The Candy Shop (25 page)

Another junkie died in one of the rooms upstairs from an overdose. And of course, it scared the hell out of Black and his crew, so they closed down shop early. But, come to find out, the chick who O.D.’d copped her dope from the nigga who sold the half caps. I heard some people saying that it had rat poison in it and that was what killed her. So, luckily me and another guy was able to get her out of there before her body started stinking up the house. Couldn’t have the police beating down the door trying to charge me with murder. No way!

Now, I was expecting Black and his boys to come back later that evening, but they didn’t show up. So, I played house sitter for the rest of the night and thank God, everything went smoothly.

The next day Black came through, but he had a couple new guys with him. He also came with a set of new rules that I was not at all happy about.

“That shit that happened with the dope fiend O.D’ing yesterday can’t go down like that no more,” he began saying, “So, from here on out, no one is allowed to come in here and get high. This spot is strictly for mu’fuckas to come in, cop their dope and carry their asses! Now, do you have a problem with it?”

“Well, the only way I would have a problem is if you told me I can’t get high in here anymore.”

“Nah, this doesn’t apply to you. You can get high in this joint all you want. It’s the other people that we don’t want in here. It causes too many problems.”

“Well, I’m fine with it. Just as long as I can still get a cap for every five sales I bring to you.”

“Oh yeah, that still stands. But, you’ve got to be the one to let everybody know that the Candy Shop is still open, but the shooting gallery is closed down for good. A’ight?”

“All right,” I said. “But look, can you do me a favor?”

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I haven’t had shit to eat since y’all left yesterday morning, so I was hoping you can spare a few dollars so I can run out and get me something to put on my stomach.”

“Yeah, here, take this five dollars and go get you something,” he insisted and handed me the money.

Happy as a punk in jail, I shot outside and walked down to the corner store and got me a fried chicken dinner with a side of French fries.

And when I got back to the house I fucked it up in no time, so I was straight for the rest of the day. But, that full stomach didn’t stop me from getting my high on. That shit was mandatory. ’Cause if I fucked around and didn’t get my shot, I’d get sick as a fucking dog. Trust me, I didn’t look forward to the days when I had uncontrollable diarrhea and major stomach cramps. I mean, that shit was unbearable. And anybody who has experienced it will tell you that it ain’t shit to play with. So, it’s kind of like a job when you have to get up every morning and try to figure out what is gonna be your next move to cop that pill of dope. And that’s why desperate times calls for desperate measures.

Walt had been locked up for almost three months and believe me, shit was the same. Black changed the rules around there so many times it wasn’t funny. And then on top of that, he was now starting to treat me like the real dope fiend I was. I couldn’t even get a few dollars from him anymore. So, I offered to suck his dick for the five dollars but he clowned the hell outta me and said, “Bitch! I wouldn’t let you suck my homeboy’s dick, wit’cha dirty ass!” And then he sent me right out of the room and laughed at me while I walked away.

Now I ain’t gon’ lie; it is pretty clear that I look like shit. My face was caving in around my bone structure and I’d lost about forty pounds, which meant that I didn’t have that phat ass niggas used to run down behind me for. I had to use what I had to get what I wanted, which wasn’t much at all. And that’s why I took it to the streets. Yeah, I was tricking now. And so what! Shit, I had to get down for mine, because I couldn’t depend on no one else to go out and buy my dope. It just wasn’t that type of party. Out there, you were on your motherfucking own and there were no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

I was standing on Church Street near Tidewater Park, trying to pick up a decent trick and I’d run across a couple of assholes who only wanted to give me two dollars for a dick suck. But, I told ’em if they ain’t trying to shell out at least four or five dollars, we ain’t got a whole lot to talk about. Like this fat, black, greasy-looking nigga name Paul that just pulled up in his old, beat-up Thunderbird. Now he had some game for a sista’s ass, but we gon’ see whose gonna come out on top.

“So, whatcha gon’ do?” I asked him as I stood alongside his car.

“I told you what I had, but you ain’t trying to give a nigga a free pass.”

“Fuck that!” I said, “You think it’s real easy for me to be standing out here all day and night, taking the constant shit I be getting from niggas like you?”

“I didn’t say it was.”

“Look Paul, or whatever your name is. If you ain’t trying to give me four dollars, then you might as well carry your trifling ass!”

“You sure? ’Cause when I pull off, I’m going right down there to the next block and I betcha’ dem hoes will take my money.”

“Well, carry your fat ass, then!” I yelled and then I kicked the side of his car.

“You stinking bitch!” he yelled back and sped off.

After Mr. Grease Ball pulled off, he drove his fat ass right down the block and picked up this bitch name Tracy. She was a gutter bucket ho that’d do anything for a couple dollars. But, I wasn’t not because I had morals and standards. So, if a nigga couldn’t abide by that, then he could carry his ass like Ole Fat Ass just did.

Can you believe it? I’d been standing out on that corner damn near all fucking night and I hadn’t snagged not one trick yet. But, what was really fucked up was that I was starting to get ill. And when I was ill, I’d act like a damn fool. I was a cranky bitch! And I was always in the mood to fight somebody.

But, since that wasn’t gonna help me none, I was gonna have to resort to plan B. So, the next trick that came through, I was gonna take whatever they’d give me, ’cause shit was getting really critical right now. And I was the only chick standing out there who hadn’t had no dope all day. I knew them other hoes were laughing at me. But, I wasn’t gonna worry about it ’cause I’d be back on real soon.

After sucking a handful of dicks, I finally got up enough money to cop me a pill of that Helter Skelter. But before I could get my shit together and head back out to the house, a car pulled up and stopped right alongside the curb I was standing at. So, I put on my best smile and stooped down to get a look at the driver and hopefully get ’im to spend some money with me. And as soon as I laid eyes on this driver and realized that it was my husband, my heart damn neared jumped out of my chest.

“It’s gotten that bad, huh?” he didn’t hesitate to say.

Caught off guard and ashamed because my husband was seeing me at my worst, I couldn’t do anything but just stand there. I honestly couldn’t move a muscle in my entire body. But, that didn’t deter him from humiliating me any further.

“How much does it cost for a blow job nowadays?” he asked and then he laughed.

“What, you gotta resort to tricking because your new girlfriend ain’t satisfying you?” I struck back without answering his question.

“No. Believe it or not, I’ve had a private investigator following you for weeks. And when he told me that you were downtown on this strip prostituting, I couldn’t believe it. So, I had to come down here and see it for myself.”

“Still getting other people to your dirty work for you, huh?”

“I needed pictures for court.”

“And I’m sure you got ’em.”

“Well actually, I got more than my money bargained for.” He chuckled.

“Fuck off, asshole!” I belted out with rage and put one foot in front of the other and started walking away from his car. But, unfortunately Eric wasn’t going to let me get off that easy, so he got out of his car and followed down the sidewalk behind.

“Hey, where you going?” he yelled. “I ain’t done with you yet.”

“Eric please, just leave me alone,” I begged him.

“Why should I?” he said immediately after he grabbed a hold of my arm. “You need to be in somebody’s rehab. I mean, look at you.”

“I don’t need you to remind me about how I look.”

“Somebody should because you look like shit.”

“Are you done?” I asked sarcastically.

“Nah, I’m not. I mean, what’s gotten into you?”

“Look, I ain’t got time for this!” I protested and stormed off.

“Well, you should,” he snapped as he began to storm down behind me once again. “Out here tricking for pennies so you can buy drugs. Looking a hot mess! I mean, don’t you have an ounce of dignity?”

“Nah, I guess not,” I replied in a nonchalant manner, trying desperately not to show him my true emotions.

“Well, that’s too bad, then,” he commented and stopped dead in his tracks. “Because I sure had hopes for you.”

“You ain’t have shit! All you came down here to do is humiliate me. And now that you’ve accomplished your mission, why don’t you hop back in your girlfriend’s car and take your ass back on home to her?” I yelled and kept right on walking.

“Don’t let me wake up one morning and read about you in the obituaries,” he yelled back.

Instead of responding to his outlandish comment, I ignored him and proceeded up the strip. Luckily for me, he got in the car and left. Because I would not have been able to take any more of those blows he was throwing at me. I honestly would not have been able to handle it. I was fragile, believe it or not. So, to have him stand over top of me and belittle me like I was some piece of trash wasn’t working well with my heart, which was why I had to get away from him as fast as I could. I just hope I didn’t run into him like that ever again.

About a half of mile into my walk, I flagged down another trick and ended up getting him to give me a lift back to the spot. But, when we pulled up, I wasn’t expecting to find undercover narcs all over the damn place.

They had the Candy Shop surrounded with at least six or seven undercover police vehicles. And before I could barely get out of this man’s car, I saw Black and one of his homeboys being carried out of the house in handcuffs.

I was kind of happy that he finally got his due because of the way he’d been carrying me the past few months, but then I figured that it wasn’t good to be glad about niggas going to jail. I heard that ain’t a fun place to be.

Now after my trick dropped me off and left, I stood directly across the street and watched everything that moved in and out of that house. And while I was scoping the scenery out, Bootsey walked up to me.

“You better count your lucky stars that you wasn’t in there when dem crackers rushed the place.”

“I can see that,” I said, not once taking my eyes off what was going on. “How long have they been in there?”

“Probably about fifteen minutes.”

“Do you know who else was in there?”

“Yeah, they got two of Black’s boys while they was standing outside, handing out free testers.”

“And where are they at now?”

“A couple of narcos took ’em downtown. So, you know what that was about?”

“Yeah, they’re gonna try to get them to tell on the other two.”

“Bingo,” Bootsey replied and then he started coughing really bad.

So, I looked at him with concern and said, “Bootsey, you really need to take care of that.”

“If I could, baby girl, I would. But, trust me when I tell you that a muthafucka’ ain’t made a cure for the shit I got.”

“Oh my, God! Bootsey, I’m sorry! I didn’t know,” I began to apologize after realizing he was sick with AIDS.

“Come on now, you ain’t gotta be sorry! I’m a big boy. I’m handing it.” He tried assuring me, but that smile he put on his face wasn’t convincing enough for me.

So, I said, “How long have you been living with it?”

“Probably about ten years now.”

“What does your family say about it?”

“Come on now, what family?” he began to say, “You know you ain’t got no family when you out here on these streets.”

“Well yeah, I know that. But, have you ever been married, or have any kids?”

“Yeah, I was married once. For fifteen years, as a matter of fact. Had two kids by my wife too, but they’re all grown now with their own families.”

“So, why did you and your wife split up?”

“These muthafucking streets split us up. Because as soon as I got turned on to dat dope, my whole world turned upside down,” he started explaining, “I lost a good-ass job working as the lead foreman at a welding shop for the Norfolk Naval Shipyard, so that’s ten years gone down the drain. And then I lost my house to a foreclosure and that’s when my wife told me she had enough.”

“What did she do?”

“Whatcha think she did?” She packed up her shit, took the kids back to her mother’s house, and filed for a divorce a year later, after she saw that I wasn’t gon’ let this life here go.”

“Have you ever tried to stop before?”

“Hell yeah, I tried plenty of times. And I even went into detox a few times, but as soon as I left, that urge to get another pill of that dope comes right back on you.”

“You sure ain’t fucking lying about that,” I agreed.

“So, what’s your story?” he asked.

“Well, mine is quite similar. I used to be an assistant principal at a performing arts school out in Virginia Beach. I’m still married, but I’m legally separated from my husband of ten years and we have a little girl named Kimora, whom I miss so much it kills me when I think about it.”

‘When is the last time you seen her?”

“It’s been almost two years now.”

“Have you tried to go and see her?”

“Her father won’t let me come near her.”

“Ahhh . . . man, I feel your pain. ’Cause my wife took me through the same exact thing. But now, when I look back on everything, I don’t fault her for doing what she felt was right. I mean, look at us. Do we really want our children to see us like this?”

I thought for a moment and then I said, “You’re right. I wouldn’t want my baby to see me like this.”

“Exactly. So, when you’re ready to get yourself together and leave these streets alone, he’ll see a change in you, and when he does, trust me, he’ll let you come back into her life.”