Trapnights

by AP Jermaine

  “Shit man yall aint give me time.” Hood answered, lowering his still shaking hands and wiping huge balls of sweat from his face with a Miami Subs napkin.

  “Well I ain’t hungry so let’s get the fuck outta here,” I stated. “Get in yo shit and follow us.

  “Aight man lets go. Damn yall niggas crazy.” Hood sighed with relief as we stood to leave. If only he knew exactly how crazy I was willing to get. The world I now lived in, there was no turning back.

  Twenty minutes later we arrived at Shell’s crib. His moms, Ms. Tina was upstairs with some nigga as usual. From the sound of the squeaking bed springs, and all the moaning and groaning, we knew she wouldn’t be coming down anytime soon. Sometimes she’d be in there for days! The only ones coming in and out, would be lame ass nigga after lame ass nigga. Latonya was out in the streets somewhere. Probably with one of her slut BFF’s. They had a whole crew of easy to fuck, dick sucking gold diggers. I ain’t judging though. All I can say to you, is whatever you do, always try to be the best. Do you ma. After counting up the bread and confirming that it was all there, Shell and I took twenty bands a piece and left Hood with the other five.

  “So what the fuck we gonna do with this?” Shell asked pointing to the brick of coke sitting on the kitchen table.

  “Well, if you give me another day or two, I know I can get yall another fifteen stacks. But if you ask me, I think yall should cook that shit up and hit the block wit it. Then I can show yall how to get some real paper! From the dirt!” Hood had already sold the other three bricks for twenty apiece, and even at that price, he was letting em go cheap. The shit he did was nothing. At that price, the birds practically flew outta his hands. At the time, in Durham, whole birds were going for anywhere between twenty-five and twenty - nine thousand, depending on quality and availability. The shit he was spittin sounded good, but I was still skeptical. We didn’t know shit about selling no CRACK! Of course, we knew hustlers and crack “HEADS,” but knowing and actually being a part of that life was a completely and altogether different world. That’s where 90% of your urban novels come from. People who’ve never sold a drug, shot a gun, been in the trap, or none of that shit a day in their life. But they’ve watched it from afar and try their best to imitate what they’ve seen. There’s no way in the world you can tell me what pussy tastes like if you’ve never eaten any. Just because you’ve watched Pinky get fucked sixty ways from Sunday, doesn’t make you a scholar on how to make a woman cum. She’s faking. It’s what she gets paid to do. Entertain. Just like all these “gangster rappers” screaming about how many bricks they’ve sold and niggas they’ve murdered, yet haven’t ever spent even one night in jail; they’re entertainers. They say whatever sells records. To put what I’m trying to say plainly, there’s no way you can watch the streets from a safe distance, and tell me about the streets. You have to be in them to know what’s really real. That’s why although most urban novels are products of fiction, too many are absolutely too fictitious, and only believable if you’ve never lived that lifestyle. Not to offend anyone, because there still are a lot of writers, who’ve actually lived what they write about, and even some that haven’t, who still write ear to the ground novels. Much respect. But this is the untold truth. So, if what I’m saying is causing you to get all up in your feelings, then you’re not real anyway, and I don’t care what you think. I promised to bring the truth, and the untold truth will be told. Hate it or love it

  “How much can we make?” Shell broke the silence.

  “Well if you sell it in ounces, you can get em off at a stack a piece. That’s thirty- six thousand, not counting the extra you’ll get back once we cook it.”

  “We? Who said something about we? What the fuck you got to do with it if we cook it ourselves?” I was curious to find out just what Hoods angle was. Shell might trust him but I didn’t.

  “Come on bru, it’s rough out here in this jungle. It’s a thousand niggas out here selling rock. I can show yall how to carve out your own space, where nobody can stop your flow. Any dumb nigga can sell drugs, but not everybody knows how to grind. It’s a science to this shit dog.”

  I had to admit, the nigga talked a good game. “Keep talking nigga.” I said as I sat down.

  “Well, I think yall should break all the shit down after “we” cook it, then hit the street with a vengeance. Instead of doubling, I can show yall how to triple that paper.”

  I knew I had to do something. My school days were over. Mama didn’t know it yet, and I knew it was gonna break her heart. I was hoping to be able to ease the pain, by putting her in a new house. Something she’d been talking about since I was small enough to be carried on her hip. I had twenty - two thousand dollars. I’d never seen that kind of money, yet still I wasn’t stupid. I knew that it wouldn’t last me the rest of my life, especially with the plans I had. Finally, I took a deep breath and stood up. Exhaling I said, “Let’s do it

  Chapter 11 “Mama”

  Hood told us to stash the shit and he’d meet up wit us on Friday which was the first of the month. He told us all the heads get their welfare checks and food stamps on the first, and the block should jump hard. Mama had been asking a lot of questions the last couple days and I was rapidly running outta lies. Everybody knows that you can’t lie to your moms. And as so, this was the same case here. My mom dukes left for work every morning at six-thirty, so she’d make it in by seven. She’d been the manager of housekeeping at the Sheraton hotel in Raleigh for as long as I could remember. She also worked at a nursing home on week-ends. During the week, she’d always wake me up before she left, to tell me to get my ass up and go to school. But just like I told you earlier, I’d decided that school was no longer an option for me. As I think back to it now, I wonder why? Young and stupid I guess. I could have easily gone back to school, and everything would have been fine. So, every morning I’d get up, take a shower, and pretend I was preparing to leave for school. As soon as moms was out the door, I’d smoke a blunt, watch some T.V. and go back to sleep. My last class let out at three, so normally I’d already be home anyway by the time she got there around four thirty or five. One evening I was stretched out on the couch watching 106 & Park, when mama walked in, sat her keys and purse down and headed to the kitchen with the groceries.

  “Teddy, you need to get up off yo lazy ass sometimes boy! You aint even try to help with the groceries. Shit, you eat more than I do!”

  “My fault ma.” I answered her, snapping out of the hydro induced daze that 2 Pacs “Hail Mary” video had me locked in. “What you need me to do?” I asked walking into the kitchen.

  “Nothing now, I got it already. How was school today?” she asked as she put away the canned foods.

  “Boring as usual.” I tried to sound nonchalant.

  “You passing aint you?”

  “Yeah ma I’m passing.” I lied again as mama put away the last of the groceries and stared at me with a look I knew all too well. I called it her “nigga please!” look

  “How the hell is you passing when you aint even been going to damn school?” Mama stared me down as my bottom jaw almost hit the ground!

  “Huh?” What you say ma?” I tried not to panic. She could be bluffing, waiting on me to tell on myself.

  “Huh my ass! You heard what I said! Boy, don’t you know you can’t outslick the slicker! You see this dollar right here in my hand?” Mama showed me a crumpled dollar bill. “Something told me yo ass hadn’t been going to school, so yesterday when I left to go to work, I wedged this dollar in the bottom corner of the screen door. And just like I figured, it was right where I left it when I got back. Today was the same thang. And don’t even fix yo mouth to say you went out the back, because you need a key to get out and I’m the only one with one!”

  I was dumbfounded! Caught like a fly in honey! A million thoughts ran through my mind. What should I say? What could I say? In the end, I knew I was caught. I might as well tell the truth. The semi truth anyway. Taking a deep breath, I held my head d
own in shame. “No ma I haven’t been going to school, and I’ve already missed too many days to pass this year.” The next words that came from my mother’s mouth, were not only ones that would shock the shit outta me, but ones that I would never forget. “Boy hold yo damn head up when you talking to me! Don’t never hang yo head for nobody. Whatever decisions you make in this life, always be a man about it, live with it and hold your head high. Now, I know you been doing something illegal, because I found that money stuffed inside your mattress.” My mouth fell back open like a trapdoor. “Aint no need to look surprised, I done been there done that. I’m yo mama boy, remember that. I knew you before you knew your damn self. Now I’m not about to sit here preaching about Teddy don’t do this, and Teddy don’t do that, because you think you a man now, and you still gonna do what you wanna do anyway. I love you more than I love myself, and maybe if your daddy wont such a dead-beat piece of shit, he’d be here to knock some sense into yo damn head! But he ain’t. And I ain’t got time to try and work to pay these bills and put food on the table, and chase you all around Durham too. But baby, I want you to know that them streets is wicked. They don’t love nobody. Them niggas out there ain’t shit and neither is them hot tail girls. On any given day, either one could be your downfall. Please listen when I tell you son, don’t go out there in them streets. Get you a job and wait on next school year so you can graduate and go to college. You too damn smart to waste it out there in them streets. I’m begging you son. But if you won’t listen to me, which you probably won’t since ya feel like you know everything already, I want you to be careful. Watch your back. Don’t ever let your right hand know what your left hand is doing. And for every dollar you make, you better save seventy- five cents. Cause you gone need it.” With that said, mama picked up her pocketbook, walked to her room and shut her door. How badly I wanted to do like mama said, get a job and wait on next school year. But in my heart, I knew that wasn’t going to happen. That night before I left out, I took fifteen thousand of my twenty- two five, and left it on the kitchen table while mama was asleep. When I came back in at four a.m., the money was gone.

  Chapter 12 “THE MAC”

  Friday night we sat anxiously inside an apartment in McDougald Terrace, Durham’s largest housing project, also infamously known, as “Money Making McDougald.” We were supposed to meet Hood here at eight o’clock, it was now eight-thirty and he still hadn’t showed. A thick red-bone with micro braids had come to the door of the apartment and let us in. She’d walked us into the kitchen and told us to have a seat. The small area had the smell of a Jamaican house party the weed smoke was so thick. I loved it. Weed is just like pussy to me. I gots to have it. A few minutes later Ms. Red bone came strutting back into the kitchen with a thick Dutch Master, took a couple of deep pulls from it, and passed the blunt to me.

  “What’s yo name? You cute” she asked me as I filled my lungs with the sweet smoke of the fire tree. Before I answered, I took the time to check her out for real. She looked to be about 5’3 with hazel brown eyes, banana cream skin and lips like Mary J. The wife beater she had on did nothing to hide the ripe melons that threatened to spill out at any minute. Her ass wasn’t super phat, but it was nice, round, and apple bottom shaped.

  “Banks.” I finally answered as I passed the blunt to Shell.

  “Ummm. Banks. I like that name. Sounds like money.” She smiled widely. “How old are you?”

  “Seventeen.”

  “Ooooh some young dick,” she purred like a kitten. “I bet after you cum, your dick still stays hard. Don’t it? You know once niggas get to a certain age, they gotta take a break after they cum. Some bullshit right? You got a big dick?” She asked calmly as she walked over and stood in front of me. Damn! Redbone off the chain! I thought to myself. All it took though was an amused snicker from Shell, and I was on my feet confidently.

  “You wanna check for yourself?”

  As if it were the most normal thing in the world, redbone unbuttoned my jeans, reached in grabbing my dick in one hand and my balls in the other, as my dick sprang to life instantly! “Oooh Banks! You got a phat dick!” she squealed in delight. “I wonder if we got time to fuck?” She asked as she stared me in the eyes, just before a sharp knock at the back door seemed to startle her. “Shit!” She cursed as she snatched her hands outta my boxers and walked to open the door. Quickly I sat back down, as Hood finally walked into the apartment carrying a huge pot, big enough to sponsor a fish fry.

  “Hey baby,” Hood grinned as he kissed redbone firmly on the lips.

  “Hey boo. What took you so long? You know how I get worried about you easy.” Redbone was all innocence now. The shit was hilarious.

  “I had to make a stop baby. Everything cool. What’s up my niggas? This my wifey Keisha. Keisha this Banks, and Shell.”

  “Hey how yall doing?” Keisha said as she turned and walked over to the refrigerator. Damn, this nigga Hood really knew how to pick em, I laughed to myself.

  “What the fuck is you doing with that pot?” Shell asked curiously.

  “Oh, this pot right here is what we about to cook up the best hard in Durham with. If yall niggas ready, I say we get to work. Time is money my niggas.”

  “What the fuck you mean if “WE” ready? Nigga we been waiting on yo ass!” I barked on Hood.

  “Shit, say no more dog. Baby take this pot and put enough water in it to cook a half a chicken. I cook aight, but Keisha, she’s a motherfuckin master chef! The last cat she was with got shot and was paralyzed from the neck down. The nigga had coke like Escobar, and taught her to cook ten, fifteen birds at a time! She loyal as a motherfucker too. That’s why I gots to wife her.”

  I watched Hood when he handed Keisha the allotted amount of cocaine, and immediately she started to do some kind of mixing and merging, with the coke and some Arm & Hammer baking soda. Walking to the stove, she dropped the mixture into a pot of boiling water and stepped back. I looked over at Hood grinning like a fool, and thought of Shell’s sister Latonya. Even though I knew she was a tramp, she was still beautiful with a banging ass body. I also knew that she could, and did, fuck wit top notch money getters. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out what she saw in this clown. We all sat gawking at Keisha as she whipped and turned, stirred and whipped the cocaine inside the pot. Five minutes earlier, if Hood had arrived five minutes later, he would have been kissing his wife to be with my dick on her breath. Damn this life was taking off fast. I vaguely remember thinking. “Is this what crack does?” No. Crack does things a lot more devastating to people. Heroin, coke, crack, EX, Molly, it’s all the same. It’s all done to alter the reality of people’s lives. And to do that it takes money. If it were free, the government couldn’t make their cut off of it. They would probably cease to exist. With no one to oppress, there would be no jobs for the oppressors. The Untold Truth. Suddenly Keisha grabbed the hot pot off the stove, and ran over to the sink! Shell thought the same thing I did, as he jumped up grabbing his pistol!

  “Bitch you better not pour that shit out! You fucked my shit up?!” Shell screamed looking from Keisha over to Hood back to Keisha. Merciless death showed in his eyes.

  “Hold on baby boy, everything’s good!” Hood threw his hands up in front of him, pleading in a voice that trembled. “Go ahead and finish Keisha!” He yelled at his girl. Keisha stood graveyard still, frozen by the sight of the huge pistol, and the mad man type rage that Shell’s face was showing her! Obviously still frightened, she turned back to the sink to continue her task.

  “Chill for a minute bru.” I spoke up calmly as I got up, walked over and stood behind Keisha. I could feel Hoods eyes on my back, but I knew he was glued to his seat. Although Shell had once again taken his seat, his Desert Eagle was still in his hand. My initial inspection was on point. Keisha was a bad bitch. Misguided and morally challenged probably, but a bad bitch still the same. As I stepped up behind her, I could visibly see her arms shaking. She was terrified. I snuggled up behind her, encircled my arms aro
und her body, and began massaging her ample breasts squeezing firmly as I spoke. “Look Red, go ahead and do your thing. Ain’t nobody gonna hurt you while I’m here.” Slowly I felt the tension in her body start to subside.

  “You sure?” She asked as she looked over her shoulder at me with the innocence of a child.

  “I got you.” I answered with certainty.

  Turning back around, Keisha snuggled her ass up against my dick as I watched over her shoulder. Slowly she ran cool, not cold water into the pot from the sink. A thick white foam covered the entire top of the water. Just as quickly as Keisha had ran to the sink with the pot, she dipped out and ran to the freezer, returning with a tray full of ice. Slowly she poured the ice into the foaming water, while I watched in amazement as the thick white foam that seemed to refuse to stop rising, took on form, then hardened in the pot instantly! The concoction in the pot, now resembled a crater filled moon. Slowly Keisha proceeded to pour water off as she dropped in more ice. A few short minutes later; Keisha, Hood, Shell and I, stood smiling at a pot full of hard white crack. The shit was so hard that we had to hit the sides of the pot with a hammer before any would even fall loose! Hood brought out a scale and weighed out the pots contents. Twenty- four ounces - eight grams, was the total. Keisha had brought back six extra ounces of hard, from the eighteen ounces of powder. “I coulda brought back more, but Hood said ya’ll needed some fire. That right there should have em running. I didn’t use that much baking soda and it still jumped back good. Ya’ll ain’t gone have no problems.” Keisha smiled as she caught my eye, quickly glancing away before her man could take notice.

  “Well, what ya’ll wanna do? You can sell it by the ounce and make twenty-four stacks easy.” Hood grinned.

  “I thought you said you could show us how to make more?” I asked immediately.