Authors: Endy
He received the benefits because one day while picking up trash from the streets another employer who was driving the street sweeper drove over his foot, breaking several bones and dislocating his ankle, which caused him to walk with a permanent limp. He sued the city and received a large settlement. He was placed on permanent disability and had not worked since.
Luke handed Bilal two tiny baggies that contained the heroin. Bilal’s hand shook as he took it from the boy.
“Luke, you can’t do no better than this, man? I’m on E, and this ain’t gonna do nothing but take the edge off a little. Shit, I’m gonna need at least three to get me off E,” Bilal said.
Two bags was not enough to curb the sickness, let alone get Bilal of E.
Luke looked at him, and he could see the sickness in Bilal’s face. He reached in his pocket and passed him two more bags.
Bilal rushed over to the kitchen table and sat down, preparing to sniff the off-white substance. At that point Desiree knew that Bilal needed dope more then she needed another hit, so she didn’t say anything. Bilal snorted the first bag. Ten minutes later, he was feeling the effect of the dope. He could feel the pain subsiding in his legs.
“You know, youngun, I remember the time when dope was good. Yeah, those were the good old days.”
Luke looked up at him. “I wouldn’t know about that, man.”
“There was a time when all you had to do was hit a half bag and that shit would have you in a gangsta lean that no pimp could acquire. Niggaz would be leaned so far into their nod that they could suck their own dick if they wanted to,” Bilal drawled.
“Yo, Wisdom, why you snort this shit? Most people that cop from me shoot it up.”
“I’m scared of needles. I could never see myself sticking a needle in my arm,” Bilal said as he snorted the second bag.
“So have somebody else do it.”
“Shit, that’s worst than me doing it to myself. No, youngun, I ain’t wit’ that.”
“I heard you get a better high when you shoot it.”
“It’s the same high, kid.”
The young boy continued to bag his product while Bilal polished off the third bag. Bilal talked and talked for ten minutes, then he went silent, and his head nodded forward in slow motion.
Luke watched Bilal nod. He looked at the cigarette that Bilal held between his fingers, which had burned down to the filter.
“Did you know, youngun?” Bilal stated, wiping spit from his mouth and putting out the cigarette on the floor. “Did you know that the government got a plan for us?”
“Oh yeah? What kind of plan?”
“They got a plan to get rid of all us poor niggaz,” Bilal schooled.
“How you figure, Wisdom?”
“The way I see it, they let so much of this shit come into our country. Oh sure, they show you on the TV how they busted a couple of ships bringing the shit over every now and then, but that’s just for show. The government is getting a cut off all that shit.”
“Get the fuck outta here with that shit, man. How you figure they getting a cut?”
“See you young knuckleheads don’t know shit, but I’m about to school you.”
“Knock yourself out, Wisdom. School me.”
Bilal went into another nod, and Luke kept working, waiting for him to come out of it.
“See, they working with them fuckers over in the other countries who actually produce this shit. They pay them mafuckas to make this shit. How you think them po’ asses in other countries can afford to have labs and shit to produce this shit? Huh?”
“I don’t know, Wisdom,” Luke said, never looking at him.
“The government, nigga. That’s how.” Bilal scratched his chin then his neck, all in slow motion with his mouth shaped like an upside-down frown.
“Yeah, they get a cut off that shit. They bring that shit over here and sell to the top suppliers for a good price. Then the suppliers sell it to their suppliers and then it keeps trickling on down to you mafuckas. And the government gets a cut off everybody. They making a killing in profits,” Bilal announced.
Luke chuckled. “Where you get all this shit from, man?”
“It’s a known fact, kid, a known fact.”
“A’ight, Wisdom, I’m out. I’ll catch up with you later.” Luke stood. He grabbed up his product and shoved it in his pocket. Bilal shook his hand and went into another nod. Luke walked out of the apartment.
“T
ell the truth. You was up in that joint spankin’ off, right?” Damon asked.
“Hell no, nigga,” Niles protested.
“Yo, what y’all niggaz talking about?” Ishmael asked as he and Derrick approached a few of his runners. “Oh, what up, Niles? When you get home?” Ishmael asked, noticing he was standing there.
Niles used to be one of his most faithful employees—until he got busted. He took a charge for aggravated assault and drug distribution and had been released early from a five-year sentence.
“I got back last night. What up, Ish?” He extended his hand for a shake.
“Word? What, you got out on good behavior or some shit?” Ishmael asked.
“No. That nigga got out early for taking back shots from the Cos,” Damon exclaimed.
Everyone burst into laughter. Some of the boys were jumping up and down and running in circles.
“Yo, fuck you, man,” Niles shouted.
“Yo, y’all leave my man alone. So since you’re back, you need some work?” Ishmael inquired.
“Hell yeah. I’m ready, man.”
“Look at you. You always been my nigga.” Ishmael smiled a proud grin.
Damon looked on with suspicious eyes.
“Let me talk to you for a minute,” Ishmael stated, draping his arm around Niles’ shoulder and leading him off to the side.
“What that be about?” Damon inquired to Derrick.
“Yo, stay in your place,” Derrick stated as he walked off behind Niles and Ishmael.
Damon looked after Derrick with piercing eyes. Damon had been down with Ishmael since the beginning, hoping to finally one day get promoted to a top position. He walked off, heading for the store, when Ishmael called him.
“Yo, D, where you headed?”
“To the store. I’ll be back,” he shouted.
Ishmael, Niles, and Derrick kicked it for a few minutes until Damon returned. Ishmael told Niles he would send something his way in a few hours and that he would talk to him later. Damon walked off with the two men, and they got into Derrick’s GMC Yukon Denali. Once inside the truck Ishmael began to speak to Damon.
“Yo, D, now that Niles is back on the block, I need you to get him back on his feet. Make that run to the spot and pick him up a little something. I want you to start him off small and watch him,” Ishmael stated, popping a piece of violet candy in his mouth.
“Watch him for what? You said that nigga was yo’ boy and shit. What, you don’t trust him?” Damon inquired with jealousy.
Ishmael looked over at Derrick, and they both snickered.
“Damn, man,” Ishmael stated, disappointed.
“I’m saying . . . What’s up, Ish?”
“Listen, man, that nigga just came home from the joint. He only did two of his mandatory five. For the charge he caught, something don’t smell right. I’ll give any nigga half a chance to fuck himself. I need you to keep an eye on that mafucka until I can peep his game. A’ight?”
“Yeah, a’ight, Ish. I feel you.”
“That mafucka got to earn his spot back,” Derrick said.
Later that night, Ishmael and Derrick swung by Beverly’s house to pay her for the refrigerator she had gotten for Derrick’s sister. She hadn’t found anything out about Ron and Don, the dudes who Rallo snitched on, so Ishmael asked her about Desiree. Beverly told him that she had gotten a job at the IHOP in Elizabeth and was working at night.
“Oh word? She work at the IHOP, huh?”
“Yeah. She couldn’t take it sitting around here at night. She said she was bored outta her mind,” Beverly stated.
“So, Bev, what’s up with your girl?”
“Who, Rae-Rae? She a’ight, Ish. Why, you wanna push up?”
“I’m just tryna peep her game,” he said modestly.
“You better chill. If you start fucking around with Rae-Rae and that African bitch of yours find out, she gonna put some roots on yo’ ass.” Beverly laughed.
“You trippin’, Bev. Don’t no bitch run me. But I’m saying what up with yo’ girl? She told me she had a man.”
Beverly laughed. “If you want to call that a man. Please, that motherfucker died over two years ago.”
“Oh word? Wait a minute, so why she fronting?”
“Um...she kinda still in mourning,” she said.
“Mourning?”
“Yeah. Her long-time boyfriend died in prison.”
“Oh, ha man was in prison? For what?” Ishmael inquired.
“His ass was doing life.”
“Dayum,” Ishmael and Derrick shouted at the same time.
“Hell yeah. Don’t y’all remember that big-ass robbery about five years ago?”
“What robbery?” Derrick asked.
“Come on. Y’all mafuckas don’t remember the couple who ran up in Groovers and tried to take Harry’s fat ass out?” She looked at them sideways.
“Oh yeah! Yeah,” Ishmael expressed.
“Well that was Rae-Rae and Bunchy who did that shit,” she said as she hocked spit to the ground.
“Damn, Bev, you nasty,” Ishmael stated in disgust.
“Who the fuck is Bunchy?” Derrick interjected.
“You know Bilal...Bunchy? Some called him Wisdom?” Beverly said.
Both men sat in thought, trying to place the names and a face.
“Where he rested at?” Derrick asked.
“Over there on Fifteenth Avenue,” she responded. “He hung out with that nigga Roc who got smoked years back.”
Ishmael and Derrick looked at each other.
“I knew that nigga Roc, but I didn’t know Bilal. So she was the broad that was caught up in that robbery shit, huh?” Ishmael inquired.
“Yep, that would be Rae-Rae,” Beverly said proudly.
“She was frontin’ like she all prissy and shit,” Ishmael said.
He sat and thought about the conversation he and Desiree had just the month before. He still couldn’t place where he’d seen her before. Her eyes were driving him crazy. He remembered hearing about the robbery, but he didn’t know who did it. He thought about how she would be a real ride-or-die bitch. She did time and had the balls to try and rip off Harry, of all people. As much muscle as Harry had, nobody in their right mind would fuck with him.
The more he thought about it, the more he was turned on. He had to get with Desiree—or he was going to die trying. Something about her turned him on.
Derrick got a call on his cell phone as they pulled away from the curb. It was Little Cash letting him know they knew where the twins were. Ishmael told Little Cash to get on the horn and call the crew to meet them at the spot for a meeting.
“I can’t put my finger on it, but I seen shorty somewhere before,” Ishmael stated out of nowhere.
“If she’s hanging with Bev, then she ain’t nothing but a chicken head,” Derrick said, unimpressed.
Changing the subject, Ishmael said, “I been thinking about promoting D. What you think?” He really wasn’t up for Derrick’s arrogant remarks.
“That would be a a’ight move. That’s one little nigga that be on the grind. Word, that’s a good look,” Derrick agreed.
They pulled up in front of the old tattered house and entered. All were already present, sitting around smoking Purple Haze. The men were laughing and joking.
“Yo, that bitch was serving me up something lovely. Shit, that bitch had my dick
and
nuts in her mouth. All that shit, yo,” one male shouted.
“Get the fuck outta here,” a couple of the guys yelled.
“Who he talking about?” Ishmael inquired.
“He talking about Funky Felicia.”
Funky Felicia was a local girl who would let anybody hit it for money. Rumor had it that her body odor was foul.
“
Ill
, that shit is nasty. You let that dirty bitch put ha mouth on your shit?” Ishmael asked, frowning.
“Hell yeah, he did. That bitch twat stink so bad, she could clear out a baseball stadium full people,” another male joked.
The room erupted with laughter.
“Man, stop playing. She don’t smell that bad,” the boy defended.
“Dude, that bitch pussy stink, man.” Derrick interjected.
“A’ight. A’ight,” Ishmael announced. “The Haze got y’all niggaz in here trippin’.”
Ishmael got the rest of the information from Little Cash, and they got down to business. They were going to move in on the twins’ the next night and all meet up at the garage when they had them caught. The men sat around for another hour smoking and cracking jokes on one another while Ishmael sat back and thought about Desiree.
D
esiree dragged herself into the apartment. She was so tired and her feet hurt. She went straight to her bedroom. She didn’t want anything to eat nor did she have the energy to take a shower.
She fell face first onto her bed and closed her eyes.
“You ain’t even gonna wash your ass?” Beverly asked, standing in the doorway.
Desiree sat up in the bed, rubbing her eyes.
“I wasn’t, but since you put it that way, I guess I need to.”
“Yes you do, but not before I tell you the low down.” Beverly hopped on the bed with her.
Desiree smiled at Beverly. There was never a dull moment with her. She always had gossip to tell, and there was never a time when she didn’t have anything to say.
“Girl,” she drawled, “Ish and Rik came by here last night, and guess what?”
“What, Bev?” Desiree asked, not really wanting to know.
Since she’d seen Ishmael, she couldn’t shake him from her thoughts. Before she started working, she and Beverly would sit on the porch every night taking in the scenery. Every time a burgundy truck would drive down the street, her heart would flutter like a schoolgirl in love. It was getting to the point she was silently wishing he would come back around. Eventually she decided to get a job. She really needed the money, but most of all, she needed to get him off her mind.
“Ish asked about you.”
Beverly sat back and waited for Desiree to respond, but she didn’t. “Did you hear what I said, Rae-Rae?”
“Uh, yeah.”