The Dopeman's Wife: Part I of the Dopeman Trilogy (13 page)

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Authors: JaQuavis Coleman

Tags: #Fiction, #African American, #General, #Urban

BOOK: The Dopeman's Wife: Part I of the Dopeman Trilogy
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Tical quickly focused his attention back on Red’s car as he approached it. He opened the door, and the loud sounds of Tupac blasted from the speakers. He quickly turned the volume down.
Red extended his hand for a shake. “What’s up, Baltimore?”
“Man, you got the shit?” Tical left Red’s hands hanging in the air.
“Man, what’s wrong with you today?”
“Nothing.” Tical asked again, “So where the shit?”
Red reached in his back seat for a bookbag and sat it on his lap. “I got you together right here. You got the cash?”
Tical and Red exchanged bags, and both of them looked at the contents of their bag. Tical dipped his pinky in the Ziploc bag and ran it across his gums. Moments later, his gums began to numb. Red had hit him with some good product once again. “I’m out,” Tical said, as Red thumbed through the money.
“So quick?” Red asked, his eyes on the money.
Tical opened the door and got out. He stooped and looked at Red. “Let me say this, and I’m only going to say it once, you stupid mu’fucka—Never drive this car when you dealing with me on business. You moving like you an amateur or something.” He slammed the door, not giving Red a chance to respond, and headed into the diner to use the bathroom.
Red wanted to put Tical in his place, but it was something about Tical’s eyes that made him think twice about jumping stupid. He couldn’t understand how a guy so young acted like he was the man in charge.
Tical wasn’t big at that time, but all that would change in the future. He was going to eventually switch the game and deal heroin, and become a legend on Baltimore streets.
 
 
Millie nodded off in the porta-potty, drool sliding down her lip. She yanked her head back when she felt her chin touch her chest. She opened her eyes and looked around the stall, trying to remember where she was at. The smell of urine almost made her gag. She positioned herself upright, the needle still stuck in her arm. She eased the needle from her skin and placed it in her purse, opened the door, and stepped out.
She smiled as the air hit her face. It felt good to her, and the air tickled her skin. The heroin put her in a place only junkies could fathom. Millie had no idea how long she had nodded in the port-a-potty. She was hoping her stepfather didn’t roll up on her post while she was in the stall, because she didn’t want to hear his mouth when she got home.
She walked around the building, preparing to get back on her post. At that point she’d forgotten that she’d stolen nearly five hundred dollars from her last john. She looked around the parking lot for potential customers. Her legs wobbled as she caught a nod while walking, almost falling. She almost got hit by a red Lexus exiting the lot, the driver blasting his horn at her.
She stuck up her middle finger and continued to walk as she began to head toward the area the truckers usually parked. Millie held her head down as she walked uncoordinatedly.
“You dirty bitch,” a white man screamed, shotgun in hand. He raised his gun and pointed it at her
“Aw fuck!” Millie made a dash for the row of cars a few feet away from her and ducked down.
Aw shit! Aw shit!
She crouched down and maneuvered through the rows of cars, trying to shake the ranting man.
“Where you at, li’l black bitch?” He looked around crazily, going in and out of rows.
Millie heard the man’s voice getting closer and closer.
She had to think fast. She hopped into the bed of a small truck nearby and laid on her back, positioning herself tightly in between the two big haystacks sat in the back.
After a couple of minutes laying there, she began to nod and fell into a deep sleep. She didn’t even feel someone get in the car and pull off.
Tical glanced at the bag with the coke and smiled as he rode down the highway. He wanted to put the coke into the haystacks, but when he came out of the diner and saw a crazy-ass white man toting a gun and yelling, he decided to get out of the area before the cops came. “Mu’fucka crazy,” he said to himself.
After driving about thirty miles down the highway heading back to Baltimore, Tical saw a sign indicating that a rest stop was three miles ahead. He’d put the coke in the stash spot then. He pulled his truck onto the next exit and spotted a small gas station just off the ramp. He drove up to the station, got out, and quickly tossed the bag in the back. He then headed into the store to pay for some gas before he hid the coke in the haystacks.
Millie jumped up when something hit her in the face. She couldn’t remember where she was at, one of the effects of heroin. She saw the haystacks surrounding her, and then it hit her. She’d been hiding from the john. Her heart began to pump quickly. She looked at the unfamiliar setting. “Where the fuck am I?” She began to take the hay out of her hair. She looked at the bookbag that hit her in the face and wondered who’d tossed it. She realized that she’d nodded while hiding in the back of the truck.
Fuck!
She had no idea how far she was from the truck stop.
Am I even still in New York?
As she stepped out of the truck with the bag in her hand, she heard a gun click and quickly turned around.
“Li’l ma, I don’t know who you are, but you barked up the wrong tree,” a calm, raspy voice said to her. The man pointed his gun at her chest. “Red sent you, huh?” He yanked the bag from her. He lowered his gun and quickly grabbed Millie by the arm and checked her for a gun with his other hand.
Tical had seen her rise from the back of his truck while he was paying for gas. He thought Red had sent her to rob him for the same product he’d just bought, an old stick-up kid trick.
“You got five seconds to tell me who sent you, or I’ma send one of these slugs through your stomach. Try me!” Tical said, meaning every single word. He noticed how young the girl was and slightly loosened his grip on her.
Millie was terrified, and it showed through her youthful eyes. “I’m sorry, sir. I just hid in the back of your truck because this crazy mu’fucka was after me. I swear to God!” She began to tear up, knowing she was about to die.
Tical thought about the man screaming in the parking lot. “What he look like?” he asked, his tone cold.
“He was a white trucker-looking mu’fucka.” Millie, her hands still in the air, kept her eyes on Tical’s gun.
Tical realized she could be telling the truth, but he still remained cautious. He stared at her for a second and then decided to ease up. “Get in the car.” He put his gun back into his waist and looked around to make sure no one was watching.
Millie turned, shaking like crazy, and headed toward the vehicle. She thought about making a dash for it, but she didn’t want to get shot in the back.
What the fuck have I gotten myself in to? This farmer-looking mu’fucka about to take me somewhere and rape and kill me
.
“And put yo’ hands down.” Tical took one last look around the gas station. He put the coke in the hidden compartments in the haystacks, while keeping an eye on Millie through the back window.
Once he finished, Tical sat in the car and remained silent, wondering if her story was legit. The tears forming in her eyes and her jitteriness displayed her terror. He didn’t think she’d cause him any harm. He stuck his gun in his waist for easy access. “Look, I’m not going to hurt you, so relax. I will take you back to the truck stop, okay,” he said in a soothing tone, trying not to scare the girl anymore than she already was.
Millie nodded her head, but she still didn’t know his real intentions.
Tical started up the truck and prepared to go fifty miles back to drop her back off at her post. They rode in silence as Tical kept his eyes on the road.
Millie was the first to speak. “So where are you from? I can tell that you’re not from around here,” she said, beginning to feel a tad bit more comfortable.
Tical didn’t even look at her. He had a bad feeling about the girl and couldn’t help feel that he was being set up. He frowned up. “Chill out with the small talk, ma. I ain’t got any convo for you.”
“Dang, I was just trying to be polite.” Millie began to scratch her arms. Her high had fallen, and she began to get the itch that most fiends got after they got high. She felt like an army of small ants were marching up and down her veins.
Tical glanced at Millie’s arm and saw the needle marks. He looked at her gestures and knew she was a user. He began to feel bad about being so rude to her and forced himself to talk to her. “How old are you?”
After a few seconds of silence, Millie noticed that Tical was glancing down at her marks. He continued after not getting a response.
“Well, you don’t look a day over sixteen, and you out here bad. That shit ain’t for you.” He shook his head in disbelief.
They getting younger and younger,
he thought, switching lanes.
“How do you know what’s for me? I’m a grown-ass woman,” Millie said, snapping her neck back and forth.
“Grown-ass woman, huh?”
Millie might’ve fooled a lot of people, but not Tical. He knew she was a minor. Although she had a developed body, she didn’t have the gestures of a person who’d been through life yet. “You can’t be any older than sixteen or seventeen, but whatever you say.” He looked at the chocolate girl that sat next to him, and felt drawn to her. Maybe it was because she resembled his mother, with her skin tone and big, dark brown eyes.
Just then, the flashing lights of a police car shined.
Tical glanced in his rearview mirror. “Fuck!” He pulled over to the side of the road, big butterflies in his stomach. He reached into his waist and discreetly slid his gun to the side of his seat. He had a life sentence hidden in his haystacks and had already made up his mind to go out blasting if the cop asked him to step out.
Millie watched Tical become noticeably shaken up as he slid the gun to the side and click off the safety.
The cop got out of his cruiser and approached the truck.
Tical, knowing the drill, kept his hand on the steering wheel. “Good evening, sir.”
“License and registration,” the cop said, his hand near his gun.
“No problem.” Tical reached over Millie’s lap and into the glove box. After retrieving his papers, he handed it to the officer.
The officer took the papers and looked suspiciously at the haystacks in the back. He went to his cruiser. He ran Tical’s name and found out he had a previous gun charge. He went back to the truck. “Who is the young lady with you?” he asked, glancing over at her.
“That’s my younger sister—”
“Millie!”
“Is that right?” The officer walked to the back of the truck. “What’s the haystacks for?” He began to take a closer look at them.
When Tical turned slightly to look back at the cop, his gun slid off his lap and onto the side of the seat. “Damn!” he said in a low tone.
The officer heard a clink and quickly turned around. He approached the window. “What’s that, boy?” he asked, his hand on his gun.
Tical tensed up. “Nothing, sir.”
“Step out of the car, please,” the officer said, keeping a close eye on him.
Tical stepped out the car slowly. He knew he had to stay calm.
The officer escorted him to the rear of the truck and told him to turn around.
Fuck!
Tical watched helplessly as the officer made Millie stand at the rear of the car while he searched it.
After a couple minutes, the cop made Millie get back in the car. He told Tical, “I’m going to let you off with a warning.”
Tical was relieved. He could tell the cop was disappointed not to find anything. When he got back into the car and looked down at the floor, he didn’t see the gun. Millie must’ve hidden it from the cop. He took a deep breath and pulled off, knowing he had just dodged a bullet. “Thanks.” He glanced over at Millie.
“It ain’t nothing.” Millie reached into her pantyhose and pulled out the gun. She placed it on Tical’s lap.
Tical lightened up, appreciative of her quick thinking. “So what’s your name again?”
“Millian, but everyone calls me Millie.”
“You’re pretty sharp, I see.”
“Yeah, I have to be,” Millie said, scratching her arms and drawing blood. “The streets tend to keep you on your shit.”
“Who got you started?”
“Started on what?”
Tical gave her a look that said, “Don’t insult my intelligence.” He looked down at her arm and nodded his head in its direction.
“My stepfather.”
“Your stepfather? That’s fucked up.” Tical shook his head from side to side.
Millie studied Tical’s gestures and mannerisms and immediately was attracted. Even though he had on farmer clothes, she knew that wasn’t his style. The way he talked and took his time with every syllable had Millie wanting to learn more about the older man. Her mind was trained to look at every man as a potential john.
She unbuckled her seatbelt and took the gum out of her mouth. She then leaned over the seat and attempted to put her head on Tical’s crotch, but he gently pushed her away.

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