Block Party

by Al-Saadiq Banks

  CHAPTER 19

  The deal with the kid from Va. went smooth. Immediately after that, I had to meet with another kid. He bought one bird. Altogether, I sold seven pies in that little time frame. I made $20,000 profit before the Doctor even finished. Today is a good day.

  I call Slim to check up on him. He tells me to come over and to bring more envelope packets for the dope. So before going to the Doctor’s house, I stop at the smoke shop.

  By the time I arrive, five other guys are in the house. All of them including the Doctor and Slim, are walking around like zombies. They’re bent over and scratching like flea-infested dogs. They say when it makes them itch, that’s a sign of good dope.

  “What we look like Doc?” I ask.

  “Ask your boy,” he replies.

  “What’s up Slim?”

  “Bang Man!” he drags, on with a dry, aggravating voice. “We got a smoker!”

  I laugh.

  “Come on youngblood; let’s get this shit bagged up,” says the Doctor.

  We begin dumping the powder into the tiny envelopes.

  It took us forever to bag up, and we still didn’t finish. We ran out of envelopes before we ran out of smack. I was uneasy about letting the dope fiends help bag up, but The Dr. insisted. He said it would take three of us a lifetime to finish. I know they probably robbed me blind. I watched them as close as I could, but after a few hours, I was so busy trying to finish that I didn’t pay much attention to them. My fingers are cramped up from handling the little packets. We must have used a whole box of masks. The Dr. said the masks are a must when bagging up pure dope.

  In total, we packaged 460 bricks, which equals 23,000 bags of dope. That’s a little more than what Slim said it would make. The Doctor stretched it a little bit, but it’s still strong. He called a friend of his to check it out. He said on a scale of one to ten, he’d give it the whole ten. They’re begging me to put it on the street. Really they just want to have access to it. They say it’s much better than Junebug’s Block Party. They say the reading on his is only an eight, but he’s consistent. No matter what, he always has something good. Other spots will have a nine, and then next week they have a five. Not Junebug; when you go to him, there’s no gamble.

  “Where’s this going to be so I’ll know where to go?” asks the dope fiend.

  “I’m not sure yet,” I reply.

  “Well, at least tell me the name so I can listen out for it,” he says.

  “I don’t have a name for it yet. What do ya’ll think I should name it?” I ask them.

  “Uh, name it High Power!” screams the Doctor.

  “High Power?” I repeat. “What do you think about that Slim?” I look at Slim; he’s standing there bent all the way over, sucking his own dick as the Doctor calls it. He’s in one of the biggest nods I’ve ever seen. “Slim!” I repeat.

  He quickly snaps out of it. “Bang Man!” he shouts, while lifting up his head for a fraction of a second before fading back into his nod.

  Everyone waits for him to finish his statement, but he doesn’t. He just nods out again. “You heard the man. I’m going to call it Bang Man! I’m naming it after Slim.” They all laugh.

  “Listen youngblood, go to any office supply store and get a rubber stamp made with Bang Man. Get it in red letters so it will be easy to read, all right?”

  “Alright Doc,” I affirm. “How much do I owe you?”

  “Just give me a little something, but you have to promise me a job if you get some more. Is that a deal?” he asks. “That’s a deal,” I answer. “Here!” I toss him two bricks. The rest I pack into cardboard boxes. I don’t give the other guys anything. As high as they are, I’m pretty sure they have stole enough. Besides, the Doctor has 100 bags; he’ll take care of them.

  The Doctor helps me and Slim carry the big boxes to the car and we leave. Before dropping Slim off I give him a brick for his self.

  Now I’m on my way to one of the houses my sister owns. This is where I’m going to stash the dope for now. I’ll stash it in her basement. Her or no one else will ever know. Ever since I’ve been home, I’ve been maintaining the house for her. It’s a three-family house. She has tenants on all floors, but no one has access to the basement. I have the one and only key.

  Now that I’m thinking about it, I’m a little worried about the Doctor and Slim. Maybe that was a bad idea giving them all that dope. I hope they don’t overdose, especially the Doctor. I gave him 100 bags. He better not overdose. I need him.

  Before pulling into the garage of my sister’s house, I begin calculating. In, total I have 460 bricks. I gave three away. That leaves me with 457. If I wholesale them at $300 a brick, I can make $137,100 total. After subtracting the $45,000 for Juan, that leaves me with $92,100 profit. Damn! I love it when a plan comes together.

  CHAPTER 20

  The next morning

  The first thing me and Slim did, was go to the car lot. Not to buy another Benz, oh no. Today I picked up a black Ford Taurus (SHO). It’s a five speed. It’s in mint condition, and it’s superfast. She’ll definitely serve the purpose. As soon as I drove her off the lot, I took her directly to the tint shop. I got the darkest tint I could get.

  This car won’t be used for flossing. Tonight I’m going to take her for a nice test drive. She’s perfect; she’s jet black, no one will see her coming. Her windows are so dark that no one can see in, and she’s fast. Just in case shit gets hectic and the police jump on us, we’ll be able to get out of the hole with no problem.

  Tonight is Judgement Day for Wu. He will wish he never fucked with me.

  After dropping the car off, me and Slim start our day.

  “Bang Man, I’m hungrier than a hostage! Can we go over to Mickey Dees to get a bite to eat?”

  I make the quick left into the parking lot, only to be greeted by lying ass Latif. “Damn! I’m not in the mood for this bullshit today!” I pull into the space closest to the entrance. Latif dashes over to me. He has on the exact same clothes he had on the last time I saw him. When he gets over to the car, he puts on a big kool-aid smile. He then snatches his skullcap off his head.

  “I told you!” he shouts. I smile. He has a haircut. The nappy cornrows are gone. His hair is cut down to a Caesar. “I told you!” he repeats, with a big smile on his face.

  “Latif, what up?”

  “You, Cash!” he replies.

  Slim goes inside the store.

  “Cash, what happened to the boots I asked you for? Did you find anything for me?”

  “Nah, Latif, I haven’t had the time to look. I’ve been running so hard.”

  “Yo Cash, let me hold a few dollars.”

  “Come on Latif, damn!”

  Slim returns with the food. When I see Slim’s face, I automatically think about what he told me the other day about the blessing account. I then hand Latif a$20 bill.

  “Good looking out, Cash! I owe you a million, baby!”

  “Shit, if you don’t, you will,” I reply. “All the money you’ve borrowed over the years.”

  “Don’t worry; one day when I get back right, I’m going to repay you every penny I owe you,” he claims.

  “Yeah right.”

  “Nah, I’m for real Cash. You a good nigga. I told you before; I’m here at your disposal. Anything you need, I mean anything!”

  My mind begins to run wild. Should I? Na! Fuck it, it’s worth a shot.

  “Yo, I might have some work for you,” I whisper.

  “What up, what is it?” he asks anxiously.

  “We’ll kick it later,” I whisper. I don’t want to tell him what it is just yet. He might run around telling the whole world. “Check, if you’re serious, meet me right here tonight,” I whisper.

  “What time?” he asks, with a look of starvation in his eyes.

  “Meet me right here as soon as it gets dark.”

  “Bet!” he shouts. His eyes light up. “I’ll be right here! Don’t bullshit me, Cash. I need some work.”

 
“All right then, later La!”

  “Later Cash!”

  We pull off. I wait for Slim to respond. I don’t want to ask him for his opinion. I hope he offers it. I need to know if using Latif is a good idea.

  I wait and wait; Slim doesn’t say a word. I take it that he thinks it’s OK. If he didn’t he sure would have put me in my place.

  We’re on our way to make a drop-off to Mike’s nephew. He has a sale for a bird and a half. This young cat keeps me so busy. What would I do without him?

  CHAPTER 21

  I’m late. It’s been dark for over two hours now. Me and Slim have been working all day. Today has been the busiest day yet. Juggling the coke and dope is mind-boggling. Two different hustles, two different methods. You can’t deal with them the same. They both need their own special attention. It’s almost like juggling two full-time jobs.

  After the last drop-off, we picked up the other car from the stash spot. Slim hasn’t said a word since we changed cars. He’s been constantly picking his teeth. That tells me he’s in deep concentration.

  Tonight is the perfect night. We couldn’t have picked a better night. Tonight seems darker than normal. It could be from the thick fog that’s in the air. Click, click! Click, click! That’s the sound of two nine millimeters. Slim is loading them up and making sure they’re in working order. Click! Click, click! He’s a gun expert. He can take a gun apart, and put it back together in a matter of minutes.

  “Pssst, pssst!” Slim picks his teeth.

  “What’s the matter Slim?”

  “Nothing,” he replies. “Why do you ask that?” Pssst, pssst!” He picks his teeth again. I’m not going to respond. I’ll just let him concentrate.

  This tint is so dark I can barely see where I’m going. I can’t even read the traffic signs. No one will be able to see in here, especially with this thick fog. They probably won’t even see the car coming.

  I make the left turn into McDonalds parking lot. “Watch it!” Slim shouts. “You almost hit the curb!” See, I told you these windows are dark. I glance over the lot. There’s no sign of Latif. I stop and look harder; still no sign of Latif. “I knew his lying ass wasn’t gone be here! I’m out! I’ll have to do this myself!”

  Slim doesn’t respond. I’m waiting for him to respond, but he doesn’t. He’s looking as if I haven’t said a word. Click, click! He’s fumbling with the guns. “Yeah, Big Time, they ready now! They’re fully loaded and ready to go! Sixteen in the clip and one in the pipe! Thirty-four shots altogether. A blind man can’t miss with thirty-four shots!” He laughs.

  Fuck it, I have to ask him. “Yo, you haven’t said a word about any of this!” I shout. “What do you think? Should I handle it myself or what?”

  “Pssst, psst!” He picks his teeth before speaking. “Bang Man, this something that gotta be dealt with, right?”

  “Yeah,” I reply.

  “Well, let’s deal with it.”

  That’s what I was waiting to hear. I just wanted him to give me the green light.

  “Anyway, you ain’t by yourself I got your back! What do you think I’m here for, my looks?” he asks, smiling from ear to ear, exposing his raggedy mouth. We both laugh.

  I turn out of the parking lot. As I cruise down the block, I decide to let Slim take the wheel now, while no one is around to see our faces. After switching seats, Slim pulls off slowly. “Let’s go,” he shouts.

  “When you get to the projects, go through the back entrance,” I instruct. “Don’t go through the front!”

  “OK, you the man,” says Slim.

  We cruise past the gas station. “Hold up! There’s Latif,” I point out.

  “Man, later for Latif!” Slim shouts. “If his punk ass wanted to go, he would have been there. You can’t force a man to do something if he don’t want to do it. His heart won’t be in it. He’ll be doing it for you, not cause he wants to. Fuck around and get us all an asshole full of time,” Slim explains.

  “Just pull over there and let me hear his punk ass excuse.”

  Slim pulls directly in front of him. He’s startled. He doesn’t know who’s in here. He tries to see through the tint. He’s bending over and squinting. Finally, we come to a complete stop. Now he’s really scared. We pull up on the side of him. He begins walking a little faster. We go faster. Now he’s taking full strides. Slim steps it up. Finally, he sprints off. “Bang Man, he gone! Look at this motherfucker go!” Slim laughs. “And this is the punk ass nigga you want to do some dirt with? You gotta be out of your mind.”

  “Go Slim, catch up with him.” Slim gasses up. We catch up with him immediately. I roll down the window. “Latif!” I yell. He’s still running full speed. “Latif, this Cashmere!” He slows down. Finally, I roll the window down all the way. He sees me and stops. He has the dumbest look on his face. I bust out laughing.

  “Nigga, what up?” I ask.

  “What up, Cash?” He’s embarrassed. “I waited over two hours for you,” Latif shouts. “I thought you were bullshitting, so I left.”

  “Have you ever known me to bullshit?” I ask. “Get your scary ass in!”

  “I ain’t scary! I didn’t know who the fuck you were,” he says. “Boy, I have done so much dirt; I thought my past had caught up with me!” he hollers, as he grabs the door handle, and gets in.

  “Latif, let me know now if you don’t want to roll.”

  “What, don’t want to roll? Nigga, you sound stupid. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. This is what I live for! Put this tape in,” he hollers, as he digs into the inside pocket of his raggedy, flannel, lumberjack coat. As he reaches over to hand me the tape, the stench of old socks out of a wet, dirty clothes hamper fills the air. I stick the tape into the radio. The music that’s coming out of the speakers is foreign to me. I don’t know who the artist is, but the hook goes like this: I play rough!

  I sit and listen to the entire song before I ask.... “Who is this?”

  “Oh, you ain’t up on this shit? This is ‘I Play Rough’ by Mob Style,” he states. “This is riding music! This is how I prep myself to put in work.”

  After that Latif doesn’t say another word. He sits there in a zone. He has his eyes closed, and he’s bopping his head real hard to the beat.

  “Rewind that!” he shouts, as the song fades out. I press the rewind button. The song replays. “Turn it up, Cash!” he instructs, with his eyes closed.

  “Hand me the bangers,” I whisper to Slim. Slim passes me the two twin, rubber gripped p89s. I sat one in my lap, and I hand the other one over my shoulder to Latif. Click, click. He checks to see if the gun has one in the chamber. He doesn’t say a word. He just continues bouncing to the beat.

  “Rewind that again,” he shouts.

  I look back at him. Now he’s in a full zone. He has his hand gripped tightly around the handle of the gun, and he’s bopping his head crazily like a maniac.

  Five minutes later, we pull to the back of the projects. Latif is still zoning. As we near the entrance, my heart starts pounding. My mind is running wild. Wu standing at my window is playing over and over in my head. Inhale! Exhale! I take a deep breath. “Pssst, pssst!” There goes Slim. “I play rough!” Latif sings. I turn the music down. Latif doesn’t even notice. He’s singing loud. “I play rough!” he shouts.

  “Latif!” I call. He doesn’t answer. “Latif!” I shout again. He still doesn’t answer; he just opens his eyes. “We’re here,” I inform. He looks around. His face shows no sign of emotion.

  We’ve been together for 20 minutes, and not one time has he asked who or what the beef is about.

  I grip my gun tightly. “Pssst, pssst!” Slim picks his teeth. He pulls up so we can view the parking lot. I look around. The parking lot is emptier than usual. “Turn the lights out, Slim. Pull up a little closer.”

  Two dudes are standing next to a black Cadillac Escalade. “Slim, do you see him?”

  “Nah.”

  “Sit tight for one minute; maybe he’s in the truck,” I ins
truct. The truck has out-of-state plates. The two dudes are laughing and playing around the truck. One of them is opening the passenger’s door, back and forth.

  We sit and watch for about five minutes.

  “Slim, pull a little closer. The tall one looks like it could be him.” The taller one is wearing the same kind of army camouflage jacket, Wu was wearing. “Is that him?” I ask.

  “Nah, Big Time, that kid has braids.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask. “Wu might be in the truck.”

  Latif hasn’t said a word since we pulled up. I wonder if he’s scared. Maybe he’s ready to back out. “Latif, what’s up? You’re kind of quiet back there. Are you all right?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I’m good! I’m just waiting for you to give me the word. I know one thing. We have to hurry up. We can’t sit here all night. It’s hot as hell down here. Five-0, stay coming through this motherfucker.”

  The interior light of the Caddy truck comes on. The driver’s door opens up. A girl with skintight jeans jumps from the truck. She has the tightest little body. She’s short and stacked. She runs around to the passenger side. Her and the boy start play-fighting. He lifts her by her ass and begins pumping on her like a maniac. Then the passenger door opens up and a second girl jumps out. She is even thicker than the first girl. Together they jump on the boy.

  “Damn, a truck full of bitches!” shouts Latif.

  The back door then opens up. A foot dangles in the air. It’s the boot of a man. “Hold up,” I shout. “This might be him, right here.” Seconds later, he sticks his other leg out. Now both of his legs are dangling in the air.

  “Bang Man, here come the police!”

  “Where?” I ask.

  “Coming down the block!” Just like Slim said, a police car is cruising up the block.