The Dopefiend

by JaQuavis Coleman

  Chapter Eight

  Seven, with Hazel, pulled into Insight, a rehabilitation center for women. Hazel had begun to scratch herself and the excruciating stomach pains had already begun. She hadn’t used in the last couple of days and it was getting to her. Seven had been right by her side as she got cold sweats, shook, and trembled as she went through withdrawal. The only time he left her side was to briefly pick up his money from his dope spots, but he would always come right back, not leaving her alone for more than an hour at a time. Seven called around the city and managed to get her into a program that aimed to get dope addicts off of heroin, and today was her first scheduled day to attend the outpatient program.

  “You are going to be all right,” Seven assured as he put his truck in park and looked over at Hazel. Hazel took a deep breath and gave Seven a forced smiled as she felt her stomach doing somersaults from her nervousness, among other things.

  “I’ll go in with you,” Seven offered.

  “Thanks,” Hazel responded as they both got out of the car and headed into the facility together. Hazel stayed close to Seven as they walked in, as if she were a little girl trying to hide underneath her father. Seven approached the middle-aged white woman who was at the front desk; obviously the receptionist.

  “Hello, may I help you?” she asked.

  Seven smiled and answered, “I called last week. I am here to admit Hazel Brown for treatment,” he said in his low tone.

  “Okay, I need you or her to fill out these papers and I will be needing your insurance card.”

  “Insurance card?’ Seven asked.

  “Yes, for payment.”

  “No insurance card, ma. I’m paying cash if you don’t mind,” Seven answered modestly. Seven pulled out a rubber-banded knot that was full of hundred-dollar bills and placed it on the desk, making the receptionist’s eyes almost pop out of her head. Seven never used cards, always cash. That was always a hustler’s preferred method of payment. “That should do it, right?” Seven asked as he gave her a small grin, making her blush and turn plum red. Seven grabbed the clipboard and returned to Hazel, who was sitting down in the waiting area. He handed her the clipboard and told her she would have to fill it out before they checked her in. Hazel’s hands were shaking as she tried her best to shake off the tremors. Seven knew that she was going through withdrawal and tried not to stare at her hand, making her any more uneasy than she already was. He smiled at her and placed his hand on her shoulder, giving her support in this big step that she was taking. He knew that she had been without heroin for about six days and she was on edge. However, she had only been without the drug for one day. Hazel had managed to “stumble” upon the brick of heroin that Seven had hidden in his cereal box, and every time he would leave to make a run, she would take a little and shoot up behind his back; pinching off a little each time. GiGi had set a trap for Hazel and she fell for it. GiGi wanted to see Hazel’s world come crashing down, feeling that Hazel and Seven were too close. Jealousy overwhelmed GiGi and Hazel was secretly her worst enemy. Seven didn’t know, but his brick was about ten grams off and that eventually would come back and bite him in the ass.

  Hazel felt so bad about what she had done. She kept thinking about how she was huddled up in his bathroom shooting up his dope while he didn’t even know about it. He was the only one in her corner, but her addiction made all loyalty go flying out of the window. I’m so sorry, Seven. But you don’t understand, Hazel thought as she finished up the papers and looked at Seven. The way he looks at me . . . it’s different. He doesn’t look at me like I’m a dopefiend. Although Seven was only keeping his word with Apple, he was giving Hazel more than he would ever understand. He was giving her hope and a support system, something she was lacking all her life.

  After thirty minutes of getting checked in and situated, a tall, slim doctor came out to greet Hazel. Dr. Young was his name and he was a specialist in behavioral science and drug rehabilitation. The doctor instructed Seven that Hazel would stay at the faculty from 10:00 to 10:00 every day for eight weeks. Hazel really was ready to shake off the addiction and Seven was proud of her for taking the first step, which was getting help.

  “Okay, I will be here at ten o’clock sharp to come get you, ma,” Seven stated.

  “Okay, thanks,” she said just before she hugged him tightly. “Thanks for everything, Seven,” she whispered in his ear as they embraced each other.

  “Don’t mention it. I told you I got you, right?” Seven said as he looked down at her and into her eyes. The doctor shook Seven’s hand and lead Hazel into the back, preparing her for her first step into recovery.

  Seven watched as they faded into the back and then he left, ready to hit the streets. He had much business to handle and his first stop was on the south side to hit his man with the brick he had put up for him.

  An hour later, Seven was pulling into Regency Apartments, the stomping ground of one of his most faithful buyers: Mouse. Mouse was a hustler who migrated from New York and set up shop in Flint, where his family had already been. Seven pulled out his phone and called Mouse, letting him know he was outside with the brick of heroin for him. Seven parked his truck and cocked his pistol, putting it on the left side of him in the car door’s side pocket. Seven didn’t trust Mouse too much, but had been doing business with him for years. Mouse had been running the south side’s drug market, while Seven ran the north’s. Seven was Mouse’s supplier and that always gave him the upper hand. Without being said, that made Mouse under Seven on the hustler’s totem pole; Mouse hated that. Mouse wanted so bad to have Seven’s heroin connect, but that was something Seven would never give up until he was out of the game himself.

  Mouse came out of the building with a bubbled down coat and a tight skull cap on his head. His butter-colored Timberland boots added a couple of inches to his short height, which was just under five foot five. Mouse climbed into the car and looked around before he spoke.

  “What up, God,” Mouse said in his heavy New York accent. Seven nodded his head, acknowledging him. Seven hated meeting Mouse with dope, let alone in his own territory. Seven would usually have Rah or one of his runners make a drug transaction on his behalf. However, Mouse always insisted on dealing with Seven face to face, not wanting to deal with anyone other than the boss. Being that he was a consistent buyer and never copping under a whole brick, Seven gave him the courtesy of dropping the dope off once a month.

  “What you got for me?” Mouse asked as he pulled out a brown paper bag from his inside pocket that was full of cash. Seven then reached under his seat and grabbed the Saran-wrapped kilo of dope and handed it to him. Mouse’s eyes lit up when he saw the package, which had a stamp of a naked lady on it; Hassan’s signature dope called Lady Luck. Mouse began to think about how he was about to get money and then he handed Seven the bag full of money. “It’s all there,” Mouse said assuringly as he examined the brick.

  “Better be,” Seven said coldly as he put the money under his seat and started up his car, signaling for Mouse to get out. Seven didn’t care for Mouse much and he always let it show; never being too friendly because he knew if Mouse could take his spot, he would without hesitation. Seven hit the unlock button as he looked forward, always keeping it short and sweet with him. Mouse looked at Seven, cutting his eye, but he remained silent knowing that he didn’t want to ruffle any feathers with his connect.

  “I’ll call you when I’m ready to re-up,” Mouse said as he stepped out of the car, stuffing the brick into his coat. Seven nodded and pulled off, not knowing that he had just shorted his man in product, all because of Hazel’s sneakiness and disloyalty.

  Look at these crazy-looking mufuckas. I cannot believe I am in here doing this, Hazel thought as she glanced at the strangers in the room with her, who were sitting in plastic school chairs that formed a circle. Everyone in the room was at least twice her age and she was very uncomfortable and felt out of place. She just crossed her arms and watched as she showed little to no emotion.

&
nbsp; “Hello, my name is Margaret,” the redhead said in her raspy voice. It sounded as if she had been smoking cigarettes since the age of two.

  “Hello, Margaret,” everyone said in unison, greeting her.

  What the fuck? They sound like they’re in a damn cult or something. This some bullshit! I do not belong here. Hazel crossed her arms and watched them make fools of themselves. She even began to examine each addict there, picking something out on them that she could make an inside joke about. She wasn’t feeling the program at all and figured that she would at least have fun since she had to be there. Look at this ugly bitch, Hazel thought, almost bursting out in laughter as she looked at Margaret’s crooked red wig that sat on top of her head.

  Hazel was the only one in the room who didn’t acknowledge her. Dr. Young sat in the middle, mediating and directing the confessional exercise with his notebook and pen in hand.

  “And I am a heroin addict,” Margaret said proudly as she stood up before everyone. Hazel leaned over and whispered to Dr. Young as Margaret gave her testimonial. “I have to use the restroom.”

  Dr. Young nodded his head and Hazel slipped out. “Fuck this,” Hazel said as she ripped the name tag sticker that was on her shirt. Hazel swiftly grabbed her coat that was on the rack and snuck out of the back entrance on her way as far from Insight Rehabilitation Center as possible. As she stepped onto the main road, she began to get that itch. Her body was just beginning to cry out for her Jones and, instantly, Hazel went into scavenger mode wanting to feel the magic travel up her veins. She began to scratch her itching forearm and became jumpy. The ecstasy of the drug was what she craved insatiably. It grew more and more by the second and her slow, aimless walk turned into a brisk strut on her way to the hood, which was about five miles away. “I need to get up with Millie,” she whispered as she headed toward Millie’s projects that were a straight shot down the road. She had ten hours to do her thing and come back so Seven could pick her up. Hazel didn’t know how, but she was about to get high . . . by any means necessary.

  Chapter Nine

  The sun was shining, but snow still covered the streets and sidewalks. Hazel finally made it to Millie’s apartment complex after a forty-five-minute walk that seemed like an eternity. Her toes were cold and her heart was pounding, hoping that Seven didn’t roll up on her while she was out trying to get high rather that at Insight. Hazel made it to Millie’s apartment, which had an outside entrance, and knocked, hoping that she was there and not already gone to cop her first shot of the day without her. Hazel knocked on the door again and waited for a response. “Come on, Millie,” Hazel whispered as she blew into her hands, trying to warm them. After a minute straight of non-stop knocking, Millie answered the door. She had a rag on her head and a robe on as she opened the door, yawning.

  “Hey, baby,” she whispered as she walked into the living room and flopped on the couch. Hazel walked in and looked at the apartment, which she had not seen in a week or so.

  “Hey, Millie,” Hazel said as she walked into the apartment. The apartment was small and tidy, not what you would think a dope addict lived in. Hazel had been living with her up until Seven came and got her. Millie had pretended to be crazy and got some case worker to grant her an SSI check, which worked out great for Millie. On the first of the month she would pay all her bills and shot the rest of the money up in her veins. Hazel sat on the couch and watched as Millie faded into the bathroom.

  “You got any?” Hazel yelled back so she could hear her.

  “Hell naw! I wish. I thought you did, coming over this early.” Millie yelled as she began to wash her face with the door open, where Hazel could see her.

  “Hell naw. I need some bad though. My stomach hurts like a mufucka.”

  Millie returned to the living room, unwrapped her hair, lit a cigarette, and put a pot of coffee on. “And where the hell you been, Hazelnut? I haven’t heard from you in a week. The last time I saw you Seven was dragging yo’ ass out of the spot.”

  “Yeah, that nigga be tripping. After we went to see Apple in jail, he has been on my ass like white on rice. He said he want me to get clean and all,” Hazel said as she began to hold her stomach as the sharp pain shot through it. “And this nigga got the nerve to try to put me in some rehab place. I took one look at them lames and dipped out. Fuck that.”

  Millie poured herself a cup of coffee and joined Hazel on the couch. She looked at Hazel and remorse was all she could feel. She was looking at a fiend who was once an innocent little girl. She was the blame for her addiction and it burdened her soul. However, Hazel was on a destructive path anyway if Millie knew it or not. Hazel always was extra curious about heroin. It was only a matter of time before she experimented with it.

  “That’s not a bad idea, girl. Maybe it is time for you to shake this shit,” Millie said, meaning every word of it. Millie put her cigarette in the ashtray and grabbed Hazel by the hands, squeezing them slightly. “ I remember the first day I met you. You came in the detention center sweet as pie and look at you know. You a gangster!” Millie said, smiling, trying to get Hazel to smile too. “Naw, but fa’ real . . . You should let Seven help you out. I already fucked up my life, but you don’t have to do this shit. When I was about your age, a man who I loved so much got me off that shit, but I didn’t stay strong and I regret that shit every day,” Millie said as she rubbed the tattoo on her neck that read “Tical,” the deceased man she was referring to. “When you do them drugs . . . it takes away your soul,” Millie said as tears began to form in her eyes. Hazel reminded Millie so much of herself, it was surreal to her.

  “I know . . . I know,” Hazel said as she dropped her head, knowing Millie was telling her nothing but the truth. Millie talked to Hazel for about an hour, but that “getting clean” conversation quickly ended once Millie began to get her Jones and her stomach also began to call for dope. With two weak-willed addicts and no one to tell their contesting their high . . . they left Millie’s apartment, searching for their first shot of the day.

  Seven sat at his low-key apartment where he and Rah kept their money and most of the product. Only they knew the whereabouts of the place, which was on the east side, about twenty minutes from Seven’s territory. The sound of the money machine was like music to Seven’s ears. He had just flipped the whole ten bricks that Hassan had hit him with within a week’s time. Rah pulled the money out of the book bag and stacked it on the table, preparing them to go through the machine. Seven had made more money in that past week than he had in the last six months. Hassan really put him on another level as far as the dope game was concerned.

  In the midst of the money counting process, Seven’s phone rang.

  “Yo’,” Seven said as he put his phone to his ear.

  “That’s fucked up, my nigga,” the man said on the other end of the phone. Seven pulled the phone from his ear and looked at the caller ID to see who was on the other end; it was Mouse from the south side.

  “What you talking about?” Seven asked calmly.

  “You shorted me on the brick. You owe me about a quarter brick,” Mouse lied, really only being short about ten grams. Mouse had an aggressive tone, obviously irritated by Seven.

  “Yo’, you betta fall back, homeboy. I weighed them shits up myself. It was on point when I gave it to you. Don’t try to pull that slick shit because I ain’t for it,” Seven said coldly.

  “It’s like that?” Mouse asked while getting more angry at the situation the more he thought about it. “Somebody coming up with my shit. I ain’t taking no shorts!” Mouse screamed into the phone.

  “Have a nice day, sir,” Seven answered nonchalantly while smirking and pushing the end button at the same time. He looked at Rah and shook his head from side to side. “See, that’s why I don’t deal with niggas. They always are trying to squeeze you for more, trying to get over. I hate petty niggas.”

  “Why? Who was that? What happened?” Rah asked while wrapping a rubber band around a stack of money.

  �
�That was Mouse bitch ass,” Seven answered.

  “From the south side? I never liked that nigga. He grimey as hell. Don’t know why you deal with the nigga anyway.”

  “He spends good money with me. That’s the only reason why. But now I’ma cut his ass off. He said that his pack was short, but I sat and watched Natasha weigh up every brick at Hassan’s house. Every brick was on point! Clown-ass nigga,” Seven said as he continued the money process. They both shook their heads and swept the situation under the rug and chalked it up to the game . . . but Mouse didn’t.

  Hazel stood outside in the cold as she blew into her hands and shifted from one foot to the other trying to stay warm. “Come on, Millie,” Hazel said to herself as she eyed the door to the dope house that Millie had gone in about five minutes before. Hazel gave her the twenty dollars that Seven had given her for lunch so that Millie could buy dope instead. Millie came storming out of the dope house yelling with a frown on her face.

  “Fuck y’all then! Y’all scared of money!” Millie said as she walked off the porch to join Hazel.

  “What happened?” asked Hazel.

  “They won’t let me cop because of you. Seven got them shook. I mean . . . nobody wouldn’t sell me shit. This some bullshit!” Millie replied, frustrated as hell.

  “Fuck! Let’s just cop from that spot in Selby Hood,” Hazel recommended as she gripped her aching stomach.

  “Hell naw. We might as well not cop if we gon’ cop that bullshit. We need some of that Lady Luck,” Millie said as she began to walk down the street thinking hard about where they could go and cop. “Oh, I know!” Millie said excitedly as she stopped in her tracks and smiled. “Last week I copped some good shit from this trick nigga on the south side.”