10 Crack Commandments

by Erica Hilton

  “I’ll cover all that.”

  “What about my food?”

  Nut was getting impatient with Peter’s pettiness. “Motherfucker, didn’t I just say I got all that?!”

  “OK, I hear you. Then I’m yours. Anything you need, just tell me what I got to do.”

  Lil Nut ran down the particulars and ended with a few warnings. “Make sure you do the speed limit. Don’t pull over for shit. Fill up the tank in New York. When you get to D.C., before you pick up the bricks, make sure you fill up again. As soon as you get back to New York, bring those joints straight here. Don’t do nothing stupid like drinking and driving. And if you do get pulled over, make sure you cut off the radio. Don’t be having no loud rap music blaring. Say, yes, sir and no, sir. Your reason for driving up and down I-95 is that you just dropped off your sister at college. You got me?”

  “Piece of cake.”

  Lil Nut called Butter back and told him to sit tight, that he was sending Peter Piper. Butter didn’t much care who he sent to pick up the bricks, just as long as he didn’t have to bring them home. He didn’t want no part in driving dirty through three states.

  After Lil Nut got his business squared away, he decided to take care of Melissa. He told himself weeks back that he was going to buy her a car to get around in, and there wasn’t any time like the present. He knew his woman deserved a car, especially after he saw how big those chicks were doing it at the rink in Jersey.

  So far he hadn’t caught up with the sexy Ria yet, and he was a little tired of her reindeer games. Each time he beeped her, she’d return his call, whispering. He couldn’t ever make out what she was saying, and each conversation only lasted a few minutes. He didn’t know if this was game she was playing, or if her man had her on lockdown like that. Shue. That pretty boy looking motherfucker had done good when he found Ria.

  As he perused the car lot he was torn between getting Melissa a Honda Accord or a Maxima. The black Accord was somewhat standard looking, but the dealer kept telling him that Hondas were good cars. The burgundy Maxima with the beige leather seats and light tint on the windows seemed more feminine. Could the Maxima compare to Ria’s burgundy Acura Legend? Never. But it was a start.

  Lil Nut drove off the lot after giving the dealer twelve thousand dollars in cash, and headed over to his mother’s house. He hadn’t gone to see her since he moved out, and he was sure she was missing him. The longest he’d ever been away from home was when he was shot up over his coat. Instinctively he fingered his chest, outlining his bullet wound. The night he got shot felt like many moons ago.

  He pulled up in front of the housing project and things seemed different. He couldn’t believe that he once felt safe inside the low-income housing development. He was also surprised that no one had ever tried him in his neighborhood.

  He hopped out of Melissa’s new ride and went upstairs. He could hear the loud blaring of the television as soon as he got off the elevator. He stuck his key in the door like he still lived there and walked inside.

  “Ma?” he called.

  “I’m in here,” she replied as she sat in the living room smoking a Newport. She was engrossed in General Hospital, but was equally excited to see her son. She knew it was only a matter of time before he came back around to see her. They were best friends.

  He sat down and peered at the nonsense on the TV. “Whatchu been up to?”

  “Oh, just taking it day by day. I went to church on Saturday. You know me, same routine.”

  “That’s good. I’ve been busy making a few moves.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, I bought Melissa a car, and I also hired Peter.”

  That news was enough to make Julie click off the television and give Lil Nut her full attention. “You did what now?”

  “I bought Melissa a car, and I hired Peter to make a few runs for me.”

  She exhaled. “I sure wish you would have called me first.”

  “Why?”

  “Before you went and hired your cousin. His mother is a fuck-up, and the apple don’t fall far from the tree.”

  “I hear you. You sound like Pops, but it was an emergency. From the rip I knew that hiring him was only temporary, and once he’s done with this run, I’m going to let him go.”

  Julie inhaled deeply on her cigarette and then exhaled. “You know what? He ain’t gonna go quietly, and then I’m gonna have to hear Lorene’s mouth.”

  “Tell her to call me and I’ll handle her.”

  “Oh, I can handle her. I just don’t want to. Now tell me about this car you bought for Melissa. What did you get her?”

  “I bought her a Maxima.”

  “Just as I thought. You don’t love that girl. I mean, she’s smart and sweet, but you’re not in love with her, and the longer you keep her around, the more you’ll end up hurting her. Now I like Melissa, but what I like don’t matter. You need to turn that girl loose before you mess her up totally and make it hard for her to ever trust a man. She loves you. And no matter how much she’ll try to convince herself that she can live without you, she won’t want to. You gotta let her go and find you a trashy girl until you find the one.”

  “Ma, what are you talking about? I’m starting to think you going crazy in your old age.”

  “I ain’t crazy. I’m wise. Just wait and see that everything I’ve done told you will come true.”

  “And you know all of this because I bought her a Maxima?”

  “That’s exactly how I know.”

  Lil Nut left his mother’s house a little while later, but not before leaving her one thousand dollars to go food shopping and pay her bills. It was always enlightening speaking with her, if not amusing.

  ***

  Peter Piper was a sight for sore eyes. Butter had never been so happy to see someone in his life. He had to admit that although he was trying to play it cool, he was a little shook. All those niggas out there in D.C. were crew, and he felt like an outsider. Even though they seemed to welcome him with open arms, something just didn’t feel right. He decided that as soon as he went home he’d have a sit-down with Nut and tell him that he’d have to start riding down I-95 with him, because he needed a nigga to watch his back.

  Butter had Peter Piper meet him at a mall in Woodbridge, Virginia, not too far from D.C. Once they made the exchange, Butter looked at Peter’s gas odometer.

  “Yo, why you ain’t fill up before you came to meet me?”

  “I wasn’t thinking about all that. All I was thinking about was meeting you.”

  “Nah, it ain’t even your fault. Nut should have told you the ropes before you got on the road,” Butter replied.

  “That nigga be slipping. He ain’t tell me shit,” Peter Piper lied. “All he care about is barking orders and his bitches.”

  “That nigga be fucking up all the time. This shit could have cost us.” Butter had mad bass in his voice. Down in D.C., Butter was the boss, and it felt good to diss Nut for a change.

  “You mean it could have cost me, but I’m straight. I’ma let it do what it do. I got this.” Peter wanted to seem like he had shit on lock, just in case he could get a quick promotion. He figured if he got on Butter’s good side, then perhaps he could guarantee Peter a job. “You the brains behind this here shit anyways.”

  “True that,” Butter agreed, but decided to keep it short. He knew when somebody was gassing him up. Besides, he had something else on his mind that was fucking with him. “Yo, yesterday I was at this basketball game in D.C., and you know Rasun?”

  “From Flatbush?”

  “Yeah, kid. He got murdered yesterday in broad daylight in the middle of a basketball game. The kid walked right up to him and blew his brains out.”

  “What? Get the fuck outta here. He’s dead?”

  “Yeah, man,” Butter replied. “And
it was a young kid too.”

  “From where?”

  “From D.C. I’m telling you, they don’t play out this motherfucker. That shit still got me shook.”

  “Shook? You know it ain’t no shook hands in Brooklyn,” Peter Piper joked. “Don’t worry. With me by your side, I could always have your back down here, you know. All you gotta do is talk to my cousin.”

  Butter thought about it for a moment, and then replied, “As soon as I get back up top, I’ll let him know what’s up. Be good, man, and drive safe. I’ll see you on the other side.”

  Not only did Peter Piper get back on the highway without stopping for gas, he also wasn’t doing the speed limit. Peter was very absentminded. It didn’t take him long before he saw the flashing lights behind him as the flashing light on his gas tank began to blink. He was still in Virginia, just about to enter D.C.

  He didn’t have any choice but to pull over.

  The two state troopers sat in their patrol car for a long moment before they both got out to approach Peter Piper. Both walked cautiously toward the car with both their hands on their service revolvers. You could hear “Just Don’t Bite It” by N.W.A. blaring through the windows.

  “Son, turn down that music and shut off your ignition!” the husky trooper demanded.

  Peter quickly snapped to attention, clicked off his radio, and shut off his car. Suddenly his hands began to tremble.

  “Yes, sir,” he replied. Suddenly Lil Nut’s instructions came gushing back. He watched as the troopers looked around in his empty backseat before delivering an arsenal of questions.

  “Where are you coming from?”

  “I, ummm . . . I’m coming from dropping off my sister at college.”

  “College? License and registration, please,” the trooper replied. “Which college? Northern State?”

  Peter Piper began searching for his license and the vehicle’s registration. “Yes, sir. Northern State. I graduated from there myself two years ago.”

  Both troopers began to relax.

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And where are you from? New York?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you have any guns or narcotics in the car?”

  “No, sir. I’ve never touched drugs or a gun in my life.”

  “Could we check your car?”

  Peter Piper swallowed hard. “Of course. Anything you want.”

  By this time Peter had handed the trooper his license. He was defeated.

  “Nah, that’s all right. I’ll take your word for it. You seem like a good man. If your license is clean”—the trooper waved the license up and down—“then I’ll let you off with a warning. But if you have any points, then I’m going to give you a ticket for speeding. Is that fair enough?”

  “Ummm, can’t you just let me off now with a warning? I promise you my license is clean, and I was only speeding because I’m about to run out of gas. See?” Peter Piper pointed toward the light on his odometer. The trooper peered in and then looked at his partner. His partner shook his head.

  “Nah, I still got to run your license. That’s protocol. But as I said, if it’s clean, then I’ll give you a break. I’m not a complete dick.”

  Both troopers walked back to the car. Peter didn’t know how to handle the situation. One part of him wanted to bolt and jet down the highway, risking being shot in the back. The other part of him wanted to start the car and make a run for it, no gas and all. Ultimately he realized he wasn’t built for either escape, so he prayed that they would only come back and issue him a ticket, sending him on his merry way.

  Again the troopers approached his vehicle, only this time their guns were no longer holstered. They were both pointing their guns directly at Peter’s head.

  “Step out of the car and put your hands behind your head,” one trooper yelled.

  “What? What did I do?” Peter asked, playing dumb.

  “You’re driving on a suspended license. Get out of your vehicle and put your hands behind your fucking head!”

  Peter’s body went slack. He had to be dragged out of the car, tossed to the ground, and then handcuffed.

  “Check the trunk,” the trooper instructed his partner.

  Within two minutes Peter heard, “Bingo! We need backup.”

  Peter was thrown into the back of the police cruiser and then taunted.

  “What were you going to do with all those drugs? How much street value is all that shit worth? You know you had me going with that no-sir-yes-sir bullshit.” The trooper let out a hearty laugh. “I think you just got me and my partner promoted.”

  Peter Piper saw his life pass before his eyes. In a panic-laced voice, he replied, “I’m not who you want. I could tell you who the head nigga in charge is!”

  8

  “Never keep no weight on you. Them cats that squeeze your guns can hold jobs too.”

  —“Ten Crack Commandments,” Notorious B.I.G.

  1991

  Bentley’s was the nightclub to be at on Christmas Eve. All the moneymakers were going to be there. From rappers to hustlers, to even professional fighter Mike Tyson, everyone was getting it in. For Christmas Nut treated himself and upgraded his Mercedes 190E to a brand new Mercedes convertible 300 SL, silver with cream interior. He’d dropped ninety-five thousand on that ride, and it was brand new. No more used cars for him. Butter also dropped an obscene amount of money on a purple Porsche. But when Peter pulled up in a candy apple red 525i BMW, jaws fell open. Had the crew not been so caught up in their own hype, they would have realized that spending large sums of drug money on luxury cars was nigga nonsense.

  “Yo, whose dick you done sucked to get that?” Nut asked. He knew that he paid well, but not nearly enough for Peter to stunt like that. After Peter had successfully come back from his run to meet Butter in Washington, D.C., Butter had a heart-to-heart with Nut and convinced him to let Peter stay on. Butter felt safer with fam watching his back. He was a little intimidated with how D.C.—the murder capital—got down, therefore Peter got and stayed in the game and began making his own money.

  Peter grinned wildly. “You feelin’ me, right?”

  “Hell, yeah, I’m feelin’ you. You gonna get mad pussy tonight when we roll through. You finally look like one of the crew,” Butter replied.

  “I know, and I’m feeling right tonight.”

  “So where you get the ride?” Nut asked. “Don’t let me find out that you been tapping my stash. Fam or no fam, I’ll put your lights out.”

  The crew squirmed. Leave it to Nut and his threats to put a damper on things.

  “Nah, I’m not stealing. This here a rental. I got it from Larry off Lincoln Ave.”

  “Black Larry?”

  “Yeah, him. He’s a smart dude. He got that good credit and shit, and he’s leased about twelve luxury cars, and then releases it out to broke niggas like me for a day, week, or month.”

  “Word?” Nut replied.

  “Yeah, so I got this for two days.”

  “And how much he charging you?”

  “Six hundred dollars—”

  “Damn!” Nut responded. “That is a smart dude. He’s about to cake up. I bet the car companies are leasing him the cars for four, five hundred a month tops. Then he’s turning around and releasing them to y’all thirsty motherfuckers for a ransom. I’m fucking pissed I didn’t think of that myself.”

  Butter interjected. “But that shit can’t be legal. That’s some fed shit if he gets caught. That’s that white-collar crime type shit that you don’t want any part of.”

  “How the fuck he gonna get caught? Unless jealous niggas start snitching. You ain’t no snitch, right, Peter?” Nut asked.

  “Hell motherfucking no! What type of stupid-ass question is t
hat?!”

  “Nigga, calm down. I’m just trying to make a point to this scary nigga,” Nut said and pointed toward Butter. “A’ight, if y’all done wasting time on bullshit, follow me,” Nut instructed as he hopped in his ride. Each man revved their rides and followed in procession through the Brooklyn streets until they reached the Brooklyn Bridge to the FDR drive toward Manhattan.

  As Nut drove he thought about his afternoon with Ria. He’d bought her a diamond tennis bracelet that she absolutely loved. It took a while for them to start fucking around, and she didn’t come cheap. Shue was still her man, but Nut felt her heart belonged to him. As soon as he got up enough paper to fully support her the way she was used to being taken care of, she was going to leave Shue. In the meantime, she had the wettest pussy Nut had ever fucked.

  He would spend tomorrow with Melissa. She’d already graduated with her associate’s degree and decided to continue on to get her bachelor’s. Even though she had all the circumstances to make her a street chick, Melissa tried her best to be different. She wanted stability, an education, and a good man. Two out of three isn’t bad, Nut thought.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t love her. He just couldn’t love her the way she wanted him to. He knew in his heart of hearts that if he got jammed up and had to do any time in prison, Melissa was that ride-or-die chick, and would do the time with him. Ria, on the other hand, would be ghost, and he knew that. But he didn’t care. He just wanted to keep Ria for as long as it lasted. Besides, he didn’t plan on getting hemmed up. He was too smart for that. And when he was in doubt about any situation, he always had the ten crack commandments to keep him away from the pitfalls.

  As the crew pulled up in front of the club, each car behind the other, they sat there idling their rides to allow everyone to see them. Nut’s phone rang. It was Melissa.

  “What’s up, baby?” he asked.

  “I miss you,” she whined.

  “I know. I’ll be home soon.”

  “I don’t know why I can’t ever go out with you when you go out to party. It’s Christmas.”