all the plays. All Wink and the rest of them had to do was follow the play.
“Man, we been drivin’ for hours. Where the fuck is we going, and when is we gon’ get there?” Krazy asked from the back seat of the van.
“J-Bo told me not to tell y’all. He says it’s not important,” Gator answered, looking in the rearview for a second. He gripped the wheel with both hands and sat up in his seat with his back arched perfectly.
Wink rode shotgun, despite Gator’s instructions to sit in the back with the rest of them. Wink was watching the signs on the highway. He wanted to know exactly where they were headed. He leaned forward in his seat as he squinted at the sign ahead.
WELCOME TO DAVENPORT, the sign read.
Gator reached across the seat and put his arm on Wink’s chest. “Sit back,” he said, then nodded at two state troopers sitting in the cut just yards ahead.
Gator looked in his side mirror as soon as he passed the two cruisers, and sure enough, they pulled behind him.
“Listen up!” Gator announced as he turned off the radio. “Don’t look back for nothin’ in the world, but we got two Ohio state troopers tailing us. If they flick us, everybody knows what to say. Don’t add nothin’, and don’t take nothin’.”
No sooner than Gator had finished his spiel, both squad cars hit their lights. One of the crackers got on the intercom “Pull it over!” he ordered.
Gator eased the van over to the shoulder. One cruiser boxed them in at the front, while the other one sealed off the back.
“Whatever y’all do, don’t panic,” whispered Gator as he looked in his side mirrors. The troopers were approaching on both sides.
Gator cracked his window a smidge and tried speaking in his white voice. “What seems to be the problem, officer?”
“License and registration,” said the trooper standing on the driver’s side. His tone said it all: What are you niggers doing in Davenport?
“Here you go,” said Gator as he passed his credentials out the window.
Wink was nervous as shit. His stomach was tossing and turning, and the brick of coke packed in his ass wasn’t helping matters any. The second trooper stood at the passenger-side window at an angle, with his hands on his pistol. He peered into the van at Wink, then at Krazy, Willie, and Trey in the back seat. The trooper kept a watchful eye on the group while his partner went back to his cruiser to run Gator’s information.
“We going to jail,” whispered Willie.
“Ain’t nobody going nowhere long as we play it cool,” Gator said through clenched teeth. His grill was so fucked up, it was hard to tell if he was talking or not. He looked in the side mirror at the trooper as he walked back up to the van.
“Where are you headed?” asked the trooper as he passed Gator his information back through the window.
“Cedar Point Amusement Park,” said Gator.
“And who are these men you got with you?”
“They’re not men. This here’s my son.” Gator pointed at Wink. “And those are his friends in the back.”
“You know we don’t take kindly to you people coming through Davenport. There’s been a lot of you runnin’ drugs in and out.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but that’s not why we’re out here,” said Gator. He looked in his side mirror only to spot what he’d already suspected. The trooper had stalled him out long enough for a K-9 unit to arrive.
“You mind if we take a look around?” asked the first trooper.
Gator was a seasoned vet in the game. He knew that it was all a play on words. When the trooper asked if he minded, that meant consent—and Gator wasn’t about to consent to anything.
“Yeah, I mind. What’s the cause?”
“You runnin’ drugs.”
“Am I under arrest?” asked Gator.
“Not yet. But when—”
“You’re not going to find anything, because I’m not moving anything. Unless I’m under arrest, I am going to be on my way,” snapped Gator.
The K-9 unit officer had walked his dog around the van three times as slowly as he could. He stopped in front of the van and made eye contact with the trooper who had been talking to Gator. He shook his head no. The trooper turned beet red because he had to let them go when his gut told him they were drug runners.
“I suggest you get going, boy. And I don’t want to see your smart ass out here drivin’ these roads again.” The trooper slapped the hood of the van.
Gator had already started the engine. He pulled the shift down to drive and peeled away from the shoulder, kicking up a dust cloud in those honkies’ faces.
Wink had to crack the window to let out the smell of his nervous fart. He just knew they were on their way to jail. Trey was in the back seat, thinking the same exact thing, and Why did I let this nigga talk me into this shit?
Willie turned around and peeked out the back-window curtain to see the distance between them and the troopers. “You handled they cracker-dog asses, O.G,” he said, turning back in his seat.
“Yeah, I thought we was gon’ have to beat they ass and get little on foot,” said Krazy.
Gator looked in the mirror at the bunch and decided to give them all some game, for they had earned it by not panicking. He said, “See, the first thing you gotta know when you ridin’ dirty is what these pigs can and can’t do. If all your paperwork is legit and you’re not smoking or drinkin’, then they can’t search you unless you let them. So, always have your shit together. And no matter what they say, never get out the car. Make ’em drag you out if they want to search that bad. That way, even if they do find something, you’ll beat the charge on illegal search and seizure.”
Wink was the only one soaking up the game ole Gator was spittin’. The rest of them, that shit went in one ear and out the other.
Gator pulled in the parking lot of the Regency Motel off Clifford Ave. He parked the van and told the gang to come on. They all looked around at the motel like, Where the fuck we at? They reluctantly climbed out the van into the sweltering heat and stood near the rear of the van while Gator knocked on one of the motel doors.
Wink looked down Clifford Ave., which was nothing but a dirt road. The only thing he could see was heatwaves bouncing off the road in the distance. When J-Bo said they’d be going out of town, he imagined maybe another city, but this was some hillbilly hick town.
“Man, that nigga J-Bo know he wrong as shit. Got us way in Mayberry some fuckin’ where,” said Krazy.
“I know I won’t be going out at night. These crackers won’t hang my black ass,” said Willie.
“Ain’t nobody gon’ hang us, so chill,” Wink said. He was trying to calm everybody’s nerves.
“Nigga,
