Crackhead II: A Novel (19 page)

“Shit, that damn Smurf. Nigga done pissed me off.”

“Smurf?” Monique questioned.

“Yeah, girl. I paged Dink so I could re-up and Smurf’s short ass called me back. Now that nigga drivin’ around in his ride, claiming his territory and shit.”

“Straight up? Where’s Dink?”

“Dunno, but when I asked Smurf about him, he ain’t say shit.” Monique remained quiet. “But that’s cool . . . I got what I need
right here.” She looked at a scrap of paper with Laci’s phone number on it. She’d found it in her pink and white satin baseball jacket. She was glad she didn’t get rid of it.

“Girl, what you ’bout to do? Shit, I want in!” Monique sounded hyped.

“Just sit back and watch a pro at work,” Tonette bragged. She dialed the number she had for Laci.

“Hello?” a crisp, clear voice answered the other end.

“Hello,” Tonette spoke back, “is Laci home?”

“Who’s calling?”

“I’m a friend of hers, Ton—”

Laci’s mother cut Tonette off before she could finish her name. “You aren’t a friend of my daughter’s. Friends don’t hurt each other. You’ve done some despicable things to Laci, but I’m here to tell you, this is the last time you’ll hurt anyone. The police need . . .”

Tonette got pissed at Margaret’s constant yakking and hung up on her. This wasn’t the first time her mother had run off at the mouth, but Tonette vowed it would be her last. Deep down, Tonette was still jealous of Laci. Her intense envy boiled over into pure hatred. She’d never had anyone in her corner the way Laci’s mother was always in hers. Even after turning her out, her mother still cared.

“What happened?” Monique asked, noticing that Tonette was angry.

“That bitch called herself going off on me and hung up.”

“Nette, you can’t go over there.”

“Why not?”

“By going over that girl’s house right now, it wouldn’t be a good move.”

“I don’t give a damn!” Tonette yelled. “That bitch had the
nerve to get at me like that? She and her daughter both deserve to get a foot up they ass for that.”

Monique noticed that Tonette wasn’t mad—her nostrils weren’t flaring. She was just pissed that Laci’s mother jumped hard at her and she wasn’t prepared for that.

“Look,” Monique said seriously, “let’s give her a few days to cool off, then I’ll go over there and see what I can find out.”

“You? Why you?” Tonette quizzed. “I’m the leader of this group. And remember, you was feeling bad for that heifer.” She looked closely at Monique and squinted her eyes. “You ain’t try’na jump on that bitch’s side again, are you? Because if that’s the case, you goin’ down with her too.”

“No, Tonette, I’m not feeling bad. I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah, right.” The edges of Tonette’s lips turned upward. “How you figure that shit?”

“If you go over there and Laci’s mother tries to act like a bitch and call the police, I’ma be bailing yo’ ass out of jail. But if I go and she tries that stupid bitch shit, they come and run me . . . I’m clean. I have a job and no record. What the fuck can they charge me with?” Monique whined and batted her eyes with a sinister, sly smile on her face. “I’m just looking for my good friend Laci.”

Tonette could not do anything but laugh. After a brief moment of silence, she spoke. “Girl, you a crazy ho,” she told her.

Although Tonette didn’t agree to it with exact words, Monique knew that her reasoning was logical and Tonette understood. To agree with an idea that wasn’t initially hers, Tonette played the silent game, but nodded her approval.

L
ACI STAGGERED SLOWLY
toward the couch and plopped down.

She put her head in her hands. She was too mad to cry, but she remembered that her uncle had given her the card of an officer who came by the house looking for her. She dug around in her purse until she found the card, then picked up the phone and started dialing. Within seconds, Laci put the phone down without completing the call. She didn’t know what she wanted to do. On one hand, she wanted to call and tell the police what happened to her this past summer. On the other hand, she just wanted to forget the whole thing, but then she remembered that they wanted to talk to her because someone had thrown her name out there. Laci wanted to do what was right, but doing what was right could possibly put Dink behind bars.

Most of all, Laci was disturbed by the fact that T.J. had the tape and by what he wanted her to do because of it. She could have fucked him to keep him from showing the tape, but she wasn’t no ho. Any man she would be with from now on would be by choice and not necessity.

Dink already knew that Dame had fucked her. He’d never
brought it up after she told him, but how could she explain a videotape of her having sex not only his boy, but Quita’s stankin’ ass too?

She figured that Dink wouldn’t realize that it was as close to rape as a sexual act could get. Who would think that when it looked like just another addict fucking for crack? It was all on tape for anyone to see, and considering what T.J. said, people liked it. Nobody would ever think it was a total violation of her body.

Laci thought back to her brief conversation with her uncle, and she picked up the phone again and began to dial.

“May I speak to Officer Jones?” she said when someone answered.

After she was put on hold briefly, a man answered the phone. “Detective Clifton,” the voice blared into the receiver.

“Um . . . uh . . . may I speak with Officer Jones? This is Laci Johnson.”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Johnson, but he’s off today. May I help you with something?”

“My uncle told me you wanted to, uh . . . ask me some questions?”

“Johnson,” he said, trying to remember the name. “Julacia Johnson?” he asked.

“Yes,” Laci confirmed.

“Ms. Johnson, thanks for calling back.” Laci remained quiet. “I wanted to talk to you because we’re looking into the death of Crystal Moore and Rick Young.”

“Death?” Laci screeched. “Rick who?” she asked. She had never heard that name before.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “You probably know him as Dame.”

Dame’s dead too?
she thought to herself.

“Would you be able to come to the station and talk to us about this?”

Laci became quiet. “No, I’m away in college. But Detective, I’m curious, why are you looking for me?”

“You’ve been named as someone who may know more about this case. We have a picture of you with the group of girls known as the South Bronx Bitches, Ms. Johnson.” Laci stayed silent. “Look, you may or may not have the answers we’re looking for, but we just need to tie up some loose ends on this case. We questioned the other girls and you’re the only one we haven’t spoken with. The girl who was with Ms. Moore at the time of the incident is no longer cooperating, and you’re the only other one without a record, so we really need your help.”

“Help doing what?”

“Finding out why Ms. Moore was set up. We also know that her boyfriend ran a drug ring here in the Bronx and now he’s nowhere to be found. Every time their name comes up, yours does too, and it looks like nobody knows much about them or is willing to talk. So we need to get to the bottom of it. Ms. Johnson, this is serious business; if you can’t come to us, we’ll have to come to you.”

Laci’s heart started racing and she hung the phone up abruptly.

“God, please,” Laci said out loud, “please let this nightmare end.”

T
HE PARTY BEGAN
like any other college party scene. The students were celebrating the 42–7 ass-kicking that B.U. gave Northwestern, but it quickly turned into something resembling Atlanta’s spring-break Freaknik.

Once the alcohol was flowing freely and the weed had been passed around to everyone, the atmosphere got crazier. The horny girls started to dance wildly with each other and on whatever surface could hold their weight in order to entice any guy that was paying attention. With a ratio of two to one, a man could have his fantasy of more than one girl in a night.

“Jingling Baby” by LL Cool J filled the air and the girls grinded their pussies against the men who were standing around watching. They also teased them by rubbing their breasts against any man who would give them attention. The boys danced along with their freaks of the night, but a few had a hard time hanging out when they couldn’t take the sexy grinding any longer without wanting to get up in it.

Dink was busy breaking the grip of three freaks who’d been eyeing him since he walked into the frat house.

“Baby, we offering you an around-the-world proposition,” one of the girls told Dink. “Have you ever had three women at the same time?” She looked at Dink and licked her lips. “I’ll suck your dick while my girl eats your ass and my other girl sucks your balls. Come on, baby, let’s get down.”

“Aye, yo, Slim,” Dink called out. He followed it up with a two-fingered whistle.

“What’s up, yo?” Slim said when he’d made his way over to Dink and the three freaks. The girls looked at Slim and approved by nodding their heads. They whispered to each other about who was gonna do what.

“Ladies, why don’t y’all take care of my boy here.” Dink quickly told Slim what they wanted to do and he happily obliged. “I’ve been around the world before. Actually more times than you want to know,” Dink told the freaks, “so here you go, have fun.”

The girls winked at Dink as Slim put his long arms around them. He gave an upward head nod.

“We’ll try to bring him back in one piece,” one of the girls told Dink as they walked away in search of a little privacy.

Dink had never thought that the people he encountered at the frat house—honor students and future leaders of America—would have that type of freak shit in them, but sex was a universal language that everyone spoke and understood.

Simone laughed at how many women were coming on to Dink, so she stayed close to him to ward off the skeezers. She knew he didn’t want to be bothered and he was truly her boy. Plus, she didn’t want any of the other guys there try’na get up in her panties tonight either.

Just as they were finishing a game of pool, T.J. came busting into the party. He was loud and obnoxious. It was obvious that he was drunk. T.J. had been drinking since he left Laci earlier that
evening. His conscience was really fucking him up. He knew he wasn’t a real thug, but he had an image to uphold.

“Look at this bullshit,” Simone said to Dink. She was embarrassed. “That’s the reason I don’t fuck with his ass.” She pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Don’t even worry about that,” Dink told her. “Go ’head and rack ’em. I’m ’bout to get up in that ass tonight,” he joked. Simone laughed, and that was all T.J. needed to hear for him to storm over to the two.

“What the fuck you think you doing? Who’s ass you gonna get up in?” T.J. boldly yelled at Dink and swung, connecting his fist with Dink’s jaw.

In an instant, Dink instinctively clocked T.J. in the face, knocking him to the floor, then pulled out his piece. Dink never traveled far without his iron. Regardless of being on a college campus, he still had to watch his back and wasn’t gonna let nobody punk him. That was his street mentality.

Slim and a few others rushed to Dink to keep him from killing T.J.

“Whoa, what the fuck just happened?” Slim’s shirt was off and he stood there looking silly with his scrawny, long legs sticking out of his boxers. The freaks that Dink had passed off to him were making good on their promise, but when he heard the commotion, he was concerned about what was happening to his boys.

T.J. rubbed his jaw and drunkenly got up off the floor.

“Come on, nigga,” Dink yelled. “You been fuckin’ with me since I got here. I don’t fuck with wannabe niggas, but I been wantin’ to get at you for a minute. Bring yo’ ass!”

“Dude!” Slim said forcefully. “Can y’all tell me what the fuck just happened?” He was becoming disgusted with the constant
conflict between T.J. and Dink. He suspected that T.J. had a big issue with Dink, but Slim never thought this kinda shit would kick off.

“That nigga all over my gal. Fuck his punk ass!” T.J. yelled.

Some of the spectators started laughing, because that was a punk move on T.J.’s part.

“T.J., you straight-up buggin’,” Simone told him. “What you talking about? We was just playing pool!”

“Bitch, fuck you! When I’m through with this nigga, you next. I told you I wanted you to stay away from this ghetto-ass muthafucka, but you act like you ain’t hearing shit I’m saying.”

“T.J., you trippin’.” Simone was pissed off. T.J. had never called her a bitch before, but calling her one in public took the cake. “He got a girl.”

“Now you takin’ up for his ass. You a ho just like his gal.”

Dink had had enough. He broke free from Slim and the other dudes and tackled T.J. to the ground.
Clunk.
Something flew out of T.J.’s jacket. He looked at Dink and laughed, with blood and saliva coming out of his mouth.

LACI GREW FURIOUS
at the memory. A flashback of her most degrading moments, which were even worse than what was on the tape that T.J. had shown her, flooded her mind. The memory of an unlimited amount of men and women using her for sex made Laci’s stomach turn.

Oral sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, and the smells of bodily fluid she was constantly sprayed with stuck in her mind. The names she was called—most she had never heard of—rang loud and clear.

At her lowest point, Laci would have fucked a dog right in the middle of the South Bronx during rush-hour traffic if it would
have fed her habit. Junkies stole, lied, and would sell their soul to the devil if it would give them the hit that their bodies needed.

At that time Laci knew she looked like shit and she didn’t give a fuck, but everyone still wanted a piece of her. Not only because she was fly but also because she had a reputation that anything goes, and best of all, they didn’t have to break her off anything more than some dick and a hit.

Many local and nonlocal ballers had had a taste of the ripe young strawberry. Nothing else compared to it. They enjoyed running trains on her just to see how much she could take. One night she had eight guys running through her young body. Oftentimes the men wanted to see just how far she’d go for her high and during group sex, they made her suck the dick or eat the pussy of another druggie who was shooting up. The ballers she fucked didn’t want to share her pussy with other druggies because Lord only knew what diseases they carried. They wanted her snatch to themselves.