“So where is he?” Nydia asked.
“Yeah,” Sheila said, still remaining by the door. She was obviously nervous. She was a long way from white suburbia.
Marcus walked back into the living room, his shoulders a little lower than before. “He’s not in the back or the bathroom.”
“We know,” Lisa said.
“How do you…” Marcus started. Lisa’s pointing finger cut him off. He followed her lead and saw the pile. “That lousy motherfucker. We must have won, and he’s trying to keep the money for himself.”
“What?” Sheila asked, stepping into the apartment for the first time.
“We won!” Nydia screamed, jumping up and down. She immediately stopped, however, as the other half of what Marcus had said hit her. “This can’t be happening,” she whispered.
Marcus kicked an empty bottle lying next to his foot. It shattered against the wall. “Oh, it’s happening all right. That half-ass janitor is trying to steal our money. Money that I damn sure need.”
“Asshole!” Nydia yelled out.
“Why?” Sheila asked softly.
“Because he’s a no-good alcoholic who has no type of integrity,” Marcus answered.
Lisa shook her head slowly. “There has to be another reason he’s not here,” she said, struggling to accept the truth. “Maybe he’s on his way to my house to tell us in person. Right, Joe? Maybe he’s headed over by you. DeVante wouldn’t do this, right?” She grabbed Joe’s arm and looked hard into his eyes. His blank expression was all the answer she needed.
“We have to find him,” Nydia said. “I need that fucking money!”
“We all do, Nydia,” Marcus said.
“Not like I do!”
“How the hell do you know?” Marcus said, stepping to her. At six-two, he towered over her five-three frame. “None of us are rich, and we all have bills to pay.”
“Not like the bills I have,” Nydia responded.
Marcus smirked. He recognized a look in her eyes that let him know that she was as desperate for the money as he was. Like DeVante was at one point, Marcus still had an addiction to cocaine. He started using it when his third baby’s mama filed for child support. She had two of his five kids, whom he hardly saw. The cocaine helped to dull the stress from the holes the financial obligation tore into his pockets each payday.
One day, desperate for another high and unable to pay for it, he beat down a corner man and stole the cocaine he had on him. He knew that he had been seen, and that word would ultimately get back to one of the city’s largest drug dealers, but he didn’t care. He was searching for that first high he would never find to put him back on the cloud away from his reality.
That was three days ago, and he hadn’t been to school or back home since then. He’d never played the lottery before, but he figured thirty million was worth it. That’s why he coughed up the ten dollars for the tickets. Of course, at that time he was going to use it to retire and pay his babies’ mamas off. Now he was planning on leaving the States to move to the Caribbean islands where he could avoid the child support and death wish he’d signed.
“Our bills may be different, but like I said, we all have them.” Marcus stared intensely at Nydia for a pregnant second. In that brief moment, Nydia realized that their lives weren’t that different. Same needs, different circumstances.
“Let’s find him,” Nydia said.
Marcus nodded and looked at Joe and Lisa. “You two know him better than any of us. Where the hell would your boy go? Time is of the essence here.”
Joe looked away from the pile and faced Marcus. He was about to answer when he heard a soft clanging noise by the window, the window he knew had a fire escape. He moved to it just in time to see DeVante trying to sneak away.
“DeVante!”
DeVante paused for a brief second and looked up.
“DeVante, man, don’t do this shit.”
DeVante opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Marcus appeared at the window beside Joe.
“You lousy-ass drunk! Don’t even think about trying to keep my money!”
“Give me my money!” Nydia yelled, joining him.
DeVante looked at Joe and shook his head. He’d definitely crossed the line. “I’ll see you on the flip side, Joe.” He continued down the fire escape, no longer worried about the noise he would make.
“Let’s go!” Marcus screamed, moving away from the window. “We can still catch him.”
“I’m right behind you,” Nydia said. She followed Marcus out the door to the staircase. Like a lost dog, Sheila trailed after them.
Lisa and Joe didn’t move. Joe remained at the window, while Lisa stood behind him.
“They won’t catch him,” Joe said matter-of-factly. “DeVante knows these streets like he gave birth to them.”
“So what do we do?”
Joe looked at his watch. It was 11:30. “He can’t claim the money until tomorrow.”
“So where does he go tonight?”
Joe didn’t answer right away. He was busy thinking about the message DeVante had delivered to him. “I think I know where he’s going.”
“Where?”
“To a hideaway spot we used to go to together.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me.”
“What?”
“Look, when DeVante and I used to roll tight together, he had this way of telling me when he was going to get nice. He would always tell me that he would see me on the flip side.”
“The flip side?”
“Yeah. See, the flip side for DeVante meant that he was going to temporarily lose himself and his troubles. Going to the flip side was going to get drunk, high, whatever it took. Before he made his escape, he looked at me and told he would see me there.”
“What if you’re wrong? What if that’s not what he meant?”
“I’m not. I saw his eyes.”
“But what if he changes his mind and doesn’t show up where you think he’ll be? That ticket is worth one hundred and eighty million dollars, Joe.”
“If he’s not there, we’ll deal with it then. But he’ll be there.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Joe didn’t say a word as he stepped past her, but he hoped he was right, too, because if DeVante wasn’t where he thought he would be, then he had lost a friend.
“Are you going to tell the others where you think he’ll be?”
Joe turned and faced Lisa. One hundred and eighty million dollars was out there. Split three ways was sixty million apiece. Sounded a lot better than thirty.
“No,” he said bluntly.
“Wouldn’t that be betraying the others?”
“They’re not my friends.”
“And what am I?”
Joe extended his hand. “My business partner.”
Lisa accepted the offer. “And DeVante?”
“We’ll see when we get there.”
Lisa nodded but didn’t respond. She simply thought about how powerful money’s wedge could be.
7
If it wasn’t for Marcus, I may have changed my mind, because it wasn’t in my nature to cheat people the way I was going to. I do my dirt, but I have my morals. And even though I was halfway down the fire escape, I was having second thoughts. But when Marcus appeared and started talking his shit, calling me a lousy-ass drunk and telling me to come back with his money, my morals went south.
His money? I was the one with the ticket. I’ve never liked Marcus. He’s always looking down on people like he’s better than everyone else. Always acting like he’s some kind of dignified angel floating above everyone’s dirt, when the truth is he’s as dirty as the rest of us. See, he doesn’t know it, but I’ve been told all about his cocaine habit from some of the users I used to hang with. I’ve heard about how he snorts cocaine like a vacuum that sucks up dirt. Sure, I managed to break free from the grasp of the drug’s addiction, but I know that I was one of the lucky ones. Having come from that br
otherhood, I don’t judge those who haven’t been able to make the escape yet, and I didn’t sever my ties with them completely because no one can understand what a junkie goes through like another junkie. And I am still that. I may not be snorting, but the urge is still there, always will be. I don’t judge those who can’t stop using because I know nothing about their demons.
Marcus isn’t like that, though. He’s an addict of the worst kind. The kind who says his addiction is a social one, and insists that he can stop whenever he wants to, when the truth is he’d sell his soul over and over again in search of the ultimate high. Marcus pissed me off with his attitude, and that’s why I told Joe I would see him on the flip side.
I headed down the dark streets, staying invisible within the shadows. I could hear Marcus’s voice leading the search party on the unusually empty streets. I could hear them yelling my name, yelling obscenities. Fuck them. I was cashing this ticket in and escaping to a place where they and my past couldn’t bother me. But I couldn’t escape until the morning, after I claimed the prize money. And going back to my place was not an option. So where to go? There was only one place. And it was like killing two birds with one stone.
I turned down an alley and headed to Jimmy G’s. Anyone who didn’t want to be found went to Jimmy G’s. And I wanted to be as invisible as possible.
I discreetly made my way down the seven blocks until I reached Jimmy’s. I was sure I’d already lost Marcus and his gang, but to be on the safe side, I hid in an alley across the street and took a few quick glances up and down the empty block, and only when I was positive the coast was clear, I hustled across and ducked inside. As soon as I stepped in, all activity ceased as everyone stopped doing whatever it was they were doing and looked my way. It took them seconds to size me up and see that I wasn’t a threat. A junkie and alcoholic can always spot one of their own. It doesn’t matter how you dress, how you look, or how high in society you climb, because we all share the same faraway gaze, the same defeated expression. The brotherhood of addiction—it is as real as any secret society.
There were a lot of new faces that I didn’t recognize, but that didn’t surprise me. Like the NBA, NFL, or MLB, with each new season a trade takes place and a new lost soul comes in to replace one that’s been lost to free agency. Of course, in our world, free agency’s either rehabilitation, jail, or death. I acknowledged with a subtle nod a few people whose contract hadn’t yet expired, and then went to the bar while everyone went back to their business. Jimmy G was behind the bar, not talking, not smiling, just passing out drinks and observing. He saw me and gave me a nod. Other than Joe, Jimmy was the closest thing that I had to a friend. When I would come to get high or lose myself in spirits, he’d sit and talk to me for a few minutes. I don’t know why he did because I never went out of my way to talk to him.
“I ain’t seen you in here in a while,” he said, approaching me.
I looked at his weathered face. With his deep wrinkles, lazy eyes, and yellowed teeth, you could almost mistake Jimmy for an addict himself. But everyone knew better, and they knew not to fuck with him. Jimmy may not be the biggest of men, but he is one of the wickedest, and he isn’t afraid to die, which means that he isn’t afraid of anyone. But what really makes him dangerous is that he isn’t part of the brotherhood, which means that his mind is always clear, allowing him to be cognizant of everything around him. Jimmy can see things happening before they happen, like he has a sixth sense. If you step into his place with bad intentions he knows it, because he can see it in your eyes and see it in the way you move. Move wrong, look wrong, and Jimmy won’t hesitate to part your broken soul from your beaten body. Jimmy caters to the lost because he has a soft spot for them. His mother was a heroin addict, his father an alcoholic. He’s been a part of the dark side all his life, so he knows how bad it can be, and how strong its pull is. He caters to the lost, but he’s never taken a walk on our side.
“I heard you’s a janitor now and got yourself cleaned up. Heard you off that smack.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” I said softly.
“I also heard you an alcoholic now.”
I didn’t respond.
Jimmy looked at me and smirked; I didn’t have to respond for him to see right through me.
“So what’ll it be?”
“Vodka…straight.”
Jimmy walked away and came back a second later with a shot glass and a bottle.
“Where’s your running buddy?” he asked, pouring the vodka.
“Around.”
“I heard he got hisself cleaned up, too, only he ain’t replace one habit with another. Heard he a gym teacher in the same high school you clean up.”
“Yeah, that’s about right,” I said, downing the liquor and motioning for another shot.
“Joe always was smarter than you.”
“Leave the bottle, Jimmy.”
“You a smart guy, DeVante, and even though you don’t act like it, you smarter than most people in here. You coulda been a gym teacher, too.”
“Why you always trying to preach to me, Jimmy? I don’t see you talking to nobody else the way you talk to me.”
“Your eyes…”
“What about ’em?”
“They black, but they ain’t as dark as most of these fools in here. Some of us are cut out for bigger and better things, only we don’t know it.”
“And you think I’m cut out for those things?”
Jimmy sucked his teeth. “Ain’t for me to think.” Saying nothing else, he walked away, leaving the bottle behind.
I grabbed hold of the bottle and poured another shot. I hated when he made me think. They say the truth hurts; well, Jimmy has never lied, and when he would tell me in his own way that I was wasting away, I would feel it. That’s one of the reasons why I started getting drunk in my apartment after I started working. I didn’t want to hear the truth and feel the pain. It wasn’t for him to think, but he always knew.
I downed the shot, and as the liquid fire blazed a trail down my chest, I stared at my reflection in the glass behind the counter. I thought about what Jimmy had said: I could have been the teacher. Was he right? Maybe. Maybe not. I patted my pocket with the ticket in it. Guess I’ll never know now. I poured another shot and then saluted myself.
Then I thought about Joe.
He was my true friend, my brother, though not by blood. Our life experiences and demons bonded us with an understanding that we would always share, and when I was on that fire escape staring up at him, I realized that I couldn’t betray the friendship we had. He wouldn’t have turned against me and I had to respect that. Hopefully he caught what I was saying when I told him I would see him on the flip side. If he did, would he bring the others with him? I hoped not. I hated Marcus’s guts, Nydia is a pain in the ass, Sheila is a damn busybody, and Lisa…Lisa is special. If Joe had to bring anyone, I wouldn’t be mad if it was her. I don’t know if we could have been anything or not, but I do know that I could see myself happy with her. But I was going to cheat her, too. If Joe brings her, I wonder what her reaction toward me will be.
8
Joe shut off the engine to Lisa’s car. They were parked behind a Dumpster in an alley around the corner from Jimmy G’s. Joe insisted they park there to keep the car out of sight, just in case Marcus and the others came around. Joe’s hands remained fastened around the steering wheel. Sixty million dollars was waiting for him inside of Jimmy’s, or so he hoped.
He could do a lot with that money. The first thing he’d do was move his wife, Shantal, and twin sons out of the cramped two-bedroom apartment they were currently living in. Because of the drug problems he used to have, paying bills hadn’t been high on his list of priorities, and as a result he’d been forced to take an apartment in a less than stellar neighborhood. He’d tried other places, but after the credit check and rental history, he was always denied occupancy. In a few hours, all of the drama he’d gone through would be over.
With his share of the money he
would find a comfortable seven-bedroom home with an entertainment room for the big screen and surround-sound system he would buy. He’d give his wife the sewing room she’d always wanted; his boys would still share a room, but they’d also have a separate playroom that they could leave cluttered.
Joe wanted a basement with a bar setup; he wanted another private room for the African art he planned to collect. In the backyard he wanted an eight- to ten-foot pool, with a diving board for his back flips and belly flops, and a yard big enough to have barbecues and play football with his boys. In the front he wanted a two-car garage big enough to hold the Escalade that he would buy for himself, and the Jaguar that he would buy for his wife. He’d quit his job at the school and go after his dream to be a writer. He had a lot of pain inside that he wanted to turn into stories.
Sixty million dollars would almost give him the hassle-free life he’d only ever dreamt of having. Almost. But he still had one monkey on his back; Sharmaine Jones. His ex-something, and the mother of his other son. He and Sharmaine used to get high together back in his other life. Joe had always known that their relationship would never amount to anything. They got high and fucked, and that was about as meaningful as things got. Sharmaine wasn’t supposed to be able to get pregnant; at least that’s what she told Joe. And because he was probably high when she told him, he never thought twice to question her or protect himself. Her pregnancy was what finally pushed him into rehab. Their child would be his first and he didn’t want him or her to have a strung-out father for a role model. Joe had suffered with a poor role model all his life with his alcoholic and abusive father.
When he made the decision to make the lifestyle change, he wanted Sharmaine to make it with him, not because he particularly cared for her, but because she was carrying his child, and he was worried about his child being affected both physically and mentally from the drug use. Unfortunately, when Sharmaine finally made the decision to give up the drugs, it was too late, and because the drugs had already done their damage, Joe’s son was born with mental retardation.
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