by Pace, Pepper
By then she had decided that she was in love with Scotty and was nearly destroyed when she thought he was her brother. Their relationship still skirted pretty close to incest and it still made her uneasy whenever Scotty talked about his ‘Dad’ who was actually her father.
As Scotty headed up the stairs he saw Donald Miller trailing along behind them. He ignored the man, had never liked him because he acted like a two-bit hood. Plus, he was just bad news. Donald brought unnecessary strife to him and those around him by just constantly starting trouble. He picked fights, bullied smaller and weaker people including females, not that he wouldn’t fight someone bigger and badder. He was quick to do that as well. The problem being that he was the first to draw a knife or gun.
Scotty and G reached a bedroom, which contained some futon couches and recliners. Scotty looked around amazed at all of the people sprawled out on the furniture and floors—high or getting that way. He looked at G for an explanation. He didn’t want to tip him off that Phonso had already gave him the low down.
“You running a shooting gallery here?” Scotty asked.
G scowled. “Hell nah. All the people you see here are soon to be customers of mine. Now that they got a taste of crack they’ll be asking for more.” G’s eyes looked out darkly upon the people who showed him little to no interest.
Unlike the people partying down on the lower level of the apartment, those in this room were quiet and riding out their first crack high … in some cases it was far from their first and they were already hooked and enjoying the free ride. And there was not one person in the room that even considered the party that was happening downstairs.
“Crack is a quick and cheap high, Scotty.” G eyed his friend carefully. “It ain’t too late for you to buy your way back in. I can always use another investor.”
“An investor?” Scotty chuckled. “You sound like you’re on the stock market.”
G clapped him on the back and his laughter joined Scotty’s. For a moment it felt like old times. “If I was an investor, this would be the stock that’s going to make us all rich.”
Scotty didn’t address G’s question.
“Sounds like you have the potential to make it big. I heard you were in with Dawson. How’s that working out?”
A frown crossed his brow. “Ahh, so your brother told you about it.”
Scotty shrugged dismissively. “Phonso knows that you’re just as much my brother as he is.”
G’s expression relaxed and a crooked smile crossed his lips. “No harm, no foul. Dawson is a cracker muther fucker. When I grow my clientele I’m going to cut his greedy ass off completely. I’m going for a new supplier.”
Scotty scratched his chin. Tino and his gang had used Dawson as their supplier, which is how Scotty and G had hooked up with him in the first place. No one owned the business. Even when Tino ran his drug business he wasn’t the owner. When Tino left the business continued without him. Same thing with Scotty; he might have started it but it wasn’t his.
And as for Dawson, in Scotty’s opinion, he was just a middleman, no different than any other, but they knew this middleman. When they were younger, he and G had grown their own clientele with just a few hundred dollars. Scotty had told G that they needed to buy the best weed around. It didn’t matter the price, he just wanted people to associate them with having only primo weed.
It was Scotty that approached Dawson with his idea to branch out and exactly how he wanted to do it. Just like with the crack, Dawson schooled them and then Scotty took the information and ran with it. So while others were selling every-day marijuana, Scotty and G were selling sessamillia and true Afghani Kush.
Which is why they called Scotty the weed man. He looked at it, felt it, sniffed it—and then if he liked it he gave it to G to smoke it. He could look at G and see within seconds if the weed was worth their money. But Scotty never indulged, even when others called him jive and uptight. Scotty got high off the money, not the weed.
While most dealers were buying blindly, Scotty was learning about resin levels and different strains of cannabis, and his knowledge went down to the molecular levels. He knew that the aromatic oils secreted in cannabis resin is what modulated the effects of cannabinoids—the substance that contained the THC. He knew that the fat fluffy buds of the Indica strain—also known as Kush was good for mellowing you out. But he knew to sell someone Sativa when they wanted to hit a party or were depressed or tired because it tended to uplift and energize.
Initially, he and G did not have a huge clientele but they still brought in big money because they had grade A-product. And just like Scotty had banked on, people sought them out for being good dealers with above average product. More people came to them when there was a drought or just whenever they wanted something special.
By the time they had a good customer base the boys were able to transition to the less expensive stuff as long as they kept the better stuff on hand. People who sought out Scotty knew that if they asked for a Lowryder or Royal Kush then they would get just that.
But as far as Dawson was concerned, Scotty had no problems with him. As a supplier he never cheated them and seemed to appreciate Scotty’s desire to learn. Also, he didn’t think it would be wise for G to dump someone that they had already tried and understood.
“You got someone else in mind?” He asked.
G shrugged nonchalantly. “A supplier is a dime a dozen.”
“Maybe, but you’re starting from the bottom up again.”
G scowled. “Yeah, well that wasn’t my fault.”
Scotty sighed. “You want to go through two or three assholes before you figure out who you can trust?” Scotty glanced at Donald who was watching from the doorway. He was the only person that seemed interested in their conversation and Scotty didn’t mask his dislike.
“Also, you used to keep the crew tight. Now you’re obviously just letting anybody in.”
Donald Miller laughed. “G is willing to give a brother a chance—something you never did.”
G’s frown deepened. He didn’t like Scotty acting like he had all the answers but he also didn’t like Donald putting him on blast. The truth is, he had agreed with Scotty that Donald was a two-bit punk but he was also a two-bit punk that could sell crack.
“How many people have you added to the crew?” Scotty continued.
“You can ask baby brother that question.” G said while watching a dude inhaling the smoke of a rock that they’d spent overtime cooking up. His mouth moistened with desire.
Scotty drew his attention again when he continued to speak. “I’m not going to ask Phonso. I’m asking you. Isn’t that how we do things, G? We don’t go behind each others’ back. We go straight to the source-“
Donald was the one to respond. “Dude, you’re no longer in the crew so stop walking up in here-“
Scotty narrowed his eyes at Donald. “I’m not talking to you, asshole. And this is why you never joined our ranks. You don’t know when its time to fight and when its time to shut the fuck up!”
Dante snickered without knowing that he was doing it. He had often thought the same thing about the man. Dante kicked it with Donald and a few other guys because they knew how to bring in cash, but Dante didn’t like Donald. He was unpredictable and sly—sneaky was more accurate.
G looked at Donald as if seeing him for the first time. “What the hell are you doing in here? Don’t you see me and my boy are trying to have an adult conversation? Get out. Make sure everybody is tasting some crack.”
Donald didn’t immediately move. He was seething inside. He was making money for this deadbeat nigger and he was going to side with the whiteboy?
Scotty dismissed the angry young man as if he was too far beneath him to matter. “Look, G, I want to sit down and talk to you about things; the business, the crack, you, your son and your woman.”
A shadow fell over G’s eyes. “We can talk. Come on sit down. We can talk.”
Without a word Donald left the room. His a
nger was simmering to the boiling point. He sensed that he was nearing the end of his days working in G’s crew, but fuck them. He’d take his boys AND the crack and start selling it himself. They didn’t need a supplier, just a place to cook it. That weak-ass nigger wouldn’t do a damn thing about it, either. He was so cracked out that Donald even thought about putting him out of his misery, only he wasn’t worth the effort.
But that nigger Scotty …
Donald’s jaw clenched as he entered a locked third bedroom which only he and the crew had keys to. They had moved all the shit that they didn’t want stolen into this room—and this included the crack rocks.
He gathered all the smaller, packaged rocks and stuffed them into his pockets. He’d have someone else pick up the big rock that they had been chipping off of. That way he’d know that they were really in. Before he left the room he saw several bottles of pills and an idea came to his head.
Oh Scotty. You have fucked with the wrong nigger. I won’t kill you though. I’m just going to rape your bitch right under your nose.
Chapter Five
Vanessa danced so much that her hair was plastered to her head. And her underarms were ringed with perspiration. She and Phonso went outside to sit on the stoop to cool off and rest. Her brother-in-law was a pretty good dancer and she could tell that he enjoyed it a great deal.
Phonso lit a cigarette. Someone came by and slapped hands with him before entering the crowded apartment.
Vanessa shook her head with a smile. “You and Scotty are popular.” She didn’t think that Phonso had gone five minutes without someone coming up to make a purchase, talk or slap hands.
Phonso shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s all a part of the game.”
“Do you like this game?” She asked innocently. Vanessa knew that this was something that Scotty wanted to talk to Phonso about.
A shadow crossed Phonso’s face. “You don’t do it because you like it. Me and Scotty got a plan. You see we help Miss Gloria until she doesn’t need help anymore.” Phonso looked at the ground as he thought about his words. “I guess I’m lying a little.
“I didn’t have a problem with it until Scotty got out. I would probably do it until I was rich enough to drive sports cars and live in my own condo. But without Scotty I see how bad things can go.” He met Vanessa’s eyes quickly. “I’m not blaming him for getting out of the life. I understand it.”
“But it’s putting more stress on you …” she continued not ever putting those two things together before now.
He shrugged. “I just do what I do, no more and no less.”
Vanessa was just about to say something when a voice took her out of the moment.
“Hi Vanessa.”
She looked up and hid a cringe. Donald Miller was standing there holding three unopened cans of beer. He grinned showing a gold tooth that caught the light from the street lamps and gleamed with a sparkle.
“Hi, Donald. I haven’t seen you in years,” since you almost jumped my cousin, and me she thought.
Donald handed Phonso a beer and slapped hands with him.
He sat one can of beer down and opened the other. After it was opened he winked at Vanessa and made a show of wiping off the rim with his shirt and examining it for any dirt.
“I know how you ladies like your cans’ clean. Here you go Vanessa.”
She smiled despite herself. “Thank you.”
“I was watching you dance a little while ago. I heard you went to the Performing Arts School.”
“Yeah I did.” There was an awkward silence as she wished he would go away. Donald Miller had always made her feel nervous. When they were in grade school he was the very reason that they’d had to start a girl’s gang. Him and his boys would lift the girl’s skirts and once he had pulled down a girl’s panties and all the boys had looked at the terrified girl.
He’d nearly caught the projects on fire. He had gotten a can of lighter fluid and had set some bushes on fire and the fire department had to be called because it spread across the grass rapidly.
Vanessa remembered how Donald’s father had dragged him out in the open and whipped him with a belt. But Donald didn’t cry, he screamed and cursed and struggled against the bigger man, never accepting his punishment but possibly learning not to get caught.
She sipped her beer and thought about something she had been wondering about for years.
“Do you hear from Anthony Johnson?”
“That nigger’s in college.” Donald replied, hiding his disappointment. Why was this bitch bringing up another nigger when he was talking to her?!
“That’s what I heard,” she watched him expectantly as if waiting for him to tell her who he was fucking.
Donald shrugged. “He comes by around the holidays to visit his family and we hang out. But he made it out of this place and that’s something he’s always wanted to do.”
Phonso nodded thoughtfully.
Vanessa thought that Anthony had been a rare individual who everyone liked. He had no enemies and could get along with everyone. She smiled to herself as she remembered the time that he had kissed her—stealing her first kiss. In his excitement he had knocked out one of her loose teeth and her mouth had filled with blood. Poor Anthony had freaked out thinking that he had injured her. He was sweet. And she was happy that he had made it out.
She looked at Donald and wondered how the two could have ever been best friends. Anthony was a gentle giant and his presence seemed to calm Donald whenever he got too crazy. Anthony had even been friends with Scotty back when they both went to Walnut Hills High School, a school for advance students. She remembered the way they would get off the school bus at the top of the hill where both she and Anthony lived in Garden Hill Top. The two boys would study together and Vanessa would wait anxiously at the window to catch a glimpse of Scotty.
God, they had come a long way.
“Do you want to dance?” Donald asked, drawing Vanessa from her reverie.
She shook her head. “I’m kind of tired and hot now,” she took another swallow of the cold beer relaxing as the alcohol took affect. “Maybe later.”
Donald gave her a short smile before returning to the apartment. “Sure Vanessa. Later.”
When he was gone Phonso made a face and then made the universal sign for ‘crazy’ when he circled his finger near his temple.
Vanessa covered her mouth and chuckled. “I know, right.”
“I don’t know why G let him and those other fools onboard. The money ain’t been right since they came along.”
Her eyes grew big at that revelation. “You don’t think …?”
Phonso just raised his hand to stop her and then shook his head. This was not the place to talk business.
“You hungry?” he asked. “You want something to eat? They ate up all the ribs but there’s some barbecue chicken wings left.”
“Nah, but you go on if you want something to eat.” She said.
“I’m not leaving you-“
“I won’t go anywhere-“
He stood up and grabbed her hand, pulling her into the apartment after him while she laughed and told him to stop dragging her. At the kitchen they both got a plate of chicken wings, potato salad and potato chips. Vanessa quickly swallowed down the last of her beer so that she could get a slice of cake. They carried their food outside and ate in earnest.
“I never had a brother.” Vanessa stated while chewing a mouthful of food. “You’re like my brother, Phonso.” She felt high and happy. The beer had gone down smoothly.
Phonso chuckled. “Even if you and Scotty hadn’t hooked up you would still be my sister—because you’re related to one of my brothers. That’s how it works with us.”
Phonso saw the shadow fall over Vanessa’s face and regretted making any references to Tino. Scotty had long ago explained that they had been wrong about Tino ever touching Beady but Phonso had seen with his own eyes what their brother had done to Vanessa. He’d kissed her full on her lips and had scared the li
ttle girl so badly that she’d run away and hadn’t returned for years. It hadn’t mattered to Tino that Vanessa was his sister. He would have pimped her out for the cash to pay for his fix.
“So … what are your plans for the future? Well other than marrying my brother.”
Her expression quickly changed as if she relished a reason to stop thinking about the past.
“Scotty and I were just talking about that. Before we got together I was going to move to New York and act and sing in plays—off-off Broadway style. But here in Cincinnati there is The Proctor Gamble Hall and the Aronoff Center. The next step is to hit the casting calls and practice. I’ve been lazy-“
“I would call the way you danced here tonight practice. You hit a few more parties and that’s all the practice you’ll need.”
Vanessa laughed and Phonso’s brow rose slightly because she laughed a bit too long and too loud. Man, Scotty was marrying a light-weight. Vanessa was drunk.
“Let’s dance some more, Phonso!” Her eyes lit up and she jumped to her feet and nearly lost her balance. Phonso hopped up and grabbed her elbow before she fell off the stoop.
“Are you alright?” He asked.
Vanessa fanned herself. “Dang it’s hot all of a sudden. But I want to dance and I want to sing and I want to act!”
Phonso made a face. “Uh … right now?”
“Yes!”
Where was Scotty? His woman was crazy. “No more beer for you …” he muttered.
Vanessa laughed again and then hurried back into the apartment. She began to hop up and down like a spring to You Dropped A Bomb on Me by The Gap Band.
Several people turned to look at her and Phonso followed her back inside, refusing to get out on the dance floor with her as long as she was acting like a crazy person. But just as quickly as she jumped up and down on the floor was almost as quickly as she began to clutch her head and weave on her feet.
