“Slim, cut the shit. I know that much!” Now isn’t the time to play. I just made a big ass commitment.
“Nah, I’m just kidding,” he laughs. “What do you mean? Do I know how to cut it?”
“Yeah, do you?”
“Of course! I’m the best when it comes to cutting dope,” he claims. “In my day, everyone wanted me to go to the table for them!”
“So, how much can you make off of a half a kilo?”
“A half a kilo? That’s a lot of bread,” he answers.
“About how much?” I ask.
“Bang Man, let me see! A half a kilo is 500 grams, right? Each gram makes about one brick of dope.”
I begin calculating. A brick of dope is $500, if you take it to the ground (meaning sell it on the street) so that’s $500 x 500 grams, which equals $250,000. Damn! That’s a big difference compared to a half a kilo of cocaine. All I have to give Juan back is $45,000; that leaves me with $205,000.
“A gram can do a little over a brick, but if you want it strong, you don’t want to put too much cut on it,” Slim explains.
“Nah, one brick is good. Are you sure you know how to do it?” I ask.
“Bang Man, I’m positive!”
“Slim we’re about to blow! This nigga just hit me with a half a joint, and he has a lot more!”
“Yeah?”
For some strange reason, Slim doesn’t look excited at all.
“Psst, psst!” He starts picking his teeth. “Big Time, are you sure you want to fuck with the dope?”
“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” I ask sarcastically.
“I mean, with the Mayor running around here like that,” he whispers. “He thinks the dope game is his.”
“Slim, fuck Junebug! Fuck his goons! And fuck everybody else who ain’t with us! I just had a seven-year layoff. I’m starving. I’m not going to let these young niggas stop me from eating! Besides, I’ll be moving it out of town. I don’t want to work too close to home.”
“Big Time, the dope game is a lot different from cocaine. A different kind of heat and everything.”
“Slim, make up your mind. When I first checked out (came home), you told me dope is where the money is. Now you’re trying to talk me out of it! But it’s too late now; the package will be there first thing in the morning.”
On the way home, we don’t talk much. I try to figure out how I’m going to move all that dope. By the end of the ride, I come to the conclusion that I’m only going to wholesale the bricks. Once I find out how much other cats are wholesaling for, then I can determine the price I’ll be selling mines for. I know a couple of cats out of town who only sell dope. I’ll make a few phone calls and it will be on.
As soon as we get back into town, my phone starts ringing. Ring, ring! “Hello?” I answer. “Yeah? Right now? All right bet!” Click.
“That was Mike’s nephew. He said he just dropped his chick off at the projects, and he saw Wu out there balling (hustling).”
Slim doesn’t respond. I begin to speed through the streets recklessly. As I approach the traffic light, it turns yellow. I speed right through. I speed through the light at the next corner and the next corner, too. The last light I couldn’t catch. It turned red while I was halfway through the block.
While sitting at the light, I’m startled by a tapping on the window. Tap, tap. I look over. There stands a bum. He’s old; he appears to be a crack head. I’m already pissed about Wu. I’m so anxious to get there, and on top of that, this motherfucker is tapping on my window. I roll the window down slowly. “What?” I snap. “Excuse me, do you have a little change for the homeless?”
“No! I don’t have shit, and don’t be banging on my window like that!” I roll my window up right in his face.
“Hold up, Big Time!” Slim screams. Then he gestures for the man to come over to his side. He digs into his pants pockets. The man runs to the passenger side as the light turns green. Beep, beep, beep! Slim pulls from his pocket three wrinkled dollars and a handful of lint. “Here!”
“Thank you, sir!” the man shouts, as I speed off.
I watch Slim out of the corner of my eye.
“Psst, psst!” He begins to pick his teeth, just like he always does when he’s in a thinking process.
“Why did you give that motherfucker your money? All he’s going to do is buy drugs with it!”
Slim stops picking his teeth. He keeps his eyes straight ahead. Never once does he look my way. “It doesn’t matter to me what he does with the money. When I look at guys like that, I see myself. Big Time, if it wasn’t for you and Desire, I would probably be in that same position. Yeah, I gave him my last three dollars, but do you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I know how it feels to be sick and can’t get off E,” he replies. “I don’t wish that feeling on nobody. Big Time, never shit on anybody. You never know when you’ll need a hand. I’m a prime example of that. At one time I was on top of the world. Now look at me. Who would have known shit would have turned out like this? But throughout all the bullshit, I’m still blessed. I think God takes care of me from all those old blessings. Sure I done did some terrible shit, but I done did some righteous shit, too! Big Time, you gotta keep your shit balanced. You never know when you’ll need some of those old blessings. Every time you do a good deed, look at it like another blessing in the blessing bank. When you get my age, you can live off of the blessings you have accumulated. Hopefully, you’ve saved enough to carry you through your entire life. Me, I might not have no money, but my blessing account is flooded.”
I’m speechless. All I can do is snicker. You have to admire Slim. Through all the bullshit, he still looks at life from the bright side. Not only does this guy keep me on point, he never lets me forget what life is really about. I really don’t know what I’d do without him.
I’m approaching the projects, finally! I slowly pull in the parking lot. I see small huddles of people in front of every entrance of each of the six buildings. There’s a hot dog truck in the middle of the parking lot. Everyone is focused on that. At least 20 children are lined up at the truck. Besides that, there is a black, convertible Porsche with a temporary plate parked right behind the truck. A small crowd has also formed around the car. Everyone stares at the car in admiration as the driver shows off the interior of his car. No one even notices us pull in.
“Do you see him?” I ask.
“Nope,” Slim answers slowly.
I cruise around the entire complex, looking in everyone’s face trying to see if I spot Wu. I don’t see him anywhere.
I then take a second spin around. Now everyone is staring at us as I slowly circle the lot.
“I don’t think he’s in here, Big Time.”
“He must have left. Damn!” As I get to the exit, I step on the brakes. I take one more look over the entire complex. I happen to lock eyes with two kids to the right of me. They’re looking at me and smiling from ear to ear.
“What the fuck are they looking at?” I ask.
“Who?” Slim questions.
“Them two over there!” Now I put all my focus on them. They begin to ease away, but they’re still smiling.
I turn to my left just in the nick of time. To my surprise, standing not even ten feet away is Wu with a long-nose revolver aimed at us.
“Duck!” I yell.
Scuuurrrr! The car peels off sluggishly. Boom! He fires again. I tuck my head down by the steering wheel. Slim has his head between his legs. “Go Big Time, go!” Boom! He fires again. Boom! And again. I finally make it through the exit.
As I turn onto the street, he fires again. Boom! Thump! This one hits the back window. The entire glass shatters. The whole window is out. I can feel a draft of wind blowing through the car. “Slim, you all right?”
“Yeah, just go!” Scuurrrrr! I lose control of the car. I lift my head up slightly to regain control. I quickly glance back to make sure he’s gone. The coast is clear. Exhale! I slow down.
“He�
��s gone!” I shout. Slim lifts his head slowly and looks back. In the rearview mirror, I can see the kid who was smiling at us. He’s at the entrance, celebrating and jumping for joy.
“Bang Man, that motherfucker tried to take us out!”
“I’m going to kill that motherfucker!” I shout. “I don’t believe this shit! This nigga must don’t know who the fuck I am! He done fucked up now! This motherfucker just played me out!”
Slim is in shock. His hands are shaking uncontrollably. Beads of sweat are dripping down his face.
Sniff! Sniff! The tears are rolling down my face. Sniff! I can’t believe this shit. I’ve never been disrespected like this. Sniff! Wu is going to pay for this shit. Sniff! That stunt will cost him his life. If I don’t do anything else in life, I’m going to finish his ass! Sniff!
CHAPTER 18
Today Love didn’t go to work. Late last night we got a call from the realtor telling us to come in today and sign all the papers to finalize everything for the condo. We’re out of here, finally! Now I can really do my thing. This is the best news I’ve heard in a long time, especially since that shit Wu pulled last night. He’s going to pay dearly. The good thing is that no one will know where to find me. They’ll be expecting to find me at the old house, but I’ll be long gone.
Deep down inside, I really hate the fact of selling the house. This is the only concrete memory I have of Big Ma. Hopefully, Big Ma understands that this is for security purposes. Big Ma hated me being on the streets. But she always told me, if you’re going to get into trouble, it better be worth it. That’s why no matter what, I always think big. I always said if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it big. What’s the sense in risking your freedom for a couple of pennies? If you get caught, you’re going to do the same time as a cat who’s doing major things. Besides, if you only want a little money, you might as well get a job. That’s always been my motto.
Big Ma, I hope you’re resting in peace. I know I’m living wrong, but God knows I want to change. And I will change. Just bear with me and continue to pray for me.
Love complained about selling the house, but she didn’t sleep all night, thinking about our new condo. She even had me looking in furniture books at four in the morning. Oh, and the ring, she loves it. All last night, I kept catching her posing in the mirror, trying to see how it looks on her. She asked when we’re getting married. I told her to set the date for two months exactly. By that time, I should have all the dough I need, and I’ll be done with the streets. Especially if this dope thing goes the way I plan. With the coke and the dope, I should be rich in no time.
The incident with Wu last night is a wake up call for me. I was supposed to spend the day with my family, but instead I chose the streets. Look what that almost got me.... murdered. I wanted to go right back to the projects and do me, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what Mike Mittens told me, about having too much to lose. That’s so true. I can’t be stupid like these young niggas. They do everything for the people. I’m not doing it for the people. Fuck what the people think. Worrying about what people will think will get me 100 years. In my earlier years, I was just like them, trying to impress the people. But now I’m almost ten years older and twenty years wiser. Fuck the people; I want self-satisfaction.
Right now, I’m waiting for the delivery. Desire went on a job interview this morning. Thank God! I gave her $1,000 to get three business suits. She didn’t have one presentable outfit in her entire wardrobe. The only job she could’ve gotten wearing the clothes in her wardrobe would be a job on the hoe stroll.
I guess her not dealing with the kid Ice is starting to take a toll on her. She needs money. She’s so broke, not only did I have to feed her baby, I also had to pay for the babysitter to mind her son while she went on the interview.
Me and Slim have been together since early this morning. We even went to the smoke shop to get all the ingredients he needs to cut the dope. Some of the ingredients I’ve never heard of. The only two things I was familiar with were quinine and bonita. The rest I was totally in the dark about.
After about an hour and a half of waiting, the bell rings. I peek out the window. When I spot the green Toyota Land Cruiser, I quickly run to the porch and grab the package. I step back in and immediately open the package. Slim starts to examine the contents.
“Bang Man, this is definitely the right shit!”
“Yeah? Are you sure?”
“Hell yeah!”
“How you know?” I ask.
“Besides me being a junkie, this was my game right here,” he admits.
Slim rolls up his sleeves. Damn, I see why he keeps long-sleeved shirts on. He doesn’t have a clean spot on his arm. Needle marks cover his entire arm. As long as I’ve known him, I’ve never seen his arms. I sort of wish I hadn’t seen them now.
Slim sees me staring at them. He shamefully pulls his sleeves back down.
“Slim, are you sure you know what you doing?” I have to ask; $45,000 is too much money to play with.
“Big Time, have I ever steered you wrong?”
Before I can answer, Slim is already going to work. He puts on his mask. Then he starts mixing and doing his thing.
I tried to watch him, so I could see the entire process, but I fell asleep. I’m so tired from Love keeping me up all night. The last thing I remember is Slim saying, he’s only going to cut a little bit just to see if it’s strong enough. The next thing I know, he’s waking me up. He’s done. He has a big mound of beige powder on the table in front of him.
“You all done?” I ask.
“Yeah, I’m done.”
I want him to check it out, but I know he won’t do it in front of me. He has too much respect for me.
So what we did is fill a couple of the tiny envelopes with powder. I tell Slim to call a few of his buddies up and we take the samples to them. This way we’ll know what we’re working with.
Altogether we give out six samples, three to mainliners or Old School as they call it, (Shooters). The other three, we give to some sniffers.
Our last stop is Slim’s main man, ‘the Doctor’ as everyone calls him. He earned the nickname because he’s the guy who shoots everyone’s dose for them. All the junkies trust him to poke them. They won’t let anyone else do it. He’s supposed to be the best. Slim says he’s gentle and takes his time. Supposedly, he can find veins that no one else can find. Slim purposely saved him for last.
So far everyone else says it’s good, Slim knows The Doctor will keep it real whether he hurts your feelings or not. Slim says, he’ll tell you to your face whether or not it’s garbage, unlike the other guys, who tell you it’s good just because it’s free. This is the guy that Junebug lets test his work before he puts it on the street. He knows that if it’s good, the Doctor will spread the word; if it’s bad, he’ll tell that, too. He claims that he’s the consultant in the ghetto. Everyone comes to him to find out who has it good, and he refuses to mess up his reputation by putting his clients on some bullshit.
As the Doctor comes walking out of the backroom, unrolling his sleeves, Slim sits there with a long face waiting for the results. The Doctor walks out just as straight as he walked in. I look him in the eyes.
“Well, what’s up Doc?” I ask. He stands there face to face with me. He’s not even blinking.
He pauses. The anticipation is killing me.
“Youngblood, you got yourself a nice batch of garbage,” he admits.
“Huh?”
“Yeah, pure garbage,” he repeats. “The shit so bad, you won’t be able to sell it for $7 bags. This won’t even get a nigga off E! Whatever you do youngblood, don’t buy it. Give it back to whoever you got it from.”
“It’s too late. I already got it,” I admit shamefully.
“Do you have a lot of it?” he asks.
“Yeah, almost a half a kilo,” I reply.
“Oh, you have it raw?”
“Yeah!”
“Who cut it for you?” he asks.
/> “Slim.”
“Slim?” He busts out laughing. “He ain’t no chemist! I used to do all his chemistry!”
“Yeah? Slim told me he was the best.”
“No, he had the best. He had me!” the Doctor boasts. “Don’t fuck with Slim; you’ll fuck up the whole batch.”
“Motherfucker, I know how to cut dope. I just haven’t been in the lab in a long time!” Slim shouts.
“Yeah right,” the Doctor replies.
“Listen youngblood; bring the rest of that smack to me. I’ll take care of it for you. I guarantee you, nobody will be able to beat you out. I bet you I have every dope fiend around leaning, bent over, sucking his own dick. When I put the chemistry on some smack, ain’t a motherfucker around can stand up straight after he gets hold of my work,” the Doctor brags.
Me and Slim go to retrieve the rest of the dope, or smack as the Doctor calls it. I’m pissed off at Slim when I realize he has fucked up over 60 grams. That’s 60 bricks down the drain.
After dropping the smack off to the Doctor I leave. Slim stays with him to watch him and make sure he doesn’t dip. Normally, I wouldn’t leave two junkies alone like that, but I have some major business to handle. Besides, I have trust in Slim. Plus, he knows he’s already in the doghouse for fucking the dope up.
My man is up from Virginia; he’s buying six kilos. He always comes like that. He’s my heavy hitter. He comes up once a week for six pies. Him and his boys put their money together and he comes to get it. They have Virginia on lock. This was another one of Ice’s plugs, but I stole him too. Mike’s nephew put us together. Ice was robbing them. He was charging them $25,000 a kilo. He figured being that they are from down south, they’re slow. Them guys are coming with over 200 grand; you don’t treat them like that. That’s bad business. When I gave them the price of $20,000, they almost lost their minds. I give Mike’s nephew $1,000 off of every pie they buy. That leaves me with a profit of $18,000 every time I serve them.
I know if Ice isn’t missing anyone else, I know he’s missing the hell out of them. It’s no way you can get used to making $18,000 profit off one guy, then all of a sudden, out of the blue, he doesn’t come anymore. There’s no way. He’s taking it better than me. Had it been the other way around, I would have killed the competitor and them country boys. Shit!
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