Crackhead II: A Novel (18 page)

“Yeah, whatever,” he chuckled nonchalantly. “It seems like she’s been preoccupied with Daryl lately,” T.J. spoke, pronouncing “Daryl” in his most proper dialect.

Laci huffed. “T.J., don’t go there. Ain’t nothing happening. They’re just friends.” Absentmindedly she took a long pull off the joint. Even though Dink had put Laci’s jealousy to rest, she really wanted to believe what she was saying was true.

“Is that what you really think?” T.J. said, his voice growing higher with every word. “Wake up, girl, are you blind? You know they fuckin’. Ever since that nigga been around, she ain’t got time for shit else, including me.”

“T.J., just go. I ain’t getting in the middle of you and Simone’s shit.” Laci began to lead him to the door.

“No!” he exclaimed, stopping her in her tracks. “This is something you need to handle.”

“And how do you expect me to do that? I ain’t Daryl and I definitely ain’t Simone. As a matter of fact, you so worried about him, damn, why don’t you control that bitch? You such a big man,” Laci snarled. She already had her suspicions and his accusations weren’t making things better.

“You gonna do what I tell you to do, Laci. I came over here to talk and I’m being nice, but I’m not gonna be this way too long,”
he threatened. “Keep running your mouth, it’s gonna get you in trouble.”

“Fuck you, T.J. And if I don’t?”

He looked at Laci with a devious smile plastered on his face. T.J. took in Laci’s robed body from her head to her feet and back up, then smiled seductively at her. His gaze made Laci uncomfortable. He looked at her like the men who had used her for their sexual pleasure in the past. Laci tried her best to hold it together, standing firmly, to show him that she wasn’t afraid of him; then she noticed an erection through his pants. “T.J., you gotta leave,” she said forcefully, “now!”

T.J. laughed heartily at Laci. He knew she saw his dick straining through his pants and it turned him on. “I ain’t gonna touch you,” he reassured her. “You cute and all, but I don’t fuck with your type.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, ‘your type’?” Laci became angry at T.J.’s remarks.

“Remember when I told you I knew you from somewhere? Well, I know where now.”

“I said go,” Laci warned.

“I’ll go,” he told her, “but before I do, I just wanna show you where I know you from.” He walked up closer to her.

Laci held her wine glass tighter, prepared to use it to hit him on the head if necessary.

He opened his letterman’s jacket and retrieved a VHS tape from the lower pocket. He then walked over to the VCR that sat on top of the new 27-inch color, popped the tape in, and pushed play.

Laci’s mouth dropped.
Oh my God!
She saw herself on the floor on all fours with some girl’s head eating out her pussy, while her head was laid against someone’s stomach. The video was
grainy, so the male body just looked like a gargoyle. Next, the gargoyle began to prep her ass and pussy with some type of oily substance, then he inserted a finger in her asshole. The gargoyle finally came into focus and Laci saw who it was. It was Dame.

She gulped down the remaining wine. “Wha . . . Where the hell you get this?” she yelled.

“It wasn’t that hard,” he told her truthfully, grinning as though he had just won the lottery. It was the hottest thing on the black market and it had made its way from the New York City boroughs to the surrounding areas. T.J. jacked off to it when Simone was being stingy with the pussy, and that had become more frequent now that she was smiling up in Dink’s face all the time.

She looked at the screen again. “Turn this bullshit off!” Laci yelled and ran toward the VCR.

T.J. grabbed her by the arm. “Naw, watch this.” T.J. took hold of her face, forcing her to look at the television.

Laci saw Dame’s dick positioned at her glistening pink slit. He was fighting a losing battle in his futile attempt to make his way into her tight pussy. She saw him motion to Quita, who put a crack pipe back into her mouth. Laci saw herself take a deep pull, then Dame eased his way into her.

Dame stole her virginity while she was on a drug binge and that, she could never get back.

Laci saw herself bang her fists on the floor and beg for something. She couldn’t decipher what she was trying to say. She tried to turn her head away, but T.J. forced it back to the television.

“Watch this . . . this the good part right here.” T.J. seemed to really be into what he saw on the screen. Laci was forced to watch as Dame brutally beat his meat inside of her and violated
her body. She saw herself perform as if her life depended on it, and at that time, it did.

Tears streamed down Laci’s red blotched face, reliving the memory she had suppressed. She had no idea that the night she lost her virginity was taped. With every thrust Dame inflicted on her, she sucked on her savior—her glass dick. Laci saw Dame grab her by the hips, stand up over her ass with his dick still in her pussy. Next she saw the base of his dick begin to pulsate. He screamed out in sheer ecstasy, then turned to the camera while he continued to pump and expel his cum inside her virgin walls. What happened next shocked her but made T.J. laugh. Dame stuck his tongue out at the camera. Laci almost threw up.

“Man, that was gangsta! That was some I-don’t-give-a-fuck shit right there!” He cheesed hard. “Who was he doing that for? Your man?” T.J. laughed.

Laci was at a total loss for words. If her parents taught her anything at all, it was respect for herself, and more importantly, her body. Being the good girl she was, she listened to their words, but she finally saw what she never wanted to see: degrading herself as a woman and using her body to get what it needed.

“Now, as I asked you nicely earlier, keep yo’ man away from Simone. It’s a very simple request, Laci. Personally, I don’t care what you gotta do, just do it.”

“And if they still continue to be around each other?”

“I’ll just have a video release party,” T.J. said coolly. “People will see you for what you really are, a common ho. It’s plenty of dudes around here that wanna holla at you and I’m sure after seeing this, they’d want to make a part two to this tape. You’ll be a star,” T.J. joked, “Laci Johnson—crackhead.” T.J. looked into the atmosphere and waved his arms as if displaying the title on a screen.

“I’m not a crackhead or a ho!” Laci argued.

“Well, this tape says otherwise. It’s the tape against your word, Laci. When muthafuckas see it, who or what you think they gonna believe? Now handle yours.”

T.J. traced the lapel of Laci’s robe with his finger and it draped open a little bit. T.J. saw the small apple-shaped birthmark on the top swell of her left breast. He wanted to see more, to see if her titties were just as firm as they looked on the tape, but just from the little peek he had, he knew that Laci had more than a mouthful and they weren’t saggy. Laci slapped his hand away.

“What you tell me earlier?” T.J. said in an attempt to play absentminded. “Fuck me? Naw, you smart-mouthed bitch. Fuck you.” T.J. coolly walked out of the apartment and closed the door.

D
AMN, BOY, WHAT
took you so long?” Tonette spoke hastily once Smurf had driven up in Dink’s car. “My pager been blowin’ up and shit.”

“Look, girl, I ain’t got time to deal with your mouth today. Get yo’ ass in the car and let’s do this.”

Tonette didn’t appreciate Smurf’s attitude, but she got in anyway. They drove to an alley, where Smurf parked the car.

“Here,” he handed her one sandwich bag full of marijuana.

“Where my other shit?”

“Be cool. I got some more shit coming in,” he told her matter-of-factly.

“New shit? Like what?”

“Ice. You heard of it?”

“Hell yeah!” Tonette sounded hyped. It was that same shit that Dame had, and it had her customers flying off the chains.

She looked at the bag of weed Smurf gave her. “Well, until you get that, what about my rocks?”

“I’ma need you to push the other shit,” he told her, ignoring her question.

“What you mean you need me to push the other shit? Nigga, I don’t work for you. I do my own thing.”

“Do your own thing, huh? I got the boroughs on lock. Where you getting your shit from?” Tonette didn’t answer. “Whoever you getting it from gets it from me, but check it, where you get the shit you had?” Tonette became quiet. She knew she’d stolen a lot of her shit from Dame, a little at a time, so he wouldn’t notice anything was missing.

“I didn’t think you could answer that.” Smurf quickly fiddled with his strap, which was on his waist, and laid his Beretta on his lap. “You call me to get yo’ shit but you stole from Dame. He got his shit from me, so that means you owe me a little debt,” he told her. Again, Tonette remained quiet. “That means, rules have changed.”

When he thought about all of the people who worked for him, he figured he was lacking one thing . . . a female. He could use a girl to cater to his female customers, because a nigga would trade some blow for a head job and tax the next man in a heartbeat. Smurf also had plans for her to cater to him as well—his way to keep her close.

“Nigga, where Dink?!” she yelled.

Coolly, Smurf looked at Tonette. “I’m making you an offer, little girl—”

“Little girl?” Tonette snapped. She looked at him with her gray eyes, which once sparkled but now were cold. “Nigga, please, you don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s minor league, but yo, check it. Where is Dame’s shit?”

“What you mean where is it? I sold it, nigga.”

“Well, where’s my money then?”

“Huh?” He’d caught Tonette off guard. She made the
pssst
sound with her lips and quickly tried to get out of the car. Smurf was pissing her off. Before she could open the door all the way, Smurf grabbed her forearm, forcing her to stay in the car.

“This a business meeting, so sit yo’ ass down.”

Tonette had no choice but to do what he said. Sure, she was the baddest bitch on the block, but she wasn’t a match for no nigga. A ruthless killer at that. Smurf’s reputation preceded him and she knew he was a crazy-ass nigga.

“You heard me,” he repeated, “where’s my money? This a business. I supply, you sell, I get my cut. Dame sold, he’d give Dink his cut.”

“What that gotta do with me?” Tonette became aggravated.

“Everything,” Smurf told her truthfully. “You see, Dame was slippin’. Boss man let him operate by his damn self. Never once did he look over that nigga’s shoulder. Unfortunately, Dame wasn’t handling his business and he left owing us a debt. That’s where you come in.”

“I ain’t got shit to do with that,” Tonette protested.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” Smurf said calmly. He looked at his watch. He had things to do and Tonette was now wasting his precious time. “In the dope game it’s every nigga for himself. Most niggas would have smoked you by now on the strength of you being that nigga’s gal, but you in my crew now so you gotta work that shit off.” Tonette rolled her eyes at Smurf.

“You know I got ice and shit about to take off. It shouldn’t take you that long,” he said seriously. “Work your debt off and the rest is yours, minus my cut. So what it gonna be? You in,” he asked, “or you out?” He caressed the shiny chrome that lay in his lap. “I’ll give you a minute.” Smurf looked at his watch.

“You ain’t answer my question,” Tonette told him. She’d heard what he had said, but she had questions that needed answers too.

“And what’s that?” he sighed.

“Where is Dink?” she said slowly. “Why you drivin’ his car and why you answering his pages?”

“Look, things changin’ around here. He’s the top dog and he still grindin’, so quit trippin’.” Actually, Smurf was beginning to get pissed by the interrogation. He knew where Dink was, and Laci for that matter, but Smurf’s loyalty to Dink ran long. He was asked by Dink earlier to keep an eye on Tonette, and that was what he was going to do.

He put the car in drive and drove in silence to where he had picked her up. Once there, he stopped the car, then reached over and yanked the bag of weed out of Tonette’s hands.

“What you doing, boy?” She tried to get it back from him but couldn’t.

“Taking my shit back. You want something from me and I want what’s rightfully mine. Until you’re able to do that, you’re cut off. Ain’t nobody gonna fuck wit’cha,” he said in plain and simple English and glared at Tonette. She knew what that look meant—get the fuck out. Tonette hopped out, but right before she slammed his door shut, Smurf spoke. “When you ready, page me.” He smirked at her. “Oh, and don’t slam my door. Close it like you got some fuckin’ sense.”

Tonette couldn’t believe he was checking her, but she did what Smurf asked. Actually, his bluntness and demands turned her on. That’s what had kept her with Dame. He didn’t put up with too much of her shit.

Tonette got into her car and drove in silence back to her crib. Along the way, it hit her suddenly that Dink’s disappearance
and Laci’s absence were too coincidental. Tonette thought long and hard, and realized that Dink didn’t have any reason to stick around. Crystal was dead and he was feeling Laci, who had disappeared.

“Wouldn’t that be fucked up,” she said to herself, “if them two were together?” She continued to drive. “Fuck that shit—if that nigga won’t help me find her, I know who will.” Tonette got off the elevator and marched toward her apartment. When she walked in, Monique was on the phone. Within seconds, Monique wrapped up her conversation. Tonette was too tired to even care who she was talking to. Something wasn’t right and she couldn’t keep wasting her time on kicking Monique’s ass.

“Hey, Nette,” Monique spoke. She was comfortable enough now to speak on her own. “What’s wrong with you?” Tonette was obviously focused on something, because she was pacing back and forth in front of her. “Oh, that was Shaunna on the phone. She had her baby. A boy, eight pounds, thirteen ounces. She said she had been in labor for damn near a week.”

Tonette didn’t say anything. She didn’t give a damn. She just kept pacing.

“What’s wrong with you?” Monique asked again. She was hoping that she hadn’t done anything wrong to piss Tonette off again.