by Kiki Swinson
“Which one? There are a few,” I replied, craning my neck to see whom he was talking about. “There’s one that’s not in uniform. You mean him?” I squinted to see.
“Yup, that one. He is a detective. He’s a dirty detective in every sense of the word. He works directly for your boy, Barker, the possible future mayor, and all of his clients, but he pretends he’s out here solving murders. More like out here committing them and then solving them like he’s the best,” Kyle told me.
“Are you serious?” I asked. I know Kyle was getting tired of me asking that, but some things were just so unbelievable.
“Man, I know of at least six murders commissioned by people associated with Barker and his clients and cleaned up by this cat in front of us. He plants evidence, he gets rid of evidence, and I’ve heard sometimes he carries out the murders himself too. The reason I said to follow him is, I think after a while, he will lead us right to Barker’s hideouts.”
I sat staring out of the windshield in astonishment at what Kyle was saying. How could someone who’d sworn an oath to protect and serve be doing what Kyle was saying. I guess I was being naïve, since that shit happens all over the United States every day.
“That is crazy. He looks so straightlaced and clean-cut,” I replied, my mouth still hanging open a little bit as I watched the smooth detective chop it up with a few uniform cops before heading to his car.
“Appearances can be deceiving, for sure. He’s the only person with his hands a little dirty that our friend will take visits from. He’s the insider/outsider, if that makes sense. Barker is smart. He tries to keep his hands clean, even though him and his clients run all this shit around here. Every single nickel and dime sold in Norfolk, Barker gets a cut. He’s like the Pablo Escobar of this city,” Kyle explained.
I was struck silent as I listened and watched the clean-cut and dapper detective get into a darkly tinted black car.
“So, how can I get something newsworthy if we can’t get next to Barker?” I asked, still a bit shocked at what Kyle was really telling me.
“We going to follow him right now, but we got to be careful. You know he’s police, so his countersurveillance skills is top-notch,” Kyle explained as he cranked up the car. As soon as the engine started, so did my nerves. I had to bite down hard to keep my teeth from chattering. Biting my nails was the next best thing, so that’s what I did.
“This is the time of day he makes some stops at the secret stash spots to pay for the re-ups and collect money sometimes. I heard from one of my street connections that they about to blow the lid on a dude they suspect of turning on one of Barker’s biggest clients’ spots. Which, in turn, means, it fucks with Barker’s cut and all the dudes on payroll cuts. My connect said he knows once the detective finds out dude was being a traitor, he is going to take care of the situation right then and there, since the possible future mayor and his clients only trust him to deal with it,” Kyle told me.
Kyle slowly and carefully pulled out behind the black car. My heart throttled up in my chest, because everything Kyle was saying sounded extremely dangerous. But that news-desk job was still calling my name. I imagined the shocked look on Christian’s face when I got this whole story solid, and that was enough to keep me moving closer toward danger. I told myself to sit back and go along for the ride, because everyone knew that in the journalism business, there was never any reward without a little risk.
* * *
It seemed like we had driven forever when Kyle finally stopped the car. I moved my head around, peering out of all of the car windows trying to figure out just where the hell we were at. No lie, it looked like we were transported in time and place. We were in some backwoods part of Virginia, and the property that sat in front of us looked like an old abandoned farm or plantation. There was a big, dilapidated, and haunted-looking plantation-style house to the left, and almost in the way back of the property was an old shack. It looked like if one bad wind came through, it would collapse.
“What the hell?” I said, mouth hanging open a little bit.
“I told you, these dudes are very careful with their shit. Barker actually purchased this old plantation so that he could have a place for his most dangerous clients to conduct their business. We are not dealing with dummies here, twin. Everything they all do is well planned and thought out,” Kyle said. As he spoke, I took in eyefuls of the area. We were so far from any civilization that if anyone screamed out, there was not a soul in the world that would hear him. That thought gave me a bit of pause too. If we needed help out here, not a soul in the world would hear us either.
We couldn’t pull the car right up to the secret property that the detective had driven to, so we stopped down a road, where Kyle parked between some trees. It had taken a little maneuvering to get the car situated where no one could see it. Just the thought of what we were doing made adrenaline pump through me.
“What now?” I asked. “We can’t see anything from way back here.”
“Relax,” Kyle replied, digging in his center console. He pulled out a damn blunt. I watched him like he was losing his mind as he prepared his lighter to spark up his blunt.
“I’ma smoke this, calm my nerves, and then we going to get out and sneak around back, once the outside coast is clear,” he told me.
“Really, Kyle!” I shouted a little too loudly. He fumbled with his blunt and lighter, and every little movement he made was on my nerves. I rolled my eyes at him in disgust. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to be getting high right now? Don’t you think doing something as dangerous as this takes a clear mind?” I asked, seriously disturbed. It always annoyed me to see him smoke weed or drink until he was drunk. At a time like this, when I felt like he needed to be fully sober just in case anything went left, I was especially upset.
“Listen, twin, if you want me to get you these exclusive pieces to build your story . . . you going to have to shut up and let me work. Go with the flow. There is always a method to my madness, and if anyone ain’t going to steer you wrong, it’s me,” Kyle chided, then lifted his blunt and took a long drag off of it. He inhaled deeply and blew the smoke in my direction.
I fanned the air with my hand and crinkled up my face. Shit, maybe Kyle is right. I was feeling so wrecked in the nerves that for a second I felt like I needed to smoke some weed. That thought quickly faded, though. I had never taken a drug in my life. I hadn’t even experimented with any because of the devastation drugs had done to my family. My father had gotten killed over selling drugs; and after seeing my mother addicted to heroin and crack and battle her way back from the edge of death, I felt there was no way I would ever do drugs. I sometimes wondered why Kyle even smoked or sold drugs. Like, what in his consciousness could allow him to even want to be within an inch of any type of drug was beyond me. He had been right there when everything happened to us. Just like me, Kyle had lived through the worst of times due to drugs. I turned my head and stared out of the side window, waiting on him, and that was a mistake. The sight of my mother overdosing flooded back into my mind, fast and furious, like the rushing waters of the Louisiana levees breaking during Hurricane Katrina. There was no stopping that memory. I closed my eyes . . .
* * *
I’d been hiding by the wall in our new apartment and watched yet another dude that my mother had brought home coax her into taking something.
“Listen, I ain’t never sent you wrong before. Live a little. I don’t have to bend your arm to make you feel good. You know you want to get high like before. You been chasing this shit since the very first time . . . You know what it is,” the dude said to my mother, and then grabbed her arm and pulled her to our table.
I came around the wall a little bit so I could see better. My little heart was pumping hard, and I remember curling my hands into fists as I watched.
The man watched my mother. His eyes were wide, and he was breathing hard, like watching my mother readying herself to take the drugs had excited him. Who got that excited over dru
gs? For a quick moment I wondered if my mother would finally get some sense and refuse the man’s peer pressure.
“Linda, baby . . . go ahead. I promise, you going to feel good as hell after this hit,” the man had urged, grinning slyly. From where I stood, I could see sweat beads on his forehead; every time he moved, they made him look shiny and evil. My mother had crinkled her face as if she wasn’t sure. I had watched her try to be happy after my father’s murder and she’d had a lot of seedy friends come through our place at the time, but I could tell in that moment she wasn’t sure that being with this man was worth trying something that might get her addicted. As young as I was, I could see the strain of apprehension in my mother’s face.
“This is some new shit. Trust me, it’s the A-grade shit that you’ll love. I got it from my boy Drago. He always got that good shit. I’ll always be able to get my hands on this shit after today. Wait until you get a taste,” the man had said, urging my mother on and on.
I bit down into my jaw and swayed a bit on my little legs. I weighed my options in that moment: If I rushed out and screamed, my mother wouldn’t take the drugs, but she also might be very upset and beat my ass. She had become really unpredictable at the time. Some days she was our loving mother that we recognized, and other days not so much. My mother was getting into drugs heavy. It had gone beyond her just smoking a weed joint, like she had done when my father was alive and they’d party. My mother was walking the line into heavy stuff that she’d always preached against to Kyle and me.
“I don’t know about this. This is something different you talking now,” my mother had said, still not sure. “You know I like you, but I do this for fun. I can’t afford to get in too deep. Addiction is not what I need right now,” she said.
The man grunted and sighed loudly. When he moved around the room to face my mother, I looked at him really good in the light. He was gorilla ugly, and he already looked like a strung-out fiend to me. I squinted my eyes as he dumped a small mountain of the drug onto the back of his hand. The man stood over six feet tall and his arms bulged out of the sleeves of his T-shirt. I would’ve been no match for that monster. He towered over my mother, who was even slimmer than before from not eating a lot since the murder. My mother’s skin was still pretty, but her eyes were sad and sunken now. Before she’d had the deepest, darkest brown eyes, with thick black eyelashes, that always caught people’s attention. But as I watched, I noticed that her eyes were ringed with dark circles and sad, very sad. Her thick, long hair was always in a ratty ponytail and she hadn’t let it down to flow since before my father’s death.
I was eight, but I was smart beyond my years. Where other kids might’ve missed the stark contrast in their mother’s appearance and her overall deterioration in everything, I had definitely noticed. That night I felt my heart break a million times as I stood there and watched. It wasn’t that I hated my mother, but I was devastated that she’d let these outside forces interrupt her life, to reach this terrible point. She looked so weak to me. I had felt a flash of embarrassment and a stab of hurt. I kept watching her and thinking that if she continued using drugs, she wasn’t going to be so beautiful for long, nor was she going to be our mother for long.
“Stop being scared, Linda. I’m not going to ask you again. You ain’t going to get addicted, if that’s what you’re worried about,” the man had shot back. “Now either you down or not? I can go find someone else to have a good time with.” With that, he placed his nose on top of the mound of white powder on his hand and inhaled like a high-powered vacuum cleaner. When he was finished, there was absolutely nothing left on his hand. Then he dumped out another mound of the stuff and pushed it toward my mother. I was screaming “NO!” in my head, and to keep from screaming it out loud, I clamped both of my little hands over my mouth. I watched my mother finally give in and she held one side of her nose and inhaled with the open side. My stomach had cramped up as I watched.
“Ugh,” my mother had grunted as her legs buckled a little bit. I thought she would fall, but she just stumbled around, all the while keeping her balance. “Shit!” she had shouted, and then she started laughing, as though the man had told a joke. My mother started doing some crazy dance. She had jumped around like a fool. It was crazy to watch. After a few seconds, I guess, she remembered that the man was still there. She circled him like she was doing some mating dance. He laughed too.
“I told you this was that good shit. You ain’t want to believe me, right?” the man had said, laughing at my mother, but clearly satisfied he had her.
When he dumped out more drugs, the hairs on my skin stood up. I felt my entire body tense up; somewhere in my little brain I sensed danger. Call it our bond or instinct, but in that moment I knew something bad would happen. I had told myself I needed to run in and save her, but I froze. I couldn’t move, as if my feet had grown roots into the carpet. The man had a small pile of the drugs ready for my mother again.
“Don’t be scared, sexy. Just take it in and forget all of your troubles. This shit here works wonders,” the man had said, smiling wickedly at my mother. I had seen the Devil himself in that moment. My mother was laughing, but I knew better. It wasn’t happy laughter. I didn’t have a good gut feeling about it, but I couldn’t move. I watched in horror as my mother bent down and inhaled like she had no cares in the world.
“Yeah, baby!” The man grinned, urging my mother on. “This is what is going to take you away from all of your troubles. This is your new daddy. I’m telling you, sexy . . . you will never be the same after this shit. Just like my man Drago said, we can use half the amount and get doubly as high. This is that premium shit, baby. You going to love me forever for showing you this shit here,” the man was saying as my mother took yet another large inhale of the drug. She was giggling the whole time, like she was giddy as hell.
“Let’s go. You’re going to experience more happiness than you’ve ever known. Get your mind right and have a good time. You can’t walk around worrying about shit all of the time. Life is for living, and this shit here is for taking!” The man kept up his pep talk.
“Yes! Life is for living while you have it,” my mother sang.
I flared my nostrils and breathed in. I was holding my breath. My head felt swimmy and I wanted to scream. I felt buried alive in my own body, and, boy, this was a horrible feeling.
My mother sniffed again. This time she reacted like someone had slammed a hammer into her chest. I had watched in horror as she stumbled backward. She immediately threw her hand up over her nose, and tears leaked out of her eyes. She held on to the sides of her head as if she were trying to stop some kind of pain or slow her mind. The man was laughing hysterically at my mother’s reaction.
“Oh, shit. What the fuck?” my mother grumbled as she shook her head. Within seconds she was moving as if she were floating. Then, out of nowhere, she was back to happy and giddy. She stumbled around, trying to find a seat. Finally she slumped down into one of the kitchen chairs.
“I see light . . . a lot of light. All colors,” my mother had slurred, her head moving around slowly. Her lips curled into a smile, but it wasn’t a happy smile.
I was seeing that my mother had no control over her own body parts. One minute she would barely be able to stand, and the next she’d leap up for a few seconds, singing and dancing and jumping around. She’d flop back down into the chair and stop moving for a while. She looked like she couldn’t move, even if she wanted. My mother hung on to the chair for dear life, because every few seconds she looked like she thought she’d fall. Her mouth was moving, but she wasn’t saying anything.
Seeing her like that had truly broken my heart. My eyes had filled with tears and I contemplated going to wake up Kyle. I knew he’d probably rush in and save my mother. But again, for some reason I was stuck, unable to move. I blamed myself silently, yet I still couldn’t stop watching.
My mother waved her hand at the man as he dumped another small mound onto his hand. In my head I was screaming, “Mo
mmy, don’t do it!” But my mouth wouldn’t move.
“I love it, I love it, I loooovve it,” my mother sang. I couldn’t believe her. But I watched as she deeply inhaled yet another little mountain of drugs through her nose. Her reaction was instantaneous.
“Agh!” my mother belted out. She bent over at the waist for a few seconds. That’s how powerful whatever she sniffed was. Then she stumbled around, took another small amount of the drugs, and placed it up against her nostrils again. She opened her arms wide, like she was about to try to fly. She started spinning around and around, looking like a child playing the get-dizzy game. My heart was pounding as though I had run miles and miles at top speed.
I watched as my mother spun around in front of me. Sweat poured down the sides of my mother’s face. Finally she had worn herself down until her body finally collapsed to the floor. My mouth opened, but I couldn’t scream. I suddenly felt like I was suspended in the air.
“Help me,” my mother gasped. “I can’t see. The light . . . the light is clouding my eyes,” she continued, squeezing her eyes shut. “Help me!” she screamed out.
The next thing I saw was some unknown force moving her body like she was being electrocuted. I suddenly felt a cold breeze whipping around me. I remember shivering, but I was unable to cover myself with my hands.
“Ay! C’mon, get up,” the man shouted at my mother, using his foot to kick at her body as it jerked violently.
I didn’t know if she was dying or what, but suddenly I was able to move and I rushed out of my hiding spot. I was plastered to her side, screaming, “Mama! Mama! What’s wrong?” I felt like throwing up, but nothing came up. She was not inside her body, which was painfully clear now. Now I knew what people meant when they said, when you die, the soul leaves.
From my view my mother was dead in that moment. She was sprawled haphazardly on the floor. Her beautiful legs were splayed in an awkward position that looked like it hurt really bad. “Mama! Wake up!” I hollered. When her body stopped jerking, she resembled one of my broken Barbie dolls. As for me, I felt the pee leaving my bladder from my nerves.
