Trap House (11 page)

It took a week for the store auditors to become aware of the irregularity, and it took security
another day to identify the culprits.

Five separate sets of eyes followed Kim through the store as she gathered high-ticket items.
Two new undercover guards discreetly tailed her, while Mrs. Lovejoy and two others watched the
monitors in her office.

Kim, meanwhile, was having trouble staying focused on the business at hand due to the small
piece of cocaine in her purse, demanding to be smoked. “Okay, okay! Ima smoke you. Dang!” Kim
said to the drug as she detoured to the nearest restroom.

“What the hell is this crazy bitch doing?” Tiffany said when Kim turned off. “I know she ain’t
‘bout to take no blast up in here,” she said, recognizing that look in her eyes. She was now very
familiar with that look; it was one she often saw in her own eyes. She understood the yearning,
when that old Rob Base song played in the head, “I Wanna Rock Right Now,” and that monkey on
your back goes to squealing. She knew there was no stopping it. “Shit, I could use a little pick-me-
up my damn self,” Tiffany admitted.

It was a good thing the restroom was empty, not that it mattered to Kim. She rushed into the
first stall and went to work. Kim whipped out her shooter from one shoe and her lighter from the
other. She fished out the small piece of crack from her purse as a guard peered over the wall from
the next stall.

The guard almost blew her composure and surveillance when she realized what Kim was doing.
She couldn’t believe the little junkie had the audacity to smoke crack cocaine in the bathroom of
a major department store in the middle of the day. The guard fought off the urge to strangle the
little crack addict. She ducked back down and went outside to pick up her target once she left the
restroom.

The guard had been brought in from another store, since it was an internal theft. She had been
watching Tiffany for a couple of days and felt bad for her. It was clear that her parents invested a
lot of time, energy, and love in her upbringing. She had no doubt that the girl had some nigga come
along and undo what her parents did with his soft words and his hard dick. It would be a useful
intervention, the guard reasoned, remembering how she had strayed herself. Luckily, the people in
her own life stuck by her and got her through it.

“What the fuck took you so long?” Tiffany barked through clenched teeth when Kim finally
made it to her register.

“I had to pee,” Kim lied, her mouth twitching uncontrollably. “Mmmhmm,” Tiffany replied,
ringing up the clothing. This, their second lick of the day, came to over $900. They had struck $400
just a few hours earlier.

With them becoming more brazen and more frequent, Mrs. Lovejoy decided it was the day to
make her move.

Tiffany she was getting careless, but she had to have it. Every since she had smoked that heavily
laced blunt with Wanda, her usage had doubled. She was blazing her way through an eight ball of
hard every day now, but even that was a pittance compared to what Kim ran through her shooter
every day.

“Thank you. Come again,” Tiffany said professionally as she handed Kim her purchase.

“Oh, I will.” Kim giggled, amused by their scheme.

Tiffany’s expression changed to horror when she saw security approaching.

Kim saw it and turned to investigate. “Oh shit!” Kim exclaimed and tried to run for it. Being
a crack whore, she was pretty nimble, a skill honed from darting through the traffic in pursuit of
johns. She made it exactly two steps before being apprehended by the large female guard.

“You two come along quietly,” Mrs. Lovejoy said sternly. “No need to embarrass yourselves
any further.”

“Wh-what’s going on?” Tiffany stammered most unconvincingly.

“We’ll discuss it in my office,” Mrs. Lovejoy said, leading the way.

The group followed in silence as Tiffany’s co-workers pointed and whispered.

“Sit down,” Mrs. Lovejoy demanded as she sat behind her desk. “Not you!” she said to Kim,
who tried to take the empty seat next to Tiffany. “You stand!” She looked at Tiffany, with a hurt
expression on her face. “I cannot believe you have been stealing,” the supervisor said, her voice
on the edge of breaking. “I’ve known you your whole life. I remember when you were born,” she
continued as a single tear escaped her eye.

Tiffany was unmoved by the display of emotion. All she was concerned with was how she was
gonna get high. A slight smile spread across her lips when she remembered the $200 in her car
from the earlier lick.

“Do you find this amusing?” Mrs. Lovejoy demanded, misunderstanding the smirk.

Tiffany remained mute, her eyes glued to the floor in front of her.

“Well? What have you got to say for yourself?” Mrs. Lovejoy asked, pounding her desk. “What’s
gotten into you?”

“Excuse me, ma’am,” the plainclothes guard interjected. “I believe I can answer that.” She
snatched Kim’s shoe off and held up the crack pipe.

As ominous as it looked, Mrs. Lovejoy had no idea what it was.

“It’s a pipe to smoke crack cocaine,” the guard explained, answering the tacit question contorting
the supervisor’s face. “This one was smoking drugs in our bathroom,” she added, thrusting a finger
at Kim.

Mrs. Lovejoy gasped. “Tiffany, tell me you are NOT using drugs!”

“No. I—” was all Tiffany could get out before another guard spoke up.

“Ma’am, she is definitely using drugs,” she said solemnly. “I know the signs. My sister just
passed from drug use.”

“This is going to absolutely kill your mother,” Mrs. Lovejoy announced.

“Please!” Tiffany begged. “Please don’t tell my mama.” She clasped her hands as if in prayer as
she begged for respite. “Please! I’ll pay back every penny,” she pleaded.

“I’m sorry, but it is out of my hands now,” came the supervisor’s reply. She nodded her head to
the guard at the door.

On cue, the guard opened the door, and in walked two Dekalb County police officers.

Tiffany had never experienced the feel of handcuffs before, but it was business as usual for
Kim. The women were marched right through the store as everyone looked on.

“I am so dead,” Tiffany cried in anguish as the full reality came to her. “My mama’s gonna die,
but she’s gonna kill me first.”

Kim, on the other hand, was unfazed. “Girl, you fine,” she said, trying to console her young
friend. “Ain’t nothing but a Class C felony. You gonna get to sign your own bond and be home
by supper,” Kim advised as the grim reality of her own situation became clear. Kim had violated
her probation months earlier and had an arrest warrant waiting on her. That crack pipe in her shoe
ensured that she wouldn’t be getting a bond. The best she could hope for was a lengthy stay in
rehab. Of course, there was an eighteen-month wait just to get into the program. “That’s what I get
for trying some new shit,” Kim whined. “Shoulda stuck to sucking dicks.”

* * *

The police cruiser pulled out of the crowded mall parking lot and onto Candler Road. It merged
onto 20 East, then 285 toward Memorial Drive.

As soon as the massive jail came into view, both women began crying, albeit for different
reasons. Tiffany had seen the structure almost every day of her life, but never in her wildest dreams
would she have thought she’d be taken there in handcuffs.

Once inside, the women were photographed, fingerprinted, and given a cursory medical exam
as part of the intake process.

They were given the opportunity to use a phone after they were booked in. Kim declined,
having long ago burned all of her bridges, leaving no one to call.

Tiffany, however, jumped at the chance when her turn came. She quickly dialed most of the
numbers to her house before changing her mind. “I know!” she said, dialing most of Carlos’s
number before hanging up again. “Think, girl…” Then she smiled as it came to her. She dialed the
numbers she’d only recently committed to memory. Tiffany was delighted when her new friend
picked up on the second ring.

“Dekalb County Jail? What’d you do now, Mike?” Wanda exclaimed, assuming it was her
boyfriend, who was no stranger to trouble himself.

“It’s me, Tiffany. I need some help,” Tiffany pleaded in her baby girl voice. She then gave
Wanda a brief synopsis of her situation.

Wanda admonished her about the stupidity of her plan and, using a crackhead to pull it off.
“Girl, I’m on the way,” she said when she heard a deputy tell Tiffany her time was up.

Both women, along with a few other recent arrestees, were taken across the street to see a judge.
Like Kim told her, Tiffany was allowed to sign her own bond, but Kim herself was stuck. Tiffany
was given a court date and a warning of the dire consequences if she missed it. Back a the jail, she
was out-processed and released.

* * *

“Thank you so much,” Tiffany cried, hugging Wanda tightly in the jail waiting room.

“No problem, lil mama,” Wanda replied, pressing her body against Tiffany’s.

Once they got in Wanda’s new Lexus, she handed Tiffany a tightly rolled Swisher Sweet blunt.
“I know you need this, girl.”

Tiffany stopped short of lighting it, remembering she had to go face her parents.

“Go on and keep it,” Wanda offered after Tiffany explained her dilemma. “Shit, you need to
bring yo’ lil fine ass down to the club and get some of this money. You get cash every day and
won’t have to worry ‘bout how you gon’ get high,” Wanda said as she drove. “Sure beats pulling
capers with a junkie.”

Tiffany was too dark for Wanda to see her blushing at the “fine” compliment. She thought of
herself as marginally cute at best, but never fine. To Tiffany, Wanda was fine, like a brown-skinned
version of
Beyoncé
. “Girl, I may just hafta do dat,” Tiffany replied in sista girl mode. She knew she
could never and would never take her clothes off in front of strange men, not even for money.

“May as well. Lawd know you ain’t got no job no more,” Wanda said, pulling next to Tiffany’s
car in the mall lot.

“Thanks again,” Tiffany said, leaning in to give Wanda another hug.

Wanda sneaked her with a kiss on her lips before embracing her. “No problem, girl. Call me
later and let me know how you make out,” she said.

“Okay, I will,” Tiffany replied, pulling out of the awkward embrace.

“Let me know if you wanna come down to the club,” Wanda called out as Tiffany got into her
car.

“I will,” Tiffany lied, knowing full well she wasn’t. “Ima call.”

* * *