Crackhead (14 page)

This was the first time they had ever heard Laci come out of her face. Crack or no crack, Monique was not going to tolerate Laci's mess.

“Fuck you say to me?” Monique got to her feet.

“You heard me,” Laci said defiantly. “You stay coming at me with beef. You need to check yaself, bitch.”

“Ain't this a bitch?” Monique said in disbelief. “This ho been sittin' back taking notes. Well, write this down.” Monique lunged at Laci and grabbed her by her shirt. Laci was caught totally off guard. Monique snuffed her square in the jaw. Laci tried to defend herself, but Monique was a street fighter, while she had never been in a fight. Once they saw blood, Tonette broke it up.

“Cool the fuck out!” Tonette shouted at Monique.

“Fuck that,” Monique barked. “I'm tired of this bitch. You ain't shit, Laci.”

“Fuck you,” Laci said, patting her lip. “You got some nerve. Low-life bitch, you're just a bitter.”

“Low-life? I got ya low-life, you fucking crackhead.”

The other girls started to become uneasy. Monique's anger was making her careless with the secret.

“Bitch, you wish. I could never fuck wit' that shit. I got too
much smarts, unlike your dumb ass. And weed ain't hard core. Y'all said yourself that it's a natural herb.”

“You so green that it's fucking pitiful,” Monique chuckled. “You think you so muthafuckin' street, but you ain't nothing but a prissy bitch. A street bitch would know the difference between crack and weed, dummy.”

At that moment, you could have heard a pin drop. The leaves on the trees rustled while a basketball bounced unattended somewhere in the distance. Monique's statement froze the whole crew. Laci looked over at the girls. Shaunna had her head down and was rubbing her belly, and Tonette was looking away.

Laci closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. “Wh . . . what?” she stuttered. No one had an answer for her. Tonette shot a murderous stare at Monique, letting her know that she would answer for her dumb-ass move. Shaunna shook her head, and Crystal just turned away. Things were falling apart fast.

“All y'all do is fuckin' run y'all's mouth,” Laci said with a mixture of fury and fear. “Now you mean to tell me that not one of you bitches has shit to say?”

Laci ran her hands across her eyes and over the crown of her head. Her brain was hurting. She began to pace and panic. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” she repeated.

“Mo is tripping, girl,” Tonette said. “Why the fuck would we give you crack? We're your fam.”

“Y'all my family, huh? My fuckin' fam?” Laci asked, teary-eyed. “Fam doesn't try to hurt each other, not like the way y'all did me. All I've ever wanted to do was to fit in. The way y'all have each other's back—the unspoken love y'all have for one another . . . that's all I've ever wanted to be a part of. I've allowed
y'all to do damn near everything but shit on me. Y'all talk about me like a dog in my face. I can only imagine what y'all say about me when I'm not around. Fam?” Laci shook her head as tears poured down her face. “Fam doesn't try to condemn one another for wanting to be something in life more than just somebody's baby's mama or somebody's bitch. Fuck kinda fam is this?” Laci ran off.

Tonette sat silently for a moment. “Fuck this. I can't let the shit go down like this,” she said, blinking the moisture out of her eyes. But it was too late. Laci was out of sight.

W
HO THE FUCK
is this Titus nigga?”

As the summer of '89 neared, Dink had gathered his executive branch together to discuss how they were going to rid themselves of an infringing competitor. “All I keep hearing is Titus this and Titus that. Somebody tell me
something.
” Dink was raving mad at this point. It took a lot to get him angry these days, but some shit got under his skin like tattoos. “Y'all niggas is out there, right?” Dink continued. “Fuck is going on? Everywhere I turn a nigga is telling me Titus stories, but my boys don't know shit? Fuck is up?” Dink slid down the window of his Saab 900 Turbo to let in some air. The four bodies in the car were generating heat.

“Yo, I'm like you,” Marco responded. “I don't know who the fuck he is. But what I do know is that he's on one of our blocks gettin' money. At least that's the word on the street.”

Dame didn't see Titus as the threat everyone else in the car did. He figured that since it was his block the dude was violating, he should be the one stressing. Dame would handle things like
he always did—his way. Cracking a chipped-tooth smile, Dame began to speak. “I think y'all overreacting. It ain't even that serious,” he said nonchalantly.

Dink looked at Dame as if he had lost his mind. Dame had a bad habit of testing Dink, and now was definitely not the time.

Dink took out his burner and placed it on the armrest between Marco and himself. “Repeat that.” Dink turned to face Dame in the backseat. “I want to make sure I heard you right.”

Dame loved a challenge and feared no one. He countered Dink's attempt to intimidate him by pulling out his own piece, cocking it, and resting it on his lap. “I said it ain't that serious,” he replied in a daring tone.

“How the fuck you figure?” Marco spat.

All eyes were focused on Dame.

“Because,” he continued, “I seen that nigga around and he ain't moving nothing major. He small and can be taken out in a second. I ain't sweatin' that fool.”

“Then why you ain't say that shit when I asked?” Dink said.

“And where you seen him at?” Smurf added.

Dame had no respect for the seventeen-year-old gunman and resented the fact that Smurf felt like he was in a position to ask him anything. The lil' nigga was a nobody to him and didn't deserve to be answered.

“Where?” Dink said.

“Washington Avenue,” Dame said. “Around my way.”

“Okay, so this is your problem?” Dink said, scratching his chin. “How long has this nigga, Titus, been violating'?”

“Only a couple of months,” Dame said, picking his nails.

Dame's nonchalant demeanor angered Dink. “Two months?” Dink barked. “You got muthafuckas disrespectin' the hustle for months and you ain't say nothing? Other cats lookin' at that like
our team ain't keepin' it funky. Soon one of them smaller crews is gonna try to climb up the food chain.”

“Look, man,” Dame said, clapping his hands together. “If I felt the nigga needed to be seen, then it would've been done already. That's my spot. I know what I'm doing, kid. If his hand call for it, then he goes. When I off the muthafucka, niggas gon' know what the truth is. Right or wrong? Right now he comfortable thinkin' he movin' in, but he can always be touched. I got it covered.”

“Dame, I understand that you do shit different,” Dink said, “but we countin' on you to keep it tight where you at. Forget about Titus for now. What's the deal with these bitches you fuckin' with? They runnin' their mouths, and niggas tellin' me shit they ain't supposed to know.”

Two years isn't much time in the game, but Smurf already knew what Dame represented. He was a cancer to their crew. Big-headed niggas like him were always the downfall of the great dynasties. His gut told him that he would be called on to put Dame to sleep sooner or later.

“Believe me, I got this,” Dame assured Dink. “I'm gonna take care of the big-mouth bitch and some mo' shit in a hot one. I know just what bitch you talkin' 'bout, too. Fucking dumb bitch. I told her to play her cards right and she would be good, but a fucking bitch is always gonna be a bitch. I was actually kinda digging her, too.”

“That's why I always tell y'all to leave them hoes alone,” Dink said. “Dame, you're either gonna hustle or pimp. You can't swing both, 'cause it's fucking up our action.” No sooner than Dink had finished his sentence, two of Dame's girls walked up to Dink's parked car.

“What up, daddy?” Julie said. “No wonder I ain't seen you. You spending all your time with these cats.” Julie was one of
Dame's best pieces of ass and she got away with just as much as his main girl, Quita.

“Go wait in my car,” Dame said to her flatly.

“Hey, Dame,” Naomi said, licking her lips. She usually stayed quiet, but the sight of Marco had her talkative. “Your friend lookin' for a date?”

“Yo, Dame,” Marco said. “Get your bitch before you be pickin' her up off the floor.”

Dame smiled. “Talk to her, nigga. It ain't gon' cost you nothin'.”

“Yeah, what you afraid of?” Naomi asked. “Don't tell me that you scared of little ol' me, big man,” she crooned in her white thigh-high boots and skin-tight tube dress that was so short her pussy hairs were damn near showing.

“Shoot, scared of what?” Marco said, shooing her away. “Get the fuck out of here. I'll blow your little back out.”

Smurf sat in the backseat confused, watching Marco turn down what he thought was a nice piece of tail—and free at that. “Sh-e-e-e-i-t. If that was me, I'd know what to do,” Smurf said. “She wouldn't have to say that shit twice.”

Dame began to chuckle. “Yo, even lil' man back here ready to do the do,” he said. “You supposed to lead the younger niggas by example. You ain't showing him shit, Marco.”

“C'mon, big boy,” Naomi begged. “Take me somewhere. I like you.” Naomi ran her hand alongside Marco's cheek. “I'm clean, and I know this pussy is good. C'mon, baby. I ain't had no good dick in a while. Show me somethin'.”

“Ooh-wee,” Smurf said and let out a whistle. “If he don't want none, hook me up. Hey, girl, I'll take care of you,” he said to Naomi.

“You cute, too,” Naomi said, winking at him. “But you a little
young, sweetie. Come back in a couple of years when you grow some hair on that chin of yours.”

“What? You crazy,” Smurf said, offended. “I know what to do. I wouldn't be sittin' there stupid. I'd be all up in that ass.”

“Smurf, you want a taste?” Dame asked.

“Hell yeah.”

This was one of those rare moments when Dame's heart went soft. “Hey, girl,” he said to Naomi. “Leave that fat nigga alone and give my boy Smurf here a shot of somethin'. Dink, we done here?”

“Yeah, we finished for now, but do me a favor and get these bitches the fuck off the block.”

“Naomi . . . Julie,” Dame called out the window, “go sit in my car.” Dame threw Naomi the keys. “Smurf, it's on you. Go with them to the car. I'll be there in a second.”

Before Dame got out of the car, Dink made sure he understood how serious the situation was. “Yo, I don't want to have to hear about this nigga Titus no more, man,” Dink said. “I'm trustin' that you gon' take care of business. If you can't handle it, let me know and I'll replace you with someone who can.”

“What did I say?” Dame frowned. “I told you I got it. I'm gon' take care of the nigga. You startin' to doubt me, yo?”

“And them girls?”

Dame sighed out of frustration. “You don't even have to say it. I got it. You got my word on that. My word is bond.” Dame got out of the car and joined Smurf and the girls. Marco and Dink glared at him as he walked away.

Dink spoke to Dame as if he were still within earshot. “It ain't the fact that I'm starting to doubt your word. I'm just wondering if I should have ever given your word any weight in the first place.”

“I guess we'll find out soon enough,” Marco said.

L
ACI WALKED THROUGH
the streets aimlessly, trying to stop the tears from falling. All she wanted was for the girls to accept her, and she'd ended up playing the fool. But she couldn't fully believe Monique's accusations. A falling-out is a falling-out, but to slip her crack? Her brain couldn't and wouldn't process it. Finding that shit out seemed almost equivalent to finding out that she had AIDS. Either way, she felt like her life would be over.

She continued to wander the streets until a thought entered her mind. She needed a joint to calm her nerves. Yeah, after a joint she could relax and all of the dumb shit would go away. Laci thought about the numbing effect of the drug and began to shiver.

What the hell was she thinking about? No matter what she was doing, the thought of getting high would come to mind. Yesterday, she had gone to the supermarket and her mother asked her to hand her a bunch of spinach. Laci stood there wondering what would happen if she dried out the spinach leaves and
smoked them. From what the girls told her, weed was a plant, and so was spinach. It couldn't be that much different. All this made her further suspicious of Monique's accusations.

Laci tried to tell herself over and over again that her peoples wouldn't go out like that. In all actuality, if Tonette wanted to slip her something, she had every opportunity. Laci never watched her roll; she trusted Tonette, so there was no need. But the more she thought about it, the more possibilities came into play. Maybe she was just being paranoid. She'd read somewhere that weed did that to you. Realizing that she was shivering. Laci thought maybe she needed some smoke to calm her nerves.

Laci caught herself in mid-thought. There she was thinking about getting high again. For some reason, she couldn't seem to focus on anything else. She wasn't a seasoned smoker like the rest of the girls, but she had smoked enough weed over the last few days to notice the difference in the highs. When Tonette had first set her out, Laci felt like she was on top of the world. It was the best feeling she'd ever had. She'd tried to reach that special place time and time again, only to fall short. She couldn't seem to get that blast that she had the first time, but she was determined to keep smoking until she did.