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 on Trey and Willie. Wink turned down Charest Street and leaned his seat back, trying to look cool. Nobody paid him any attention, though. Wink attributed that to him being in an Escort.
Just wait until I pull up in a Porsche, he thought.
Wink was glad to see his driveway empty. His mom’s Pontiac Lemans wasn’t in its spot, so he knew she wasn’t home. The last thing Wink wanted to hear was his mother’s bitching about where he’d been for the past six days.
He parked across the street and got out. Wink stood on the front porch, fiddling with his house keys when the front door swung open. He looked up like a deer caught in headlights. It was his mom, and she had her murda mask on.
“Ma, I thought you were—”
“What, that I was at work? Nah, I knew if I parked in the garage, ya ass would turn up!” snapped Hope.
Wink opened the screen and tried to walk inside the house, but his mom stood firm, blocking his path.
“You not gon’ let me in?” asked Wink.
“Ya ass don’t live here no more,” said Hope, folding her arms.
“Ma, why are you trippin’?”
“I’m not the one trippin’. You stay gone for six days and don’t even have the decency to call and say ‘I’m okay. I’m alive.’ You can go live with what’s-his-name, J-Bo.”
Wink’s eyes got wide.
“Don’t try and tell me no lies, boy. I already know he’s got you selling that shit all these fools running around here losing their minds over. But ya ass won’t be selling it under my roof.”
Wink could hear the hurt in his mom’s voice. Her eyes were glossy as if tears were just a blink away. Wink felt sorry for hurting his mom. All she wanted was the best for him.
“Can we talk about this inside?” asked Wink.
Hope pushed two trash bags in front of her with her foot. Wink looked down at the bags and knew it was real. His mom was really kicking him out. He looked up at Hope, and she had tears streaming down both cheeks.
“I can’t watch you destroy yourself, Wayne. You don’t want to get a job or go to school. All you want is what you see. Nothing,” said Hope.
Wink was about to say something to try to calm his mom’s nerves, but the figure standing behind her made his blood boil. It was Gary’s dusty ass, Hope’s on-and-off-again boyfriend. Wink hated Gary with all his might. Gary was a bum nigga who didn’t work, hustle, or nothing. All he did was live off Hope, and Wink hated him for it. He felt like the nigga was using his mom.
“Yeah, Wayne. You gonna get yourself
