What's Really Hood!: A Collection of Tales From the Streets (10 page)

Inside, both their hormones were raging but they allowed the intensity to build with touches and small kisses that made Wiz
break his rule and kiss her on the mouth. Their caramel and peanut butter complexions creamed into one flavor called black
love, pain and pleasure, so the moans caused by either became undistinguishable from the other’s. Where sex ceases to be intercourse
and becomes pure energy embodied in a total embrace…

From that moment on, they were inseparable. Everywhere Wiz went, Crystal was right there. While he handled his business, she
watched his back. The only time
she wasn’t with him was when he went over to New York and picked up because of his arrangement with Veronica.

Nigguhs didn’t understand why Wiz had this crackhead chick with him everywhere he went, but they had to admit Crystal looked
nothing like the chick they remembered. Gone were the raggedy clothes and busted sneakers. Thanks to her boosting abilities
and Wiz’s style she stayed laced in the flyest shit, bamboo earrings and rings on every finger. And her body… it was a combination
of good eating and good loving that got her weight back up and she filled out her jeans nicely.

Still, nigguhs couldn’t get past her habit.

“Yo, Wiz, what up with that bitch? She trickin’?” young Nu-Nu still wanted to know.

Wiz restrained himself from tapping his jaw. “Naw and watch yo’ mouth, lil’ nigguh, ’fore it get bloodied.”

But despite her veneer, she was still as big an addict as ever. Wiz tried to smoke weed with her more, not realizing he was
only feeding her dependency.

She always promised, “Baby, I’m tryin’, I swear I’m tryin’. Please, just give me a chance.”

And he did over and over, numerous chances. She could go a few days, but it always ended up, “Come on, Wiz, I’ve been doin’
good, right? Just do me right one more time.” He couldn’t tell her no, but it hurt him to say yes. It was his mother’s situation
all over again, and she was still a factor.

“How come you never home, boy?” his mother demanded to know. “What lil’ hussy got you so twisted, you can’t come see your
mama?”

“Ain’t no hussy, yo, I just be busy,” Wiz would tell her, but after the ranting and raving, the guilt trips and browbeatings,
it always ended like, “So you gonna look out for me or what?”

And he always gave in. He felt like he was caught in a three-way tug of war between Crystal, his moms and the game. Like he
was the crackhead, hustling backward, selling drugs just to give them away.

He and Crystal got an apartment in Weequahic Towers, because keeping the motel room for months was getting too expensive.
He hoped their having a place would give Crystal a home. He let her lace the place out, which kept her occupied for a few
days, but after that…

“Ain’t I been a good girl, Daddy?”

And the game began, until one night when it all changed.

He had taken Crystal to the movies in Perth Amboy. It was late when they went to White Castle, but the Castle was always packed.
Booming systems, fat whips and Newark hardheads everywhere. Wiz pulled up in the Jetta and parked.

“You comin’ in?” he asked Crystal.

Her seat was reclined and she was half asleep. “Naw, just get me what you get.”

Wiz got out and went in. While he was inside, Fatty
Moo, a cat from Renner Avenue, peeped Crystal in the car. “Yo, Crystal!” he called out, approaching the car. She didn’t hear
him because she had dozed off, so he tapped on the window. “Yo, Crystal, it’s me, Moo. Open the door.” He knew whose car it
was but he ain’t give a fuck.

Crystal froze in horror. She knew Wiz would flip if he saw Moo at the car, and she also knew Moo wouldn’t back down. She didn’t
know what to do, but she opted to lower the window, try and be nice and get rid of him. “Hey, Moo, whut up? I got a crazy
headache.”

“Oh word? I got that medicine, yo. Whatever you need.” Moo cheesed.

Crystal tried to maintain a smile, saying, “I’m cool. Just let me—”

“Ay yo!”

Crystal knew exactly who that was. Wiz. He had seen Moo at the car window and he came out to see what the deal was.

Moo leaned up from the window and spoke. “Oh, whut up, Wiz?”

“Whut up wit’ you all over my shit!” Wiz barked, not three feet away.

“Oh, this you?” Moo faked ignorant. “My bad, I was just hollerin’ at my old friend.”

“Come on, Wiz. He just actin’ stupid.”

“Stupid? Oh, we ain’t friends? You sayin’ you ain’t come through the block last week and cop an O.Z.?” Moo was purposely blowing
her spot because Crystal
hadn’t let him fuck her when she came through last week, even though she had tricked with him in the past.

Crystal covered her face with her hand so Wiz knew it was true. By then a crowd was looking on and Wiz couldn’t just let Moo
clown him in the middle of the parking lot. He took off his chain and his Goose Bomber and gave them to Crystal.

“Yo, Moo, bring yo’ bitch ass on!”

“Wiz, no!” Crystal pleaded, teary-eyed. “Let’s just go, please!”

“Shut the fuck up!” he snapped.

Moo took off his waist-length fur and said, “Nigguh, this ain’t what you want, but you damn sure can get it.”

“No, Wiz,” Crystal muttered helplessly.

Fatty Moo outweighed Wiz by a yard easy. But Wiz had been taught by Al-Ameen, who was extremely swift with the hands. The
first few blows from Wiz proved that he had been taught well. He landed a sweet left-handed jab to Moo’s chin and nose several
times in swift succession, which only angered the bigger Moo. Moo swung a haymaker wildly, but Wiz ducked and caught Moo with
a gut shot that took the wind out of him. Moo saw he couldn’t handle the smaller man toe-to-toe, so he rushed him, scooped
him and slammed him hard on his back.

“Wiz!” Crystal screamed.

She didn’t know what to do. Her nerves were shot to pieces. She knew it was all her fault, but there was
nothing she could do about it. She wanted to get away and that want became a need. So as someone pulled Moo off of Wiz, saying,
“Shoot the one, fuck all that grippin’ and grabbin’,” Crystal slid out of the tightly formed circle and walked the few blocks
to their apartment.

Meanwhile, Wiz got to his feet. Moo had landed a few heavy shots while he had him pinned, and the effects could be seen in
his busted lip and puffed eye. But he continued to fight, catching the bigger man repeatedly, but becoming less and less effective.
He was tired so it slowed him down, allowing Moo to land some hard joints. Had Wiz’s mind been clear, he would have danced
on Moo; instead he was the only one bleeding, despite the fact he landed the most blows.

They fought for twenty minutes, until Ali Smalls and Al-Ameen pulled up in Ali’s Eldorado. Someone had called and told Ali
that Wiz was at White Castle fighting, so he came through. He and Al-Ameen got out and maneuvered through the crowd to the
front, his huge gold plate medallion clinking with every step. He looked at Wiz circling Moo expertly, but he could tell by
his footwork he was on his last leg. He let Wiz catch Moo three more times before he stepped in, threw his arm around his
shoulder and said, “That’s enough, baby.”

Moo saw Ali and automatically assumed the worst. He didn’t know who Ali was to Wiz, but he knew if he had stepped in, that
was his man.

Ali looked across at Moo, then stepped to him calmly. “You straight, Moo? You got it off your chest.”

Moo dropped his eyes to avoid the shorter man’s gaze. “Yeah, Smalls, it’s over, yo.”

“Yeah? You sure? The problem solved itself?” Ali probed.

Moo knew Ali was a live wire, one he really didn’t want to ignite, so he replied, “It’s dead, Smalls.”

“Aiight,” Ali responded, then went back to Wiz.

Once the crowd saw the fight was over, and that Ali and Al-Ameen were there, they quickly dispersed, leaving Ali to deal with
Wiz.

“Whut up, Cousin? That nigguh Moo owe you something?”

Wiz spit out a stream of blood and saliva, then wiped his mouth. “Naw, yo.”

“You say some ol’ slick shit?”

Wiz was getting aggravated because he hated to tell Ali the real. “No man, he just disrespected me. Fuck it, it’s over.”

“How it’s over if he disrespected you? What the fuck he do?” Ali aggressively persisted.

Wiz checked his lip, glanced around, then proceeded to tell Ali what the fight was about. Ali and Al-Ameen listened to his
whole Crystal story with expressionless faces. The only comments they made were mainly questions of clarification, but they
held their tongues until he finished.

“So I was like, fuck it, shoot a fair one,” Wiz concluded.

Ali lit a Newport and put the lighter back in his
pocket. He blew the thick smoke into the frigid night air and watched it quickly dissipate. “Nigguhs been tellin’ me you
been tryin’ to turn a crackhead into a housewife, but I told them nigguhs, keep your name out they mouth. If that’s what you
wanna do, fuck it. But then, I’m hearin’ how she always wit’ you, even when you in the mix, and I’m like whoa. Fuck is lil’
cuz thinkin’,” Ali stated, and Wiz tried to explain, but Ali stopped him. “Let me finish.” He hit the cigarette, then said,
“Word is bond, Wiz, you in a position to see some real cheese, okay, ’cause your weight is up here. Any mistakes and shit
be like dominoes. You got enough problems than to be out here fightin’ over some chick! Smokin’ or not, what the fuck shit
you on? Huh? You ’posed to have thanked Moo for pullin’ yo’ coat to that triflin’ shit, then took her home and whooped her
ass, yo! Am I right, Ameen?”

“Word is bond, Wiz.” Al-Ameen was far from a yes-man, he was just a man of few words. Wiz looked at the two men who had basically
raised him in the life, knowing they were right.

“Now dig, go home and straighten that. If you love this broad like that, raise her ass like a thoroughbred, if not, turn that
mule into dog food and feed her to the street. Either way, I hear you doin’ this bullshit again, you gonna shoot me and Ameen
a fair one, aiight?”

Wiz nodded his understanding. As Ali and Al-Ameen walked to the car, Ali stood in the open driver’s door and said with a smirk,
“A shame what happened to Moo, huh?”

Wiz looked perplexed.

“Oh, you ain’t heard?” Ali snickered. “Don’t worry… you will.” And with that he got in the car and pulled off.

Three days later Wiz would find out Moo’s body had been found with two to the head on the steps of his own basement. But that
night Wiz wasn’t thinking about Moo, he was focused on Crystal.

Crystal sat on the toilet. The floor around her feet was cluttered with baking-soda-caked spoons, empty vials and half-empty
lighters. She stuffed the rocks into the end of the pipe until she couldn’t stuff anymore, hoping to take a big enough hit
to stop her heart. If not, to get so high she never came down, never feel anything again but cocaine’s sickening comfort.
Her hand was shaking so badly, she could hardly keep the lighter to the opposite end. She inhaled, eyes widening as the smoke
filled her lungs, her mind and her soul.
Higher, baby… Get higher, baby, and don’t ever come down!

The words of Melle Mel’s “White Lines” floated from the back of her mind.
Twice as sweet as sugar, twice as good as salt. And if you get hooked, baby, it’s nobody else’s fault!

“Yo, Crystal! Where you at!”

She heard Wiz call and slam the door behind him, but she was ashamed to answer him. She sat paranoid on the edge of the toilet
seat until she damn near jumped out of her skin when he kicked the door open.

“You fuckin’ wit’ Moo now, huh?! You takin’ my money and spendin’ it wit’ him? Huh?”

“I… I,” she stuttered, “I didn’t want you to get mad.”

Wiz couldn’t believe the irrationality of her statement. “You didn’t what?”

Crystal got up and came over to him. “I know how you hate to give me stuff all the time, so I figured—”

“You’d go behind my back!” Wiz furiously finished her sentence, then turned his back and walked a few feet away.

“No, I didn’t go behind your back, Wiz,” she said.

“How the fuck you didn’t? Did I know? Did you tell me? Did you purposely not fuckin’ tell me?” Wiz paced the floor, fuming.
“Did you fuck him, Crystal?”

Her whole body stiffened like he had slapped her. “I can’t believe you’d even ask me some—”

He cut her off, his stomach full of butterflies, anticipating the answer. “I ain’t talkin’ about last week! Did you ever fuck
that nigguh?” This time her whole body went limp, and all she could do was drop her head. Wiz turned away in an anguished
rage and punched the wall, causing a picture to fall. He chuckled. “What the fuck am I doin’?” He chuckled harder, then laughed
to keep from crying. “Muhfuckas in the street runnin’ around talkin’ about I’m trying to turn a crackhead into a housewife.
Fuckin’… laughin’ behind my back like I’m a clown, and you gonna go and do this dumb shit!”

Crystal was crushed, but she mustered up enough to say, “Then maybe I should just go.”

“Naw, maybe you should stop smokin’!” he fired right back.

“I swear to you, Wiz, I’ma try harder, harder than I ever—”

Wiz’s brushing past her into the bathroom cut her words off. He went straight to her Gucci pocketbook and dumped everything
on the floor.

“What are you…” Crystal started to say until she saw him start throwing full bottles of crack in the toilet and flushing it.
Her habit made her blurt, “Is you crazy?” She tried to reach in the toilet and salvage one of the bottles, but Wiz pushed
her back and dumped the rest. “Stop it! Leave my shit alone!” she screamed hysterically, beating his back. He stood up after
flushing everything and looked at her. He could see the hysteria in her eyes. “You gonna give me some more, Wiz! Give me some
more now!”

“No.”

“You ain’t my father, mutherfucka, you can’t control me!”

“Then control yourself,” he retorted calmly.

“I swear to God, I’ma suck every dick in Jers—”

He turned her whole face with an open-handed slap. He didn’t slap her out of anger, so he didn’t try and hurt her. He wanted
to make her mad.

She lunged at his face, trying to dig her nails in, but he easily swatted her hands away and told her, “Fight.”