Crackhead II: A Novel (8 page)

Knock knock knock.
A few seconds passed and nobody answered. He knocked again. Still, nobody answered.

Smurf then reached toward the doorknob and turned it. Surprisingly, it turned and allowed him access to the apartment. It was completely dark, but he heard the television playing. Walking through the apartment toward the sound of the television, Smurf kept his hand on his gun. His mother normally didn’t keep the door unlocked, and just in case there was foul play, someone would meet his maker, messing with his mother.

Smurf arrived at his mother’s bedroom door and saw that it was open. He saw a figure sprawled across the bed.

“Momma?” Smurf looked around, then back at the figure. “Momma!” Still no response. Smurf ran over to her. “Momma!” he yelled again. Just then, he saw a wet spot on the bedspread and a glass where the spot was. Smurf took a deep breath in and exhaled.

His mother had been drinking. Smurf knew that a lot of his mother’s problems stemmed from alcohol, but he had never seen her in such a stupor before.

Just as Smurf began to clean up the mess, his mother startled.

“Demond,” she said softly, but groggily. “Why did you leave me?” Smurf stopped and listened. “Baby, I tried to make it without you, but you didn’t come back. You didn’t want me anymore. I gotta find a way to live, baby.”

Smurf looked into his mother’s face and saw that alcohol was taking a toll on her looks. She had a tear that wanted to escape her closed eyelids, so he touched it with his finger and let it free. This was the first time in Smurf’s young life that he had seen his mother so vulnerable. He didn’t know who she was talking about and couldn’t make out everything she said, but he knew she was talking about someone important to her. But who was he? And better yet, where was he?

L
ACI STILL SUFFERED
from the withdrawal effects of her addiction, but they were lessening day by day. The rehab center’s doctors and counselors told her that she might suffer some permanent side effects from the crack cocaine, but Laci said she’d take it one day at a time. Some days were better than others. While she was in her comfort zone during the day at school with other people like her, Laci refused to be in one-on-one or small group situations. She felt that people would take advantage of her, so she rarely hung out.

She often woke up at night from bad dreams, tremors, night sweats, and extreme paranoia, so she napped as much as she could during the day. Laci’s body writhed forcefully in her slumber. Dink walked into their bedroom when he came home to check on her. He sat down on the side of the bed and put his hand on her shoulder. “Laci. Baby, wake up.”

Laci opened her eyes and blinked to bring her surroundings into focus. Without saying a word, she tore off the covers and frantically jumped out of bed and peered out the bedroom window, then ran to the front window in the living room.

“Baby, who are you lookin’ for?” Dink asked.

“Those trifling bitches,” Laci grunted through tight teeth. “I know they’re here.” She ran to the closet and thrashed clothes around, mumbling how she hated them. She tried to leave the room, but Dink grabbed her and held her tightly. He’d known that in time this would come, and he was glad he was there for her. The comfort that Laci felt instantly brought her to tears. “They’re everywhere. When I close my eyes, when I’m awake,” she cried, running all of her words together. She tried to break free, but Dink held her close to him. “Tonette and them followed me here. Everywhere I go, they’re there!” She was on the verge of hyperventilating.

Dink felt lost, because he couldn’t imagine how she was feeling inside. Counseling didn’t prepare him for this. “Baby, nobody’s here but me and you,” Dink told Laci softly. She looked into his eyes, searching for the truth, as he walked her to the couch and sat her down. “Just me and you, baby.”

Dink went to the kitchen for a glass of water and brought it back to her. Laci drank it quickly and handed him the empty glass. With a blotchy red face and tear-drenched eyes, she ran her fingers through her wild and tangled hair, then looked up at him.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she apologized. “I can’t believe I’m still having these flashbacks and nightmares.” She broke down again. “There must be something wrong with me.”

“It’s okay, baby, let it out. Let it all out.” Dink sat down on the couch next to her, pulled her into his arms, and caressed her hair while he held her. “And there’s nothing wrong with you. You’ve gone through a lot in the last six weeks, more than the average person goes through in their life. It’s gonna take some time, Laci.”

Laci wiped her wet face with the back of her hand and looked at Dink.

“Thank you.” She hugged him tightly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“This is where my heart is baby, with you, and I’m not going anywhere.” Dink lay back on the couch and pulled her gently against him. He rubbed her back until he dozed off, but Laci thought back to her thirty days in rehab, and the memories of the past summer.

AFTER A DAY
of chillin’ with her girls, Laci realized it was getting late and it was time for her to jet. Each of her friends turned on her, expressing how they felt about her.

“While we’re passing blunts and bottles, you’re on some chill shit. Like you’re propped up on a pedestal. You even act like being around weed smoke is gonna kill you,” Tonette spoke.

“But you know I don’t do drugs,” Laci explained.

“That’s some sad shit,” Shaunna said. “Weed ain’t even a fuckin’ drug. It’s a natural herb from the ground, baby—like fuckin’ goldenseal or some shit.”

“If anything, I would say alcohol is more of a drug than weed,” Crystal added. “Who you know smokes a joint, jumps in a car, and takes out a family of five on the expressway?”

“You know?” Shaunna said, giving Crystal some dap.

“I know you don’t drink, Laci,” Tonette said. “And I can totally dig that. But why you frontin’ on the weed? A lil’ smoke ain’t gon’ hurt you.”

After more ridicule from her friends, Laci thought about it. One pull couldn’t hurt. It was just marijuana. Maybe this would stop the girls from always riding her. If one puff of the magic dragon was all it was going to take to show the girls she could get down, it was worth it.

“You got some?” Laci asked Crystal.

“Some what?” Crystal asked.

“Some weed, a joint,” Laci said. “I was thinking that I might need a little something to make my rest just that much better.”

Laci smiled a mischievous smile and the girls returned one.

“As a matter of fact, I just happen to have some,” Tonette said. “It’s in my purse in the living room. Hold on. I’ll go get it.”

Once Tonette had returned with the blunt, Laci examined it with curiosity.

“What are you waiting for?” Crystal asked. “Spark up.”

“Why don’t one of you guys light it and then pass it to me?” Laci said nervously. The last thing she wanted to do was burn off her bangs trying to light a joint on the stove. “Shaunna, you’re good at this, here.” Laci stuck the joint in Shaunna’s face.

“Now you know I got a Wave Nouveau. If my hair catches fire, we’re all blowin’ up.”

After laughter, Monique egged Laci on. “Come on, Laci, quit playing with the weed. Either light the shit or pass it off. See, Crystal, I told you.”

Seeing the smug look on Monique’s face made Laci angry. Laci was sick of all of them doubting her and was now more determined than ever to show them that she could hang. Cautiously, she leaned over the flames and lit the blunt.

“That’s a girl,” Crystal said with a smile. “Now come on in the living room.”

Once they’d followed Crystal into the living room, Laci looked at the girls, who were now staring at her, and without hesitation, she took two baby pulls.

“Give me a fuckin’ break,” Crystal laughed. The other girls stood watching in amazement. They were impressed. They didn’t think
Laci had the balls. “Did you see those sucker-ass pulls? Look, Laci, that’s some good shit and I don’t want to see it go to waste. If you gon’ do it, do it. Don’t be wastin’ the shit.”

This was the Crystal that Laci was used to, but it was also the Crystal she no longer wanted to doubt her. Laci took two more pulls, only deeper. Her throat immediately constricted, causing her to cough and begin to feel light-headed. Laci took two more pulls to shut the girls up after they started laughing. Only this time, she didn’t cough out the smoke. When the smell hit the air, Laci realized it was something different. It didn’t smell like what the girls had smoked before.

AT THE REHAB
center, all the other addicts knew the consequences of their choice. There was even a patient with incurable cancer who’d turned to street drugs because her prescription medications weren’t helping her anymore, but did that make it right?

Many talked about how they became addicted. Their addiction was so strong that they no longer cared about the basic necessities of life, and some would have welcomed death to end their pain. There were some who were close to starvation, and Laci could relate to that. She was disgusted when she heard other people’s stories about what they did while they were on drugs.

Nobody deserved to be turned out. Besides the embarrassment Laci felt, she grew extremely angry. During the treatment, most of her memories of what she did while high were slowly and surely fading, but now they started resurfacing more and more each day.

Laci thought back to the girls and how easy it was for her to get played . . . all because she wanted to fit in. She was furious
not only at them but at herself as well for falling for the okiedoke.

All of the fury and resentment that was building up in Laci was turning into something that she couldn’t control. It would be only a matter of time before her anger turned into something she couldn’t help but want—revenge.

I
T WAS AN
abnormally warm mid-September day, and Smurf and some of his boys were playing a physical game of three-on-three ball on an outdoor court in the hood. He needed something to take his mind off what happened with his mother.

With every basket that was sunk, the shooter talked shit, and their growing audience high-fived one another and talked shit back, placing bets on who was gonna whoop who. True male bonding at its best. Most of the kids who watched wanted to get noticed by Smurf and found any reason they could to hang around because they wanted to get put on.

There were a couple of kids leaning against Smurf’s old-school Cutlass Supreme, another gift from Dink, keeping an eye on things. Smurf broke them off a couple of dollars just to be an extra set of eyes and ears for him because they were in the streets more often and heard more. Not only did he give them money, but just as Dink had with him, he gave the kids books to read to expand their minds. Smurf had a fucked-up childhood and little education, and even though the kids looked up to him, he felt there was no need for them to follow in his footsteps. He kept it
real with them, and they appreciated that and watched out for him. Just another way to secure a position in the hood.

Smurf heard the big engine of a souped-up el Camino approaching right behind him. It was his boy Rob from Harlem. Rob revved the engine and maneuvered the large racehorse behind Smurf’s Cutlass and got out. Smurf called a quick time-out and slowly walked to him, with a little lean in his swagger. He and Rob held out their fists for some dap once they got close enough.

“Yo, wassup man?” Smurf acknowledged.

Lil’ Rob looked at Smurf’s young company and bellowed, “Why ain’t y’all lil’ asses in school? Get on!” He shooed them away like little flies. Both Smurf and Rob laughed as they watched the youngsters scurry away.

“Man, you really fucked up,” Smurf said, shaking his head at his boy.

“Yeah, I know,” he confirmed, still with laughter. “But yo, boss,” Rob said seriously, leaning against Smurf’s car, “this redbone cop been down here askin’ about Dink and Dame.” Smurf looked at Rob but remained quiet. “Skinny lil’ muthafucka with short hair in a white unmarked Lumina.” Rob got comfortable on the car. “And man, when you gonna take me out of the goddamn West Village?” he asked angrily, getting off the subject.

Smurf looked at him and cracked a crooked grin. He knew what he was getting at.

“Niggas told us it was some fly-ass females down there, but ain’t nothing but some fuckin’ faggots holding hands with tight-ass pants on and kissing!” Rob had a crazy look on his face. “Then get this, I’m at my post and shit and the lil’ ass-packer in the Lumina wanted to suck my dick.” Smurf began to laugh. “Man, fuck you! That shit ain’t funny. You know I don’t roll like that.”

Rob had to make that clear. “Man, I wanted to fuck him in the ass with the barrel of my gun and blow his heart out.” He motioned with his hand. “So, if I see ’em again, can I smoke ’em?” he asked with a look on his face that said all he needed was a nod and it was done.

“Naw, nigga,” Smurf replied, still trippin’ off his boy. “You need to be cool with that fucked-up temper of yours, too.” He paused for a moment, getting back to the seriousness of their conversation, carefully contemplating his next move. He knew it was that gay bastard that Marco had been fuckin’ with and that was the main reason he had one of his boys posted there. He knew that because Marco was no longer a part of the equation, the faggot cop would sooner or later come back around. Because of that, he couldn’t do anything too rash. “Anything else?” Smurf asked him.

“I’on know, man, something don’t feel right. Something ’bout to go down.”

Smurf looked around at his immediate territory and got up off the car. “Round up the crew and meet me at the joint in thirty minutes,” Smurf ordered.

“Got it, boss.”

Thirty minutes later, Smurf’s key players were at the joint. Drake, one of Smurf’s corner distributors, was a smart kid from the hood. He was the pretty boy of the crew, light-skinned and with good hair. Because of that, he always had woman drama. Smurf appreciated his passion for hustling, though. Drake often hipped Smurf on several different ways to push their stash. He was practically an extension of Smurf—next in charge if something were to go down.