Crackhead II: A Novel (12 page)

Smurf sat down on the old rickety desk and quickly thumbed through it, grunting at the contents. “What you gonna do if someone asks about this?” Smurf inquired with raised eyebrows.

“Man . . . that’s the problem. That in your hand is a copy. The dossier is at the station.”

“What the fuck am I gonna do with a goddamn copy!” Smurf yelled. Even Drake looked at his brother like he was crazy.

“I wanted to get that to you so you could start makin’ moves. From the looks of it, my partner was working with someone on the streets to get this shit.”

“Yeah, I know,” Smurf said. “Yo, is yo’ partner a skinny lil’ light-skinned black dude with that dirty sandy-colored hair and freckles?”

“Yeah man, that’s him. Why?”

Smurf laughed for a minute. “You know he a faggot, right?”

Terrance looked at him with a quizzical expression on his face. “Clifton? A
what
?”

“A fuckin’ faggot. He likes dick, man.”

“How the hell you know that?” Terrance asked, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“You remember Marco, right?”

“Yeah,” Terrance confirmed. “Him and Dink went back a ways; I couldn’t stand his bitch ass.”

“Me neither, but he exchanged info with your boy and gave him head, too. I saw that shit, man.” Smurf’s face tightened in a grimace, trying to block out the memory.

“Marco was his contact? Damn!” Terrance ran his hand over his face in amazement. “He was bragging about working on a
big drug case before Crystal got blasted. But nobody took his ass seriously because he always talkin’ ’bout shit that don’t matter.”

“Just like a lil’ bitch,” Smurf said and shook his head.

“The only reason he workin’ on the case now and put the other one on hold is because it involved a cop, and it’s taking up a lot of his time because nobody is cooperating. I was helping him with it, but when Drake asked about the dossier,” he pointed to the folder in Smurf’s hands, “I looked in it and had to keep him focused on the girls. I been out there doing some half-ass shit and bringing him back some bullshit information piece by piece. You know, doing this shit rookie style.” They all laughed. “Knowing him, he’s gonna try to tie the loose ends of the shooting to the stuff in there, and this the kinda nigga that won’t let shit die.” Terrance had a serious look on his face. “What we need to do is concentrate on the information in there and make sure nothing comes back to the family. The good thing is, Marco and Dame’s bitch asses are dead, but we gotta get you, Dink, and Dirty out of it.”

Smurf held the manila file gingerly, as if it contained an atomic bomb that could detonate any minute. He sat down behind the desk and opened the envelope again.

He kept a cool demeanor when he saw names and aliases of key people who worked for Dink. It also detailed their lives from the time they were born, their family members, and their particular hustle. There was also a list of stash houses. He even saw some information on himself and a picture of him when he first met Dink, and even a picture of Dink giving him his first piece.

Looking deeper into the file, he saw names and pictures of his local connects and even pictures of the women they all fucked with, but there was no picture of Laci.
That’s good,
Smurf thought. The dossier ended with Dirty’s name and photograph,
where he resided in Harlem, and how often he came to the South Bronx. What he found most interesting was that Dirty had been in prison for a long time, ten years to be exact, but once he got out, he got back into the drug game as if he’d never left.
That’s a true hustler,
Smurf said to himself.

“Goddamn!” Smurf sighed and wiped his hand across his face. “This is a lotta shit, man. Actually, we lucky to be out here!” He fanned through the dossier again. “I’m glad I blasted that dick-suckin’ muthafucka when I did. So do you think you can make this shit disappear?”

“I’m the police, man,” Terrance chuckled. “I can do what the fuck I want. This is my beat, so I’ll do what I can to keep everyone away. As long as I’m out here patrolling, y’all good, and if I know anything, this lil’ nigga right here,” he pointed to his little brother, “he’ll holla at y’all.”

Smurf nodded and peeled off five crisp Ben Franklins. “Thanks, man.” He handed the money to Terrance. “And for that, you good too.”

T
HE NEXT DAY
, Smurf decided to call Dink early to let him know what he’d learned in the meeting with Dirty, Drake, and Terrance. He’d called Dink’s car phone repeatedly last night but didn’t get an answer. Smurf never left messages—too traceable—but he had to talk to his boy. Even though Dink was officially out of the game, he still needed to know, because old shit was now coming up.

“Yo, speak to Dink?” Smurf asked when Laci answered the phone.

“Who is this?” she asked in a sweet voice. She was in the kitchen, making breakfast for them before Dink jetted off to class. It was a Friday and he had a full day of classes, but she was free. Laci planned to make a day out of it and chill.

“Yo, Laci, it’s Smurf. What’s up wit’cha? How’s college life?”

Laci had never met him personally but knew of him because Dink spoke very highly of his young protégé, and they spoke occasionally when he called.

“Oh, hey, Smurf,” she acknowledged. “I’m getting better day by day, and college life is just that . . . college life.”

Smurf gave a slight chuckle. He knew of her only as a crackhead, but by talking to her every so often he came to think that she was cool.

“Hold on for a minute.” She put the phone down and walked into their bedroom. Dink came out of the bathroom wrapped in a white towel, and walked to the nightstand on his side of the bed in search of the baby oil.

“Baby, you have a phone call,” she told him.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“Smurf.”

Quickly, he reached for the phone and sat down on the bed. “Yeah,” he said into the receiver. A smile crept across his face when he heard his boy’s voice. “My nigga, what’s up!”

Laci returned to the kitchen. Just as she was going to hang up the phone, she heard the two men already engaged in conversation and couldn’t help but listen.

“Yo, but check this, muthafuckas been down here askin’ ’bout yo’ girl.”

“What about Laci?”

“Naw man, the other chick.” Dink knew he meant Crystal. “They also askin’ bout that nigga Dame. And remember the shit that happened in The Village?”

“Yeah.”

“They talkin’ ’bout that too.”

Dink paused for a moment. “What you doin’ about it?”

“I got my people on it, seeing what he can get. It’s cool though, boss. I plan on getting this shit squashed, ’cuz I’ll be damned if it blows up in our faces.”

“That’s my lil’ nigga right there,” Dink said. “I know you got me, man.”

“Oh, and just so you know, a couple of those chicks been ’round here asking about yo’ gal.”

“Really? Who?”

“The fly one. You know, the one with the gray eyes, and then the thick bitch.”

“The pregnant one?”

“Naw, the other one. The kinda cute one.” He meant Monique.

“A’ight man, keep an eye on them hoes.”

“You got it,” Smurf said to Dink. He didn’t ask any questions. “Anything else?”

“Naw, man, just holla at me when you make moves.”

They hung up the phone.

Laci quietly put the receiver back on the hook. She’d heard what she needed to hear and was pissed that any of the South Bronx Bitches were even asking about her.
For what?
she asked herself. Laci replayed the conversation in her head. She was glad that Dink was going to head out soon. Her plans to chill quickly changed. Like a magnet, Laci was drawn to her former friends. She had a run to make and it was only three hours away.

MONIQUE LEFT HER
grandmother’s Bailey Avenue West apartment in University Heights with a wide smile on her face. She had gotten the call she’d been waiting for. She was officially a post office worker now and ready to begin her new life.

Good-bye to the scandalous South Bronx Bitches,
she said to herself as she happily bounced down the street. She missed the opportunity to buy a Fourth of July outfit because she didn’t have any money, but she’d scraped up enough to put the leather Gucci jacket that she had her eye on over the summer on layaway.

In the past she would have gone to Hip Hop Fashions over
in The Hub and boosted it, but now she’d be able to buy it with her own money from her own paycheck. For that, Monique was thankful.

Monique felt she was given another opportunity and she was going to make the most of it. She thought about Laci and felt remorseful. Monique made a mental list to go over to Laci’s and see what was up, but as she walked to her destination, she wasn’t going to let anything steal her joy.

FOUR HOURS LATER
, Laci sat in the familiar surroundings of her home in Riverdale talking to her Uncle Sonny. She was disappointed that her mother wasn’t at home, but she hadn’t told her she was coming.

After they’d caught up on school, classes, and how she had been doing, Sonny’s tone turned serious.

“Sweetpea,” he told her, “I have something to talk to you about. I think with everything going on, you have to know.”

“What’s wrong? It sounds serious.” Concern shadowed Laci’s face.

“An officer was here asking questions about you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. And he was specifically asking about somebody named Crystal.”

“Crystal? What about her?” Laci’s heart began racing.

“I’m not sure, but the officer said your name came up, somehow.”

Laci got quiet and thought back to the conversation she’d overheard between Dink and Smurf. Something was going on and nobody was telling her. Laci wiped her hand over her face and tried to imagine what could have been happening.

“Anyway, they want to talk to you about her and the other girls.”

“Uncle Sonny, I don’t want to. I just want to put all of that behind me,” Laci said truthfully.

“I understand,” he said. “I told him that I would give you the message and that it was up to you if you would contact him or not.” An awkward moment of silence passed until Sonny spoke again. “Laci, I really think you should talk to them.”

“Why?”

“Whatever happened with that Crystal girl, it sounds like those girls are pointing a finger at you. With everything you’ve gone through, it wouldn’t surprise me if they tried to tie you into what happened somehow. Honey, you’ve started over and you don’t need to get pulled into something you don’t know anything about. Here’s the officer’s number.” Sonny handed her Officer Jones’s card. “What you do with it is your decision.”

“Thanks, Uncle Sonny. I’ll think about it. I promise.” She looked at the clock and saw it was now two in the afternoon. Laci wanted to get home before Dink got out of school. “I need to get back to Boston, but tell Mom I’ll call her tomorrow.” She got up and hugged her uncle. “Thanks again, and I love you.”

Laci got in her car and drove. Her intent was to confront the girls, but now, knowing the police were looking for her, Laci had to be careful about how she devised her plan.
They wanna drag me into shit,
she said to herself,
I’ma flip the script on them.

Instead of hitting the main highway back to Boston, she took the “scenic” route through Tremont, Soundview, and University Heights. The neighborhood looked different in the daytime than at night, the time she was accustomed to being there. It was more run down than she remembered. She drove past the streets that
she and her girls used to stand around on and saw a young man and some other dudes who looked vaguely familiar to her. As Laci continued to drive, she came across St. Nicholas Street in the Jackson Projects. Then she saw the corner store where she’d first tried to cop some smoke. The place looked dirty and dilapidated. In the alley between the store and a run-down building was the spot where many ballers exchanged drugs and junkies shot up. Laci saw what looked like a young girl, about fourteen years old, on her knees. Surrounding her were three dudes—the one in front of her rammed his dick inside her mouth while the other two stood there watching and waiting their turn. It was no shame in the game of a crackhead.

Laci could imagine what they were saying to the girl. She remembered what she was told and the names she was called when she enrolled in Head Doctor 101. It was nothing good. Laci wanted to jump out of the car and help the girl, but the emotion of the situation wouldn’t allow her.

She drove on and saw a well-dressed man searching frantically for something in a Dumpster. The man then got on his knees and scoured the ground. Laci slowed down to almost a crawl to see what he was looking for. Almost instantly, the man took off the belt to his pants, quickly wrapped it around his arm, and shoved the needle into his vein.

It wasn’t uncommon to find used needles in the area, and people with a serious addiction wouldn’t care if the needles were used. HIV and AIDS were the last things on their minds. As long as they could get the last out of the syringe, a little hit was better than none and best of all, it didn’t cost them anything.

Laci remembered seeing many fiends offering their dealers jewelry and TVs as payment for their habit. She remembered
that Angel, a crackhead she used to light up with, tried to pawn her two-year-old daughter off on her dealer as payment.

“What the fuck I’m gonna do with a muthafuckin’ kid?” he yelled at her. “I ain’t no damn day care!”

“Come on!” Angel told him frantically, scratching her arms uncontrollably, giving him a snaggle-toothed smile. “Just watch her for a minute while I go do this.” She reached her hand out for a rock.

Laci couldn’t move to help Angel because she was already on cloud nine. “Where’s my money, you stupid bitch?” the dealer yelled at her, “and take this goddamn baby!” He pushed the little girl back into her arms.

“Well, er . . . uh . . . look,” Angel said softly, like she didn’t want anyone to hear her, and looked around, but she was desperate. “I ain’t got no money but see, you know . . . I’m er . . . well, I’ll let her tell you.” She put her daughter down, relieving her eighty-pound feeble body of the stress of carrying a two-year-old. “Go ’head, baby, tell the nice man what I taught you to say.”