by Tom Nelson
“We gotta get you da fuck outa here.” Johnny says. “You ain’t safe here no more.”
“That’s for sure!” Tom agrees. “I’m gettin’ this car out of here, man. I’ll call you later.” Tom walks around to the driver’s side of the car, puts his pistol back in its holster and climbs in. There is a small amount of glass on the seat when he gets in, but he just sits right on it. He starts the car as Johnny walks up to his window. “I didn’t know you could throw down like that, Johnny. That was pretty fucking impressive!” Tom compliments his friend.
“You know,” Johnny says modestly, “I grew up in da ’hood and been watchin’ bad-boy movies all my life. Motherfucker learned to shoot!”
“Yeah, well, you had a whole Shaft thing goin’ right there, man,” Tom said with a laugh. “You musta scared da shit out of dem motherfuckers!”
“Dem niggas are from right here in da neighborhood, man,” Johnny says with the sound of one who has been betrayed in his voice. “Dat shit ain’t right!”
“Let it go, Johnny!” Tom says to his friend. “They’re crackheads, man, they’d shoot their moms for dope. You know that!” Tom pauses, then adds, “Hell, I’m lucky this is the first time anyone has tried anything down here.”
“Yeah, I know,” Johnny concedes. “But, dat shit ain’t right!” Tom is right and Johnny knows it. Hell, he probably grew up with the two thugs who ambushed and tried to shoot Tom.
“Maybe it’s time for you to move,” Tom says to his friend. “I could use a change of scenery.”
“I think you right, Tom-Tom,” Johnny agrees, “I think you right. Drive safe.” Johnny pounds on the roof of the car a couple of times to offer encouragement and safe travels to his friend.
“I will. Good night, Johnny.” With that, Tom drives away. He doesn’t want to be around if the cops actually do show up.
~~~
Tom is at the apartment of one of the couples he met when the cops chased him into the pool back in ’82. He has been selling this couple coke for the past seven years. Surprisingly, the two have been partying and using coke for a long time and still seem to get along great together.
Tom walks in and is greeted by Andrew, the man in the couple, who leads him into the living room area of the apartment. Tom sits on a sofa that faces the balcony, which has sliding glass doors, one of which is open to let cool air in. The apartment is on the second floor of the building, so a decent breeze can be felt. The opened patio doorway is covered by a sliding screen, which keeps out unwanted guests, such as flies and mosquitoes. Tom’s back is to the front door.
As Tom and Andrew sit to discuss what the two want this evening, Tom begins to feel as though something is off. Something seems odd. Andrew is okay, but his longtime girlfriend is acting a little nervous.
He and Andrew begin discussing the amount and price of what Andrew will purchase this evening. But Andrew begins speaking about the drugs much differently than he usually does. He keeps using the word cocaine as opposed to product or stuff, as he normally refers to it, which seems weird. Tom doesn’t respond to his inquiries for a moment, and Andrew repeats what he just said. Almost verbatim. At this point, Tom is on full alert and stands up. He notices a slight difference in the light coming from beneath the closed door of one of the rooms in the apartment and knows the three have more company.
“Who else is here?” Tom asks Andrew.
“Nobody,” comes Andrew’s reply. He is acting nervous now too, Tom notices. Andrew looks toward the closed door to the room where Tom saw the light change a few seconds earlier.
Andrew is lying, and Tom knows it. He looks toward Andrew’s girlfriend and repeats his question, “Who else is here?”
“Nobody,” she echoes Andrew’s response, but also looks toward the closed door as she says it.
Tom is about to head toward the front door when he hears commotion in the other room. Someone else is definitely here, and they are trying to get out in a hurry! Tom instantly realizes he isn’t going to make it around the sofa and to the front door without being intercepted, so he heads toward the balcony with its screened door.
Someone wearing jeans, a polo shirt that is tucked in, and a badge on their belt comes running out of the room. One, or both, of the couple has obviously been busted with dope and is ratting Tom out in order to save their own ass. The guy in the polo shirt is moving fast.
Andrew is standing between Tom and the patio, so Tom runs toward him and shoves the other man through the screen door. The thin screen collapses like a spiderweb as Andrew’s momentum takes him through. Andrew falls to the ground entangled in the web of screen. Tom follows right behind and goes straight for the railing. He steps on Andrew on his way out and leaps right over without looking.
Tom has been on this balcony before and knows it is directly above the trash bin area of the apartment building and that a dumpster will be outside in the alleyway. He lands on top of the dumpster, which is closed, thank god, and immediately jumps over the cinder-block wall separating this apartment complex from the next. He is in an alley. The cops aren’t all over him yet, but the one from the apartment is standing on the balcony talking into a radio. He is giving the other narcotics officers Tom’s location. Tom takes off running.
He runs to the end of the alley, across the next street and into the opposite alley. He goes about halfway down the alley and turns right, runs through a yard and hops over the back fence, then runs through the yard of the adjacent property. Tom runs across another street and through an apartment building with an open courtyard and out onto the street in front of the building.
At that point, Tom slows his pace to a walk, but hurriedly makes his way toward a car he has parked on the street. He retrieves a set of keys from the top of the right rear tire, unlocks the car, and jumps in. He is driving up the street in his Toyota Camry when the cops come running out onto the street looking for him. They are looking for someone on foot, not in a vehicle, and Tom drives right by them without being noticed. “Wow!” he says to himself as he drives away, “that was close!” He can hardly wait to tell Red about it!
~~~
Tom and Red are in bed, as usual. It’s a couple of months after Danny’s giant dildo greeting. Tom is telling Red the story of what happened at the apartment of the couple he met seven years earlier. The two are laughing.
“I thought you were crazy for buying those cars and parking them all over town,” Red says laughing. “Completely nuts!”
“I know you did! But it sure paid off!” The couple continues laughing, smoking coke, and playing around in bed. Red stands up in bed and pretends to do a striptease, despite being naked already. It’s hot! The better Tom gets to know Red, the more beautiful she becomes.
~~~
Later, Tom picks up the remote and turns on the TV. Red is lying beside him with her head on his chest and her long, red hair fanned out across his body.
“—what appears to be a red cloud surrounding this home in a Silver Lake neighborhood. Police are on the scene to determine just what, exactly, is causing this phenomenon,” a news reporter is saying.
“Holy shit!” Tom shouts. “That’s Danny’s house!”
Red looks up suddenly and says, “You’re right! I wonder what the fuck’s going on?” She sits up more in bed and is now fixed on the news.
“—one of the neighbors.” The news reporter is finishing a sentence.
“Yeah, the guy is always doing crazy stuff!” Tom recognizes the man as the one who had been at Danny’s the night of the lawn-mowing fiasco. “I think he’s on drugs. His brother was here a few weeks ago and said he’s a combat vet and that he’s on a lot of medications—”
“Fuck!” Tom says. On TV, the cops are leading Danny outside to a patrol car. He is handcuffed behind his back.
“A hazmat team has been called in to determine the source of the ominous red cloud surrounding this home in Silver Lake. Police have taken the resident of the home into custody, and he will be transported to the Los Angeles
County jail for further questioning.” The reporter turns her attention to another neighbor who has come forward to be on the news.
“Son of a bitch!” Tom feels relieved that he wasn’t there for that! “He must have had a phosphorous reaction while he was batching and burped out a shitload of gas.” Tom chuckles a little. What a fucking knucklehead!
“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got another connection,” Red says. She has connected Tom with another meth cook she knows from prostituting on Sunset and Vine.
“Yeah, thanks, Red,” Tom says.
She really does seem to know everybody in the drug business in Hollywood. Tom just looks at her and smiles. He pulls her close and they fall asleep in each other’s arms.
1990
Tom is in Tempe, Arizona, picking up cocaine. He has been lucky, so far, having been pulled over only once in so many years. The officer had simply given him a warning that he was driving four mph over the posted speed limit. Tom feels very fortunate to have driven away from that potential mess. He has switched to a new car for transporting: a nice BMW 7 Series he bought at a police auction where cars are sold that have been confiscated from drug dealers and other criminals. He paid in cash. Go figure.
“You are moving five kilos every two weeks, Tom,” Manuel says, “selling to gay boys in Hollywood and the blacks in LA. That’s a lot of cocaine.”
Tom is surprised by the other man’s topic of conversation but shows no outward sign of it. “Yeah,” Tom agrees. He is moving so much dope—coke, meth, and X—that it’s getting pretty fucking crazy.
“And you are moving methamphetamine as well,” Manuel says matter-of-factly. The fact that Manuel knows that Tom is moving meth means they have been keeping an eye on him outside of Tempe. This makes Tom very uneasy.
“Yeah,” Tom says again. “I know a cook who is pretty low profile.”
“Low profile, eh? The one who is arrested because his house is glowing in the dark?” Manuel’s English isn’t perfect, but he has a pretty good grip on the language.
“Well, as low profile as a meth cook can be, I guess. But I have a new source for meth now.”
“Right,” Manuel says in agreement. “We want to make sure, Tom, that no one else knows about what we are doing here. Do you understand?”
“Yeah,” Tom replies, “of course, I do.”
“We have watched you for some time, Tom,” Manuel goes on, “and you are what one of my guys calls a crazy son of a bitch.” Manuel looks at Tom for a reaction. Tom is beginning to wonder where this conversation is leading. Do they think he has told someone where he is scoring his coke from?
“All right,” Tom says nervously. Here it comes, he thinks, the day when the dude in the suit carrying a machine gun is going to pump him full of lead. “What’s your point?”
“Bruno,” Manuel nods to the man in the suit, “is going home to Peru. His mother is very ill, and he is her only child. He must be with her,” Manuel says with a sad tone in his voice. “I need someone to replace him here!” Tom isn’t about to be shot. He is being offered a new job!
“I don’t think I’m the right guy for that, Manuel.” He thought of how Manuel is imprisoned in this house and knows what his answer must be.
“Of course, you are! You are afraid of nothing!”
“I’m sorry, Manuel,” Tom tells the other man, “I just can’t lock myself away here the way you have.” As soon as the words come out of his mouth, Tom wishes he could take them back. He has just hit on the one aspect of Manuel’s life that will never change. It will always be the same. Tom can see the acceptance of his situation on Manuel’s face. He feels sorry for the guy.
After much discussion, Tom finally talks Manuel out of the idea. It is agreed that everything will remain business as usual.
Tom had meant no offense by the lock-myself-away comment and Manuel had taken none. It is the reality of the world that Manuel has been born into. He is the nephew of one of the biggest cocaine traffickers in the world. It’s his family business! It is his curse.
And now, Tom shares that curse with him.
~~~
Tom and Johnny are at Johnny’s Downtown LA crack house, once again discussing the price Biggie will pay for his part in the drive-by shooting two years earlier. He is going to get off fairly easy, considering he had driven down a street randomly laying down a hail of bullets.
“Twelve years!” Johnny says, drawing the words out to emphasize exactly how long he feels that is to spend in prison. “Mmm. Mmm. Mmm.”
“I know,” Tom says, “but he did get caught with guns, fingerprints on the guns, gunfire residue all over him, plus Joe rolled over on him. Just the fucking gun cost Biggie an automatic ten years!”
“I know,” Johnny says. “Dat shit’s crazy!” He throws up his hands in defeat.
“Hell, if they coulda ditched the guns,” Tom is explaining, “that motherfucker would be doing almost no time at all.”
“Yeah,” Johnny agrees, “but dem niggas woulda been sittin’ ducks without dem guns, Tom-Tom. What if dem otha’ niggas had followed ’em?”
“Ahhh,” Tom says playfully, “you’re right, fucker!”
“I know I’m right, honky!” Johnny retorts. “Shit, da second they toss those guns out da window, dem otha’ niggas come rolling ’round da corner.” He states that very matter-of-factly. Johnny makes a machine-gun noise and uses his finger as a gun to illustrate his point. He likes joking with his friend Tom, despite the serious nature of the conversation.
He also likes getting high with Tom. No matter how much dope Tom smokes, the motherfucker stays laid back. Johnny hands Tom a joint that is crackling and popping like it’s full of popcorn.
“Goddamn, Johnny,” Tom says as he accepts the firecracker doobie, “ya supposed to put some weed in the bitch if you’re rollin’ a primo!” Tom laughs and takes a hit of the joint, then passes it back to Johnny. Tom brushes popped cocaine and weed ash from the front of his shirt.
“Shit, T,” Johnny says in his defense, “I had more coke than weed!” He laughs for a second, then takes another hit off the Roman candle.
“Well,” Tom says, letting his friend off the hook, “that’s a pretty good problem to have, my friend!” Tom finally gets all the smoldering cocaine off his shirt and takes the joint back from Johnny. After another hit of the coke-filled joint, Tom exhales hard and repeats, “A pretty good problem, indeed.”
“Amen!” Johnny shouts as smoke from the primo escapes his lungs and exits through his mouth and nose. “Amen!” Tom is surprised smoke isn’t coming out of Johnny’s ears as well.
Part Three
For Red,
An endless beach awaits you . . . run free!
1991
Tom is sitting beside Red’s hospital bed. In addition to a crack epidemic, Los Angeles and much of the world are in the middle of an AIDS epidemic. People are dying from diseases that their bodies should be able to protect them from but can’t any longer. Red, being a prostitute for many years, has contracted the disease. Whether via sexual contact or the sharing of needles, no one will ever know.
“You look nice today,” Tom tells her. “Has anyone said when they’re kicking you outta here?”
“No,” Red replies, “but pretty soon, I ’magine, ’cause I don’t have insurance. The hospital,” she coughs a raspy cough, “the hospital wants to get paid.”
“I know,” Tom agrees. “I’ll get you home, sugar. And once you’re settled, I’ll come by and check on you every day to make sure you got everything you need.”
“Thank you, Tom, but you don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to,” Tom tells the dying prostitute, “I want to.” He figures Red is the closest thing he’s ever had to a girlfriend. She is definitely his favorite of all the girls he knows! And he spends more time with her than anyone else besides his cat, Cookie. He knows she has a good heart, but that she had been terribly abused as a child. Raped by her alcoholic father, she was later for
ced to abort his child and grandchild. Her father never paid for his crimes, having slandered his daughter as a whore, saying she was pregnant by another kid in the neighborhood. Once the child was aborted, all the evidence was gone. It would have been her word against that of her father. Kimberly left home when she was fourteen years old and never returned. Tom’s heart can easily sympathize with hers.
Tom stays with Red until a nurse comes and says she is being discharged. Afterward, he takes her home to her small apartment on Argyle Avenue in Hollywood. Red had been admitted to the hospital with what was originally thought to be congestive heart failure. But tests performed revealed it to be advanced pneumonia, a common ailment among AIDS patients. And, Red’s is so far advanced, she is having difficulty breathing. It’s during this hospitalization that she discovers she has AIDS.
Although Tom and Red have been having sex for many years, the two always took precautions. Condoms, no kissing on the mouth, and Tom never went down on her! Red is a prostitute who screws a dozen dudes a day, after all.
Gotta remember the rules!
~~~
Red has been home for almost two months and her physical condition is beginning to worsen. She is sick and in bed more often than not nowadays. Tom spends as much time with Red as she will allow. She is beginning to show more serious signs of the advancement of her illness, and Tom can tell she is afraid. He does his best to comfort Red with his extremely limited knowledge of sickness, disease, and compassion. Tom has never known compassion. He has bullied his way through the world with brute force and anger. Compassion is something completely new to him.
Tom leaves Red with the promise to return in two days to check on her. He is making a run to Tempe and won’t be back and settled for a couple of days. She smiles as he leaves. She loves Tom. Of all the men she has ever known, Tom—despite his hardness toward others—is the one who treats her better than anyone else. He treats her like an equal, not a piece of property, or a filthy whore. He treats her like a lady, she thinks and smiles again.
