by India
“No problem, niece.” He took a seat on the red leather sofa and rested his feet on the black metal coffee table. “Now speak on what brings you here.”
“Well, I know I fucked things up with Bobby a while back. I’m really sorry about that, but I think I deserve another chance.”
“No fucking way!” He laughed. “Just because your last name carries weight doesn’t mean I can just go around forcing people to rehire you.” Chucky grabbed the green Heineken beer bottle that was resting on the end table and took a swig.
“Unc, I’m not asking to be put back on with Bobby. I’m asking to be put on with you. I’m done with stolen cars and credit cards. I want in on the trap.” I sighed.
“Janie, I thought we had this discussion a while back.” He took another swig. “And I distinctly remember telling you no.”
“Chucky, a lot of shit has changed since then. I’m ready now.” Having no other reply, I went with the first thing that popped into my head.
“Besides that baby bump, tell me, what has changed?” he challenged me.
“Last year, I was just a little girl trying to make a way for myself. This year, I’m a woman who’s hungry.”
“Do you know how many niggas out there are hungry?” His question was rhetorical. “It’s a recession. Everybody in Detroit is hungry.”
“Let me rephrase that then. I’m fucking starving!”
“You sure this doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that your boy Ace is locked up?” He smirked.
“Does it matter? I’m here ready to put in work for you. That’s all you need to be concerned about,” I snapped and then toned it down. “Look, I’m not trying to come at you wrong. Please understand that neither Ace nor my relationship is up for discussion!”
“All right, that’s reasonable.” Chucky raised his hands in surrender. “But tell me how crazy I would look to put your pregnant ass up in a damn trap house.”
“No disrespect, but let me worry about that.”
“I always said you should’ve been a boy. You act too much like your father.” He chuckled lightly.
“So can I get in with you or what?” I raised an eyebrow as he considered his decision. I guessed there was something in my voice or perhaps the look in my eyes, but after a few additional minutes of heavy persuasion, Uncle Chucky agreed to give me and Ali a new trap on the east side.
“The cut is sixty-forty,” he explained.
“Fifty-fifty, nigga. We’re the ones taking all the risks.”
“This shit ain’t up for negotiation. Take it or leave it. It’s as simple as that.” He sipped from the neck of the green beer bottle.
“Fine then. Can I at least put together my own crew?”
“It’s your trap. Run it however you wanna run it. As long as my money come back right, we won’t have any problems.”
“Cool then.” I smiled. “So when can we set up shop?”
“As soon as you give me the five grand it’s gonna take for you to get your first shipment.” He stood from the sofa.
“Just tell me when and where to meet you. I’ll have it then.” I headed back toward the door.
“Call my man Fox. He’ll give you the information.” He wrote Fox’s number on a piece of paper and handed it to me.
“Thanks, Unc.” I reached in for a hug but he stopped me.
“Janelle, we can’t be family when we’re handling business. From this point forward, you address me as Chucky and I’ll address you as Janelle.”
“Since it’s like that, just call me Jane.” I tossed him the deuces and headed out the door.
This was the moment I’d been waiting for. Finally, a chance to show the dope game how much a bitch like me was capable of. For years, I watched my father and studied his movements. I learned from the bad as well as the good. I couldn’t wait to come up with a few of my own. Today was just the beginning. However, one day the world would remember Jane Doe.
* * *
Without delay, I arranged a meeting with my potential crew, which consisted of Alicia, Keisha, Tyra, Tamia, and my aunt Michelle. The next day over lunch at Chili’s, I laid out my proposal. It covered everything from who would handle what responsibility to how much they would each be compensated.
Because all of these women were skilled at certain aspects of the game, I felt confident with my team. Keisha, for instance, was a hustler by nature. She could sell fire in hell and water to a whale. Tyra was always messing with dope boys growing up. Therefore, she had several plugs and connections into the game. Tamia was a good girl, but for as long as I could remember she’d been great with numbers. Her intelligence would be used on the business side of things. After the money started flowing in, Tamia would be the one to legitimize our hustle and turn our dirty money into justifiable capital. Last but not least was Auntie Michelle. Previously, I said she was from the old school, but the way she whipped up crack was impeccable. There was something about the way she cut it, mixed it with filler, blended it, and then pressed it with a hydraulic jack that had the hot boys, including my father, banging down her door.
Naturally, everyone was on board with the new venture except for Tamia, who would be starting college pretty soon. She didn’t want to jeopardize her education. I fully understood her position. Conversely, she did agree to assist us if we really needed her.
After dropping off my startup money to Fox the next day, Alicia and I rode over to the spot on Charlevoix with Tyra and Michelle following us. The neighborhood had definitely seen better days. Yet the location was perfect for what we were trying to do. Upon pulling up to the vacant home, I counted five men out front.
“You think they’re with Chucky?” Alicia frowned.
“Let’s find out.” I grabbed my pistol, tucked it into the small of my back, then headed up toward the house. The men ranged in age between fifteen and possibly twenty-something. They had on the typical dope boy attire: baggy jeans and long T-shirts. They were probably local dealers who had claimed the spot for their own, or so they thought.
“Who’s in charge?” Alicia asked.
“Who wants to know?” One of the boys looked from side to side.
“I don’t have time for games.” I blocked my face from the sun.
“We don’t serve pregnant bitches,” the youngest one spoke from the porch.
“Good, ’cause I ain’t trying to get served.” With Alicia on my ass, I continued walking toward the house. Vanilla was posted up against her Durango with her arms crossed at the chest. Michelle was peering through the passenger window while blowing on a swisher.
“Fuck you want then?” one of the other men asked while looking me up and down.
“I came to claim my spot. That means you niggas can get to bouncing!” Stopping just in front of the crew, my gaze remained relentless.
“Your spot?” the little one asked. “Bitch, we own this whole block in case you didn’t know.”
“Call me one more bitch and I’m going to beat your ass like your mammy should have.”
“Fuck you say about my mama?” He stood from the step but was held back by one of the bigger men.
“Let that li’l nigga go so I can tap that ass.” I patted my belt.
“Enough with all of that other shit. Who sent you over here?” The oldest man came off the porch to meet me.
“I got orders from Chucky to take this spot.”
At the mention of Chucky, the man’s face softened. “You J?” He looked confused.
“Yeah, that’s me.” I nodded and looked back at my girls.
“Shit, when Chucky called and said to hold the spot down for J, I thought you was a nigga.” He laughed.
“It’s short for Jane. Is that a problem?”
“No beef this way, ma.” He extended his hand. “I’m Dog, that’s Tay, he’s G, he’s Polo, and the little nigga is PJ.” The men nodded their greeting. I nodded back. “Chucky said you might need some assistance. That’s what we’re here for.”
“No disrespect, but
I have my own crew.” I pointed back at my girls.
Dog didn’t seem impressed with my roster. “You got an all-female squad? No offense, but you asking for trouble.”
“Is that so?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Once the jack boys find out y’all bitches—I mean, females—they’re going to hit y’all spot. You better get some security.”
“Don’t worry, I’m well protected.” We had already ordered a heavy arsenal of weapons. Additionally, I had two pit bulls set to be delivered tonight. Their names were Thelma and Louise.
“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He shrugged.
“I hope they try us, cuz. I’ve been fiending to bust another cap in someone’s ass.” I pulled the gun from behind my back and put it into my purse just to let them know we were packing heat.
“That’s cute but you better stock up. The trap gets scary at night.” He laughed and the other men followed suit. “The jack boys come under the cover of darkness and take all you’ve got.”
“Ain’t no punks over here. We ain’t afraid of the dark or no gotdamn jack boys!” This fool had irritated me with his so-called scary story.
“I respect that, Jane. Do you and I’ll catch you later.” He extended his hand again. “Oh, yeah, we got the spot around the way on Hazel. So holla if you need me.” He beckoned for his friends. They all left quietly.
His crew was the first of many to doubt our capabilities, but they couldn’t knock the hustle. The grind me and my girls put in was unheard off. We immediately set up shop in the run-down dwelling. To make it look like something on the inside, I purchased a living room set, flat-screen television, and a refrigerator. Next, I called a locksmith to upgrade the locks. The minute it got dark outside, we unloaded the product.
Chapter Fifty-two
Within thirty days of the new trap house being opened, our business was booming. I couldn’t tell you if it was perfect timing, a great location, or the way Auntie Michelle cooked up the crack. Whatever it was had the dopefiends loving us. Tyra had also gotten a plug on pills, so we were able to extend our business to pushing ecstasy, Vicodin, Percocet, and Oxy.
Although he hadn’t said anything, Chucky had to have been impressed with the amount of money we made in such a short time. My team was legit, which was why I was always thinking of ways to elevate our hustle. From day one, it was never my intention to remain a low-level dealer. I wanted to be a queen pin, bottom line. All we had to do was sit tight, play our positions, and wait until the time was right.
“All right, Jane, I’m done. Are you sure it’s okay for me to leave?” Auntie Michelle called up the stairs. She had just finished whipping up a fresh batch and bagging it up.
“Yeah, go ahead, Auntie. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sunday night was always slow at the trap for whatever reason. Only about two or three dopefiends came by for a fix every couple of hours. For that reason, I always sent my team home early. There was no need to keep them around when I didn’t have to, which meant more money in my and Ali’s pockets.
Speaking of Alicia, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and proceeded to dial her number. After one ring, I ended the call, remembering she was out on a date with Keisha. Over the past couple of months, they had become inseparable. I couldn’t have been happier for my friend. Oftentimes, their relationship made me long for Ace. Never in a million years could I have pictured my life without him. I had no choice now. I still hadn’t heard from him. I was angry, but there was nothing I could do about it right now.
Pushing thoughts of Ace to the back of my mind and getting back into G mode, I wiped my ass and flushed the toilet. In the trap, you always had to have a clear mind and a hardened heart in order to survive. Today was no different. I stood in front of the sink to wash my hands, and I gave myself the once-over. The baby face I once possessed had become more mature. The smile I once shared so freely was now a hardcore grimace. Life had been unkind to me. The pain behind my eyes was evident. At such a young age, I’d seen and done some things that most people could only imagine. However, I was a survivor.
From the upstairs bathroom I heard my dogs barking in the basement, which meant someone was approaching the house. Tap. Tap. I headed down the stairs just in time to hear the light knock, and I knew it was one of my customers. Without hesitation, I reached into my jeans pocket for the small bags of crack the fiend desperately desired.
“What you need?” I opened the wooden door slightly and spoke through the gated security door on the side of the house.
“Let me get two smalls.” The female spoke softly. I recognized the loyal customer standing there in a black tank top and biker shorts. Relaxed, I continued with the transaction without hesitation.
“That’s twenty dollars.” I watched her lift the mail flap and slide two $10 bills inside. I opened the door about an inch or two wider and retrieved the money. Holding the money up to the light, I inspected that shit for authenticity. These crackheads were known for passing around fake money. After noting the money was authentic, I opened the mail flap and dropped two Baggies into her palms.
“Thanks, J.” She smiled, grateful for the fix. I wasn’t sure what her name was. What I did know was she lived a few houses down with a husband and three kids. The lady drove a nice Honda Civic, and she had a good-paying job at an accounting firm. She was what we called a functioning addict. She worked to feed her habit and did her best to hide it from family and peers. Sometimes I would see her leaving for work in the morning dressed to the nines in crisp suits, with a briefcase and a cup of coffee. By day, she was a superwoman. Unfortunately, she came undone in the evening.
Her husband knew about her addiction. He had even come over once before to beg me not to service her. I felt bad for the man. Therefore, I agreed not to exchange commodities with her anymore, but I warned him to watch her. If she didn’t buy drugs from me, she would damn sure begin buying them elsewhere. Within two weeks, she made a purchase from another trap and damn near died of an overdose. The crack was mixed with rat poison. The poor woman was off the scene for a while. I figured she must’ve checked into rehab as a result of her near-death experience. However, that wasn’t the case. The monkey on her back still had her fiending. Once again, she was a returning regular, trading coins for merchandise.
As I made my way into the kitchen to check out what was in the fridge, I heard another knock at the door. This time it was more of a banging sound. It caused me to jump slightly.
“Who is it?” I called out from the hallway, but no one answered. I waited another second or two before heading into the living room for my piece. Before I could get there, I heard a window shatter. “What the fuck?” I turned in the direction of the noise, which was coming from the kitchen, and I saw a brick lying on the kitchen floor. One of these days, I’m gonna take my belt off and whip one of these damn kids! The children in this neighborhood were always working my nerves with stunts like this. One time, those little fuckers torched one of the neighbor’s cars.
I walked over to the kitchen window to see how bad the damage was and smacked my lips. It wasn’t awful. Then again, even having to get the window fixed was not only a major inconvenience, it was also money out of my pocket. I grabbed the dustpan and broom and began to clean up the mess when there was another loud noise, coming from the front door this time. Boom! Boom! It sounded as if someone was attempting to kick the door in. Before I had time to react, that’s exactly what happened.
“Oh, shit!” I dropped the broom and tried to make a mad dash for the living room where my pistol was stashed in between the sofa cushions. However, I stopped dead in my tracks when I realized who the intruder was.
“What’s up, Janelle?” Gudda stood there mean mugging me. I thought after our run-in at the restaurant things were over.
“What’s up with you, nigga?” Although I was a little shaken up by his presence, I had to show this fool I wasn’t intimidated.
“Oh, I’ll show you what’s up.” He took the butt of his gun and sm
ashed it into my forehead. The blow sent me dazed and disoriented to the floor. Next, he removed his belt and proceeded to whip my ass like I was a runaway slave. I screamed out in agony, which riled up my pit bulls even more. They desperately wanted to protect me. However, the basement door was preventing that from happening.
“Where is all that tough shit now? You ain’t so bad without a gun or your auntie, huh?” His deep voice echoed in my ears.
Blinking rapidly, I struggled to focus, but the room was spinning, making it a difficult task. “Get up, bitch!” He kicked me in the arm as I protected my abdomen with all of my strength. I’d die before I let something happen to my unborn child.
“I said get the fuck up!” This time, his size-twelve Timberland boot went right upside my head. At this point, all I wanted to do was cry in agony, but I wouldn’t dare. Except for my vagina, there was nothing pussy about me. Therefore, I maintained a straight face and endured several body shots from his massive fists. When he had finally completed his assault on me, he picked me up from the floor by my ponytail.
“You better kill me, nigga!” I spat the blood from my mouth into his face.
“Don’t worry, shorty, wishes do come true.” He wiped away the blood and saliva with the collar of his shirt then punched me right in the face. I heard something inside my mouth crack. Then I felt small objects fall onto my tongue. Those were my fucking teeth. I presumed my life would end here, tonight, at the trap house. Alicia would most likely find my body in the morning.
“Take your bitch ass into the basement,” he demanded, which was music to my ears. Once this fool opened the door, it would be lights out for him at the bottom of the stairs.
Each step was taken with Gudda on my ass. I silently anticipated what was about to occur. “Open the fucking door.” He pushed me. I didn’t hesitate.
In retaliation and without hesitation, Thelma and Louise attacked Gudda with vengeance. They bit his ass up. I watched him try to fight both of the 130-pound dogs. During the attack, he dropped his gun, which gave me the perfect opportunity to slaughter that nigga. I guarantee you I didn’t hesitate.