“Ay, brotha. Look out for Scratch. Spare me a dollar, youngblood,” he begged to a man walking out of the store.
The man ignored him and proceeded to his car. A pain shot through Scratch’s stomach as his body went through withdrawal. As he clenched his stomach, he saw a beautiful girl in high heels and a mini-skirt walking into the store.
“Ay, baby girl. Can you spare a dolla’? Come on, baby girl, hook Scratch up,” he begged as she walked right past him.
The bell over top of the store’s door rang as the girl entered the store without paying Scratch a bit of mind. Her head was low, and it wasn’t as if she was trying to ignore him like the man before her had so blatantly done, it was just that she was so consumed in her own personal thoughts that she hadn’t heard a word that Scratch had said.
Scratch watched through the store’s glass door as the girl stood in line at the counter, dug into her bra and pulled out wrinkled bills. His mind began to work overtime.
“Bingo!” Scratched whispered. He now had a plan.
Chapter Three
Halleigh had just walked down the street and into the corner store, still high from the line she had inhaled minutes before. She kept her head down, high as a kite as she picked up a few items and then stood in line.
As she had aimlessly strolled to the store, her thoughts suddenly landed on Malek somehow. Now she stood in the line, still consumed by thoughts of her former boyfriend, who she thought was going to be her future.
I miss that boy so much. I wonder if he ever thinks about me, she thought to herself. Halleigh’s eyes watered as Malek’s mother’s words filled her head. “Halleigh, I’m sorry to be the one to break this to you, but Malek left this morning. His father came into town and thought that it would be good for him if he got away from all this madness until things could die down and get cleared up. He didn’t want to see you, honey.”
Halleigh caught a tear that had managed to escape her eye and wiped it away. She couldn’t believe Malek had just upped and left her just like that. Her mind understood the words Mrs. Johnson had spoken, but her heart just couldn’t believe them. Ironically, Mrs. Johnson couldn’t believe she was telling Halleigh that bold face lie either. But she had to do something to keep Halleigh, who she always felt was no good for her son, away from Malek.
So after filling Halleigh’s head with all those lies about Malek abandoning her and not wanting to see her, Mrs. Johnson had simply repented, making the excuse to God that she had done it for the sake of her son.
Lost in her thoughts, Halleigh didn’t even notice the crackhead outside of the store that had been eyeballing her through the glass door. In all actuality, she never even noticed him when he tried to bum money from her before she ever even entered the store. But he had definitely noticed her.
Scratch searched frantically for a weapon in the alley so that he could try to rob the girl he had been scoping out inside the store. He felt bad about what he was about to do, but he had to get the monkey off of his back and quick. He grabbed a stick off the ground and quickly put it under his shirt, arranging it so that it stuck out, appearing to be a gun.
He leaned against the side of the building in the alley and awaited his prey.
“Give me yo’ mu’fuckin’ money!” Scratch whispered, trying to practice his approach. He looked down at the stick and knew that it wouldn’t pass as a gun. “Damn!” he spat. “This shit ain’t gon’ work.” He threw the stick down in frustration and became agitated as he sough out another weapon in the litter-filled alley.
Scratch knew that the girl would be walking out of the store any minute. He had to think quickly. He took off his worn-out shoe and then pulled off his soiled, stinky sock. He then gathered up a bunch of rocks that were on the ground and filled the sock. He held the sock up and the most horrendous odor reeked off of it.
“Well, goddamn!” he grimaced as the foul odor invaded his nose. “Whew! If the rocks won’t knock her out, the smell sho’ in the hell will,” he said as he quickly removed the sock from his face.
Once again, Scratch leaned up against the wall and practiced his approach, which seemed even less threatening with a sock. “Fuck!” He knew that the “sock and rock” method wouldn’t scare anybody and decided to go along with the fake gun approach.
He shuffled around real quick and found the stick that he had earlier discarded. But that’s when he noticed a bigger one. He threw down the smaller one and took the bigger stick and placed it underneath his shirt as if he had a burner.
At that moment he heard the store’s door bells jingle, signaling, and then he heard the clicking of what he knew was the girl’s high heel shoes. Just as he had anticipated, the girl came strutting out with a bag in her hand. He quickly ducked and leaned into the alley and waited for her to pass so he could grab her. His guilty conscious began to set in however. And in just those few seconds while he waited for her to cross his path, he went back and fourth with himself about going through with his plan. The little, red devil with the pitchfork sitting on his left shoulder got the best of him and when he saw the girl walk past him, he went for it.
He quickly grabbed her from the back and placed his hands over her mouth, dragging her into the alley and then slamming her against the wall. “Give me all yo’ money!” Scratch demanded. He was shaking just as much as the girl was.
“Please don’t hurt me!” she screamed, dropping the contents that were in her hands.
Scratch pushed her against the wall and pointed his fake gun at her. “Give me yo’ cash and you won’t get hurt,” he whispered harshly.
“Please, don’t kill me,” she said, putting both of her hands up while her knees shook uncontrollably.
“Just give me all the dough and I won’t shoot,” Scratch assured her.
Just as Scratch had seen the girl do before, she anxiously went into her bra to pull out all the money she had. Scratch looked into the young girl’s eyes and thought that she looked familiar. As he stared into her eyes, a frown quickly dropped.
“Halleigh?” he whispered as he lowered his fake gun.
She nodded her head. She was afraid to say anything. She didn’t want to give him a reason to pop off.
“You Sharina’s daughter, ain’t you?” Scratch asked. He knew Halleigh’s face well, because of Sharina; the two looked more like sisters than mother and daughter. Scratch knew that since it wasn’t Sharina, it had to be her baby girl.
Sharina was one of Scratch’s get-high buddies and he had seen pictures of Halleigh over at Sharina’s house whenever he was over there getting high. He had even seen Halleigh in person a couple of times as well, but of course Halleigh never paid her mother’s dope partners any mind.
Halleigh nodded her head and a small glimmer of hope ran through her. Since he knew her mother, maybe he really wouldn’t hurt her. “Can you let me go?” she asked with her back still pressed against the wall.
Scratch looked down and forgot about the fake gun. “Oh yeah,” he said as he dropped the stick, letting it fall onto the ground.
“You out here robbing people with sticks?” Halleigh said as a sense of relief passed through her body. She couldn’t help but chuckle, although what she really wanted to do was take that stick and crack him upside the head for stupidity.
“It almost worked, didn’t it?” Scratched replied, letting out a slight chuckle as well. “What is a girl like you doing out here on these mean streets this time of night, anyway?”
The last thing Halleigh wanted to do was stand out there and have a conversation with a man who had just robbed her. She wanted to leave the raggedy man in the alley, but she knew he had a Jones. She could tell, because she had seen the same look in her mother’s eyes many of nights. And with that, thoughts of her mother and this man’s relationship piqued her curiosity.
“I was just running to the store,” Halleigh told the man and then quickly changed the subject. “How do you know my mother?” Halleigh replied.
“Me and Sharina used to ge
t high together. How’s she doing these days?”
“I don’t know. I don’t fuck with her like that no more.”
“Well, hook me up, Lil’ Rina . . . let me hold something so I can get right,” Scratch begged her.
Halleigh was about to walk away and leave him there, but the fact that he knew her mother hit a soft spot with her. The fact that she had witnessed firsthand what a person was willing to do for a hit scared her. Yeah, he had spared her, but what about the next person? Before she handed him the money she asked, “What do you get from getting high off of crack? I never understood why my mother did it.” Halleigh never even considered that cocaine really wasn’t any better than crack. But Halleigh didn’t see herself as being anything like the dope fiends she’d encountered who needed to get high. She just wanted to.
“So much fucked up shit has happened to me in my life, Lil’ Rina. It’s like when you’re high all that goes away,” he replied.
Halleigh peeled a twenty dollar bill from her stack of money and handed it to Scratch. She then began to walk away. Suddenly she stopped in her tracks and turned around and asked, “What did you say your name was?”
Scratch’s eyes had lit up as he gazed at the money, knowing that he could finally get the monkey off of his back. He looked up at Halleigh with a gap-toothed smile and replied, “Scratch. E’vrybody know me as Scratch.”
“Well, Scratch, don’t get yourself killed out here robbing people with sticks,” Halleigh said with a slight grin.
“You betta count yo’ blessings, baby girl. I was going to unleash my stanking-ass sock on you with the ol’ sock and rock,” Scratch said jokingly, looking down at his one bare foot that he hadn’t had time to put his sock and shoe back on.
Halleigh grinned and walked back toward the hotel.
“If you ever need to talk, come and holla at me. Good ol’ Scratch! The rest of me might not be right, but I got good ears for listening. I’ll be right here,” Scratch yelled as he watched Halleigh walk away and into the darkness.
Urban Books
1199 Straight Path
West Babylon, NY 11704
Copyright © 2008 Treasure Hernandez
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ISBN: 978-1-5998-3146-6
This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living, or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.
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