There was an even later night spot that was open from three a.m. till six a.m. but there was always a great chance of getting ripped off there. Only the desperados and the predators are walking the streets from three till six.
Dope will make you find out what you are really about, or what you aint about. It made me find out.
When you run out of money you will find some. Somehow someway you gotta fill that need. And the need is always growing. Always. And I had two habits to support. Mine and Stacey’s We were always coming up with some scheme. I would stand near Washington square park with the rest of the street dealers. But I was looking for the big deal. And I had NOTHING to sell. College kids always passed by looking for weed or pills and shit. Kiddie drugs I called them.
“What do you need?” I asked.
“Can you get a pound?” Said a guy about college age.
I looked at the guy up and down. Too young to be a cop. Just a college student.
“Two thousand. You got money.” I said.
The kid flashed a wad of twenty crisp, hundred dollar bills.
“Let’s go. Follow me.” I took off towards my house and the kid was following me. I ran up the flight of steps and opened the door and there was Stacey sick as can be. She was always sick. She had a MONSTER habit. As soon as I walked in the door with the kid she got a look of horror on her face. She knew what I was doing.
“Give me the money. I’ll be right back.” I said.
“I don’t know about that.” The guy said. He was reluctant to give me the money.
“Wait here with my girlfriend. I’ll be right back. Five minutes. It’ the next building over.”
He was still a little skeptical.
“Think I would take you to where I live if I was gonna rip you off. Quit trippin. Give me the money.” I was impatient.
The kid took the two thousand dollars out of his pocket and gave it to me.
“Be right back.”
I turned around and flew down the flights of stairs one whole flight t a time. I made a hell of a racket. I am certain the other tenants hated the junkies in 3-C.
I hit the block and made a left and within twenty feet I ran into Carlos who just happened to be the Kingpin of Dominican dope dealers.
“Carlos. What you got?” I asked him.
“Was it matter? Choo never got no money anyway.”
I whipped out the wad and showed him. His eyes lit up light flashlights. He pulled out three bundles. That’s thirty dime bags.
“Three hundy.”
“Two fitty.”
“Done.”
I dropped the money he dropped the bindles, we both reached down fast to pick up our goods. I took off and shot a bindle on the next alley way I passed. Soon as I was done fixing I found a pay phone and called Stacey. She was expecting the call. She went right into freaked girlfriend mode.
“Hello.”
“Is he still there?”
“Yeah.”
“Kick him out.”
“You gotta be kidding me.” She was a natural.
“I’ll meet you at the Hut.” I said.
“Is he ok? Was he in handcuffs? How many cops?”
She was great. I heard her muffle the phone to tell the guy.
“My boyfriend just got busted trying to get you a pound. We’re gonna need you to help us with some bail money. How much you got right now?”
She was good. I mean really good.
“Thanks for calling. Yeah. His friend is here. He’s gonna loan us some bail money.”
Boy was probably wishing he never got out of bed.
Once in awhile whoever got ripped off would go looking for me. And sometimes they would find me. Once in a while I had to punch it out. But not too often. Most people figured it wasn’t worth the effort.
35
“Wake up baby. I’m sick”
I thought I was dreaming. You now that moment when all of a sudden you know it’s no longer a dream. And you try to fall back into it. Control it. Try to grab back that sleep before another day comes crashing down on my junkie madness. Every day for a junkie is a quest. Every movement is a mission. Every time you put on your shoes you know what lies ahead is probably wilder than you could ever imaging. That’s junkie life. And it aint fun.
I felt a slap on my cheek. I laid still. I felt another harder one. Then a good slap.
“What are you doing? What is wrong with you?” I said.
“I’m sick baby. Go cop.”
“One it’s freezing out there. Two aint no one out yet.” I pilled the blanket around me tighter.
“Dimebag’s out there. He’s always out there early.”
“Dimebag’s a rip off.”
She held on to the sheet and kicked me off the bed. She was pretty strong as skinny as she was. Or maybe that was the Monster that lived inside her. I started putting my clothes on. Stacey was sitting on the bed shaking and sweating. She would wake up sweating. She must have done a lot last night. Funny thing about dope, the more you do the more you need to do. And more and more and more until you crash and burn.
“There’s some money in my jeans.”
I reached down and picked up her jeans and I could see they were covered in little blood spots. I was getting more pissed off by the second. I counted the money.
“There’s only eighty six dollars here. Are you gonna try and tell me you danced for eight hours and only made eighty six dollars? What you think, I’m stupid?”
“It’s been dead. No one’s been coming in. I love you baby”
“Sure you do. Wanna know what I think?”
“No.”
‘Well I’m gonna tell you anyway.”
“Here it comes.” He said. She looked real sick.
“I bet anything I can make a call or two and find out you were in the bathroom all night doing speedballs. That’s where all the money went. And your wake up which is why you’re sick. You did your wake up.”
She doubled over in pain. She knew how to get me.
“Hurry baby I’m sick.”
“I’m sick of the bullshit you’re running on me.”
“I’m not. That’s all in your head. I love you.
“The only thing you love is getting high.”
“That’s not true. Don’t say that.”
“Truth hurts, don’t it.” I said as I walked out slamming the door behind me.
I hit the flights of stairs hard, it must have shook the whole building each time I landed. One of the tenants stuck his head out to see what was up.
“GO BACK IN YER HOUSE!” I said.
He shut the door quick. Most people don’t want no part of nothing. Not a handout or helping people. Most people just don’t want no part of anything. Not in the city. Not in the eighties.
First thing I needed was some chocolate. FIRST THING has gotta be sugar. I always thought about the junkies I saw in one of my early arrests fiending over sugar. I didn’t understand it then. I did now. Gotta get that rush. I cut the line and grabbed a Snickers and some lawyer type got in my face.
“Didn’t you see there’s a line here buddy.” He said with some attitude. I snapped.
“SO WHAT? You want problems? Cuz I got problems. You can have some of mine.”
He stepped back. I don’t think he was expecting this dirty smelly snot dripping junkie to jump in his face. And him in his suit, he didn’t want to mess that up for sure. The shopkeeper intervened.
“DL… Why you always causing trouble? You need to get clean boy. You got your candy. Now get out of my shop. I’ll climb over this counter and kick your ass my self.”
The shopkeeper was named Tony and he had the patience of a saint. He watched me fall. At this point I was still on the way down.
I looked at the Lawyer guy once more, threw the dollar on the counter and left with out getting my change. That’s Tony’s tip for always putting up with me. He was way cool a family man with like six kids, he was always trying to talk sense to me.
I hi
t the dope hole, which was an area that all the junkies and dealers hung out at buying and selling dope. It was about three blocks from my house. This is the place to go before the Domincans came out around nine am. Six in the morning you came to the Dope hole. And Dimebag was always out early. He originally showed me the rope when I first hit the scene. Before my habit really took over.
Dimebag would preach his philosophy. “In and out. You gotta get in and out quick. That way you can sell small bags and by the time you get back six hours later all they can do is scratch for some more. If you stay there too long they might come back too quick and want a recount. Or even worse, a refund. Yeah. In and out quick.” That’s what he would always tell me. He was always preaching his street gospel.
Dimebag was certain he had it all figure out. Dimebag’s real name is Byron. We used to be best friends before I got into dope hard. Now Byron couldn’t stand me. His girl is named Sydney and she was always pretty cool to me. As long as I didn’t get too close. She liked Stacey enough though.
I hit the Dopehole and my best friend Tommy was there just about to do his wake up. A real junkie doesn’t run out of dope until he has some more in his pocket, or unless he absolutely has to do it cause he is sick. A real junkie wakes up thinking about firing dope first thing, his first breath if possible. Then he takes a piss.
In my body or in my pocket. I have it or I’m on my way to get it. That was how I rolled.
“Whats shaking Babaloo?” Tommy asked.
“Same shit. Been here long?”
“Seems like all day.”
I set up a makeshift table and starting fixing my dope. My buddy Nature walked up and sat next to his girl Candy. Nature and Candy were into rocks not dope. Just coke in general but mostly they liked smoking rocks.
“Nature.”
“What up D.”
Nature got his name cause he always found a place in a local park and would build a badass homeless camp. No one could ever find it unless he took you there. Not even the cops. Or the park rangers.
There was a whole community living on the streets. I still had a place to stay in Staceys Grandma’s rent control apartment, but not for long and I knew it. I just didn’t know I was two steps from being homeless. Like I said you never see this shit coming, it just comes.
A hooker I know named Shelby walked up. Strung out hard.
“Hows it going DL?”
“Beat it.”
“Can I get a little taste of yours. I’ll let you hit it. Or the best blowjob of your life. How bout it baby?”
“She just offered me the same deal.” Tommy said laughing.
“First of all I aint your baby. Second of all aint no one getting any of this but me. This is my wake up. I could barely sleep last night I was so excitied about doing it.”
“I’ve got money.” Shelby whipped out a wad of cash.
“I’ve got money too. I’m gonna need my money to get some more shit right after I fire up this shit.”
“But.” She was desperate.
“BEAT IT.”
Shelby got up and walked away cursing me in some other language. I don’t know where she was from but it wasn’t from here. A lot of people came to the big city and got CHEWED UP.
“Who’s coming? You know?” I asked.
Candy leaned over. “Fatman for sure.”
“We don’t give a shit about Fatman. He only sells coke. We need DOPE.”
“Yeah you know, dope, junk smack.”
“Horse, Tar, Chiva, Brown sugar.” Tommy fell right into it. It was like one of our many rituals before we shot up.
“H, Skag.” Nature joined in.
“Brown tape, Black Eagle, China White.”
“White Lady, White girl, White Boy, White stuff.” Shelby only thought about white drugs.
“Bodhisattva, Original Formula.”
“Mexican Brown, Scat, Number Eight.”
“Black Tar, Brown Crystal, Sack.”
“Andi if you wanna give it the respect it DESERVES.”
“HEROIN.” Everyone said ‘Heroin’ at the same time. Like I said, this was our ritual. We both looked at each other, then at our arms.
“It will be better in the next life.” I used to always say that before I shot up. Another ritual.
We both sat back reeling from shooting our wake up. Nothing feels like the first shot of the day. One incredible rush that can’t be beat. Then you spend the rest of the day shooting up over and over, while you are on a constant mission to generate money to get more. It’s a vicious cycle.
A limousine pulled into the Dopehole kind of fast.
“That’s my girl.” Shelby said all excited. Shelby lived with a fine ass Blonde named Alexa. She was more of a high end hooker than Shelby was.
The limo stopped in front of us and the passenger door flew open. Alexa jumped out of the car spitting cum out of her mouth and holding a bloody switchblade. The limo driver stepped out of the other side freshly stabbed and bleeding on his white limo driver uniform.
“You cut me bitch.” He said checking out his wound.
“What you think was gonna happen Huh? Punk ass bitch. What you think? You put your hands on me. You aint the trick dumbass. You’re the Driver. You pay double.”
“I’m gonna knock you out bitch.” The Limo driver said.
“WHAT YOU SAY? YOU MESSING WITH MY GIRL PUNK?” Shelby went into ballistic mode beating the driver with her purse while he was trying to knock either one of them and not get too beaten. Candy looked at me.
“Help her D.” Candy pleaded.
I looked at Tommy who shrugged his shoulders like, ‘why not?’ So I got up and flicked open this pocket knife I carried. It was nothing big, just enough.
“She cut you? Let me see.” I said. I let him see I had a knife. It was too early in the morning for a knife fight I thought. I just wanted to get high.
The limo driver looked at me then the two girls and he got it, time to leave. I went at him with my blade and he did a football maneuver and I fell down. He took this moment to jump back in his car and back out of the dope hole as fast as he could. Shleby and Alexa stood there screaming as he left. I went right back to my dope.
Alexa sat down and had a complete breakdown until Candy gave her a hit of her crack stem. That calmed her down. The Fatman showed up and her and Shelby and Nature and Candy took off quick. Fatman only sold coke. Me and Tommy needed dope.
It was still early. Before seven am. We sat back to wait. Tommy was my road dog. If I was one step from homelessness Tommy he was three. I was living in my girls apartment. Tommy still had an apartment AND a car. A sick ass 69 Nova. I always though it’s only a matter of time till he sells it, I would have. But Tommy hung onto it. He loved his car. I think it was the fact that he still had it made him feel less like a junkie.
“ You having fun?” I asked him.
“What do you mean? Time of my life.” Tommy said full of sarcasim.
“No I mean it man. Strange as it sounds. I’m have the best time I ever had.”
“That’s not how it looks.”
“How’s it look?”
“Like you fell from grace. You see Fatman over there?” Tommy pointed at Fatman.
Fatman was standing next to his car. The cokeheads were four deep all around him holding out money.
“That used to be you.”
“Except skinny.”
“No I mean it. You used to be on top, no habit, making money. Now you are just another one of the junkies.”
“I’ll be back on top. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. This whole thing is like one big adventure for me. Life on the street is always one step in front of death on the street. Every day it’s a challenge on ten different fronts. Copping dope, staying well, mugging fools, not getting ripped off, not getting busted, watching my chick, watching fools watch my chick. Even the getting sick part. It’s all places I never been.”
“You didn’t like it better on top?” Tommy asked.
“Be
tter?’ I don’t know. Different for sure. Everything happens on the street. Anything I can think of. I’ve made a serious relationship with the monkey on my back. It’s King Kong. And he’s a comedian. Laughing at me all day long.”
“You like it this way?”
“It’s ok for now. Kind of exciting not knowing what’s coming next.” I said and I meant it.
Tommy pondered this for a moment.
“I’m not having as much fun as you. I must be in a transitional period.”
“That’s gotta be it.” I liked Tommy a ton. He was my road dog, my partner. And living on the streets or damn near it’s good to have at least one friend you can trust.
“Look who’s here.” Tommy said. Across the dopehole we could see Dimebag pull in with Sydney his girl riding shotgun.
“He’s such a piece of shit.” I said.
“Didn’t you guys used to be friends?”
“Yeah but we aint really friends no more. Soon as he found out I was shooting dope he cut me loose.”
Dimebag got out of his car.
“SHOPS OPEN. LINE IT UP.” Junkies came out of every corner and lined up. Everyone wants their wake up. It’s the most exciting part of a junkies day. Dimebag always makes everyone stand in a line. Makes him feel important.
“Lets go. I gotta hurry back. Stacey’s probably shaking bad by now.”
Me and Tommy got up and started walking over to Dimebag. There was about ten junkies waiting to get served. Fatman was just finishing up with his last customer. He was smoking a blunt leaning next to his car watching Dimebag. This street urchin local girl named Easy started walking towards the line which wouldn’t have bothered me at all except she was about eight months pregnant. She looked like she had just crawled out from under a car. Normally I wouldn’t try to stop anyone from getting high, but she had a kid inside her. It just aint right. Easy didn’t care about that kid.
Me, Tommy and Easy all reached Dimebag at the same time. Dimebag motioned for Easy to step up.
“What you need?” Dimebag asked Easy.
“Nothing. She don’t need shit.” I said. I turned to Easy. “Beat it. Don’t let me see you here again. Not till you pop out that kid.”
“What? Who the hell you think you are? My dad? Well you AINT my dad. And if you were my dad you would be waiting for me to bring this home so you could get loaded and bang me.” Easy was way hard from the street.
Becoming A Son Page 17