house until the crack of dawn. When the sun started to rise I knew it was time to bounce. The whole time I thought about Trina waiting back at the hotel for me. She was going to be pissed. This was one of my greatest rewards–coming back pockets phat like they got the mumps. I had money in my drawers, socks and all my pockets. Twenty-two stacks, not bad for one night of hustling. Throughout the night, Nina and her elite friends of basers were in the back room of hers having the great smoke out. I was down to my last few stones. My body felt fatigued, my back hurt from bending over serving and my clothes stunk from the awful smell of crack smoke. I was about to call it a day and gave Nina the last of the rocks I had in a bag, about a hundred dollars worth, when I heard a soft knock at the door. I opened it, and there stood the cutest little girl I had ever seen in my life. She was dark as coal, with enchanting almond eyes that seemed to sparkle. I stared, mentally stung, mouth agape. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Didn’t want to either. Something about her held me spellbound. Then it dawned on me. Uncannily, she looked familiar. She looked like Hope! Holy shit! The crack smoke was starting to make me hallucinate. She smiled up at me batting her long pretty eyelashes, wringing her hands together as she danced her leg nervously. I was prepared to dig in my pocket to give her some money. As cute and young as she was I just knew she was selling Girl Scout cookies or something. My eyes trailed her body until I saw the swell of her belly. Like a basketball, she was ready to drop a load. Looked like she was about fifteen months pregnant under that dirty coat. I guessed her age to be no more than 12 years old.

  “I don’t have any money, but I’ll do whatever you want for a rock,” she said. I felt my legs wobble as I grabbed hold of the doorframe for support. “I’ll suck your dick.” I felt my knees damn near buckle.

  From somewhere I did not know existed, I heard a voice groan, “NOOOO!!” as her little hand reached out to grab my shirt. I wanted to scream at her and ask where her family was, especially her mama, but Nina’s voice broke my thoughts.

  “Black Pearl, whatcha doin’ out there? I thought you was still in the hospital.”

  “I left. I got tired of them people sticking needles and stuff all in me. Gurl, give me a bump. I need something to smoke,” the little girl known as Black Pearl said. She tried to push past me. I quickly seized her arm, spun her around. She looked up at me, a face of youthful innocence.

  “Nina what the fuck you doin’? You see this damn girl is pregnant! How old are you?” I asked, fuming mad. The girl cast a long glance at me shuffling her feet. I had the feeling she was asked this question one too many times. “Sixteen,” she mumbled, rolling her eyes.

  “Dat girl gonna smoke if I give it to her or not,” Nina said. “I smoked with my first two babies, and all of them came out all right,” she continued.

  I turned ready to smack the shit out of Nina. She held a pipe in her hand, a rock balanced on top of it. From the look in Black Pearl’s eyes, she wanted to hit that pipe awfully bad. For the first time in my life I was overcome with guilt. This little girl with Hope’s eyes caused the incantation of the words to flow all over again, you’ll end up dead or in prison. This shit was strange. One thing was for sure, this girl was somebody’s child, somebody’s daughter, sister and now was about to be somebody’s mama. Shit! This was not supposed to be part of the game. Someone was violating the rules.

  “Girl, where in the fuck you live at?” I asked her.

  Nina cut in, “She lives wit me sometimes, now leave that gurl alone.” I continued to stare her down, like waiting for an answer. Finally she looked up at me and blinked her eyes the way a child does when they are being chastised.

  “Where your mama at … your family … somebody?” My emotions consumed me. I found a part of myself that I, along with millions of hustlers, find it difficult to identify with–the plight of Black life and just how destructive we are in selling poison to our people. Her bottom lip began to tremble as her delicate starry eyes began to brim with tears. Her features Nubian, like an African Princess, she possessed the kind of beauty that should be captured and placed on a poster for the world to see the destruction of Black humanity. How the ghetto chews up and spits out children like recycled waste.

  Someone else was at the door, a body with no face. I was in a fog. My emotions were on my sleeve. A voice asked, “Lemme get six for fifty.” Just as I reached in my pocket and passed him the last of the dope, a police car cruised by. Too close for comfort. I needed to get out of there. I tried my best not to look at the little girl, but I couldn’t help it. Her ebony cheeks were streaked with tears as she cried silently. She watched me as if I were the one responsible for her tears. To the strongest of men, to watch a child cry, especially a pregnant child is truly tormenting. Keep the babies and the fuckin children out the game! I thought.

  I heard a noise as I was about to leave. I turned around to see Nina Brown on the floor on all fours, searching … searching for an invisible rock. The dope was starting to play tricks with her mind.

  As I checked to see if the coast was clear to make my exit. I tried to shake the scene from my mind, but it was too strong, the voice in my ears was too much. The girl was now holding her stomach bent over crying. From the look on her face I did not know if she was in pain or what. My insides were killing me! I decided right then and there, there was no way in hell I was going to leave this child in this crackhouse. Gangsters have hearts, too. I reached out taking hold of her little hand and together we walked out the door.

  A cool morning breeze welcomed my damp skin as we walked out of the house. It felt like I had been in a cave all night. It was the start of a beautiful morning. In the blue sky the sun strobe the clouds in search of its place in the heavens, while below in hell, I was trying to make reason for what I was do
ing with a pregnant child.

  Once we were safely in the car, I watched her as she struggled with the seat belt. “Oh, you’ll wear a seat belt but you won’t stop smoking to save your baby’s life,” I said indignantly. She gave me a look that pleaded with me not to go there. It worked. I swallowed the dry lump in my throat. I realized that I was powerless by her stare. I couldn’t help thinking how much she looked like Hope. I had to turn my head.

  After I drove a few blocks, I heard my voice ask ever so gently, “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?

  “Yes … I’m hungry,” she answered in a bare whisper. I watched as she rubbed her stomach. I imagined the life of the child in it.

  “Where do you want to eat at?”

  She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, I don’t know. We rode in silence. Up ahead I saw a Shoney’s Restaurant.

  “What ‘bout dat there?” I asked, pointing. She nodded her head yes. I thought I detected a sparkle in her brown eyes.

  This was my first lesson in taking a pregnant Black woman to an all you can eat buffet. The sister could throw down! She ate everything in that restaurant, twice. Cheese eggs, strawberry waffles, bacon, toast–they definitely lost money that day. As I sat there watching her eat, it made me feel good, and the whole time she carried herself like a young lady, polite and well mannered. Afterward she belched and we both laughed.

  I drove to a Dollar General Store and gave her a hundred dollars. We went inside and she bought panties and bras as well as scented soaps and deodorants. For the first time she looked up at me and smiled, it was the smile of gratitude, something that comes from a woman’s heart that melts a man’s soul leaving him powerless. Black Pearl’s biggest strength–a child’s smile that seemed to radiate in infusions of love–would, from that day forward, be my weakness.

  *****

  When we pulled into the hotel parking lot, I already knew what was on her mind. It was placed there by all the men that violated the sanctity of her chastity. Men that were sent into her bedroom in the wee hours of the night. Men that stole her virginity robbing her of a woman’s greatest virtue. These men had been sent in payment for a debt in drugs owed by her mother.

 

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