Authors: K. Elliott
Eddie looked at Q like he didn’t want to do it. “What the fuck is wrong with you, nigga? I said go stash this.” Eddie put the packs in his pockets and walked away slowly
Eddie turned and faced Q. He was nervous, as most were nervous when Q spoke. Everybody knew he was a loose cannon and would snap at anytime. Eddie hesitated before speaking. “Q, it’s just that we are moving so much product that it makes no sense for me to go stash this. I mean, you’ll probably be sending me for this shit in a few minutes.”
“What the fuck is your point, nigga?” Q walked toward him. “Motherfucker, I’m the boss. Have you forgotten who pays you?”
“No, Q.”
Q looked Eddie in his eyes. He could tell he was afraid, and he knew Eddie was no match for him. Though Eddie was taller than Q, he was lanky, very young, and inexperienced. Because he was younger, they called him little; not because of his size. Q thought of Eddie as a good soldier that always did what he was told. He really didn’t want to hurt him, but he had to let him know that nobody should question his authority. Country and Stickman, another member of the crew, looked on. Q didn’t want nobody to think he was soft. It would send the wrong message. “Eddie, go stash the motherfuckin’ dope before I backhand your ass.”
“Don’t talk to me like that, Q,” Eddie said trembling, with sweat coming down his forehead.
Q lifted up his shirt revealing his gun. “What, motherfucker? You want to try me?”
“No, Q I was just saying don’t talk to me disrespectful.”
Q took a step toward Eddie. Country and Stickman grabbed Q. “Take it easy.”
“Get the fuck off me.” Q broke free from the two men and walked toward Eddie.
“I don’t want no problems, man.” Eddie licked his chapped lips and swallowed hard.
“Go stash the motherfuckin’ dope then, nigga.”
Eddie ran away through the path, fast. He put the dope in a tunnel across from a ditch.
Danny, the white boy, came up carrying two laptop computers—one Dell and one Apple. “Q, can I talk to you?”
“Danny, I don’t want no damn computers.”
“They are new; fresh out the box.”
Q’s face hardened. “What the fuck am I going to do? Go on Myspace or some shit?”
Danny laughed at Q’s lighthearted humor. “Hey, Q, all I want is five rocks, man.”
Stickman walked up to Q. “Hey, my sister needs a laptop. She’s away at school.”
Q turned to Country. “How much money we done made out here today?”
“I would say around twelve G’s.”
“Gimme the computers.”
Danny passed the computers to Q, who turned to Stickman. “You know this shit coming out of your pay. Right, nigga?”
“It’s fine.”
“Write that shit down, Country,” Q ordered like a true businessman. He kept track of everything and he never took shorts.
Lil’ Eddie showed up seconds later and Q said, “Go back. Get the stash.”
Eddie shook his head and disappeared back into the path.
ark Pratt ran T ommy Dupree’s name. According to records, he had been released from BOP almost eighteen months ago. Mark stared at the picture and remembered how Tommy had gotten off easy. He wondered if Tommy was up to his old tricks. Of course he was up to his old tricks. Jerome had been caught with nine ounces of coke, and he believed that Tommy had ratted him out. One thing Mark knew about Tommy is that he was not the informant type. But he couldn’t tell Jerome this. He would find Tommy and observe him a bit. Though he wasn’t on the radar, Mark still wanted to know what he was up to.
According to county records, Tommy lived at 3830 Windsor Place, a very affluent neighborhood in the southeastern part of town. Mark rode down the long winding street until he finally saw 3830—a huge single-level home with a garage…nothing out of the ordinary. He drove down to the end of the cul-de-sac then turned around. When he was coming back past the house he noticed a black Range Rover pulling out of the driveway.
He recognized the man immediately. It was Tommy Dupree. He looked the same. Tommy backed out of the driveway and whisked away. Mark trailed him and wondered what Tommy was up to. Was he wrong for suspecting that he was involved in illegal activity? Was he wrong for targeting him? Was he just curious? His mind told him that it was a vendetta that he’d had against Tommy because Tommy had gotten away. He continued to trail him by about two car lengths until Tommy turned into Ballantyne Commons Parkway. The Range Rover disappeared into some town homes. Mark drove in among the town homes. He didn’t see Tommy right away. He spotted him after noticing a black 745 BMW with 24-inch chrome wheels parked on the side of the street. Tommy was parked behind the car talking to a black man with braids and a whole lot of tacky gold jewelry. The men talked for a few moments then the other man got into the car with Tommy and drove across the street to McAllister’s deli. They went inside the restaurant.
Inside the restaurant, Ditty and Tommy waited in a corner on Jay and Matt. Neither man had anything to eat. Tommy said, “I swear to you, I was being followed.”
“Followed? By who?” Ditty asked.
“I don’t know. I saw this silver Dodge Magnum in my neighborhood trailing me. Whoever it was followed me until I turned into your neighborhood.”
“You think it was one of Q’s boys?”
“Them niggas don’t know where I live.”
“We need to handle that shit, man. We can’t let them niggas think that we’re pussies.”
“They ain’t gonna do shit.”
“Tommy, they think you set Squirt up.”
Just the thought of having another black man locked up made Tommy mad.
“I know you didn’t do it, and I know them niggas know you didn’t have him set up.”
“How did he get locked up?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the nigga did something stupid; maybe an improper lane change and they smelled marijuana on him.”
“We have to find out his last name.”
“How?”
“We have to go to his hood and ask around,” Tommy said.
“Where does he live?”
“I don’t know, but I know where Q is from.”
“He’s probably from Q’s hood.”
Tommy swallowed hard but didn’t say anything. He thought about going to Q’s hood. He thought about how loyal Q’s people were. If he were spotted, there could be problems.
“I don’t want problems, man. I know if one of those niggas threaten me it’s gonna be problems.”
“I don’t give a fuck about Q. I don’t like his punk ass anyway.”
Jay and Matt walked up to the table. They sat across from Tommy and Ditty. “I got a new Escalade. It’s white.” Matt said.
Tommy was thinking somebody had said they wanted an Escalade but he couldn’t remember. He wanted to buy the car because he knew that he could easily sell it, but he had to wonder if the feds were on to the cars. How did Squirt get caught? Something wasn’t right. He reached over the table and frisked Matt.
“What the hell are you doing?” Matt asked.
“Checking for wires.”
Matt laughed then lifted his shirt, and so did Jay. “Tommy, you’re fuckin’ crazy, man. What the hell have you been smoking?”
Tommy’s face was stern. A few seconds later he laughed. “Hey, man, I’m sorry. I just have to be careful. I don’t want to go to jail.”
“Hell, me either,” Matt said.
“Something ain’t right,” Tommy said.
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the guy I sold the car to going to jail.”
“It has nothing to do with us, man. I’ve sold twenty cars since we last talked,” Matt said.
Ditty said, “We’re just being careful, that’s all.”
“So when can I get the Escalade?” Tommy asked. He needed to make some money. He hadn’t sold any cars since Squirt had been busted. But who would he sell to? Q and his crew thought he was the police. He would get the vehicle and worry about details later.
“I can get it to you in an hour,” Matt said confidently.
“Is it new?”
“Twenty-six thousand miles on it,” Matt said. “What do you want for it?” Tommy asked. “Thirty thousand.”
“Twentyfive, you got yourself a deal.” Matt smiled then they shook on it.
The two white kids were driving a red Dodge Ram.
Who were they?
Mark wondered.
And why in the hell were they talking to Tommy? Maybe they were his customers. Maybe they were his suppliers.
Mark decided to follow the white kids for a few miles then he ran the tags. The tags came back to Matthew Henry, age 26; lived on Blue Diamond Drive. He looked like a college kid. Mark thought,
What in the hell could he be doing with Tommy?
He didn’t know, but his gut feeling was that they were all up to no good, and he would make it his business to find out. He followed them to a storage facility. Matt punched in the gate code and sped inside. Mark didn’t know the code. He waited outside. Matt came out minutes later driving a white Escalade. The Dodge Ram followed.
ommy called his pop’s name out when he entered the house, but he didn’t get a response. He went to the kitchen, but his dad wasn’t there. He opened the bedroom door. He saw his father passed out lying across the bed with his boots still on. Tommy pulled his pop’s boots off just like he did when he was a kid. He put him in the bed then covered him up. As he was about to walk out of the room he noticed a glass tube on the dresser. When he picked it up he immediately knew what it was…a crack pipe. What the hell was a crack pipe doing in his pop’s house? Was his pops smoking? Then he thought hard. Maybe that’s how he blew the money? He became angry. He grabbed J.C.’s shoulder and shook him. J.C. just grunted and turned over on his side but he would not wake. Tommy stared at his father for a long time. Could it be his hero was smoking crack? The man that showed him how to play baseball, taught him to fish…
Though J.C. wasn’t Tommy’s biological father, he was still the only father he knew. Tommy’s cell phone rang. The caller ID read
Matt
. Tommy answered.
“Tommy, are you ready?”
“Just give me a few minutes.”
“Okay, but I’m kind of pressed for time.”
“I told you I was going to need two hours.”
“Yeah I know. Where can we meet?”
“Carolina Place Mall.”
“Okay. I will be there in fortyfive minutes.”
“Okay,” Tommy said, terminating the call. He sat on the edge of the bed and held the crack pipe in his hand. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. His father was all he had. His mother had died years ago. Now his hero had let him down. The man who told him, “Don’t ever do drugs,” was doing drugs. Tommy wondered if this was a punishment from God for dealing all the years he’d dealt drugs. He’d sold drugs to mamas, daughters, fathers, and sons and maybe this was his payback. God, he hoped this was only a bad dream. Minutes had passed while he thought. The phone rang again. It was Matt.
“Yeah.”
“What side of the mall do you want to meet me on?” “The side where the Sears entrance is.”
“Okay.”
“I will probably beat you there. I’m about five minutes away.” “Okay. Just wait on me.”
“I’ll probably just step inside and get something to eat—
probably at Sabarro’s.”
“Okay,” Tommy said, then ended the call. He picked the crack
pipe up again then dropped it on the carpet. With his shoe, he
smashed it. He looked over at his dad, who was snoring now. He
stood over him, kissed him, and left.
Tommy picked Ditty up in front of his house. Ditty made small talk, but Tommy’s mind was still on his father and the crack pipe he’d found. This had to be one of the worst moments of his life. They stopped at a red light about a mile away from the mall. Tommy was in the center lane when the light turned green in the turning lane. He pulled out into the middle of traffic. A Toyota Avalanche came to a screeching halt and a burly white man with a beard rolled down his window and yelled, “Watch what the fuck you’re doing!”
Ditty had placed his hands on the dashboard to brace himself when Tommy stopped since Ditty was not wearing his seatbelt.
“What the hell are you doing, man?” Ditty said nervously.
Tommy weaved between a blue Dodge Intrepid and a white
Honda Accord, barely missing the Accord. He then pulled to the side of the road and put the car in park. His heart beat fast. He looked at Ditty and said, “I’m sorry, man.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Ditty looked at Tommy who was avoiding his eyes. “Something
is wrong. Your mind has been somewhere else since you picked me up.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Come on, man. You know I know you.”
Tommy shifted into drive and pulled off. He didn’t say another word on the way to the mall.
Tommy and Ditty found Matt and Jay in the food court, not in front of the Sabarro’s like Matt had said, but in front of Chickfil-A drinking lemonade and eating chicken sandwiches. Jay offered Tommy some fries as he walked up.
“No. I’m watching my figure,” Tommy teased.
Matt and Jay stood while they continued to eat their food.
“Where did you park?”
“I came in through Sears like we’d talked about.”
“Got the money?”
Tommy looked at him oddly. “Come on, man. We’ve been doing this shit for almost a year. You know I got the money.”
Matt and Jay left the unfinished food on the table and they all walked through the food court to exit the mall. Matt handed Ditty the keys. Tommy got the Macy’s shopping bag that contained the money out of the car and gave it to Jay.
“I’ll count it and give you a call,” Jay said.
“You know the money’s right.”
Jay smiled. “Lighten up, Tommy.”
“I’m light enough…about twentyfive grand lighter.”
The white boys pulled away in the Dodge Ram. Ditty had pulled away but had only driven a few feet in the new Escalade when Tommy called him on his cell phone. Ditty answered on the second ring. “Yeah.”
“Stop.”
“Stop? What do you mean, stop? We need to get the hell away from here.”
“I want to get in the car with you.”
Ditty stopped and Tommy locked his vehicle and walked toward the Escalade that was now in reverse. When Tommy got into the car, he looked serious and his eyes were now red. Ditty asked, “What’s wrong?”
Tommy took a deep breath and looked toward the window; a few seconds of silence fell upon them. Finally, Tommy said, “I think my pops is smoking crack.”
’s caller ID read
Squirt’s baby mama
. He answered it on the second ring.
“What up, nigga?” Squirt said.
Q was surprised when he heard his voice.
“When did you get out?”
“I’m not out. I’m still inside.”
“You good? You need anything?”
“Just help my lady out every now and then with my son, and I will be okay.”
“Cool. I got you. Don’t even worry about it.”
“Q, the feds came to see me.”
“What? They came to see you for nine ounces? That ain’t shit.”
“I mean, I don’t think they’re going to take the case, but they wanted to know what I know. You know, the same ol’ shit.”
“Tryin’ to get you to rat, huh?”
“Yeah, but you know that ain’t me.”
“Don’t worry. I got you, dawg.”
“Q, one other thing…that nigga Tommy ain’t shit.”
“What you mean?”
“He did this to me Q.”
“Did they…the feds say it?”
“You know they ain’t gone tell you that shit, but I asked.”
“You have proof that he did this to you?”
“No, but I know he did. I just got a gut feeling he did it, Q.”
“Don’t worry. I will take care of that situation for you.”
There was a long silence then an operator announced that there was one minute remaining in the phone conversation. Q asked, “Do you need anything else?”
“That’s okay, Q. I’m good.”
“Yo, just let me know nigga. I’m here for you. I’ma take your girl some paper over there.”
“Appreciate it, man. She needs help with the phone bill.” “I gotcha, nigga.”
The phone disconnected.