A LaLa Land Addiction (19 page)

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Bleu stayed up on a three-day binge. She hadn't been free to smoke like this since her days of bumming on skid row. Even when Cinco was serving her, he had spoon-fed her, giving her just enough to get her hooked and keep her in control. With Messiah's word as her credit she was free to cop as much as she wanted, and Bleu was taking advantage of the offer while the getting was good. She was like a chimney.

“You smoking real good over here, but you ain't giving up no money. No pussy. No nothing,” an older black woman with a matted blond wig said as she walked over to the storage unit where Bleu had been squatting for the past few days.

“Mind your business,” Bleu said.

“You look just like your mama. You Sienna's baby, right?” the woman said.

Bleu froze and she looked up at the woman in surprise but didn't answer.

“If I didn't know any better I would have thought it was Sienna herself that came walking through that door. Yeah,” the lady said as she entered the unit and took a seat against the wall facing Bleu. “You're her daughter. Red, right? I never forget a name or a face,” the woman said.

“Oh yeah?” Bleu asked, being facetious, finding the old woman funny but knowing that there was truly nothing humorous about her current state. Bleu had no right to laugh. They were in the same position. Iman had elevated her so high that she had become a little bourgeois, not realizing that at the end of the day she and this woman were both just two women addicted.

“Why don't you go over there and cop again since they just giving it to you? Let me have that little bit you got left,” the woman said. “Come on, baby girl. Me and yo' mama good friends. I used to look out for her all the time.”

“And what that got to do with me?” Bleu asked.

The woman waved her hand at Bleu dismissively. “Shit, if you ain't gon' ask him, I'ma go ask him for you,” the woman said as she climbed up.

The woman stood and Bleu went to the doorway to watch the shenanigans unfold. She was feeling good and in the mood for a good laugh. She already knew the local D-boys were about to make a spectacle out of the woman.

“Hey, playboy, you holding?” the lady said, her decaying gap-filled smile turning the young boy off.

“What your old ass want? You ain't never got no money. I ain't Visa. I don't give out credit,” he said, causing his friends to chuckle.

“Come on, man, you gave baby girl a freebie. Let me just get a little bit,” the woman said.

“A'ight, you want a little bit?” the hustler said. “I'ma let you earn it. Fuck it, I'm bored. You about to entertain me.”

“I'm good at entertaining, young buck,” the lady flirted, poorly.

The hustler dusted her off, flicking her hand away as if she were a pestering insect. “Man, if you don't get your old ass off me. I don't want nothing you got.” He stood. “Yo' want to smoke for free on me? All night?”

A few random fiends looked in his direction. “We about to have a contest!” he announced, smiling devilishly as he tapped his friends to get them to join in on the fun. He stepped into the corner of the basement and grabbed a bag of dog food.

“Get in a line. Who want to smoke for free?” the hustler called out. “You too, girl,” he said as he looked toward Bleu. “Gravy train's over. You want to get high for free you better get cha' ass over here with the rest of these mu'fuckas.”

Bleu hesitated and he snapped his fingers at one of the younger workers. “Drag her ass over here. I got a nice pile just for her,” he said as he poured a large portion of the dog food on the floor. He made seven servings. “Now, whoever finishes their food first wins.”

Bleu stood wide-eyed, not wanting to participate. “Get cha' ass on the floor,” he said, this time without humor in his voice. There was malice in his eyes and Bleu reluctantly got down on both knees as five others lined up next to her in the same position.

“Let's go. Eat! Eat that shit up!” the hustler shouted as he walked around them. The other workers laughed as the fiends dived in, doing anything to win that grand prize of an unlimited high for the night. Most of them had hung around trying to bum off the users who actually came with money. Bleu had already been smoking for most of the evening. She was still floating on cloud nine, so she was reluctant as she bent over. “Come on, girl! Eat up!” the hustler antagonized her as he pushed her face so hard into the pile of dog kibble that she hit her face on the cement. She tasted the blood as her lip busted and the tears stung her eyes and she began to eat the food. She closed her eyes, disgusted with herself as the men around her pulled out their cell phones and recorded the contest. They were in stitches as they walked around laughing and filming.

“I won! Un-uh! I got this!” the old lady called out proudly as she stood up.

The hustlers fell out in hysterics as the rest of the addicts climbed to their feet.

“Yeah, a'ight,” the ringleader said as he pulled out a bag and tossed it on the ground. “Yo, we out!” he called to his friends.

“You out?! You said all night!” the lady protested. “This ain't even my thing! I don't do heroin!”

The hustler tossed a couple more bags at her before disappearing from the basement. Despite the fact that she didn't do boy, the lady still scrambled to pick up the bags before any of the other fiends in the basement got their hands on them.

Bleu gathered herself and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, nursing her wound. She prepared to leave, unsure of where she would go, knowing she couldn't go back to the room.

“Where you going, Red? You ain't on this with me?” the old lady said.

“You sharing?” Bleu asked.

“Hell yeah. I don't really fuck with this shit. I don't want to do it by myself,” the lady said.

Feeling humiliated, Bleu really just wanted to flee, but it was the insatiable urge and a bit of curiosity that made her follow the lady back into the storage room.

“Aw-w, Red, don't let them young boys fuck with you. The universe has a way of paying 'em back. It's all fun and games until it's one of they mama or sister or daddy. This shit here can happen to anybody.” The lady was speaking nothing but truth. “Wait right here. I got to go get my friend. She do this shit. She'll be able to set us up.”

Bleu felt an inkling of fear fill her belly. Her intuition was trying to tell her that she was taking this thing a little too far. There was a difference between wanting to get high and having to. Bleu felt she was teetering on the line, threatening to cross it.

“Come on, girl. You can go first,” the lady said as she came back with a jittery young white girl. Bleu didn't even bother to get her name, figuring she wouldn't remember it after the night anyway.

“Why am I going first?” Bleu asked.

“Cuz it's my shit and my rules,” the lady said. “Come on now. Give me your arm.” Bleu stuck out her arm and the white girl wrapped a belt around Bleu's biceps.

“You got good veins, girl,” the white girl said, marveling as she pulled out a metal spoon.

“What will it feel like?” Bleu asked.

“Like God came down from the clouds himself to kiss you,” the white girl said. “Especially the first time.”

“How old are you?” Bleu asked. Her pulse was racing. She felt like she was out of breath, her anxiety was so bad.

“Seventeen,” the girl said, and Bleu gasped in shock. This girl was too young to be caught up so bad. What was this white girl doing in the middle of the hood? White girl didn't belong there, but truth be told, neither did Bleu. She watched the girl place the heroin in the spoon and light a flame beneath it. The heroin melted.

“Grab one of the cotton balls out of my pocket,” she instructed. Bleu did it. “Place it in there.” The white girl motioned for the old lady. “Come hold the spoon.”

The white girl took a syringe out of her pocket and stuck it in the cotton ball, drawing the heroin up until the syringe was full. Bleu shivered slightly as the white girl placed it in her arm. Her arm burned and then seemed to freeze as the heroin traveled up her arm.

“I can't feel my arm,” Bleu said. Suddenly her heart felt heavy, as if it just took too much effort to keep beating. She heard it in her ears, heard it slowing, felt the sharp pain in her chest as her eyes rolled up inside of her head. She was trying her hardest to gain control of her body, but suddenly she was shaking uncontrollably. The last thing she saw was the white girl running off just before Bleu's eyes rolled in the back of her head, turning everything white.

*   *   *

“Fuck is going on?” Messiah asked as he and Noah pulled up to the apartments just as a rush of degenerates who hung out in the bowels of the building came running out.

“Where the lil' niggas that run the block?” Noah asked as he stepped out and slammed the door before heading toward the commotion. He grabbed one of the fiends who were hightailing it out of there. “Yo, what's the problem? What's going on?”

“O.D. in the basement. Don't nobody want no part of that. Police will be all up and through here now. Gotta find a new spot to get zooted,” the toothless man said. Noah let him go and shook his head as he and Messiah headed toward the basement.

“If these the lil' niggas you vouching for, we in trouble. They can't even run this shit right. One of these dopehead mu'fuckas die from our shit and it's gon' be bad for business,” Noah scolded as he entered the basement. “Get them on the phone so they can come clean up their mess. Can't have the police pulling bodies out of these buildings, G,” Noah instructed, highly upset that aspects of his operation were being run inefficiently.

He went down the stairs to see that some of his customers didn't even flinch at the notion of one of their own overdosing.
They really like zombies down here,
he thought as he shook his head.

“Damn, man. This little shorty don't even look like she supposed to be out here like this!” Messiah called out. “She approached me the other day straight, G, checking a nigga. I put her on credit just of G.P., now this.”

Noah made his way over to Messiah, and when he reached the girl she was slumped in a corner of the musty basement; her sweaty, greasy hair covered her face.

“See if she still breathing, man. I can't fuck with no dead bodies,” Messiah said.

Noah looked at him sideways. “As many niggas as you done laid down?” Noah questioned.

“That's different, my g. I ain't waiting around afterward, checking pulsing and shit either,” Messiah defended himself.

Noah smirked as he bent down. When he moved the girl's hair out of her face his heart sank. He couldn't breathe, as all of the oxygen in the room seemed to be sucked out as the walls caved in on him. His eyes widened in horror and his gut twisted in absolute fear.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he pleaded urgently as he frantically picked the body up from the ground. “Come on, B; this can't be you,” Noah said, practically begging as his voice cracked from the flood of emotions that were drowning him. He couldn't believe this was happening. How had she ended up here? “No, B. No! What did you do to yourself? What did you do?!” he asked as tears came to his eyes. “You ain't supposed to be here. This ain't for you.”

“Fuck is up, bruh? You know her?” Messiah asked.

“Get the door!” Noah shouted as he carried her through the basement. “Hurry!” There was so much emotion in his voice that Messiah halted all lines of questioning. He ran ahead of Noah, opening doors for him so that he could carry Bleu's body out to his Range.

He climbed into the backseat and cradled her in his arms. “Drive, man! Get me to the crib as soon as possible and get Khadafi on the line. Tell him I need a doctor ASAP.”

The ride to the outskirts of town had never felt so long. Bleu was out of it from an apparent drug overdose and Noah was going crazy at the thought of her not coming out of it. He had had no idea she was even back in town, let alone that she was in trouble. His heart ached at the sight of her.

“Come on, Bleu; don't do this to me. Wake up!” he screamed as he rocked her back and forth. He gripped her chin, shaking her head slightly, trying to shake her as if she were simply asleep. “Get up, B. Get up.”

Messiah didn't know what to say. He wasn't even aware of how Noah knew Bleu, but the bond they shared was apparent. Messiah had never seen any man grieve over a woman like that. The amount of sorrow that filled the truck was palpable. For a lack of knowing what to say he said nothing; he just did as he was told and put the calls in to make sure there would be help when they arrived.

Noah hopped out before the truck even stopped moving, carrying her effortlessly as he rushed her into his home. He took notice of the amount of weight Bleu had lost. She was nothing in his arms.

A woman hopped out of an SUV and rushed up to him. “Khadafi sent me. I'm Simone. I'm a nurse. I can help,” she said as she followed them hastily up the walkway. “What happened?”

Messiah opened the door and they all rushed inside.

“I don't know. I found her like this. I think she overdosed,” Noah said, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that Bleu was using drugs.

“Overdosed on what?” the nurse asked as she immediately went to work. She placed rubber gloves on her hands and pointed to the couch. “Put her here for now.”

“I don't know; crack, heroin. I'm not sure,” Noah replied. “You've got to get her to wake up. That's my life right there.”

He was in such a frenzy that he had completely forgotten that Naomi was home. He looked up to find Naomi standing in the hallway, her mouth hanging wide open as confusion resonated in her eyes.

“What the hell is all this?” she asked. “Who is this dirty bitch you got ruining my fifteen-thousand-dollar couch?”

Noah stepped over to Naomi and looked her dead in the eyes. “That's my couch. This is my crib. You don't decide who I bring here, and watch your mouth when you speak about her,” he said.