pacing the floor in front of the coffee table. He occasionally looked Wink and Krazy in the eye as he explained the breakdown. “Under no circumstances are you to give anyone credit. I don’t give a fuck if Jesus Christ co-sign the shit. Don’t do it. All shorts come out of y’all pay, not mine. No company. This is a place of business, not a chill house or hangout. If they’re not coppin’, no stoppin’.” J-Bo continued to pace while he jogged his brain. He wanted to make sure he covered everything, so there would be no excuses.
“Oh, yeah. Always separate mine’s from yours. I’m putting the work in your hand, Wink, and you’re responsible for it. I’ma pay y’all a thousand a week starting off, and the more we sell, the more you’ll start making. It’s on y’all how you split the grand up.”
“What about the police?” asked Wink.
“There’s a hole right here,” J-Bo said, walking over to the fireplace. He lifted the wooden panel and stepped aside for Wink and Krazy to see.
“If there’s a raid, just throw everything down this hole. All the money and dope. I’ll have Gator dig it out the chimney later.”
“What about if a nigga tries to rob us?” asked Krazy. “We need some heat.”
“Ain’t a nigga in his right mind gon’ rob none of my spots. Just remember, separate mine’s from yours. When one of y’all leave for the store or something, don’t be carrying mine’s with you.
“Nah,” said Wink. He and Krazy were too busy looking over their first sack.
“J-Bo, you up here?” asked Gator as he hit the door twice, then stepped inside.
J-Bo hid the sack behind one of the throw pillows on the sofa, then met Gator in the kitchen.
“I got some youngin’s I want you to meet,” said J-Bo as he walked Gator into the living room.
“This is Wink and Krazy. Y’all, this is Gator.”
“A’ight,” said Wink and Krazy. From one glance, they could tell how the old, dusty, skinny man standing before them got his handle. He had a mean overbite, which made it impossible to close his mouth. His side teeth hung over his bottom lip just like a real-life gator.
“Gator is going to be bringing a lot of customers through here. He’s my man, and this is his house, so respect him. But the no credit thing applies to him as well, no matter what he says,” said J-Bo.
“I’m not going to work the youngin’s,” Gator spat as he lied through gapped teeth.
“Yeah, that’s what you said about the last workers. Come on and walk me to my car. I got something for you.” J-Bo stopped and looked at Wink and Krazy.
“Y’all need anything? Y’all straight?” he asked.
“We good,” Wink answered for them both.
“A’ight, Gator got my number. Call me if something comes up. And remember everything I said.”
Wink and Krazy nodded and watched as J-Bo led Gator downstairs. Wink reached behind the pillow and poured the rocks onto the coffee table. He looked up at Krazy, then extended his hand with a smile.
“We on, my nigga.” He gave Krazy some dap then grabbed the house phone off the receiver. He couldn’t wait to call Trey and let him know J-Bo had put them down.
Chapter Three
Six days had passed since J-Bo put Wink and Krazy up in the spot. In that short time, money was coming in hand over fist. Gator was bringing all kinds of crackheads through the spot—white, black, whatever. Long as they had that green, Gator was bringing them.
Wink couldn’t believe that some of the people who were coming through the spot were really crackheads. A lot of them had recently been turned out by the likes of slick-talkin’ niggas like Gator. A lot of the turn-outs were young white women from the suburbs. Gator would gladly assist them in spending their checks, then smoking half of their shit with them. After they ran out of money, he’d figure something else out for them to do. Gator had the women turning tricks for ten or twenty dollars, enough so they could continue their crack binge. Wink and Krazy had become the women’s number one customers. Gator had tried every line in the book on them, trying to get some credit, but Wink wasn’t falling for it. But the power of pussy still ruled the nation. Gator sicced the women on the two youngin’s every chance he got, which had become the norm.
“Where you find her at?” asked Krazy as he leaned his head back against the back of the sofa. He was referring to the fine young white thang lying across his lap, giving him the best head job of his life.
Gator stood in front of the coffee table with this dumb grin pulled back across his face. He looked from right to left at Krazy, then Wink, who were both getting their little dicks sucked by two turn-outs, courtesy of Gator.
“That’s right, baby. Turn they young asses out,” said Gator. He turned toward the TV and picked up his pipe. He packed it with one of the dime rocks Wink just gave him for the head job, then sparked his lighter.
“That’s enough,” Wink said, lifting the white girl’s face from his lap. He couldn’t even bust a nut because the smell of burning crack made his stomach do a back flip. Wink got up and buckled his pants, all the while watching Gator beam up.
“Why you always smokin’ that shit in the living room? That shit stank,” Wink said as he walked around the table and stood next to Gator.
Gator was on cloud nine. He hadn’t heard a single word Wink said. His eyes were bugged like a bullfrog, and his jaws were puffed out as he tried to contain the crack smog as long as possible.
“Let me hit it, baby,” said Amy, the girl who’d been sucking Wink’s dick. She took the pipe from Gator’s death grip, then sparked the lighter.
Wink shook his head as he watched her join Gator on cloud nine. Wink grabbed Amy’s car keys off the coffee table and set two more dime rocks on the table.
“I’ma shoot to the crib and take a shower. You need me to grab you anything?” Wink asked Krazy.
“Nah, I’m good,” said Krazy. He was too lost in Kristy’s mouthpiece.
“A’ight, well, you got the sack. I’ll be back in about an hour.” Wink grabbed EPMD’s “Strictly Business” LP off the stereo and was out the door. He stepped outside into the beaming summer sun. Those six days of sitting in the spot felt like six days of being on lockdown. He hadn’t washed his ass, brushed his teeth, or changed his clothes. To say the least, Wink was musty as a mothafucka.
He power-walked across the street to Amy’s white Escort. In the six days he and Krazy had been over on Linwood, every crackhead within a ten-mile radius knew Wink’s name. It made him smile as all the fiends shouted his name on the way to the car. They were all putting in bids for a lookout rock or some credit.
“Look out for me, baby boy,” said Dennis as he stopped Wink at the car door. “Come on, baby boy. You know my word is good. I’ll have yo’ money by the time you get back,” Dennis said, running his game down.
But Wink wasn’t going for it. Instead, he spun Dennis. “Tell Krazy I said to hook you up. He’s upstairs,” said Wink. He hurried up and climbed behind the wheel and started the engine before Betty could cross the street. She was always begging but ain’t never spent no money.
Wink skirted away from the curb, damn near blowing the clutch, as he was late coming out of first gear. The no-credit thing was about the only thing Wink had listened to from J-Bo’s lecture on the game. He and Krazy had tricked off a bunch of money fucking with them crackhead bitches, and Wink wasn’t doing like J-Bo said by separating his money from theirs. He wasn’t even supposed to be leaving the spot unless it was to get something to eat. Even then, J-Bo felt like that’s what Gator was there for.
But Wink not only wanted to go home so he could wash up; he wanted to ride down