by K Elliott
“Tommy, are you ready?”
“Just give me a few minutes.”
“Okay, but I’m kind of pressed for time.”
“I told you I was going to need two hours.”
“Yeah I know. Where can we meet?”
“Carolina Place Mall.”
“Okay. I will be there in fortyfive minutes.”
“Okay,” Tommy said, terminating the call. He sat on the edge of the bed and held the crack pipe in his hand. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. His father was all he had. His mother had died years ago. Now his hero had let him down. The man who told him, “Don’t ever do drugs,” was doing drugs. Tommy wondered if this was a punishment from God for dealing all the years he’d dealt drugs. He’d sold drugs to mamas, daughters, fathers, and sons and maybe this was his payback. God, he hoped this was only a bad dream. Minutes had passed while he thought. The phone rang again. It was Matt.
“Yeah.”
“What side of the mall do you want to meet me on?” “The side where the Sears entrance is.”
“Okay.”
“I will probably beat you there. I’m about five minutes away.” “Okay. Just wait on me.”
“I’ll probably just step inside and get something to eat—
probably at Sabarro’s.”
“Okay,” Tommy said, then ended the call. He picked the crack
pipe up again then dropped it on the carpet. With his shoe, he
smashed it. He looked over at his dad, who was snoring now. He
stood over him, kissed him, and left.
***** Tommy picked Ditty up in front of his house. Ditty made small talk, but Tommy’s mind was still on his father and the crack pipe he’d found. This had to be one of the worst moments of his life. They stopped at a red light about a mile away from the mall. Tommy was in the center lane when the light turned green in the turning lane. He pulled out into the middle of traffic. A Toyota Avalanche came to a screeching halt and a burly white man with a beard rolled down his window and yelled, “Watch what the fuck you’re doing!”
Ditty had placed his hands on the dashboard to brace himself when Tommy stopped since Ditty was not wearing his seatbelt.
“What the hell are you doing, man?” Ditty said nervously.
Tommy weaved between a blue Dodge Intrepid and a white
Dear Summer Honda Accord, barely missing the Accord. He then pulled to the side of the road and put the car in park. His heart beat fast. He looked at Ditty and said, “I’m sorry, man.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Ditty looked at Tommy who was avoiding his eyes. “Something
is wrong. Your mind has been somewhere else since you picked me up.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Come on, man. You know I know you.”
Tommy shifted into drive and pulled off. He didn’t say another word on the way to the mall.
Tommy and Ditty found Matt and Jay in the food court, not in front of the Sabarro’s like Matt had said, but in front of Chickfil-A drinking lemonade and eating chicken sandwiches. Jay offered Tommy some fries as he walked up.
“No. I’m watching my figure,” Tommy teased.
Matt and Jay stood while they continued to eat their food.
“Where did you park?”
“I came in through Sears like we’d talked about.”
“Got the money?”
Tommy looked at him oddly. “Come on, man. We’ve been doing this shit for almost a year. You know I got the money.”
Matt and Jay left the unfinished food on the table and they all walked through the food court to exit the mall. Matt handed Ditty the keys. Tommy got the Macy’s shopping bag that contained the money out of the car and gave it to Jay.
“I’ll count it and give you a call,” Jay said.
“You know the money’s right.”
Jay smiled. “Lighten up, Tommy.”
“I’m light enough…about twentyfive grand lighter.”
The white boys pulled away in the Dodge Ram. Ditty had pulled away but had only driven a few feet in the new Escalade when Tommy called him on his cell phone. Ditty answered on the second ring. “Yeah.”
“Stop.”
“Stop? What do you mean, stop? We need to get the hell away from here.”
“I want to get in the car with you.”
Ditty stopped and Tommy locked his vehicle and walked toward the Escalade that was now in reverse. When Tommy got into the car, he looked serious and his eyes were now red. Ditty asked, “What’s wrong?”
Tommy took a deep breath and looked toward the window; a few seconds of silence fell upon them. Finally, Tommy said, “I think my pops is smoking crack.”
Chapter 16
Q’s caller ID read Squirt’s baby mama. He answered it on the second ring.
“What up, nigga?” Squirt said.
Q was surprised when he heard his voice.
“When did you get out?”
“I’m not out. I’m still inside.”
“You good? You need anything?”
“Just help my lady out every now and then with my son, and I will be okay.”
“Cool. I got you. Don’t even worry about it.”
“Q, the feds came to see me.”
“What? They came to see you for nine ounces? That ain’t shit.”
“I mean, I don’t think they’re going to take the case, but they wanted to know what I know. You know, the same ol’ shit.”
“Tryin’ to get you to rat, huh?”
“Yeah, but you know that ain’t me.”
“Don’t worry. I got you, dawg.”
“Q, one other thing…that nigga Tommy ain’t shit.”
“What you mean?”
“He did this to me Q.”
“Did they…the feds say it?”
“You know they ain’t gone tell you that shit, but I asked.”
“You have proof that he did this to you?”
“No, but I know he did. I just got a gut feeling he did it, Q.”
“Don’t worry. I will take care of that situation for you.”
There was a long silence then an operator announced that there was one minute remaining in the phone conversation. Q asked, “Do you need anything else?”
“That’s okay, Q. I’m good.”
“Yo, just let me know nigga. I’m here for you. I’ma take your girl some paper over there.”
“Appreciate it, man. She needs help with the phone bill.” “I gotcha, nigga.”
The phone disconnected.
***** Mark Pratt trailed Tommy to a car wash on the west side of town. There Tommy and Ditty, who had also followed Tommy, met two men; both black. One was tall and skinny; the other one had a more solid build and was wearing a wife beater with tattoos covering his body. Mark sat across the street and watched. He wanted to know what was going on. Who were those men and what were they talking about? Questions needed to be answered. Tommy handed the tall skinny man the keys who then gave them to the man with the tattoos who then hopped into the Escalade. Why was this truck changing hands so much? The skinny guy gave Tommy a Nike shoe box. Tommy jumped into Ditty’s car, and they pulled off.
Mark Pratt followed the men to the Bahaman apartment complex in the ghetto on the west side of Charlotte. He drove into the parking lot then quickly exited. There were no leads; only confusion. Who the hell were these men? Were they drug dealers? How would he find out? He would have to come back with help. He knew he was on to something. But what? he wondered. He turned his air conditioning unit up and drove away.
***** At his father’s house, Tommy counted the money he’d received from Scooter. He sold the Escalade for thirtyfive grand, profiting $10,000. After he counted the money, he climbed up into the attic. When he was coming down from the attic, he met J.C., who was smiling. “Hey, I didn’t know you were here.”
Tommy stepped down then pushed the ladder back up into the attic. He walked past J.C.
>
“What’s wrong, son?”
Tommy ignored his father and headed for the door.
“Tommy, you don’t see me?”
Tommy turned and faced him. They stared at each other for a while. Then Tommy walked past J.C. into the living room. He sat down on the sofa nearest the TV and crossed his legs. J.C. came in behind him. “Son, what is bothering you?”
Tommy looked. His father seemed thin, but maybe he’d always been that size. Maybe it was the fact that he’d seen the crack pipe that made him appear thinner. “Pops, earlier, when you were asleep…” Tommy stopped.
“Son, what is it?”
“Pops, are you smoking that shit?”
J.C. lowered his gaze. He didn’t answer. He walked over and sat on the sofa next to Tommy. “Hell, no. Are you crazy?”
“Well, what the hell happened to your money?”
“Bad investments, Tommy.”
“Bullshit. You smoking and you know it.”
“Watch how you talk to me, son. I’m still your daddy.”
Tommy stood. He turned his back then said, “I’m outta here.”
“Son, don’t go.”
Tommy turned and faced J.C. He noticed that his T-shirt was too big for his pop’s frame. Now that he could see him, he realized he’d definitely lost weight.
“Pops, how could you do it?”
“Son, I wasn’t…”
“I saw the crack pipe.”
“It wasn’t mine,” J.C. said as he turned from Tommy’s gaze and started to walk away.
Tommy grabbed his pop’s bony shoulders. “Oh, my God. Look how skinny you are.”
J.C. turned and faced his son. His eyes were now red. “Son, I ain’t gonna bullshit you.”
“I’m listening.”
“I have a problem…I mean, I tried…I mean, shit’s been hard.”
Tommy threw his arms up in disgust. “Shit hasn’t been that fuckin’ hard. How in the hell could you do this?”
“Son, the money brought the problems and the problems brought the stress.”
“But YOU bought the fuckin’ crack. I can’t believe my pops is a goddamned crack head.”
“Don’t disrespect me like that. I’m still your daddy.”
“Nigga, you ain’t my fuckin’ daddy. My pops wouldn’t be this fuckin’ weak minded.”
J.C. took a deep breath then said, “We’ve all made mistakes before. Nobody is perfect, Tommy.”
“I’ve never smoked a joint. Hell, you was the one that always told me to stay away from drugs. You were the one who told me that people who did drugs were weak.”
J.C. covered his face. He was ashamed. Seconds went by and neither said anything. Finally, J.C. said, “I know I did.”
“What happened?”
“I was with a woman, and she was using. I was feeling kind of fucked up because I’d lost some money in a botched real estate investment and she told me that that shit would make me feel better.”
“What shit?” Tommy asked. He wanted to be sure he knew what his pops was talking about. He wanted details. He wanted the facts.
“You know—crack.”
“Okay. How did it make you feel?”
“The first time I took it, I tell you the truth, nothing could beat this feeling; not even sex.”
Tommy shook his head. “You’re pathetic.”
J.C.’s face became solemn. “It’s like that, Tommy. Addicts chase the feeling of the first hit.”
“You’re an addict?”
“Yeah.”
“So, you were so weak for a bitch that she convinced you to spend all your money on crack?”
“No, Tommy. I was depressed.”
“You were weak as hell…you are weak as hell.” “I need your help, son.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to help you?”
J.C. grabbed his son’s hand then looked him in the eye. “I want you to help me get off this shit.”
“You want to go to twelve steps?”
“Anything. I just want you to be there for me.”
“I love you, Pops.”
J.C. embraced his son then whispered, “Son, I’m sorry I let you down.”
Tommy held J.C. tightly. “It’s okay. We’re going to make it.”
Chapter 17
Angie sat in the living room watching “Grey’s Anatomy.” Tommy walked right by her without saying a word. She paused the TiVo player using the remote control and looked in his direction. “So, you’re not speaking?”
“I ain’t got nothing to say.” He walked into the bedroom. Angie sucked her teeth and unpaused her show.
Tommy was tired. Today had been a very eventful day for him. He needed someone to talk to, but, more than anything, he needed some rest. He kicked off his Nikes and lay in the bed with his shorts on. Angie would bitch, but he could care less about what she thought. He picked up his Blackberry and emailed Summer.
Dear Summer, I hope your day was better than mine. I really needed you today. Me and Angie had it out today. She’s not like you Summer and I don’t know how I can truly say that I love her because today she really proved that she doesn’t love me. But that story’s a long one that I don’t have time to explain. My real problem is I found out today that my pops is smoking crack. I tell you that shit crushed me like you wouldn’t believe. I straight up found the crack pipe in his room. When I first asked him about it, he denied it, but then he later admitted that he was smoking. I hope you don’t ever go through no shit like that with either of your parents. I needed you more than anything today but I didn’t want to bother you with my problems. I knew you would understand. Angie wouldn’t. She’s not like us. She ain’t from the hood. So I didn’t tell her. I hope you have a good night or if you read this in the morning, have a great morning.
Peace.
Tommy
Sent via Sprint PCS Blackberry
***** Q and Country were on the balcony of Q’s condo smoking a blunt when Q brandished a chrome 9mm. “I swear to you, Country, that nigga has to go.” Q inhaled the blunt and cocked the hammer of the gun. “You see, that’s the difference between me and a lot of other getting-money niggas. You see, I’m real. I don’t play the fuckin’ radio. I will kill Tommy’s punk ass.”
“What the fuck you talking about?” “That nigga ratted,” Q said. His eyes were red from the weed smoke.
Country took the blunt from Q. “You ain’t got no proof that Tommy set Squirt up.”
“Squirt believes it in his heart that Tommy had something to do with it.”
Country coughed some, then took another drag and finally passed the blunt to Q. “I think you need to do some research first.”
“Nigga, you were the one questioning me about Tommy. Have you forgot that?”
“Yeah, but none of us has proof that Squirt was set up. I mean, why would Tommy set him up?”
“I don’t know.”
“Exactly.”
Q tucked the gun back into his waistband then pulled out a condom. “This is how I’ma get him.”
“You gonna fuck him?” Country laughed.
“No. I’ma fuck his bitch, with her fine ass.” He then put the condom back into his pocket and sucked up the rest of the blunt. *****
Quentin seemed to be a nice guy. Though Summer didn’t know much about him, she decided to meet him for lunch. She wanted to meet in a public place although it was risky since she knew she could possibly be seen by Tommy; but hey, they weren’t an item. She and Q met at Fuel Pizza, downtown. Q was dressed in shorts, Timberland boots, and a wife beater. A humongous diamond glistened in his left ear. He and Summer sat at a booth in the back of the restaurant. Q looked damn good. Summer thought so herself, and she occasionally looked at the Superman symbol tattooed on his arm. Damn he had a nice body.
Q smiled again, and this time Summer quivered a little. Q had his elbows on the table, and she usually didn’t like that, but she liked that roughness about him because she knew he could be gentle. He had warm eyes.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
“No. Actually, I just wanted to see you.”
“Well, I’m hungry.” She smiled. “I know you’re used to a lot of
girls being cute and not eating, but, hell, I’m hungry.” Q laughed. “Knock yourself out. I just don’t like pizza. Cheese fucks with my stomach and I don’t eat meat.”
Summer stood. Her jeans were gripping her ass. She hadn’t planned on wearing tight jeans, but she was glad she did. Now she would sashay to the counter and watch from the corner of her eye. Her heels clacked as she walked away. She looked long, lean, and sexy. The yoga was paying off. She had the attention of every man in the pizza parlor. She glanced at Q and his eyes were glued to her ass.
“A slice of cheese and a bottle of water,” she said to Kevin, noticing the name tag on the teenager behind the counter.
The boy put the pizza in the oven and handed her the water. “Did you need a cup?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“That’s for damn sure,” Q said as he walked up behind her and pulled her hair. She felt like a high school girl. She blushed. “You like pulling on hair, huh?”
He licked his lips. “My specialty.”
Kevin handed her the pizza and she and Q walked back to the booth. He sat beside her.
She bit into the slice. The cheese was like elastic as she drew the slice away from her mouth. She’d gotten cheese all over her face. As she licked it off, Q said, “Damn.”
She laughed. “What?”
“Nothing. Just thinking. I bet you can do wonders with your tongue, that’s all.”
She busted out laughing then sat the pizza back on the paper plate. “Quentin, you are too much.”
He looked in her eyes. “Listen, Summer. I been thinking about you since the day I met you, and I can’t get you off my mind.”
“What have you been thinking about, Q?”
“Nothing. Just that I wouldn’t mind being with a girl like you.”
She opened her water. “That’s bullshit, Q. You want to fuck me.”
Q looked the other way and didn’t respond.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Quentin. You want to fuck me. Why don’t you just go ahead and admit it?”