Requiem for a Dream (13 page)

When the time came for Harry and Tyrone to stop
working and collect their money they were in such a habit of popping
the dexies and making it through the night, then crashing behind the
downers, that they felt they could work forever, but they had too
much sense to allow that feeling to become a thought no less a
reality. Because of their energy, and the compulsive need to work
that the dexedrine generated, they had put in a few hours overtime,
wanting to make as much as possible in as short a time as possible.
They had declared twenty-five dependents so their checks were for the
maximum amount. They cashed them in the bar across from the plant,
had a few beers as they counted the money a few times, grinning and
slapping each other on the palm, Sheeit, aint that some pretty lookin
braid? and Tyrone fanned the bills and waved them back and forth.
Harry punched him on the arm, We did it man, we fuckin did it. We got
the bread for a piece. You fuckin well right, baby, sos lets not sit
in no bar with it. Lets take care a business. Right on man, and they
gave each other five again and split. They stopped at a phone booth
on the corner and Tyrone called Brody. Harry leaned against the
booth, smoking and watching the smoke being absorbed by the air,
humming an up tempo tune, nodding his head and snapping his fingers
in time to the music, occasionally mumbling, Yeah baby, go, but be
cool an— Sheeit! Aint that a mutha fuckin shame!!! Whats happenin
man? He say a piece of good shit gonna be about five bills. Balls!
That means we need about another hundred. Thas right jim. He say
maybe four fifty, but, and Tyrone shrugged. Well man, lets not panic.
We can always scrounge up a hundred bucks. We've been around long
enough for that. Yeah, but you knows what happens when you picks up a
buck here and a buck there. The first one gone by the time you gets
the second. Harry nodded his head and agreed. An Brody say they got
some fine shit now too jim. Real fine. Fuck! and Harry flipped his
cigarette out onto the street, then jerked his head back for a
moment, Hey, whats the matta with me fa krists sake? I know where we
can get the bread, Marion. You think she give us the braid? Sure. No
sweat. An we'll be able to pay her back by tonight anyway, right?
Right on baby, and they gave each other five. Lets go. They went to
Marions pad and Harry quickly ran down what had happened. So all we
need is another hundred and we're in business baby, and by this time
tonight we'll not only pay you back, but we'll be on our way to that
coffee house. Marion smiled, Im sure my broker would say that it is a
good investment. Now that Im working again I need a gallery. I'll
cash a check in the market. Groovy baby. Ahll call Brody an tell him
wes on our way. No, not from here Ty. Lets wait till we get to a
phone booth. Tyrone shrugged, Okay jim. Marion left and was back in
about fifteen minutes with the money. Harry hugged and kissed her,
See you later baby, after everythings straight. I dont want to come
around here carrying any weight. I dont want your place to be hot.
You sure as hell doan feel that way bout mah pad. Hey man, you are
not Marion. Ah know, she even paler than you. Krist, I have to hear
this for the rest of the day. Marion laughed, Hes as bad as you. They
all laughed, I thought you were on my side. Marion kissed him on the
cheek, Next week is love your buddy week, remember? Hey baby, lez go:
Okay, okay. Harry kissed Marion and he and Tyrone split. Tyrone went
downtown to Brodys while Harry bought a supply of glassine bags and
milk sugar and went to Tyrones pad to wait. This was just the
beginning.

The refrigerator snickered as Sara spread a large
piece of cream cheese on the bottom half of the bagel. Go ahead and
laugh Mr. Smarty Pants. We'll see who laughs last. She stuck her
tongue out at the refrigerator and took a large, slow, very slow,
bite out of the bagel so richly smothered with cream cheese, and
smacked her lips and licked them, And Im telling you something else
Mr. Chuckles, for lunch I'll eat the herring, and maybe I wont eat it
all, but save some for a nosh. Sara hummed out loud as she lovingly
spread cream cheese on the other half of the bagel and raised her
eyebrows and looked disdainfully at the refrigerator who was still
smirking, thinking he had won the contest, that he had defeated Sara
Gold-farb in the war of the calories, but Sara just shook her head, A
poo, poo on you Mr. c. i.a. You think maybe you won a war but I
outfoxed you Mr. Know It All. The refrigerator laughed and told her
he was too old to believe her con job and Sara dismissed his words
with a wave of her hand, I know youre old, I hear you grind and grunt
and groan all the time, but youre not such a big shot you think you
are. The refrigerator laughed out loud as Sara dunked a corner of her
cheese danish and carefully placed it in her mouth so as not to drip
any coffee on the table, That doesnt look like an egg or grapefruit
to me, and he laughed even louder. So enjoy, enjoy, Mr. Empty Head.
I'll finish my breakfast and then I'll go out to my public. Maybe
youd better sew the seams on your dress, theyre splitting, hahahaha.
So haha to you. When Im zophtic and on the television I wont even
talk to you. I'll have someone else throw you out with the junk. I
wont dirty my hands. Huh, and she tossed her head and went back to
humming as she finished her danish then washed the dish and cup and
got ready to join the ladies on the street getting the sun. She
passed by the refrigerator, who was abashed by her last remark, in
triumph. The other ladies were waiting for Sara and when she arrived
they gave her the special place, the place where the sun shone the
longest. Sara sat and immediately the speculation about what show she
would be on continued as they all anxiously waited for the mailman to
see if today would be the day she would get something in the mail.
 

Harry knew that Tyrone would be a few hours so he
settled down with a couple of joints, cigarettes, and the rinkydink
radio Tyrone had on the table. He sure as hell didnt dig being away
from the action for so long, but he knew he couldnt wait in the
coffee shop that long. He was too conspicuous. He carefully placed
the envelopes and sugar on the table then frowned and thought for a
moment about what would happen if the man came in and saw the
"paraphinalia" and looked around for some place to stash
it, but gave up in a couple of minutes because there just didnt seem
to be a good place and then it all seemed unnecessary, And what the
hells the big deal, ya cant get busted for having a pound of milk
sugar and some stamp envelopes. He took a few pokes of a joint then
put it out, lit a cigarette then sat back to listen to the music.
After a few minutes the music didnt sound as fuzzy as it had, and the
longer he listened to that radio, and the more pot he smoked, the
better the music sounded. As a matter of fact it wasnt half bad. Well
. . . half of what? When somethings as bad as that sonofabitch, any
improvement is something. Half bad of that is terrible, but, Harry
shrugged, eh, its somethin. I guess its better than nothin. Anyway,
itll help pass the time. Wont be long Tyll be back and we'll be
baggin the shit and rakin in the dough and we'll have a couple guys
peddlin the shit for us and then we can go for weight . . . yeah, a
pound of pure right from the italians and we can have some fuckin
operation goin man, GOLDFARB & LOVE INCORPORATED, none a that
Inc. shit, and we'll have everything in black and white, hahahaha, an
equal opportunity employer. Shit, who knows how far we'll be able to
go. We'll be cool and stay straight and we'll have it knocked. In no
time we'll be coppin that pound of pure. . . .

Harry had just finished counting the money and Tyrone
double checked him, R.ight on baby, seventy-five Gs. Good. I sure as
hell dont want to make any mistakes with those cats man. They dont
believe in honest mistakes. Not less theys their own. They can get
very bugged. Okay, lets get it packed. I gotta get goin. I dont wanta
be late. They packed it neatly in an attache case, locked it, and
Harry put on a light brown top coat and a dark brown hat, See ya
later man. Okay baby, be cool. Harry locked the car doors and made
sure the windows were closed before starting the drive to Kennedy. He
kept the music low so it wouldnt be distracting, and glanced at the
briefcase beside him with the seventy-five grand, smiling smugly and
shrugging slightly in his tan top coat, wondering if the people on
the streets and in the other cars were looking at him and wondering
who he was and what he was up to, and then he realized that they
didnt pay too much attention to him because he was being so cool he
just melted into the traffic unnoticed. That was the way it should
be. Never be noticed. Thats why he was driving a Chevy instead of a
Mercedes. Thats why he made the contacts with the white guys and
Tyrone made them with the black guys. Always blending in. Thats why
they were successful. Thats why they were on the top and would never
get busted. The man didnt know them from any other dude walking the
streets. He drove cautiously but not overcautiously. He didnt believe
in playing scared pool. Thats when you really get them down on you.
No, you just move along with traffic and dont do nothin to attract
attention. He merged easily with the traffic, looking from time to
time at the people in the cars around him, wondering what the people
would do if they knew he was Harry Goldfarb, one of the big drug
distributors in the city, and that he had an attache case with
seventy-five grand in it on the seat beside him and he was going to
pick up a pound of pure???? Theyd shit a brick. Thats what theyd do,
theyd shit a brick. Probably wouldnt believe it. Bet they think Im
just another successful business man. Maybe a stock broker ... an
investments counselor. Yeah, thats what I am . . . sort of, an
investments counselor. I bet I could go up to anybody on the streets
and tell them Im a big time drug distributor and theyd laugh and say,
Yeah, and Im Al Capone, hahaha. Yeah, bet I could go into a police
station with the pound of pure and hang around and ask some questions
about something and theyd never flash to what I was or what I was
holding. Maybe I'll go into the station house and ask them if they
have much of a problem with drug addicts in the neighborhood . . .
that might be a good way to find out about some new neighborhoods,
let the man tell me where they are, as if you couldnt smell them a
mile away. Might be a gas. He slowed for the toll booth then
accelerated and watched the sunlight bounce off the cables of the
bridge, fascinated by the brightness thinking that they were a
thousand spotlights and that he was the star. He eased into the
traffic for the parkway and though there was a lot of traffic it
moved freely and smoothly and he relaxed behind the wheel keeping his
eyes on the road and glancing from time to time at the attache case
and then looking at the people in the cars around him from the corner
of his eye, knowing they were either going to or coming from some
job, trapped in some box in the suburbs or rat trap in the city,
never knowing what was going on and never knowing what its like to be
free, free man, and go where you want when you want and to have an
out of sight old lady on your arm so when you walk into those uptown
joints all the dudes dig your action and wish they were you . . .
yeah, they wish they was in my shoes. . . . Look at them the poor
bastards. Twelve o'clock and theyre beat already. He felt like
lowering the window and yelling out to them to hang loose. From time
to time he glanced, quickly, at the gulls gliding over the water and
the sunlight twinkling on the rippled surface. It looked gray and
cold, but that didn't phase him. Nothing did. Everything in his life
was going great. He and Marion were grooving together. The coffe
house was going great, his legitimate investments were doing great,
and a few more deals like this and he would retire and just spend his
time taking care of his business interests and traveling. He and
Marion hadnt had a chance to do the traveling they had planned,
except for a few brief trips to the Bahamas, and with all the bread
he had here, and in Switzerland, he wouldnt need this anymore and he
would cut it loose before it soured out. He wasnt going to be like
those other guys who stayed in the business too long and got busted
for heavy time or ended up in somebodys way and got burned. No, not
me man. We're going to make it. Lay on the beach on the Riviera for a
while, then sit around those caf& in Paris and Rome, and then
good old Istanbul and if Turhan Bey gets in the way thats just too
bad. Hey, thats a great tune, man. He started nodding his head in
time to the music and started singing, If Turhan Bey gets in the way,
it's just too bad. If Turhan Bey gets in the way, its just too bad.
He smiled and chuckled inwardly, Not bad. Maybe I should become a
song writer in my spare time. He exited from the parkway and joined
the slow and heavy traffic to the airport. He glanced at his watch
and smiled as he realized he had plenty of time and there was no need
to rush around finding a parking space. Thats why he always left
early so he wouldnt have to worry in case he got tied up in traffic
or somethin. Sometimes some poor sucker gets a flat or his car conks
out and it ties up traffic for a while and he never wanted to blow
more than half a million dollars on some jerks flat tire ... or worse
that that. Those peope dont take too kindly to being hung up with a
pound of pure out there in the wide open spaces like that and then
having to schlep it back. Harry always planned ahead. Thats one of
the secrets of success, careful and meticulous planning. He parked
the car and leisurely walked to the terminal. He had some time so he
stopped in the coffee shop and had a cup of coffee and a piece of pie
ala mode. He kept the attache case on his lap as he ate, smiling
smugly to himself thinking of how the people around him would shit if
they knew he had 7sGs in the case. He paid the check and walked,
slowly, to the cocktail lounge and sat at the far end near the large
windows overlooking the field. He put the case on the floor, a few
inches from his left foot, and toyed with his drink, sipping it from
time to time, and watching the planes take off and land, then taxi to
the ramps. He continued to watch the planes as a guy dressed in the
same style and color top coat and hat and suit sat on the stool to
Harrys left. He had an attach^ case just like Harrys and he put it on
the floor a few inches from his right foot. He ordered a drink and
finished it before Harry finished his. He put his empty glass on the
bar and picked up Harrys attache case and left. Harry continued to
toy with, and sip, his drink, and watch the planes on the field. Ten
minutes later he picked up the attach^ case and left. He walked
directly, but unhurriedly, out of the terminal and to his car. He
didnt bother looking around to check people out to be sure the man
wasnt somewhere, he knew everything was cool. He trusted that gut
feeling and it said swing baby. He opened the door of the car and
tossed the case inside, almost laughing, and got in and locked the
door behind him. That was it man. The last pick up. The last pound of
pure he would ever cop. When he and Ty finished running this down to
the streets they were closing up shop and kissing the streets goodbye
but for good. The traffic out of the airport, and almost all of the
way back, was clogged and slow, the same old stop and start, but he
was used to it and he just sat back in the seat, vaguely aware of the
music, his mind alert and on the traffic, and relaxed. The traffic
was one of the safeguards they had set up. They knew that no one
would expect people to make a meet in the middle of the afternoon at
a place like Kennedy. It was all wrong. Too public. Too open. Too
many cops of all kinds checking people coming into the country. And
if you get rousted where could you go? You couldnt run. You couldnt
drive. You couldnt swim. Hahaha, shit, I cant make it across the pool
for krists sake man and thats a big mother fuckin ocean. It was all
wrong. Everything about it was wrong. Thats why it worked so good.
But today the snarls in traffic were worse than usual. There seemed
to be flat tires and tapped bumpers all over the parkway. It seemed
like everywhere he looked: in front, behind, he saw those flashing
red and yellow lights, but he was cool and didnt panic and realized
it was either a tow truck or ambulance and it had nothing to do with
him, even when he saw a cop waving traffic around an accident he
stayed nice and calm—Shit! No man. Thats all bullshit. Who the fuck
wants to go through all that. Even if the man dont getya the goddamn
traffic will. Good old Bob Moses and his biggest parking lot in the
world. The really cool thing, the really way out place for a meet
thats so great it just tickles the shit outta me. Yeah. Nobody man,
no fuckin body, would flash to Macys. Hey, I like that. Too fuckin
much man. The toy department. . . Yeah ... By the trains. Maybe I'll
pick up some when we're straight. Be a real fuckin groove to have a
room all fixed up with those trains . . . houses, bridges, rivers,
trees, cars, trucks, lights for day time and night time, the whole
fuckin megillah. Yeah, by the train display. Just hop in a cab and
sit back while the cabbie fights with the traffic and bitches and
moans about all the fuckin assholes drivin aroun the city and why
dont they leave their cars at home and stop cloggin up the streets fa
krists sake an looka that creep tryin ta cut me off, Hey, get back
where ya belong ya fuckin ape bitch, and he turned to look at Harry,
Must be onea those fuckin lezies the way she drives, and he suddenly
swerved in the other lane and there was the screeching of brakes and
screams and curses and he gave them all the finger out the window and
continued to weave his way through the traffic, giving his perpetual
finger to the horn blowers as he pounded his own, and yelling to
them, What else ya get fa Christmas besides a new horn, harhar har,
and Harry just sat back in the cab, smiling, chuckling, nonchalantly
holding the case on his lap thinking it would be a gas to open the
case and pour all that bread out on the seat and watch the cabbie
shit a brick, but he was cool and nodded at the cabbie and handed him
the fare when they stopped at Macys and told him to keep the change
and waved to him as he walked away from the cab and into the
department store. He was early so he stopped at the lingerie
department and looked at something he thought Marion would like, but
didnt buy anything, he always takes care of business first. You have
to concentrate on what you are doing, thats how you beat the man and
the world. Concentrate. He strolled through the ground floor and took
the escalator up to the toy department, enjoying looking down at the
floor below as the escalator ascended. The train display wasn't too
tough, but they did have some nice trains on display, and then when
it was exactly the time he moved in front of the display set up with
a few accessories and a few trains constantly moving around, and put
the case on the floor a few inches from his right foot and the guy
came like before and they switched cases and all that and he strolled
out of the store and took a cab uptown, walked a block, took another
cab further uptown, another walk and then another cab a short
distance downtown then walked a few blocks to the cutting room where
Tyrone was waiting. Here it is baby, the last pound of pure we'll be
messin with. Yeah, an its never been touched by human hands. Jesus,
Ty, youre somethin else. Whatta you gonna do when we retire, just sit
around and giggle all day? Sheeit. Not me man. Ahm gonna do a little
scratchin too. They carefully cut the shit, and bagged it, then got
it out to their people who took care of the street people. They didnt
deal with anybody who used, anybody who wasnt cool. Tyrone took most
of the stuff because he dealt with the blacks, and Harry took the
remainder to the honkys. When the last of the shit was finally gone
they celebrated. Harry and Tyrone took their old ladies not only out
on the town, but all over the town and ended up riding around Central
Park in hansom cabs and watching the sun come up. The next day Harry
spent some time with his business manager discussing the acquisition
of some additional income property and then made arrangements for he
and Marion to start their trip around the world. Think we'd better
stay away from Africa, doesnt seem to be too cool there. Except North
Africa. Maybe start at Algiers, Casablanca, Yeah, play it again Sam.
Then go east. See whats hapening in Cairo and some of those places
and then good old Istanbul. Good old Istanbul—Jesus, with a
passport in the name of Goldfarb? Maybe I should change my name to
Smith or Turhan Bey, and Harry chuckled and leaned back in his chair
and half listened to the music coming from Tys rinkydink radio and
emptied the end of a cigarette and stuck the roach from the last
joint in it and smoked it as he heard steps on the stairs, then a key
in the lock, and Tyrone C. Love be-bopped into that two by four with
a big ass shit eatin grin on his face and dropped a little package on
the table. There it is baby and Brody say it be dynamite, that we'd
betta cut it at lease, at lease, three times, an he say if we get off
we betta just take a pinch. He wouldnt let you take a taste there?
Not even a snort to check it out? Uh uh. He doan let no body get off
in his pad. Noway. How can we tell if we're gettin burned? He doan
burn nobody man. Thas why he still be alive an dealin. He say it
dynamite, then its dynamite. Ah told him we wasnt goin to get into it
anyway, that we goin to be cool and not fuck up. Yeah, but how can we
tell what we have an how to cut it if we dont take a taste? Thas
right, eh? Well, just a little tase aint gonna hurt nothin. Right.
But we'll just take a pinch. We could jus horn it. Hey, if Im gonta
get off Im gonta get off. Im not gonta waste no good dope by hornin
it man. Or any other kinda dope. Harry chuckled and they got out
their works. But lets really be cool man. Hey baby, ahs always cool.
No, no, all shit aside, Ty, lets really be cool. This is our chance
to make it big and I mean really big. We dont have to be dealin in no
petty ass pieces all our lives. We play it right an we can get that
pound of pure, but if we get wasted we'll fuck it up. Hey baby, ahm
not jivin you. Ah doan want to be runnin no streets the res of mah
life in no ripped sneakers, mah nose runnin down to mah chin. Groovy,
and Harry held out his hand and Tyrone slapped the palm and Harry
gave it back to him. Okay, lets just put a taste in. Harry tapped a