Crackhead (3 page)

“Yeah, I know,” Laci said, turning over onto her stomach and resting her chin on her hands.

“I'll always be here for you . . . no matter what.”

MARGARET TRIED TO
get Laci out of the house at least once a week to go shopping, to the movies, or for a special dinner of her choice at the Russian Tea Room, Tavern on the Green, or Windows on the World at the World Trade Center. She thought it was just
what her seventeen-year-old daughter needed after such a traumatic year. Laci's father had passed away eight months prior. Then, the family was living in Philadelphia, where Jay Johnson was a successful and well-known corporate attorney, one of the few in town who were black. Depressed and longing to return to where she'd grown up, Margaret packed up Laci and moved back to New York.

This particular night, the two of them had decided to go see
Beaches.
Laci was standing in line at the cineplex for popcorn, while her mother was in the bathroom, when she noticed that the girl in front of her had forgotten her change. Laci scooped up the $39.25 and chased behind the girl, who was juggling a large tub of popcorn and two sodas. The girl was both shocked and impressed. Most people, rich or poor, would have taken that money and spent it at the concession stand or pocketed it. The girl had never met anyone that honest.

“You ain't originally from here, are you?” she asked Laci.

“No,” Laci blushed. “I just moved here six months ago.”

“Where do you live?”

“Riverdale.”

“Oh, okay.”
Damn, this bitch must be paid
, the girl thought. “My name is Tonette.”

“Hi Tonette, I'm Julacia.”

“Jew—what?” Tonette had the only screw face.

“Jul—never mind, you can call me Laci.”

“So, Laci, you here with a crew?”

“No, no crew.” Laci looked down and noticed the letters
SBB.
on Tonette's satin baseball jacket. “I just go to school and hang out with my mom. She's in the bathroom. You can meet her if you like; she'll be out in a minute. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you with a crew?”

“Hell, yeah. I'm the leader of the infamous South Bronx Bitches.”

“Oh.” Laci had never heard a girl cuss like that, and in public, too.

Tonette nodded her head politely and thought for a minute.
She definitely don't have nothing in common with me and my crew, but I know she got cheddar.
“Say, Laci . . . check it, what school you go to?”

“Riverdale Country Day School.”

Hell yeah, this bitch is rich.
Tonette smiled. “Well, let's exchange numbers. Maybe we can hang out sometime. My girls and me is watching
I'm Gonna Git You Sucka.
You should hurry up, it started already.”

“Oh, me and my mom are here to see
Beaches.
”

Tonette had to laugh to herself. “I see. Well, we're trying to get into something after the movie. You're free to join us. As a matter of fact you got a drink coming on me. What do you drink?”

“Coke or Pepsi,” Laci said, shrugging her shoulders. “It doesn't matter to me.”

This time, Tonette couldn't hold in her laugh. She and her homegirls had been drinking since the sixth grade. Nonetheless, Tonette still extended her invitation. “Well, we gon' be right outside when the movie's out. You got a pen? Take my number down.”

“Great. After my mother meets you I'm sure she won't mind me hanging out with you and your crew for a while.”

Fat chance
, Tonette thought. “No doubt.” With that she smiled, said good-bye, and returned to Crystal, Shaunna, and
Monique, who'd sent her to get some food because they'd just finished smoking some herb and had a bad case of the munchies.

The next day, Laci called Tonette, who then invited her to a high school basketball game. Ever since then, Laci had been spending a good amount of time chillin' with her new homegirls in the South Bronx.

Y
O, NETTE, THIS
is Crystal.”

“What's good?” Tonette asked.

“Nothing much, I just hung up with Monique.”

“Yeah, I talked to her about an hour ago. I'm sitting here getting dressed now, fixin' to head your way. What time everybody else supposed to be shootin' through?”

“In a bit,” Crystal said. “Everybody but Laci, anyway. Monique called her up, but she be always letting her personal feelings get in the way of business.”

“What
business
?” Tonette said as she held the phone between her ear and shoulder, slipping on her bright red high-top Reebok Classics.

“Hey, is Dame around?” Crystal whispered.

“Yeah, he's in the shower,” Tonette said.

“Perfect!” Crystal said enthusiastically.

“Damn, girl, what's up with you?” She knew her girl was up to something. Since Tonette had moved in with Dame over a year
ago, Crystal never asked about him when she called. Tonette was the nucleus, the leader of the crew. Everyone met through her; each of them had been her friend first. It was rare that they came up with an idea without her.

Tonette had a small build and a toffee-colored complexion. When she wanted to, she could be a straight-up bitch, the devil's livest advocate, but she also had the soft, winning smile of an angel. Her bright white teeth sparkled, and they rivaled her light-gray eyes. She looked a little like Vanessa Williams, wearing a part down the middle of her relaxed, shoulder-length hair. Without a doubt, Tonette was rough around the edges. Although she was a little tomboyish, her femininity shined through. She had her beautiful smile to thank for that. She always wore Jordache jeans and Reebok sneakers with either a colorful tank top in the summer or an oversized sweatshirt in the winter. Then there was the jewelry—name-plate herringbone chains, door knockers, and gold bangles.

“Well, while Monique and I were talking, something came to mind.” Crystal started smirking and rubbing her hands together like some mad scientist. “Let me run it by you real quick. I think I'm going to need you to solicit Dame's help—unknowingly, of course.”

After ending her call with Crystal and hearing exactly what she had in mind, Tonette sat on the bed for a moment and thought about how to execute the plan. Dame was still in the shower. He was worse than some women with his long-ass showers, and this was the perfect time for her to do what she needed to do without him knowing. Tonette was a bad bitch, but Dame was a beast. She knew that if he caught her snooping through his shit he'd beat her ass like she was some nigga.

Tonette wasn't totally comfortable with Crystal's plan, but she, too, at times felt that the only reason Laci hung around them was to make herself feel important, and that she was secretly sitting back laughing at them. Well, it was about time somebody had a laugh at her expense.

After tiptoeing over to the bathroom, she put her ear up against the door. She could hear the shower still running, and Dame was singing the hook to one of the songs from the movie
Colors.

“Dame!” Tonette called out.

“What?” he grumbled. “You know I'm in the shower.”

“I was just going to ask you if you wanted me to roll a herb,” she lied, “but never mind.”

Dame didn't trust anyone—especially a bitch. His antennas were always going up, alerting him to something shady. There was something in Tonette's voice that made him cut his shower short.

Tonette didn't know where Dame kept his stash because he was always moving it. She searched several different spots before he got out of the shower. She looked through his 8 Ball jacket pockets, under the mattress, and in his Adidas shoe boxes—nothing. She went through his sock drawer and VHS rack and still couldn't find it. Starting to sweat and growing more nervous, she took a seat on his workout bench and noticed something different with the television. The back of it was cracked open. Listening for Dame, she tried the back of the set, and sure enough, it popped off.
Jackpot!
she thought. Removing the zip-lock bag, she took two vials from it. Then she heard the shower shut off. Shaken, she returned the baggie to its place and sealed the television back up. Before he'd stepped completely out of the bathroom, Tonette dashed for the bed, tripped over one
of Dame's dumbbells, and fell to the floor. Acting like she was slingin' on the corner and the po-po had just rolled up on her, Tonette placed the capsules in her mouth, one on each side of her cheek. That was a trick she'd learned from her days working for Dame on the block.

“What the fuck you doin'?” Dame asked as he strode into the room, nude and wet. Dame was a short man, built like a stone gargoyle. He had thick arms and legs and a barrel-shaped chest. His beady eyes bore into Tonette, waiting for an answer.

“Oh, you scared me,” she gasped. “I didn't hear you get out of the shower.” Dame just stood there, piercing her with his eyes, waiting on a response. “I was trying to see if I left my purple thong over here. Maybe it fell under the bed. You seen it? Maybe it's at the other apartment.”

Dame was really suspicious now. Tonette knew damn well that the other apartment was off-limits to her. That was where he kept his shit, his quantity, his real weight. She had been there a time or two, when he had to stop and take care of some business and she just happened to be rolling with him. But that was the last place any of her shit would be.

“I've looked everywhere and can't find it,” Tonette continued. “I can't wear my purple bra without the matching thong. You sure you ain't seen it?”

Dame responded by grabbing Tonette from off the floor and running his hands all over her body, feeling for something that she wasn't supposed to have. When he came up empty, he kissed her and flicked his tongue throughout her mouth. Tonette didn't expect him to go that far, but she was ready for it nonetheless. Her tongue skills were superior, and she led the oral dance, preventing Dame from feeling the capsules.

Tonette didn't get away that easily, though. All of the touching
and tonguing made Dame horny. He began to rub on Tonette, letting her know he wanted sex and she would have to give it to him. Capsules in her mouth or not, he had to get broke off. She bent over the bed and let Dame handle his business.

GRUDGINGLY, MONIQUE CALLED
Laci again. This time, Laci's mother answered the phone and went into her room, telling her to take the call.

“Laci?” Monique asked timidly.

“Yeah, Monique?”

Laci's mother stood in the doorway. Just in case it was one of those ghetto bitches trying to fuck with her daughter again, she was going to snatch the phone and give them a piece of her mind.

“Yeah.” Monique hesitated. “It's me. Listen, about earlier . . . I'm sorry. I had some shit on my mind and I didn't mean to take it out on you.”

A smile came across Laci's face. “Don't worry about it. We all have our days,” she said, glad for the apology.

“Yeah. Listen, Laci. The reason I called you earlier was to tell you that we're gonna get together at Crystal's house in a few. We wanted you to come through. You know, we just gonna do a girl's-night thing.”

Laci looked down at her Movado watch with a single diamond in the face, a Sweet Sixteen present from her father. Engraved with the words “It's time to let you fly,” it was a symbol of Laci approaching adulthood. It was the most expensive gift her father had ever gotten her, and she treasured it.

“I don't know,” Laci sighed. She wanted to say that she and her mother were about to go out, but she didn't want to hit another one of Monique's nerves. “Well, what time?”

“We all just getting dressed and heading over to Crystal's,” Monique said.

Laci looked at her mother, who was still standing in the doorway. “Okay,” she said hesitantly. “I'll be there.”

Her mother knew what was up by the look on Laci's face. She didn't beef. She just walked over to Laci, kissed her forehead, and left. Margaret knew she had to sit back and try not to run her daughter's life. She knew Laci would make mistakes and needed to make them in order to grow. She only hoped that Laci wouldn't go over the deep end.

W
AYNE HAD SEEN
his mother, Gloria, bring home replacement fathers, one after another. By the time he was seventeen, fifteen of his years had been spent watching them come and go. Early on, he paid no mind to their comings and goings, but as his teenage years rolled around, he began to recognize and accept what his mother's intentions were for the men in her life.

Strapped for cash, Wayne's mother did the best she could to support herself and her son with no help from friends or family. All she had was Uncle Sam's handout to work with. Women in her position were known, and sometimes expected, to swallow their pride and go from man to man until they found one who was willing to take on some of their burdens. Men, on the other hand, knew that a single mother was an easy target. She'd put up with a man's mess if she felt that it would keep him around, which in the end it usually didn't.

The men Gloria brought around found it difficult to be the man of the house, especially since it was clear that they didn't
want the responsibility or plan on staying that long. In Gloria's case, as in most cases, the cat would hang around until the sex got stale, and then move on to the next victim. Sometimes things would even get violent.

A couple of years ago, when Wayne was fifteen, his mother had brought a man named Buck home. The man of the hour, Buck stood 6′1″, was sloppy and overweight, and had a lazy left eye. The only reason he was able to get at Gloria in the first place was because his money put meat in the freezer. Gloria was numb to the physical appearance of men if they proved useful to her. It didn't matter what they looked like or how much they weighed. The only thing Gloria saw was dollar signs, and as far as she was concerned, all money looked alike and spent the same—quick and easy. Those same words also could have been used to describe her. She was quick to find a man and easy enough for him to have his way with her. Buck was no exception.