Читать книгу The Good Life - Dorian Sykes - Страница 11

Chapter Five

“This like some gay shit for real. I don’t think I can do it,” said Trey. He set the cucumber-size baggie on the bathroom sink. He and Wink were locked in the bathroom at the spot.

“Y’all hurry up in there! We gotta be hittin’ the road!” yelled Gator.

“My nigga, they all waitin’ on us. It ain’t no gay shit. It’s some money shit,” said Wink as he pulled the shower curtain back and stepped out the tub. He stepped over to the sink and washed the lotion off his hands.

“It didn’t hurt?” asked Trey. He was talking about the four and a half ounces of cocaine Wink had just boofed up his asshole.

“Nah, that’s what the lotion is for. It just feels like you gotta shit, that’s all. Hurry up and get that shit missin’ so we can be out,” said Wink.

Trey picked up the log of cocaine and smeared lotion all over it. “Here goes,” he said, climbing into the shower.

“I’ll be out front,” said Wink as he opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the living room, where Willie, Gator, and Krazy sat.

“You get it up all right?” asked Gator.

“Yeah, but I don’t know how long it’s going to stay put,” said Wink.

“What about what’s-his-face?” asked Gator.

Trey came walking in the living room, looking like he just got off a bull. Krazy and Willie were in tears, laughing.

“Fuck both you niggas. Next go ’round it’s y’all turn,” said Trey. His asshole and manhood felt a little violated. But to Wink, it was all about the come up. J-Bo always had his workers boof the coke when hitting the highway. A police dog can’t sniff the inside of a man’s ass, was J-Bo’s logic, and so far, it had been working.

* * *

J-Bo had rented a conversion van for the trip, and he paid Gator a nice little something in crack to make the trip. He had been working with J-Bo for a few years now and knew just what to expect at every turn. J-Bo was a real calculated nigga, always plotting and thinking. He made it to the level in the game that he was on because he understood that most niggas, you have to think for them as well. Otherwise, they’d grow a brain and fuck everything up in the process.

Today was no different. J-Bo had everything already mapped out. He was the coach, drawing 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, stop fakin’,” said Trey. “You just as scared as all the rest of us.”

They all busted out laughing but ceased when the door to the room opened and Gator waved for them to come on. They all fell behind Wink as he led the way inside the room. On the bed sat J-Bo. He stood up as Gator closed the door behind them.

“Y’all enjoy the trip?” asked J-Bo.

“Hell nah,” said Krazy. “The whole way here, ole Gator-grill here wouldn’t even tell us where the fuck we was going. Then we gets flicked.”

“I told him not to tell you where y’all was going,” said J-Bo.

“Why?” asked Trey.

“You see how y’all got pulled over? Now, let’s say they would have made y’all get out, or if they would’ve asked all y’all where it was y’all were going. Somebody would’ve gave a different answer, and that would let them know y’all lying. It’s just best not to know,” said J-Bo.

That was part of the reason. The other half was just in case any of them had snitch in their blood, they wouldn’t be able to lead the police to their destination.

“What’s out here, though?” asked Wink.

“Money, and lots of it. I know y’all seen the dirt roads and barns on the way up, but trust me when I tell you these pink mothafuckas holding,” said J-Bo.

“Bo, I need to get out the street, baby,” Gator said. He was pacing the floor, geeking like shit.

“Let me get that so I can get this nigga something before he paces a hole through the floor,” said J-Bo.

Wink nodded at Trey, then toward the bathroom. Willie and Krazy snickered and hit each other as Trey bull-walked for the bathroom.

“You two niggas is silly. What y’all laughing at?” asked J-Bo, pulling back a wide grin.

“You got them two niggas stuffed like a turkey.” Krazy laughed.

“You’ll get your turn,” said J-Bo.

Willie and Krazy’s smiles disappeared at the thought of having to suitcase some dope. A few minutes later, Trey and Wink came walking out the bathroom with their packages.

“That shit on one thousand,” Willie said of the smell coming from the two shitty packages.

J-Bo took a deep breath, then said, “Ahh... that’s the smell of money.” He strapped on some latex gloves and took the packages from Trey and Wink.

“Gator, why don’t you take them to get something to eat while I put this together,” said J-Bo from the small makeshift kitchen where he stood, unwrapping the coke.

“Y’all heard him. Let’s go,” ordered Gator. He was getting agitated because he hadn’t had a hit all day.

Wink was standing over J-Bo’s shoulder at the stove, watching him like a hawk as he emptied the coke into a Pyrex jar. J-Bo turned around and saw Wink and stopped what he was doing.

“Why don’t you go with them to grab something to eat?” he said.

“Nah, I want to watch you,” said Wink.

J-Bo smiled, then wrapped his arm around Wink’s neck, all the while leading him out of the kitchen. “This game cost me ten grand to learn. When you get ten grand, come holla at me and I’ll show you all you need to know.”

J-Bo opened the door and patted Wink on his back. “But I tell you what. Grab a couple boxes of baggies, and when you get back, I’ll let you help me bag up.”

Wink was thirsty for any game J-Bo was willing to sprinkle him with. His brief disappointment was replaced by a huge Kool-Aid smile. He turned to hurry up and catch Gator before he pulled off.