Crackhead (8 page)

“Hell yeah, you owe me, and I plan to collect,” the dealer said. “Where you live, yo?”

“I'll connect with you right back here in a couple of days,” Wayne said, ignoring the question.

“That's cool. I feel that,” the dealer said, smiling at Wayne, who was acting like Santa had just brought him exactly what he had asked for on his Christmas list. “Damn, you do look just like a Smurf.”

“I'll be that,” Wayne said. “I'll be a Smurf all day long, just as long as I got the heat.”

The dealer reached into the backseat and grabbed a book. He began to flip through the pages. “You read, Smurf?”

“Nah,” he said, tucking the bag under his shirt.

“You ever heard of the Dutchman?”

“Who?”

“The Dutchman—Lucio Dutch.”

“Nah, who is that?”

“Damn, Smurf. You got a lot to learn.” The dealer loved to read, and he passed books on to people he knew didn't read but needed to. “Here, read this,” he said, handing Wayne the book.
“I want you to read a few pages and tell me what you think the next time I see you.”

“I don't want to read no book,” Wayne protested. “Ain't nobody got time for all that.”

“You ain't got no money for that burner, either,” the dealer reminded him. Wayne had no response. “All right then,” the dealer continued. “Read a couple of pages and catch up with me.”

“Cool,” Wayne said, giving him some dap. Wayne opened the car door to exit, but he paused and looked at the dealer. “In case I don't see you around and I need to ask if anyone's seen you, who do I say I'm looking for?”

“The name is Dink. Just mention your name, and they'll know to hit me up. And remember, from this point on you're Smurf, but don't worry; I'll be here. You just show up and tell me about what you read.”

“I got it. Don't you worry. Smurf will be here,” Wayne said, getting out of the car and closing the door behind him. “Oh yeah, by the way, I didn't just wake up one day and decide that I wanted to be a killer.” He paused. “I was born one.”

Dink nodded with respect as Smurf walked away.

AFTER COPPING THE
piece, Smurf wandered around the hood, hopped the train, and rode it for a couple of hours. Having collected his thoughts and calmed his anger, he headed home to check on his mother and prepared for what he planned on doing with his new gat. As soon as he walked through the door, she threw her arms around him.

“Dammit, boy. Where have you been? It's almost eleven o'clock. I been worried sick. I thought you done ran out here and done something stupid,” she said frantically.

“I'm all right, Mom. I didn't do nothin' stupid.”

His mother sat him down on the living room couch and tried to continue quizzing him about his whereabouts, but he only fed her lies. Finally she gave up. Smurf sat there and watched her down a bottle of rum. She eventually fell over onto his lap in a drunken sleep.

As she snoozed on the living room couch, Smurf watched her and felt a pain in his heart. He hated to be hard on his mother, but she didn't seem to want it any other way. He promised himself that he'd help her get out of her rut. He wanted to help her more than anything, but he had to help himself first. After staring at her for a few more moments, Smurf slid from underneath her and headed to bed.

Smurf couldn't think straight. He sat up all night in bed staring, holding, polishing, and aiming his new piece. Sunday he damn near did the same thing. The gun was like a new puppy. He couldn't wait to get out of school Monday afternoon to go home and let it out to piss. He daydreamed all day long in school, thinking about putting one through Buck's head. After school he did his homework, ate dinner, and prepared to skip out of the house when his mother went to sleep. Time was of the essence.

Smurf had itched to get at the nigga all weekend, but he decided to wait until Monday, when he thought Buck would more likely be working. Dressed in all black, he tucked his pistol in the front pocket of his hoodie. When he peeked into the living room, there his mother was, drunk and asleep on the couch in the same spot she had been for the past two days. Smurf walked over to her, kissed her on the forehead, and dipped out.

He boarded the Number 2 train and rode it all the way downtown
to Wall Street. He had the jitters the entire ride. He thought about turning back, but his conscience wouldn't let him. Buck had violated his home and family. According to the laws of the jungle, he had to be handled.

Finally at his destination, Smurf jogged up the subway stairs, making sure to hold his piece so it wouldn't fall out. Once outside, the night air greeted him. The cool wind against his face was just what he needed. It didn't take him long to locate the construction site. It was the only one on the block. Smurf walked past it, but he made sure to stay on the opposite side of the street. As far as he could see, there was one entrance in the front and another one where deliveries were made on the side. He decided that the latter would be his point of entry.

Smurf crept to a side window and tried to get a good look into the structure. Through the dirty glass, he could see Buck sitting behind a desk watching a small television. As far as Smurf could tell, he was alone. He could climb right through the window and blow his fuckin' brains out without worrying about witnesses, but there was an alarm on the door. Something he hadn't counted on; quick-witted, he thought of a way to use it to his advantage. He pushed against the door, setting the alarm off, and waited.

Within seconds, Buck poked his fat head out the door to investigate. His skin turned stark white at the sight of a pistol pointed at his dome. Smurf smiled at the big man, who looked as if he was about to pass out.

“Back yo' fat ass up,” Smurf ordered. Buck nodded and did as he was told. Smurf followed him through the door and secured it behind them. “Guess the tables have turned, huh?”

Buck tried to keep a straight face as he nodded, but his knees
wouldn't stop shaking. He'd gotten a thrill out of savagely fucking Gloria and kicking the shit out of her kid, but now he would give anything to change the past.

“Listen, boy,” Buck pleaded. “I know you're angry, but—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Smurf ordered. “You don't know how I feel, so don't say another fuckin' word. You ain't so muthafuckin' tough now, is you?” Smurf asked with an insane-looking grin. “You felt like a big man when you was hittin' on a woman and a kid, but now you ain't shit . . . fuckin' coward. Why you ain't poppin' that shit now?”

“I didn't mean it,” Buck said, crying freely. “Shit just got out of hand. I was angry, man. I didn't mean to hurt you and your moms. I swear to God.”

“You lyin' muthafucka!” Smurf screamed, slapping Buck with the gun. Buck crumpled to the ground, holding the side of his head as blood poured from the wound.

Seeing Buck humbled in such a way sent a rush through Smurf. He was the only thing that stood between Buck living and dying. He felt godlike. He felt a surge go from the back of his head and through his arm, eventually moving to his hand, which began to stiffen. Finally, the powerful sensation spread to his finger.

The first shot hit Buck in his chest. Smurf tried to gain control of his hand, but he couldn't. Whatever evil lurked within the firearm had possessed him. His arm jerked over and over, filling Buck's body with lead. Buck's screams mingled with the sound of the barking gun, threatening to drive Smurf mad. When it was all said and done, the only thing that could be heard was the squeaking spring in the gun's hammer.

Smurf stared at Buck's bullet-riddled body and nearly threw up. He forced his dinner to stay down long enough to admire his
handiwork. Buck was hit up real ugly, but it was a suitable death for a man who'd done such ugly things. Smurf took a moment to spit on his corpse before disappearing into the night. Tomorrow would be a new day, and he was anxious to see what kind of work his new employer had lined up for him. But little did he know, more than two years later he'd still be putting in work for Dink.

A
LL RIGHT, ARE
you guys ready?” Laci wanted to make sure everyone was listening. She said it as if she was only going to tell the story once, and if you missed it, you missed it.

“I'm on the verge of cummin' in my maternity drawers,” Shaunna said, stretching out. “Laci, I hope your story does it for me.”

Laci cleared her throat. “I had fallen asleep on the couch at Mark's house.”

“Mark?” Monique asked. “Who the fuck is Mark?”

“Just let her tell the goddamn story before you fuck up my nut now, shit,” Shaunna's nasty ass said.

Laci continued, “Mark woke me up by eating me out. He flicked his tongue across my clit, blowing it up to the size of a marble. I had never felt that kind of tingling in my body. Mark sent me there.”

Laci appeared to be in la-la land. Every girl's face wore the look of surprise. Laci had never spoken like this before. As Laci
told her story, for the first time she felt like she was being fully accepted by the girls. It motivated her to continue.

“After Mark made me cum,” Laci slid off the couch and onto the floor, “I played with his dick until it got good and hard. I teased him by just licking on the head, but not putting him in my mouth. He begged, but I still wouldn't do it.”

“That's right, girl. Make that nigga beg,” Monique said, leaning over toward Laci to give her a high-five.

“When Mark's eyes started tearing up, I finally gobbled him up. He was surprised at how much muscle control I had. I opened my throat and took all of him. Now, Mark wasn't very thick, but he was long as hell. I felt like gagging, but I held it down.” Laci paused, making sure the girls were still into her story. “I didn't want him to cum in my mouth, so I ended up jumping on top of him and sat on it. He grabbed my ass while he humped me back. I started to lose my mind.”

“Ride that dick, Miss Prissy,” Tonette chimed in enthusiastically.

Laci smiled and continued. “I came so hard and fast, it felt like someone kicked it out of me. Things just got harder and more violent. He smacked me on the side of my ass—not hard enough to hurt me, but hard enough to make my clit jump. The pain felt so good that I screamed out, ‘Hit me harder.' The sound of him smacking my ass pushed me over the edge. That was the first time I had ever cum just by the sound of my ass getting smacked.”

Monique pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye. For the first time, she was proud of Laci's yellow ass. Laci could see the excitement in the girls' eyes as she told the story. She couldn't stop there.

“This is kind of embarrassing,” Laci said, “but the sensation
made me erupt and I . . . I pissed on him. I could've died right there, but Mark seemed to get more turned on.”

At this point in the story, Crystal twisted her lips up and had a look of disbelief on her face. She knew that no matter how hard you tried to piss during penetration, you couldn't.

Laci went on telling the story, caught up in her own drama. “He told me to stand up and let my pee run all over his body,” Laci said, shrugging her shoulders. “Mark started to squirm and moan under the stream of piss. He blew his wad all over the place. He loved it.” At first her story had all the girls horny, but then it got weird. Laci had eight pairs of eyes on her that never once lost focus. She felt compelled to proceed. “So I wiped him with a towel, and then he threw me on the floor and pushed my legs back to my ears. I lay there helpless while Mark dug into my guts. Then, oh my God, he started hitting a spot that I didn't even know I had. I started screaming at the top of my lungs. He knew he was tearing it up, and that excited him so much that he erupted inside of me, rolled over, and passed out. Hell, I thought he might have had a heart attack or something. I started whispering his name. I wanted to tell him how good he had made me feel, but he wouldn't respond. I started nudging him and he wouldn't budge. Fear set in, and I sat up and started rubbing him on his chest while continuing to call his name. Still, he didn't move,” Laci said with great intensity, as if she were reading a Stephen King novel to the girls. “His body didn't feel right,” she continued. “I began to get nervous, so I checked him for a pulse. Nothing. Mark had died in the pussy. It wasn't until later that I found out he had a bad heart. See, he had been born with some crazy heart condition. You know what I mean?” Laci said in a tone that sounded as if she might have been trying to convince herself as well as the girls.

For a few moments, the room was silent. The girls just sat there looking at each other. Then they looked at Laci. For the first time, the bitches were speechless. It took everything inside of Laci not to bust out laughing, but she couldn't hold it in any longer. Out of nowhere, she started laughing uncontrollably.

“You lying bitch,” Monique said as she began to chuckle.

“What?” Laci said, still laughing, but acting like she had no idea what Monique was talking about.

“I don't believe you just fucked up my nut like that,” Shaunna said, trying to hold back her laughter, but letting a slight chuckle slip out. “Hell, you actually fucked me up once you started talking about a dead muthafucka. I ain't into hearing about fucking a dead corpse and shit.”

The girls all started laughing.

“I'll admit,” Crystal said, “Laci, you had me with you in the beginning. You even had me at the golden shower part, but you's a lyin' ho. You know damn well you made all that shit up.”

“Psych!” Laci said, pointing.

Tonette picked up one of the plastic-covered pillows from off the couch and threw it at Laci. “I can't believe you,” she said. “Had us all caught up. Somebody else could have been talkin' 'bout some real shit.”