by MT Pope
“Roy, don’t do nothing stupid,” she warned me as I walked toward the Texaco payment station. One of them was in line waiting to pay. He looked me up and down as I walked up behind him.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” I barked at him.
He looked me up and down again, and then turned back around in line. His punk ass must have known better. He moved up to the counter and paid for his gas. As he left, he mugged me, and I mugged him right back. The look on my wife’s face as she watched me watch him walk over to his car pleaded with me not to take it any further. Then I looked at my son in the backseat and cooled it down for him. He was my champ and my prince. I didn’t want him to see me acting out over a faggot. I was going to get even later.
The only reason I was even at this gas station pumping my own gas was because my wife wanted to feel like a “real family” and not the great drug king’s family that I was on my way to becoming. She wanted to go out on a “family outing” and not have one of my drivers with me. She didn’t know that I always had someone on watch. She just couldn’t see it. I had things on and popping, and my life was moving in the best direction possible.
The streets of Baltimore have always been my way of living since I could remember. I didn’t have a sob story or a victim mentality. I just took shit as it came my way. I didn’t punk out. When things got tough, I got tougher. I rolled with the punches. Life was not for no losers and wimps. I have taken lives and some more shit. I was in for the long haul. I looked at my family, and that shit drove me to let nothing stop me.
There was one problem that was keeping me from a full-fledged takeover of Baltimore City. These muthafuckin’ faggots got some good shit going on, and it’s dipping into my finances. I wasn’t strapped for cash, but I knew that I was supposed to be making more money than I was bringing in. In fact, I was feeling the squeeze in several areas where I was normally bringing in big bucks. I did the normal shit like other drug lords do. I threatened a few of my lieutenants and even killed one or two that I presumed was skimming. I knew my men feared me, but they weren’t my problem. My problem was with the addicts. They had a new drug of choice that was getting the best of my supplies. These days and ages, crack had taken a backseat to the real drug market. This new drug was something called Drank. It hit the city like crack in the eighties. This new generation is getting high any way they can. The thing is, nobody can track this guy that is at the top of this new Gay Mafia. I know a few police are watching me, but they can’t get me on anything. But this guy is virtually invisible. I have a few police on the inside, and they are clueless as well. They have tried to get a picture of him, but he is elusive and cunning. Which lets me know that the money he’s making is what I should be making. My main objective in life now is to find something better than what this guy is selling or get his spot and take his shit from him. I’m praying for the latter. There is nothing like taking what is rightfully yours. Real men should be running this city, not these he-shes.
Chapter 3
Monica
The Deep End
We were supposed to be having a nice outing with just us as a family, and I couldn’t even enjoy it because of the hatred that was brewing inside of my husband. Being the wife of a very powerful drug dealer and even a legitimate business owner was not a problem for me. I grew up in various parts of Baltimore, but mostly the very dangerous parts. I’ve seen killings, robberies, and drug activities extensively in my lifetime. I was now as close to immune as one could get to it. My husband was very passionate about his family, and he does what it takes to keep us comfortable and happy. But as of late, he has been going off the deep end. He was awake most of night, meeting with his men at strange hours, and had just plain erratic behavior. I could deal with all of that if he didn’t start pacing the house and talking to himself. Plus, he has guns in almost every room of the house. He didn’t even care if my son saw them or not. He was starting to scare the shit out of me. When my eighteen-year-old son came up to me and told me about the conversations that his father was having with him, that’s when I truly became fearful. I couldn’t get the thoughts out of my mind.
“Ma, Dad said I could kill a guy if he comes on to me.” He looked up to me. I was bringing him his breakfast at the kitchen table.
“What!” I looked at him like he had lost his mind. “Your father didn’t say that to you,” I laughed, trying to make light of the situation. I didn’t want my son to see that what he just said had rocked me to the core. Leroy was slowly losing his mind.
“No joke, Ma.” He looked at me intensely. “He said all them faggots need to die a slow, painful death. When I was playing my Halo games, he was telling me how to shoot them in the head like I was doing while I was playing the game. He said just like those cops are killing us, we should be doing the same thing to them punks.”
“Corey, your father was probably drunk or playing with you when he was saying those things. Don’t take him serious.” I looked him in the eyes to let him know that I was serious.
“He looked serious to me.” The stony expression on his face matched that of his father’s on the average day, so I knew that he wasn’t joking. I joined him with my breakfast. We ate in silence. After about fifteen minutes, he got up from the table, put his empty plate in the sink, and walked off.
I shook my head because I didn’t know what else my husband would do or tell my son. Shit, I don’t know what the hell he was going to do to anyone. He was like a walking time bomb.
“Babe, look at that sun go down. Isn’t that just beautiful?” I rested on my husband’s chest as we coasted out on the Chesapeake. We were on a boat that I had my husband buy us so we could get away. We were from some of the grimiest parts of Baltimore, but that didn’t mean that we didn’t like the finer things in life. This boat cost us a pretty penny, but it was well worth it. Besides, now, we have plenty more money than we did when he first started hustling.
“Yeah, it’s a’ight.” He twisted up his face a little. I could only assume that he didn’t want to be here because his focus went back to his phone after a few seconds; then he took a phone call which I was sure was business. He wanted to be somewhere planning this big takeover. His phone was in his hand the whole time, and I wanted to be where that phone was right now. In his hands. This was not a pleasure trip for me at all.
If I was the insecure type, I would be worried that he was sneaking around on me, but he’s smarter than that. He knows that I am not one to play with. I wasn’t with a drug dealer because I had prissy ways. I have five brothers, and they didn’t play with dolls, and neither did I. I was a brawler for sure, but now I was a bit calmer than I was when I was in my twenties. My thirties have calmed me down a tad as well. I still would snatch a wig if I had to, but Roy knows that I would kill him, and the police would never find his body. My brothers work for him, so he knew better anyway.
“Roy, I thought we were supposed to be enjoying this time together without you focused on business.” I gently caressed a few of the curly hairs on his chest. It was usually a cue for him to know that I wanted to be intimate.
“Monica, business never stops because I’m away. You know this.” He got up aggressively and walked over to the edge of the boat. It pissed me off, but I let it slide because I didn’t want to agitate the situation anymore. He was the man, and I was his woman. I knew my place. And this moment, I needed to let him be. He was good at his business, and I like the proceeds of said business.
I let him be and went below the deck to be with my son, who I know was playing his game. He was quiet, and that was one of the only things he did, as a boy like him would normally be jerking off or talking to girls on his phone.
Chapter 4
Corey
Just Normal
I was glad to be out here on the water with my parents. We felt like a normal family. Even though my dad has been bugging out for a minute now, we’re still cool. He was just doing what he had to do for his family. I wasn’t a normal kid in a normal fami
ly. I knew that my father was part of the reason that many of my friends didn’t have some of their parents or other relatives due to the havoc that the drug market is wreaking on the city of Baltimore and plenty of the surrounding areas. We lived in the suburbs, but my father worked in the city, just like tons of blue-collar families. On paper, we lived in the city, but we resided out here in Westminster, Maryland. It was quiet as hell out here, but it was cool to not have to deal with the city life directly. I went to a city school and enjoy my city friends but went home to the quiet life. I was an eighteen-year-old at the beginning of my last year of high school. I had some learning challenges as a kid that caused me to be held back a grade, but now, I was one of the smartest in my class. My beginning didn’t define my end, and I’m glad about it.
Anyway, I wasn’t like everybody else. Normal. That was a big word that I didn’t understand. What is normal? I didn’t know, but I knew that I wasn’t in the world’s category of normal.
I’m gay. I like giving and taking dick. I have wrestled with it for so long now. I fought the urges and tried to ignore the fact that I wasn’t the least bit interested in girls. I think that my mother knows about it. Most mothers know about these types of things by some type of instinct or something. If she does, she doesn’t talk about it or question me at all.
My father, on the other hand, has a huge problem with the whole “new” gay agenda. So, what do you do when your father is hell-bent on destroying gay life and all involved? What does his son do? He keeps that shit to himself like the fuck he has been doing. I’ll deal with it when it comes to that. For now, I’m a girl whore. It’s all about the ladies for me as far as it concerns anyone else.
I was down here playing on my game and texting to this hot little piece of ass that wants me to smash soon. He was a piece of straight trade that lived a few houses down from me. We’ve been texting for a minute now, and I was so ready to give him the best dick of his life. He wasn’t my first piece of ass, but I wanted to know how he felt on the inside. I personally couldn’t wait until he was sliding up and down on my manhood. As for now, I just have to wait until the time is right. Tonight would have been perfect, but we both had family obligations.
I heard my mother coming downstairs, so I hid my phone underneath my pillow and pretended like I was fully concentrating on the game I was playing.
“Hey, baby, what level you up to?” she asked as she plopped down beside me on the bed. She wasn’t all that knowledgeable about the games I played, but it was fun watching her pretend as if she cared.
“The hard level.” I laughed and continued to play the game that was just on pause a few seconds ago.
“You are such a smart-ass.” She playfully pushed me. I loved my mom. She wasn’t all mushy and emotional. She was quite tough. I loved that about her. She wasn’t a man by a long shot, though. She was an absolute lady. “So who was the chick that you were down here texting before I got down here? And why is your phone under the pillow?”
“Ma, I wasn’t texting anyone.”
“Are you sure that’s your final answer?” She looked at me with an expressionless face. I was stalling. I wasn’t going to give in. My father taught me that.
“Yep.” I continued to look ahead at the game on the television screen.
“So that flashing light underneath that pillow is what?” I heard her say while mentally kicking myself. I was caught. I gave in, paused my game once again, reached under the pillow, and pulled out my phone. That had a text message notification blinking a green light that she saw against the white of the pillow. I didn’t push it far enough under the pillow. I should remind myself to turn that shit off as soon as I get a chance.
I looked at my phone and saw that it was a message from Greg. I had his name under a female name like I did with all the other guys that I was trying to get with. I was a good-looking chocolate brother with defining features that men and women loved. I came from good stock, as they say.
“Who the hell is Michelle and when are we going to meet her?” My mother leaned over and looked at the screen of my phone, and then leaned back. I could feel her looking at me and waiting for answer.
“When the time is right, you and Dad will get to meet Michelle. It’s not rock solid yet, so I’m not going to waste her and y’all’s time with something that probably won’t work out. Feel me?” I looked at her in the eyes with a serious look on my face. I was being genuine now. I did want them to meet my mate when the time was right and the person was right. I was waiting just as much as they were to meet the one.
“Corey, don’t be out here fucking these skanky broads without any protection. Most young girls are up to no good these days, and they are always trying to trap the next guy that is about something.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. I strap up every time.”
“So your ass is fucking. I knew you were. I just needed confirmation, and you just gave it to me.” She looked at me and shook her head. It didn’t look like a totally disagreeing shake but more of a concerned one. “My baby is all grown up. What am I going to do with you?”
“I don’t know, but could you leave me alone so I can get my mack on in private?” I laughed.
“Damn, both my men are acting funny. Let’s see how this plays out when you guys want something to eat,” she laughed as she got up from beside me.
I laughed as well, and then breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that she was now gone up on the deck. I was so glad that she didn’t grab my phone and scroll up because she would have seen an ass and dick shot that “Michelle” just sent me. That would have been a hard thing to explain, and the gig would have been up.
Chapter 5
Clayton
APB
Baltimore used to be “The City that Reads.” Now, it’s “The City that Breeds” . . . crime, that is. I’ve been a cop for a long time now, and the crime in the city has taken a turn for the worse. “Just say no” is out the window and people are getting high off anything. The age group has changed as well. I’ve never arrested or seen so many strung out kids in all my life. Now, we have a new crime wave going on by this Gay Mafia that is setting this city ablaze. They are flooding the streets with this new “Drank” drug. It’s a mixture of a controlled cough syrup called promethazine mixed with soda or something close to it. It didn’t take much to get high off it. I’m learning that with a sip or two, you can coast on a high for an hour or two. The adverse effects were devastating, however. The heart is its target, and it’s killing many people . . . or leaving them in a serious, irreversible condition.
I was sitting at my desk waiting for a parent to come to my office to give me some details on the case I was looking over now. Their daughter was now on a respirator, among other machines, keeping her “alive.” I had the task of going to the hospital a few days ago to look at her, and it blew my mind. I don’t have any children, but the presence of so many machines and tubes and things running in and out of this child’s body was heartbreaking. As I stood in the room and took all of it in, it saddened me to see this, and it also made me wonder what could drive a child to do something like this to herself. Was it peer pressure, family issues, or experimentation? None of the answers could bring this young adolescent back to her healthy state before the drug she had consumed.
“This is so heartbreaking,” I heard a voice say from behind me. I turned to see a black man with a white jacket on. I assumed he was the resident doctor and caregiver for this patient. “I’ve had so many patients come in here because of this new drug, yet I am still disheartened every time a new one shows up. It’s an epidemic. One we never saw coming.” He shook his head. One could see that he was sincere in what he said. He walked over to the young girl’s bed and gently ran his hand up and down one of her hands. There was no response from her. Never would be again.
“Yes, you are so right,” I agreed. “This cannot be allowed to go on.”
“What can be done?” he probed. “This is happening right in front of us,
and no one knows where it’s coming from or who is flooding the streets with this new killer.”
“There is always someone at the top. Always someone to answer for the lives lost. No one can stay hidden forever. This person will slip up, and there will be someone there to catch them. Always.” I felt the conviction in my heart as I spoke these words. How can someone mercilessly peddle this drug in the streets among the other drugs that continue to plague the world? This person had to be caught and brought to justice.
“I sure hope that somebody does something soon. This is just cruel.” He shook his head. I couldn’t help but notice that this doctor was very good looking. I almost got lost in the gaze of his eyes.
“I’ll do my best. By the way, my name is Detective Stewart. I’m lead detective on these cases.” I reached out to shake his hand. He didn’t hesitate to do the same.
“I’m Dr. Anthony Moore. I’m the attending physician for this ward and a specialist dealing with substance abuse and the trauma that results from the use, though treating patients this young is new and heartbreaking for me. I’m doing my best to cope and leave my personal feelings out of this.”
“Yes, I can only imagine.” I nodded my head. “I too have the same sentiments you have.”
As we stood in the middle of the room talking, two people made their way into the room. Their faces were flushed with tears, and their shoulders were slumped. Sorrow was a part of their life right now. I could only imagine their thoughts since I was without a child.
“Mr. and Mrs. Rogers, this is Detective Stewart. He’s going to find the person that is responsible for your daughter’s present state,” Doctor Moore said as he looked at them, and then at me.
The lady, who looked to be in her early thirties, was overcome with grief. She sobbed and fell into the arms of the man that she was with.
