Still Candy Shopping (23 page)

After working for Deezo for a while, Ben had become more distant with his mother. Celeste was into her new man, Drake, and she was just about to give birth. Ben had been buying clothes and sneaking them into the house. He could count on Celeste being asleep when he left everyday with his new gear on, and if she ever caught him in something he would just lie and say he had, yet again, moved up at the newspaper. In actuality, Ben had long since gotten fired from the newspaper route after he just stopped showing up. With his weed spot booming sales, he started giving his mother even more money and he noticed she had started picking up stuff for the baby that was coming. She still didn’t buy food, but that was fine with Ben because he never ate at home anymore. He considered life to be good.

Summer came and went and before Ben knew it winter had reared its ugly head. One night, he was standing up against the wall near his spot. He was wrapped tightly in his brand new North Face snorkel and his toes were toasty in a brand spanking new pair of Timbs. Quan had just left. He had given Ben three more bundles of weed to get rid of. He had stepped up his game and his first three bundles had disappeared within four hours. Peering from under his fur trimmed hood, Ben noticed that one of his regular customers, a dude named Rambo was walking his way. Ben turned and went into the stash real quick. He took out three bags of weed and held them tightly in his hands. He was so used to seeing Rambo he knew just how much weed Rambo was going to cop and Ben wasn’t worried about Rambo not paying. He felt it was all gravy.

“Wassup,” Ben said. It was his customary greeting to his customers.

“Lemme get five dime bags,” Rambo replied. Ben was thrown off. Rambo was buying way more than he usually did.

“Shit,” Ben mumbled. He had already took out three nickel bags, now he would have to show this nigga his stash spot. Ben decided to play smart. “All I got left is three nicks son,” Ben lied. He would just take a L on the sale because something about Rambo’s new request didn’t sit right with him. Rambo just gave off the aura that he had larceny in his heart and Ben’s gut didn’t take to Rambo.

“C’mon nigga, I’m havin’ a get together at my crib,” Rambo complained. “I done collected e’erybody money and told them I was coming to get that bomb bomb zee shit and now you frontin’ on a nigga.”

“Yo, I’m dry,” Ben lied again. He was starting to get nervous. Something told him to take out his track phone and call Quan, but Ben wanted to be a man and handle it.

“Nigga, why’ount you stop frontin’! I just saw that nigga, Quan, leave from over here. That nigga replenished your shit . . . why the fuck is you frontin’ on me?” Rambo barked, his words making frosty puffs of smoke into the night air.

Ben’s heart started racing. Something was telling him to run, but he kept thinking about Deezo’s package that was behind the wood planks. He was also recalling Deezo’s words in his head “just don’t cross me or fuck with my money.” Although it was about thirty degrees outside, Ben was sweating now.

“Yo, do you want the fuckin’ three nicks or what nigga!” Ben growled, he decided to play tough.

“Nah . . . I want all your shit!” Rambo barked, rushing into Ben and sticking a black handgun in Ben’s face. Ben’s heart felt like it would pound through his chest. He clenched his ass cheeks to keep from shitting on himself. “Now muthafucka, I want you to give me all the fuckin’ weed from behind that fuckin’ wood plank in the window!” Rambo growled, pushing the gun further into Ben’s forehead.

“A’ight, but I gotta get it,” Ben said, his words coming out shaky.

“Nah nigga, we gotta go get it. Now I’ma walk with you over to that window and you gon’ hand all the fuckin’ weed over to me or else your little young brains gon’ be laying on this fuckin’ ground,” Rambo hissed menacingly.

He roughly turned Ben towards where the stash was hidden. Ben walked over slowly, the gun up to the side of his temple now. Ben gulped deeply. With trembling hands he reached out to the third piece of wood, hit it twice and when the wood gave a little Ben slid his hand behind it and picked up the stash. Quan had given Ben a small .22 caliber handgun, but it was all the way down in the side of his boot. Ben was too scared to reach for it.

“I’m tellin’ you Quan just collected all the loot,” Ben lied. Quan had taken the first part of the days take, but Ben was still holding a couple of stacks for Deezo.

“See . . . see, you think I’m playin’” Rambo muttered. He lifted the gun, slammed it hard against Ben’s head.

“Agghh!” Ben screamed. Blood immediately began leaking down the side of his face. “Yo man . . . I ain’t got no money on me,” Ben cried.

“Next time its gon’ be a bullet in ya fuckin’ head! Now gimme the fuckin’ money,” Rambo barked.

“It’s . . . it’s in my . . . my inside po . . . cket,” Ben stuttered, his head was throbbing and he was feeling dizzy. Rambo leveled the gun at Ben’s chest and began digging in his pockets. When he found the wad of crumpled up bills, Rambo grabbed them by the handful. Some dropped on the ground, but he couldn’t worry about those. Now he had the weed and the money. “Turn towards the wall and get down on your knees little nigga,” Rambo demanded.

“Please don’t kill me man,” Ben was crying hysterically now. It was times like this that brought the little boy out of him. He turned around slowly and put his knees on the freezing cold concrete. He could feel the icy ground through his jeans. When he was completely down, Rambo took off running.

Ben was so scared he waited a few minutes before he turned around. Rambo had taken his track phone so he couldn’t even call Quan. When he thought Rambo was finally gone, he got up off his knees. His head was killing him, but Ben felt even worse now that he had to tell Quan and Deezo that he had lost all of the weed and the money. Ben was freezing as he walked the ten blocks to Quan’s corner as slowly as he could. Ben was thinking of all kinds of things to say, when he finally decided that telling Quan and Deezo the truth was his only option.

When Ben rounded the corner by the store, Quan was sitting in his new car. He had risen so high in Deezo’s camp that he was now the proud driver of a brand new Infiniti QX56. When Quan spotted Ben, he rolled down his window slightly. “Yo lil’ nigga, whatchu doin’ around here now? Did I fuckin’ say you could leave the spot?” Quan barked.

Ben felt like his heart would jump out of his chest. “I . . . I . . . n . . . n . . . need to talk to you,” Ben stuttered, his bladder all of a sudden felt filled to the brim.

“Get the fuck in here nigga!” Quan commanded. The other corner boys were all bundled up in their snorkels looking at Ben like he was walking into doomsday. Ben used his frozen hands to open the car doors. He flopped into the seat and timidly took his hood off his head. “What the fuck happened to you?!” Quan said, alarmed by the bloody cut on Ben’s head. Ben couldn’t even speak. He just busted out crying. “Yo, what’s going on nigga, you better start talkin’ fast,” Quan told him.

“I got robbed . . . he took all the weed and all the money,” Ben blurted out. “He hit me in the head with his gun. He made me give him everything or he said he was gonna kill me. I couldn’t get to the gun you gave me cuz it was in my boot and it was too cold and I am sorry—” His words were running together one after the other like a string of pearls.

“Slow down!” Quan said, trying to get a grasp on just what Ben was telling him. “Now . . . you got robbed?” He wanted to make sure he had heard Ben correctly.

Ben shook his head yes.

“Who was it?!” Quan asked through clenched teeth.

Ben swallowed hard. “It was Rambo but he told me if I told ya’ll he was gonna come and shoot me,” Ben cried some more. He felt like he was in double jeopardy.

“Fuck that weed head nigga! He gon’ be dead so how he gon’ shoot you!” Quan said, hitting Ben upside his head.

“Ssss,” Ben winced. “What I’ma tell Deezo,” he cried harder as he thought about what Deezo might do to him.

“You gonna fuckin’ tell Deezo the truth. I’ma call that nigga right now,” Quan said, picking up one of his track phones. Ben slumped further down into the car’s seat. He could just imagine how Deezo was going to react.

Ben listened to Quan recount the story to Deezo over the phone. Ben kept his eyes closed. Quan hung up the phone. “Yo, Deezo said to take your lil’ ass home and he gon’ deal wit’ you tomorrow. That nigga layin’ up with a bitch so you lucky tonight Shorty,” Quan told Ben. Ben made a long sigh of relief. “Don’t go nowhere until you hear from me. You gon’ have to face Deezo tomorrow,” Quan instructed.

Ben shook his head. He got out of Quan’s car and walked up the block to his house.

Ben turned the key in his apartment door and before he could push inside someone else was pulling on the door. Ben jumped. He was suddenly face to face with Drake, his mother’s boyfriend and soon to be baby father.

“Wassup? Yo, we about to head out . . . ya moms in labor,” Drake said, sounding a little shaken up. Ben just looked at him. Celeste came waddling out of her bedroom.

“Ben, I’m going to the hospital. Stay here and Drake will let you know when the baby comes,” Celeste said. Ben could tell she was in pain. She was too distracted by her labor pains to even notice the big cut on his head or to ask him why he looked like his life was about to come to an end. Drake and Celeste left for the hospital. Ben was kind of happy they were gone. He didn’t want to answer any questions about his ordeal anyway. All he wanted to do was lay down in peace and quiet so he could think about what Deezo was going to do to his ass the next day.

Ben didn’t get even a full hour of sleep. He had tossed and turned all night. Every time he closed his eyes he would see Rambo with the gun to his head and then he would see Deezo’s face. Ben was lying in his bed wide awake when the knocks on the door finally came. The sound had made his stomach instantly cramp up. He got up, pulled on the jeans he’d had on the night before and answered the door. Of course, it was Quan.

“Get dressed nigga, Deezo wanna see you,” Quan instructed, stepping into the apartment without an invitation. Ben hung his head, dragged his feet back to his bedroom and threw on some clothes. He headed towards the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“Yo! Where you goin’?” Quan barked.

“I’m going to brush my teeth,” Ben replied in a shaky voice.

“Hurry the fuck up son, Deezo don’t like to wait. Especially when its about his paper.” Ben rushed into the bathroom and brushed his teeth and washed his face. When he came out he knew it was time to go face the music.

When Quan pulled his car up to a desolate area in East New York, Ben’s heart felt like it would explode. He could just imagine what they would do to him inside the warehouse looking building that sat in the middle of nowhere. He knew that nobody would be able to hear him scream all the way out here.

“Get the fuck out. Whatchu staring like a dummy for?” Quan snapped. Ben did as he was told. The cold air against his face didn’t even bother him. His entire body felt overly hot with fear. Inside the building, they walked all the way to the back of a large room. There were a couple of chairs scattered around. Deezo was standing up and so were five other mean looking dudes. There were a few lights dangling from the ceiling, but the place was still drab and dim. Ben stopped walking when Quan stopped to give all the dudes a pound. Ben was blinking rapidly he was so scared.

“Shorty . . . get the fuck over here,” Deezo demanded. Ben walked over, his head hung low. “Now . . . tell me what the fuck happened out there and you better tell the fuckin’ truth. I know I told you not to fuck with my paper!” Deezo barked.

Ben’s eyes were as wide as marbles and he shook his head up and down. He began recounting the robbery. Ben told Deezo how Rambo had hit him in the head with the gun, took all the drugs and how he’d made him kneel down like he would shoot him. Deezo was rubbing his chin.

“A nigga named Rambo huh?” Deezo asked. Ben shook his head. Deezo looked like he was in deep thought. “Did you tell this nigga that the weed and the fuckin’ money belonged to me?” Deezo asked seriously. Ben shook his head yes. “A’ight Shorty, this what I’ma do. I ain’t gonna fuck you up like I planned on doin’ since it seems like a nigga really robbed you. I’ma cut you some slack, but you gon’ have to work off that debt. I’ma give you a new spot, a new product and you gon’ work sun up and sun down until you fuckin’ repay that debt. You ain’t gettin’ no paper until my money is back in my pocket. You understand?” Deezo told and asked Ben at the same time.

Ben shook his head eagerly. He was just happy and relieved that he wasn’t going to get his ass beat or killed. “And you gon’ go out with Quan and these niggas and help them find this Rambo dude. I wanna meet the muthafucka bold enough to take something they know belongs to me,” Deezo continued. Ben shook his head some more. “Yo Quan, show this nigga what happens to niggas that cross me. Because if this little nigga lying about what happened I want him to see what I’ma do to him.” He was looking at Ben but speaking to Quan.

Quan forced Ben down into a chair. Ben emitted a small whimper because he didn’t know what to expect. Then he watched as Quan pulled out a manila envelope. Quan slid several pictures out of the envelope and held them up to Ben’s face. Ben shrunk back in the chair at the sight. The first picture was of a dude with his face busted up beyond recognition. There was so much blood Ben couldn’t even tell where his eyes really were. His mouth hung open and his own dick had been shoved inside it. Ben felt waves of nausea flash through his stomach as he was forced to look at picture after picture of Deezo’s torture victims.

“Now since you know what the fuck is gon’ happen if I ever find out you crossed me, I want you to get the fuck out there and work hard,” Deezo said, his breath hot on the side of Ben’s face. “Don’t make me have to send you home to your trifling ass mama in a body bag.”