cheered in perpetuity. Magic’s smile and the Lakers’ championship squad of the Eighties posed tirelessly.
“I wanna smoke rock right now. I’m Rightchus and I came to get down. I’ll free base whether you’re a fatty or skinny. I don′t care, just you holler. I wanna smoke rocks wit’cha, ain’t turning nothing down but ma collar,” Rightchus sang as he drifted past pictures of Jordan in complete Nike-flight, Ali caught delivering another invisible jab, Bruce Lee executing a painful grin, and teen boxer, Iron Mike, wearing a champion’s scowl with three title belts hanging around his trim waist. Rightchus waved his arms.
“I’m old school like that,” he said with a smile as he plopped onto the ruined sofa and closed his eyes as if on the verge of passing out. Rightchus was on his beach building his castle of sand. He played with the birds and fishes.
A long time ago, his mother told him he would never amount to nothing. At the end of a trying teenage life, he mapped out his adult living to prove how right mothers could be. Rightchus knew he would need help to accomplish that so he formed a partnership with crack in order to accommodate a quick end to his tale of frustration. “Round here, you either smoke it, sell it, or stay the hell away from it. That’s the three ‘S’s’ to da shizzit. I do two out of three all the time,” he would often brag. “I’m in control of my destiny, see.”
He closed his eyes and whistled a soft melody. It must have been a favorite cause he smiled ear to ear. Rightchus carried with him the bad names and things thrown at him. He savored the moment when he would use the taunts and jeers and turn them into cheers. Rightchus smiled knowing that no matter the weather, there would always be crack and he was a survivor.
Another day, another hit. Don’t blame me, blame the drugs and shit, he thought as he jumped up and reached for the volume on the old beat-box. He tried to find a station he liked. Rightchus paused briefly then continued for a while until finally, he stopped and stared at the television. Rightchus rushed over and began adjusting the antennae in the hopes of getting better reception.
“Time for the news. This bad boy better play right,” he said aloud and shifted the antennae from this side to the next, right to left. Nothing he tried worked. Rightchus was on the brink of irritation when he heard the knock on the door. “Who is it?” he asked and frantically hid his works.
He peered out the peephole and immediately recognized Maruichi’s spoiled daughter and her friend. They probably looking to cop sump’n, Rightchus thought as he yelled.
“Yeah, can I help y’all? What you want?”
“We want some of the stuff, you know? Like before. Can we come inside and talk, Mr. Rightchus?” one of the girls asked while the other kept a goofy grin pinned to her face.
Rightchus hesitated. “Where your father and brothers? They ain’t out there waiting behind y’all, is they?” Rightchus asked but then realized that the big man’s daughter was out of her league, slumming for drugs.
Lillian’s father was Joey Maruichi, brother to a well-known mobster Frankie who had a hand in just about everything that happened in the hood. In the past, Rightchus had given the girls E tabs. The ecstasy pills were payment for him identifying drug spots.
After a successful bust, the police would provide the spoils as his reward. Rightchus was about the buck so he would sell most of his bounty to teenage club kids. Somehow, he’d sold tabs to Lillian’s younger brother who told her of Rightchus and she came slumming for ecstasy pills.
Rightchus gazed through the peephole knowing he had no drugs but the girls pushed the right buttons. “We have money,” added Lillian’s friend. Rightchus’ curious frown quickly converted and he morphed into hustle mode at the mention of money. A plan brewed as he released the door locks.
“What da fuck? That’s all you had to say,” Rightchus said graciously opening the door with a bow. “Enter. Mi casa es su casa,” he continued as he stepped aside. The two young girls, about sixteen, walked into the cluttered apartment.
“Do you have the, you know, the stuff, Mr. Rightchus?” Lillian immediately asked.
The frown on his face indicated that he was thrown for a loop so she quickly added, “Same thing as the last time, Mr. Rightchus. Only this time more.” She showed Rightchus the money. He had no Ecstasy tabs but Rightchus was a con artist and he was sure that he would able to get some dollars out of these two young rich white girls.
“This is my place, you can talk. Stuff don’t have to be stuff. What is the stuff you’re talking?” Rightchus asked hoping to rid these girls of their money. Under the guise of trying to be helpful, the mind of a con man plotted and schemed.
“Same stuff like last time. You know? You got us thirty E-Tabs, Mr. Rightchus. We need it for our Sweet Sixteen party. All our friends are gonna be there. Wanna come?”
“Nah, I’m chilling and furthermore, what would it look like, me hanging out with y’all kids? I’m liable to go to jail. Take me for R. Kelly or sump’n. Baby, I’m too hot. Plus, I’m too dirty for y’all,” Rightchus said shaking his head.
“Well, do you have the tabs?” Lillian’s friend asked while Lillian reached back into her pocketbook. Rightchus saw the Benjamin’s and his mind was already engaged.
“It’s gonna cost five hundred dollars. You’ve got that, don’t you?” Rightchus asked witty with a smirk.
“But, it’s not the same price as the last time?”
Rightchus had forgotten the price he had quoted the last time. “E is scarce and the price got to go up. It cost a lot to export and all that overseas shipping is crazy overhead. I’m saying, you want it?” The girls looked at each other and nodded.
Rightchus licked his chops as they indicated their agreement. “Aiight, that’s what I’m talking ‘bout, business people. Sit down and I’ll be back in two minutes. You can wait right here. I’ll be back with the tabs, my sweethearts.”
“Why can’t we come with you? We could have the chauffer drive us.”
“Nah, what it gonna look like if my connect see me in that car?”
“But the windows are tinted...”
“Look, you want the E or what? Just chill for a few. I’ll be right back. Get you what you want, you smell me?” Rightchus asked and the girls nodded.
He was out the door and running to the corner store. There, he purchased a bottle of aspirin and disappeared around the corner. He ran up four flights to his friend, Jorge’s, apartment.
“Yo, open the door,” Rightchus yelled as he banged on the door. “Open up, dogs. I got some business. I need some tabs dogs,” Rightchus continued to yell. He heard the door locks becoming undone and he began to salivate.
Five minutes later and completely out of breath, he was back in his apartment. Rightchus opened his hand to reveal a plastic bag filled with pink tablets. The girls’ faces lit up. “Since y’all waited a little extra, I slipped some extra ones in there, aiight? Where the dough at?” he asked. Rightchus felt his blood pressure rise as the crisp wad of bills hit his palm. “Aiight, aiight, that’s what I’m talking ‘bout. Go on, get out of here with y’all bad self,” Rightchus said showing the two girls the open door. “That’s right, go on get out, you jailbait. Get out of here and don’t be telling no grown folks about da biz. Tell only your best friends or other kids. A brother don’t wanna go to the poky, ya heard?”
“You got it, Mr. Rightchus.”
The girls smiled and made their way out of his apartment. Rightchus’ grin widened as the girls walked away. He closed the door quickly and rushed to count the money. A smile brightened his face when he realized he had made over five hundred dollars in about ten minutes. The yellow-toothed smirk blossomed into a full chuckle as he reached for the crack pipe, lit it, and inhaled. Five hundred, the figure spiraled with smoke throughout his brain.
“It ain’t my fault that the drug