Cry Revenge (Holloway House Originals)

by Donald Goines

  ?o

  IT WAS STILL TOO LIGHT OUTSIDE, Dan thought as he stared moodily out of the vacant house window. Even though Dan hadn't occupied the empty yellow house long, there was plenty of evidence that revealed someone had taken up temporary shelter in the deserted home.

  The floor of the once clean and well-kept home was now littered with debris that Dan had scattered about. Empty pop bottles and cigarette packs were everywhere. "Goddamn," he murmured to himself as he stared out the window, unable to make up his mind on what to do. One thing was for sure, he moaned, as another stomach cramp hit him. It was past time for him to fix. If he didn't want to become a real sick junkie, he would have to get out of the deserted house and find some junk. But from who? The question came back to him for the thousandth time: who in the hell could he turn to? It was impossible for him to just walk up on the set and cop. There would be a hundred police up there minutes after he arrived. No, he would have to come up with something a hell of a lot better than that. Dan reached for another cigarette, only to find the pack was completely empty. He tossed it on the floor, cursing under his breath.

  Dan began to pace. He was like some wild animal that had been caged too long. He thought of Curtis but rejected the idea as soon as he had it. Curtis wouldn't do a damn thing to help. The only thing he could depend on was that Curtis wouldn't turn him over to any fuckin' police. Dope, dope, dope, that was the all-important thing right now. Nothing else meant a goddamn thing. He had to find some drugs and it would have to be done soon!

  This time when Dan started for the rear door he didn't hesitate. He glanced out of the boarded-up window before slowly pushing open the back door. The late afternoon breeze felt good on his face as he walked quickly through the rear yard. As he jumped the fence, he saw three young Negro kids playing in the alley.

  "See, I told you," one called out to his buddy.

  "Told me what?" his friend asked quickly.

  "I told you somebody was living in that old house, remember?"

  The other colored child shook his head. "That don't prove nothin' 'cause he jumped the fence. He might just be cuttin' through the yard."

  "Hey, mister," the young kid yelled as he ran after Dan, trying to prove his point, "don't you live back there?"

  Dan glared angrily over his shoulder. "Ain't your momma taught you to mind your own business, nigger?" Dan cursed, and continued to walk swiftly down the alley.

  The other boy laughed at his friend's predicament as he ran up. "You ain't proved nothin'," he sang as he reached them.

  "You young punks better go and find you somewhere else to play," Dan warned them sharply as he glared at them out of his swollen red eyes.

  Neither child was a fool. First of all, they knew Dan was a young man, and that meant that he could outrun either one of them. That one fact was more than enough for them. They both turned on their heels and went back the way they had come, every now and then looking back to see where the tall dark man was. The second time they turned around, Dan had disappeared. They realized at once that the man had taken a shortcut through one of the backyards farther down the alley.

  Once out on the street again, away from the alluring feeling of security the alleys gave him, Dan became overly cautious. He took his time before venturing out from the sidewalks and crossing the narrow streets. He wandered aimlessly at first, hoping that he might just run across some addicts who didn't know him that well. He knew that he was only fooling himself, because even if he ran into that unlikely addict, the junkie would know from the grapevine that Dan was running.

  As he neared Fifteenth Street, he still hadn't made up his mind on which direction to take. He stopped in the middle of the block and just stood there with his hands on his hips. He was the picture of rejection at that moment. Here he was, he reflected, with a damned pocketful of money and nowhere to spend it. The sight of a small neighborhood grocery store caught his searching eyes. He quickly crossed the deserted street and entered the store. Dan glanced around, then picked up a cold bottle of orange pop. He stayed in the store and drank the pop slowly as the aging male storekeeper watched him closely.

  Before leaving, Dan bought a small cake. He didn't really want anything to eat at the moment, but he decided to force himself to eat something. There was no way of knowing when he might get the chance to eat again. This goddamn running shit, he decided, was for the birds. Once again the idea came to him that his best bet would be to leave town. Yet, even if he caught the bus out of town, he would still have to find some dope before he left. There was no way possible for him to even think about leaving unless he had an ample supply of drugs.

  He took a quick look at the street before venturing back out again, anxiously rejecting one addict's name after another until he couldn't think of anyone else who used. He started quickly going back over the names in his mind again. With the realization that there was no one he could actually trust finally making itself completely understood, he began to seethe with anger. Not at himself for being the sole blame, but at others for being so dishonest a man couldn't put any faith in them.

  Well, well, old buddy, he said to himself as he made up his mind on what to do, if the mountain won't come to Muhammad, of Moe here will just have to go to the motherfuckin' mountain. As he walked, he talked to himself, more to build up his own courage than for any other reason.

  After finally making up his mind on what he was going to do, it didn't take Dan long to reach his destination. When he reached Tenth Street he turned down the alley. The house he sought was in the middle of the block. At first he didn't recognize the backyard that he was trying to find, but the broken-down fence at the rear of the house was the one he was looking for. Dan moved slowly to the rear of the house. It would have appeared to an observer that Dan was expecting an attack rather than approaching a house whose occupants rarely bothered themselves enough to care about someone else's problems.

  The mother of the home had a drinking problem as well as the father, while the son, whom Dan was seeking, had a drug problem.

  Dan ducked under an old clothesline and knocked softly on the rear window. After waiting a second, he knocked again. This time, he hadn't long to wait before he heard some noise from within.

  Suddenly the ragged window shade flew up and a light, pimple-faced black man stared out at him. Dan watched the man's face closely. Instantly it began to change. At first the man didn't seem to know who it was, but when he recognized Dan, he changed. First, his light brown skin took on a dark shade that could only come from the blood rushing from his heart. Next, but just as transparent, was the hugeness of his eyes. They appeared ready to jump out of his head.

  "Hey, baby boy," Dan said in a more cheerful voice than he felt, "you look as if you done went and seen you a ghost."

  For a while, all the man could do was stand and stare open-mouthed. "Goddamn, Dan," he said finally.

  Before he could say anything else, Dan cut him off. "Listen, Milton, I want you to do something for me, man. "

  This time it was Milton who did the cutting off. "Dan," he began, raising his hands up in a show of hopelessness. "Man, you're so goddamn hot a man could fry an egg on your shadow, brother! I mean, just for lettin' certain people know where they could reach you would be worth at least a bill, man!"

  "Is that all?" Dan said coldly. "Shit, for a motherfucker takin' the risk of puffin' the finger on me, it's worth his motherfuckin' life, so add that shit up and tell me is a funky hundred dollars worth a cocksuck- er's life!"

  Milton shook his head quickly, fear showing in every pore of his body. A person standing next to him could actually smell it coming out of the little man.

  "Aw, brother," his voice had changed into a high whine, "I was just tellin' you what's being said, Dan, that's all, man. Somebody ought to pull your coat to what's going down, if by chance you don't already know."

  "Naw, Milton, I'm up on it, but as you can see, ain't nothin' happened yet, 'cause the people who was goin' cross me ain't able to ever cross
anybody else now."

  Milton just stood and stared at him like a frightened rabbit. "Man!" he managed to say.

  Seeing that the man was truly frightened, Dan decided the time was ripe for him to make his offer. "Dig, Milton, you look as if you need a fix." Dan waited until Milton nodded his head in agreement before continuing. "Okay, now money ain't no problem, Milton, but I'm havin' trouble coppin', as you probably already know"

  Again Milton nodded his head in agreement. He couldn't think of a pusher who would be foolish enough to do any kind of business with Dan. But he didn't waste any words stating this fact. As he managed to get his nerves under control, Milton glanced at Dan's face for the first time and quickly realized that the tall dark man was sick. Up until then, it hadn't even occurred to him to wonder why Dan would pop up in his backyard when half the city was out looking for him.

  It had been too much like a bad dream. Dan spelled trouble. Anybody found with him would more than likely catch the same kind of hell Dan was going to catch whenever the right people ran down on him.

  "Man, I ain't got no stuff, Dan," Milton mumbled, then added, "I mean, you know if I had anything I'd set it out for you, but I ain't fixed since this morning-"

  Dan waved his excuses away. He knew that if the man had a kilo inside under the bed he wouldn't give any of it away. He was a petty nigger and always would be. "Listen, Milt, I didn't come over here to beg, boy; I come to get you to go and cop for me." Dan waited, trying to read the frightened man's mind. When Milton didn't comment right off, Dan asked, "Did you hear what I said, boy? I want you to go cop for me."

  Milton had heard all right; he just hadn't finished going over the alternatives that it left. If someone should get hip to the fact that he copped for Dan, his ass would be in a sling. But on the other hand, he wanted a blow and, if he didn't go and cop for Dan, he didn't have the slightest idea of where he would be able to raise the money to get a fix.

  "It's takin' you a long time to make up your mind about somethin' that simple, Milt. Now, if by chance you're going over the idea of burnin' me, or some other self-destroyin' thoughts like that, you'd be better off if you went inside and wiped out your mammy or paw, 'cause that's just what the hell I'd do if I even thought you were going to do something that might cause me trouble!"

  "Naw, Dan," Milton said hurriedly. "I was just tryin' to figure out who had some good jive. Since Curt's brother got hurt, he ain't had no stuff."

  "Well, I was thinkin' about spendin' at least a hundred dollars. That is, if you knew where some real good jive was. But," Dan warned, his voice dropping down into a cruel growl, "I don't want no mother- fuckin' bunk, and I ain't acceptin' none, neither."

  "Naw, Dan, if I go cop, you ain't got to worry 'bout no bunk, man. I been around too long. Nigger got to be out of his mind to even think 'bout selling me some bunk."

  Dan kept his eyes on the young man's face. He knew what Milton said was true. Milton had mud on his name, so people were leery of taking his money unless they had some good dope to sell him. There were rumors out about Milton having dropped dimes on pushers who put shit on him. If a pusher took his money and sold him some bullshit, when Milton came back and demanded his money, they set it out or closed up shop, because if his money wasn't returned you could expect a visit from the police sometime soon.

  Dan tried not to show his urgency, but it wasn't possible for him to hide it. It was in his voice when he spoke. "You think you might be able to cop some decent scag, man?"

  Milton knew he had a fish on the line, yet at the same time he understood the dangers of handling what he had hooked. "Yeah, Dan, it ain't no problem me coppin', but where you goin' be when I come back?"

  The question didn't take Dan by surprise, but it did cause shivers of fear to run up and down his spine. "Don't worry about where I'm going to be. You just don't take long going to cop. I'll be somewhere watchin' whenever you get back; just don't stay gone over an hour."

  Milton sighed. There wasn't nothing he could do but cop, then hit the package before leaving the dope house and take whatever Dan gave him when he got back. That should be enough to hold him until tomorrow anyway. Be happy to get that much out of the deal.

  "Listen," Dan added, "it's twenty-five dollars extra in this for you, Milton, so hurry on up. If you take care right, who knows, there will be other times."

  As Dan spoke, Milton smiled at him and shook his head, but he knew, if it was up to him, there wouldn't be any more times. Not after this one. Dan was just too hot to fuck with. Milton couldn't keep the greed out of his eyes as he watched Dan remove the large roll from his pocket. His eyes stayed glued to the money. Just maybe, he reflected, he might be able to squeeze one more cop in after all. Since no one knew about it, it should go as sweet as cotton candy, with no after-effects. Dan wasn't in any position to go and tell anybody about who was coppin' for him, and the last thing in the world Milton would do would be to allow even a rumor to get out that he had helped Dan out.

  "How long you goin' be?" Dan asked as he held the money out to Milton.

  "Give me about thirty minutes, Dan. It shouldn't take any longer."

  "Okay, now you remember what I said, Milton. If any kind of cross comes out of this shit, somebody real close to you will answer for it until the day arrives that you can pay for your own mistakes. I know how easy it is for you to think that all you have to do is stay out of my way until somebody catches up with me, but you better hide your whole fuckin' family, man, 'cause I'll burn this stupid-ass house down with them in it!"

  "Aw, Dan, that ain't no way for friends to talk, now, is it? If you want, you can climb through the window and hide out inside in my room until I come back," Milton said seriously. "That should show you I'm for real with you, Dan"

  "That don't prove shit to me, Milton. You might leave and plan on callin' back while you're gone and tell them to get out. Or you might try sending the motherfuckin' police. But whichever, I'll kill the stink on shit, boy, if you cross me, you understand?"

  Milton was shaking openly, and as he realized that Dan wasn't going to accept his invitation to enter, he relaxed. Anything might have happened while he was gone. And then his family would have been under the gun all because he tried to be for real with a nigger. No, it was much better that the man laid across the street or somewhere-anywhere other than Milton's home.

  Before Dan could change his mind, Milton began to close the window. He dropped the shade quickly as he suddenly recognized the look of indecision flash across the tall, dark man's face. It had suddenly occurred to Dan that he might just be doing the best thing if he stayed in the man's bedroom. There were so many things on his mind that he just couldn't think of everything at once. Even though he understood his mistake instantly.

  As Milton disappeared from view, Dan began to glance around the yard trying to take in as many vantage points as he could. The best place, he reasoned, would be across the street. That way, if something funny did come up, he wouldn't be trapped as easily as he would be in Milton's backyard.

  Dan reentered the alley and walked until he found a backyard that wasn't fenced in. Even though someone lived in the house, the yard was easy to walk through. He had almost reached the house when an elderly woman came out. "Here, there, young man. This ain't no open highway, boy. People live in this house!"

  For a second Dan thought the woman was going to try to block his path. He didn't have any time to waste because he wanted to be out front whenever Milton came out of the house. First, he wanted to know which way the man went when he drove off. Next, he didn't know what kind of car Milton drove. It was all important knowing which kind of car the man drove away in.

  His luck was good. As soon as he came out of the old woman's yard, he saw Milton entering an old dark green Ford. He stood with his back against the hedges until the car pulled away from the curb. He was so involved in watching Milton that he ignored the elderly woman. The word "police" brought him back to his present problem.

  "I'm sorry, ma'am,"
he began, hoping to fake her out with kindness. He pointed at his ears. "I ain't able to hear too good, ma'am."

  "I don't give a shit whether you can hear or not, boy, but if you don't get on 'bout your business and get off my property, I'm goin' do like I said and call the police on you. Your kind is always sneakin' about tryin' to find somethin' to steal!"

  Goddamn this noisy bitch, Dan cursed inwardly. She could blow the whole thing for him. "Miss Lady," he began, "I ain't no thief, no matter what you think. Hell, lady," he said and pulled out his roll of money and flashed it at her, "I don't have to steal from nobody 'cause I got a damn good job working for Mr. Jackson. Yes, ma'am. I works each and every day," he said, putting the money away.

  From the look of greed that flashed across the old woman's face, he knew she wasn't about to call no police. The woman was too busy wishing she was younger so that she could remove some of that cash from a young fool who didn't know what to do with it.

  Dan removed a cigarette from his pocket, then pretended as if he couldn't find a match. As he fumbled around dumbly, he saw the look of cunning and disappointment in the woman's face.

  "I'll give you a match, boy, but I got to go inside the house to get one," the woman stated. Then as she turned to go, Dan put out his bait.

  "Miss, I'd gladly pay you if you would be kind enough to bring me a cold drink of water out with you." He smiled broadly. What he wanted most of all was the chance to stay on her porch so that he could watch up and down the street. Maybe, just maybe, he prayed, he might be able to con her into allowing him to sit there.