Crackhead II: A Novel Page 16

  With her foot raised, ready to kick her, she was startled when the girl called her name.

  “Yo, bitch, wassup?” The girl cracked a snaggle-toothed smile and struggled to get up off the mattress. Her thin frame seemed to fold with the pudge that stood out in her belly. She looked like a starving African—skin and bones but a bloated stomach. It was Quita. She used to be a part of the SBBs until Tonette kicked her out two weeks after Laci came into the picture. “What you doin’ here? Lookin’ to score?” She laughed dryly.

  Tonette hated Quita because she’d fucked with Dame. Even though she was Dame’s main bitch, Quita was right up there on the food chain. One time when she and Tonette went to blows, Quita lay low for a while putting work in for Dame, but it never stopped him from fucking with her. Quita was cut off abruptly after Dame was killed, but she had already bitten the other hands that could have fed her. She’d dissed other hustlers because she was with Dame, but now that he was dead, it was easy for her to get played, laid, and turned out.

  “Look at this stupid heifer,” Tonette said out loud to Quita. “Looks like you really came up.”

  “I sure did,” Quita said as she pranced around, scratching her arms uncontrollably. Tonette could do nothing but laugh. “Look, girl, can we get over the bullshit? We was friends once,” Quita chided. “Besides, we did have something in common.”

  “Bitch, we ain’t neva have anything in common.”

  Quita smiled, then started laughing. “Dame, bitch, or did you forget? We was both fucking his ass.”

  Tonette smacked Quita across the face. Quita fell down on her mattress and a rancid odor wafted upward.

  Tonette turned up her nose.

  “You still jealous, Nette. Always jealous of somebody.”

  Tonette was about to stomp that bitch’s head, but then Quita started crying. “I need a hit. I need it bad. My baby will die if I don’t get a hit. Please!” she was on her knees in a praying position, begging Tonette to help her.

  “Baby?”

  “Yeah, right here.” Quita rubbed her belly.

  “Who would get yo’ stankin’ ass pregnant?”

  A crooked smile ran across Quita’s face. “You didn’t know Dame was gonna be a daddy?” Quita didn’t know who the father of her baby was. She just wanted to fuck with Tonette. She hated Tonette as much as Tonette hated her, but what happened next, Quita wasn’t prepared for.

  Tonette’s nostrils flared. The bottom of her Reebok sneakers found Quita’s body and she stomped her until she was certain she was dead. Tonette hacked up a thick glob of spit and shot it at Quita. She walked away without bothering to look back.

  It was just another Saturday night in the hood and time to get back to work.

  CHAPTER 31

  THE WEEKEND COULDN’T pass quick enough. Laci was ready to get back to the normalcy of college life. The alarm clock went off, waking her. After turning it off, she stretched and reached over toward Dink.

  “Dink,” she said tiredly, “get up.” She patted his side of the bed only to see that he wasn’t there.

  Getting up, she padded out to the living room and saw Dink zipping his backpack.

  “You leavin’ already?” Laci said, looking at the clock.

  “Yep.”

  “Did you eat breakfast?”

  “Nope.”

  She looked at the clock again, and back at him. “Hang on for a minute. Let me shower and throw some clothes on. We can grab a bite to eat, then go to class.”

  Dink picked up his bag and grabbed his keys. “That’s alright,” he told Laci. “I have a lot to do today. I’ll just see you later.”

  Laci watched as Dink walked out the door. She couldn’t believe how quickly their relationship had changed. In three months, they went from being happy to being unable to be in the same room with each other. It was an uncomfortable situation, so Laci spent more time hanging with her friends than staying home and working things out with Dink. Little did she know, he stayed out as well. Neither wanted to approach the subject.

  After Laci’s class, she met up with her girls. “Y’all wanna go to the Gucci store later on?” Sam asked the other three girls. “I think I need another purse.” She held up her newest purchase and inspected it.

  “Girl, please. When did you get that one?” Randi laughed.

  “Two days ago, but you know I can’t live without my Gucci!”

  The girls giggled.

  “Yeah, I wanna cop that new quarter-length jacket,” Laci chimed in. “You know, the white leather one?”

  “Ooh girl, that was cute!” Sam acknowledged. “And it would look fabulous on you, dahling.” She held her head up in the air and looked down her nose like a prima donna with a fake accent.

  Laci laughed, but then her facial expression turned grim. “Oh God,” she mumbled under her breath. She saw T.J. walking toward them.

  “Ooh, here comes that fine-ass T.J.,” Gabby said.

  As the girls walked toward him, Laci’s stomach began to tighten.

  “Yo, wassup, ladies?” he said when the girls were in ear distance. He leaned over to whisper in Laci’s ear, “Wassup, superstar?”

  Laci rolled her eyes at him and T.J. laughed as he walked away.

  “What was that all about?” Randi asked.

  “Girl, nothing,” Laci told her. “He’s just a no-good asshole.”

  Randi looked at Laci, then back at the girls. “So when we burning up the mall?”

  “About four o’clock,” Sam told her. “Is that cool with y’all?” She looked at Laci and Gabby.

  “Y’all go ahead without me,” Laci told her. “My stomach been acting up lately.”

  “Laci, you okay?” Randi asked. She was the mother hen of the group. “You been kinda sharp-tongued lately.”

  “I’m sorry. Just a lot going on, you know.”

  “Well, if you need us, we’re here for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Whenever she was on campus, Laci tried to steer clear of T.J., but he always seemed to find her, which added to her almost constant pissed-off mood. Laci hadn’t been feeling well for some time now and attributed it to being under a lot of stress. She had been eating and sleeping a lot more because of it. With all the drama of college life, the uncertainty of where she stood with her man, Simone smiling in Dink’s face every chance she could, T.J. threatening her, and the NYPD harassing her, Laci felt like she was being pulled apart at the seams and would soon go crazy.

  She realized that this feeling was why many people in her group therapy session turned to drugs—to temporarily escape the problems they were having in their lives—but Laci was determined never to go down that path again. Because of that, the only place that she would feel safe was back home and in her mother’s arms. She called her mother and couldn’t hold back the tears.

  “Hi, Mommy,” Laci said through sniffles.

  “Hi, sweetheart!” Margaret was always glad to hear from her baby. “How’ve you been? I was thinking about you earlier today when I went to the mall. You know shopping isn’t as fun with your uncle as it is with you.” Margaret laughed. “Men just don’t have the patience.”

  Laci tried to muster a laugh, but it turned into a cry. “Mommy, I need to see you.”

  Margaret teared up on her end of the phone, hearing her daughter so distraught. “Baby, what’s wrong? Did somebody do something to you? Do I need to come to Boston?” she said with urgency and panic in her voice.

  “No, Mommy, you don’t need to come here, but I do need to get away for a while. I have midterms coming up, but I can ask my professors if I can take them early. I can tell them I have a family emergency at home, so can I come home?”

  “Can you come home?” Margaret asked. “You know you don’t have to ask me that.” She didn’t want her daughter to resort to lying again, but in essence, this was a family emergency. Her family. “That’s fine, sweetheart. I can’t wait to see you.”

  They made plans for Laci to take the earliest flight from B
oston to New York on Thursday, with Margaret picking her up from the airport. She would stay the weekend. Laci was happy.

  “WELL, GODDAMN!” MONIQUE said when she reached her destination. Tonette had given her the address she got from 411. Driving, she slowed down and perused the neighborhood. “Look at this shit!”

  At no time in her life had Monique seen anything as lavish as what she saw before her eyes. She’d never thought streets like this existed in the South Bronx.

  She parked her car, a little hoopty she’d bought after she started working at the post office, a few houses down from the last house on the block and studied it closely. The white brick Colonial-style home exuded elegance and screamed money. Monique thought it resembled the White House, only South Bronx style.

  She got out of the car and slowly strolled toward the house. Even though it was late October, the lawn was still green and looked like thick, luxurious carpet. There was someone outside planting fall flowers around the shrubbery. The air even smelled different—cleaner and more fragrant.

  As Monique walked up the steps and onto the front porch, she realized why Laci had a rich air about her. She knew no other life and she was definitely a product of her environment.

  Melodic chimes rang faintly after Monique pushed the doorbell. She turned around on the front porch and faced the street. The homes on the block were were like the rich white people’s homes that she saw on soap operas. Just when she began imagining herself living in a fly crib like the one across the street, the front door opened.

  “Yes? May I help you?” the woman questioned.

  Monique turned around and gasped. She was caught off guard because she couldn’t believe just how similar Laci and her mother looked.

  “Hi,” Monique said in her most proper voice. “Is Laci home?”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Monique.” She extended her hand. “Monique Daniels, a friend of Laci’s.”

  Laci’s mother was never formally introduced to Laci’s group of friends, so she started going off again, almost worse than she had earlier in the month. Sonny heard the commotion and went to the door to see what was happening. He stopped, not showing himself when he saw Monique. He remembered her face from the photo Officer Jones showed him. She was a little thinner, but her face hadn’t changed much.

  “You really call yourself a friend of my daughter’s?” Margaret barked. “Friends don’t hurt one another. If you call yourself a friend, I’d hate to see what you would have done if she were your enemy, young lady.” Laci’s mother stopped and stared at Monique, then started again. “ ‘Young Lady’ is too good for you. You . . . you are a devil in disguise.” It was the same thing she’d said to Tonette, and Monique could see why she was so upset.

  Laci had never told her mother exactly who gave her the crack because she was so caught up trying not to hurt her any more than she already had. Besides, Laci realized that she didn’t have to take that first hit. She had to take some sort of responsibility for her actions as well.

  Margaret felt that every black girl who called inquiring about her daughter was the one who’d introduced her to drugs and for that, she was still furious, but she was irate now that someone came by her house looking for her daughter.

  Monique was quick on her feet and knew how to get the focus off of herself. She didn’t need Margaret to keep going off on her. Actually, she needed her to shut her mouth and listen. Monique knew that she was stuck between a rock and a hard place dealing with Tonette. The only reason she was a part of the SBBs again was to assure that nothing else went wrong around her or those she loved.

  Monique was at her wits’ end when Tonette pulled that shit at her grandmother’s house and she felt she had no other choice but to join the group again. She lied when told Tonette that her grandmother put her out of the house. Her grandmother was one of those older ladies who would fuck somebody up and pray about it later, but it was Monique’s choice to leave home because she knew that Tonette was capable of going to extremes and she didn’t want to put her grandmother in any more unnecessary danger.

  Margaret attempted to close the door in Monique’s face, but Monique’s quick thinking prevented that. “I can understand how you feel and I would too if I had a daughter, but I am Laci’s friend,” she spoke roughly.

  “Were you the one who gave her the drugs? Whose idea was it and where did they come from?”

  Monique looked Margaret in the eye. “It was Tonette,” she told her truthfully. “Our other friend, Crystal, was killed by something unrelated to what happened to Laci, but it was Tonette who was behind the whole thing.”

  Monique never thought she’d be a snitch, but she felt that it was time to come clean. She reasoned that by helping Laci, she would help herself in the process by easing her mind before she left the South Bronx.

  Although fairly new at the post office, Monique worked hard and was well liked, so her supervisor had agreed to help her transfer to another location, out of state, if a position became available. She wanted to move as far away as she could, and that time was upon her.

  Monique told half of the truth when she answered Margaret’s third degree. She felt it didn’t matter whose idea it was, or where the drugs came from; it was the fact that Tonette handed Laci the first puff of the poison that changed her life.

  Typically, Monique wasn’t one to run her mouth, but she hated Tonette, and she didn’t care what Margaret did with the information she was feeding her. Monique had to really play her cards right because she knew that putting Tonette’s name out there could backfire, and if Tonette found out, she might as well dig her own grave next to Crystal’s.

  Monique was simply hoping to right the wrong she played in Laci’s addiction by admitting to everything, and hopefully Margaret would help her save herself. She could really get on with her life then and put the SBBs behind her.

  “I tried to stop them. I swear I tried. I even wanted to warn Laci, but it was too late. They all turned against me. Can you at least tell me if she’s okay?”

  Margaret became silent and her eyes filled with tears. “My daughter was a crackhead,” she said through a low growl.

  Margaret’s silence alerted Monique that something was wrong. “Was? Oh no . . . please don’t tell me she . . . she’s . . .” Monique stumbled over her words and feet, falling against the white pillars, hyperventilating. “First Crystal and now Laci?”

  Her performance was so powerful that Margaret could do nothing but listen.

  “I told the police, I told them about Tonette and—”

  “You actually told the police?” Laci’s mother quizzed, interrupting Monique’s outbursts.

  “Yes.” Monique wiped the tears from her eyes. “Ms. Johnson, so much has gone on all at once. You heard about the shooting on the news didn’t you? The girl with the gun who was shot? That was Crystal. I was with her, too. I actually was shot myself.” She motioned toward her leg. “That’s when I told them.”

  “You’re the survivor of the shooting?” Margaret remembered the story. “The girl who was killed. Was that the girl who hurt my Laci?”

  “Um, not really,” Monique again half told the truth.

  “What was she doing with a gun?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am,” she answered truthfully, “but Tonette insisted on getting back at Laci. She’s blaming her for everything.” She wanted to get Margaret’s focus back on why she was there.

  “Look, Ms. Johnson, I’m not perfect like Laci. None of us are. I wasn’t raised in your type of world, but I am who I am and I know I’ve fucked up . . . uh, I mean messed up by dealing with the crew, but that sh—mess that went down wasn’t my fault. But I guess I’m guilty by association. It’s cool, though. All I wanted to say was I’m sorry about what happened to Laci and if I could change things, I would.” Monique turned around to leave. What Laci’s mother did next surprised her.

  “I appreciate your apology, honey,” Laci’s mother said and embraced her. Looking at Monique’s face
and seeing how distraught she was, Margaret told her, “Come on in. Let’s get you cleaned up.” She wanted to talk to her a little more: Sonny hurriedly left from behind the door and retreated to his room. He didn’t want Monique to see him. He knew what the South Bronx Bitches were all about and he didn’t trust any of them. He thought it best for him to remain on the low until he could figure out what was really going on.

  Monique followed Margaret into her home. She looked around and observed the plush surroundings—white walls, brass and crystal fixtures, light-colored wood, and oversized furniture. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a backyard like a golf course with an in-ground pool. Laci’s got it made, she said to herself. I just hope her mother will forgive me.

  CHAPTER 32

  LACI LAY ACROSS the couch, seeing how well her plan was unfolding. Causing conflict between her and Dink was the easiest way to get out of Boston without him wanting to follow her. Unfortunately, Laci felt that the rift she’d caused really unmasked the underlying problems they had. She hated to see that they were drifting apart and she hoped that the trip home would give her the time she needed to analyze the situation.

  Laci heard keys jingling at the front door. Dink walked in.

  “Hey, Laci,” he said as he walked past her and into the bathroom. He returned to the living room and hung up his jacket.

  “Dink, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  He turned and looked at Laci after he closed the closet. “What’s up?” He seemed to be a little on edge.

  “Um . . . I been thinkin’, um . . . I think we need to have a little break from each other.” Laci choked on her words. She’d never thought she would have to tell Dink this.

  He looked at her, puzzled. “What do you mean ‘a little break’?”

  “Just some time apart,” she clarified, trying to suppress a tear. “I think I’m going home for the weekend.”

  “What about studying for your midterms? That’s next week, babe.”