Cry Revenge (6 page)

IT TOOK ONLY A COUPLE of weeks for the man with the four-to-one pop to gain a reputation. The junkies down on Main Street began dropping by Curtis' pad day and night seeking the fine white powder that mixed a little more to their liking than the other stuff in town.

Curtis was making the bread, and Fat George couldn't have been more pleased with the arrangement. He was supplying Curtis, giving him any quantity that he needed, leaving himself open for more leisure time and a little less hassle. The one goal that George sought was to get himself away from the addicts, far enough away so that their unpredictable behavior would never affect him. Pushing his stuff through Curtis was the man's way of handling it.

For both men, the situation seemed to have a future. They could each look ahead, count their money, and plan on making gains.

After two months of hustling the streets, Curtis decided it was time to settle into a more reputable scene. His lifestyle was suspect. He knew that he could be spotted easily and that his movements left little doubt as to what he did for a living. With the amount of money he was making and the kinds of dudes he was selling to, he decided that it was high time to get himself into a cozy little apartment-at least for the time being.

It was a hot, muggy afternoon. Curtis cruised around in his old Buick for three hours, following up ads for apartments that he had seen in the local newspaper. He knew what he was looking for, but none of the places he had seen so far fit the bill.

Curtis wanted a place where there were lots of people-kids and their mothers, fathers coming home from work, and a couple of times a week bringing a few of the boys with them for beer. He wanted action around him, bodies moving all the time. That kind of a place would make his comings and goings, plus the ceaseless flow of junkies that would be visiting him, much less obvious. Alone in a secluded little place would raise the suspicion of the nosy neighbors who tended to live in those kinds of places. For the time being, anyway, Curtis wanted to lose himself in a crowd.

The end of the day was approaching fast, and Curtis knew he didn't have much time left. He had people coming at eight o'clock that night, meeting him in the backyard of his mother's place. The sun was low in the western sky, and the mugginess of the day had all but worn him out.

There was one last apartment house on his list, a place located just three blocks off of Main Street. Curtis figured that the location was good because most of the junkies he dealt with didn't have rides, and a place within walking distance would pick his business up. He drove over to the Paradise Apartments and stopped in front.

The building was old and gray, with two dilapidated palm trees in front. Curtis leaned out his window and peered through the iron gates into the courtyard. A small pool was filled with children, and he could see three or four motherly types sitting around, smoking cigarettes and talking. The scene looked right.

The manager was an old black woman with two teeth missing in front. She talked with a lisp and shook the stairway when she led Curtis up to the secondfloor apartment.

"A young dude like yourself..., this is a good place." She smiled obscenely up at him, holding the door open.

The apartment was a one-bedroom, furnished in deep green and generally clean. The kitchen window looked out onto the street, and Curtis considered that a positive factor. Anybody coming toward the build ing from Main Street would have to make the turn at the end of the street. They would be visible from his kitchen.

"How much, ma'am?" Curtis asked, giving the lady his best college grin.

"Hunnerd an' ten...."

Curtis reached into his pocket, aware of the lady's careful scrutiny. He pulled out three hundred-dollar bills, and a fifty.

"Here," he said, handing her the three-fifty, "take it for the next three months. I don't want to be hassled with no rent for that amount of time. You dig?"

"Yessir!" the old woman replied, holding the money and wavering back and forth between giving him change or trying to rip him off for the extra twenty.

Curtis showed her to the front door, took the door key from her, and led her out onto the balcony. "And listen, ma'am, you just take that extra twenty in there and buy yourself something nice. Okay?"

The old woman was speechless. She looked up at Curtis and smiled, clutching the money in her hands. As Curtis watched her walk unsteadily across the balcony toward the stairway, he knew that there would be no problem from her-ever.

From that moment on, Curtis began working out of his new pad. It was easy going. The junkies liked it there and felt safe. The people who lived around him never knew what was coming down. They were all too busy with their own lives to worry about the lean, dark dude who had moved in upstairs. It was a good scene, and was to get even better.

Curtis saw Shirley the second day. He was standing out on the balcony, having just made a good three hundred off of one dude who was about to take a little journey to L.A. and needed some warmth for his ride on the bus. Curtis was feeling good, sipping a beer and watching the women and their children down by the pool.

Shirley was sitting with her three children on the patio. She was light-skinned, Mexican, with a head of the finest, blackest hair he had ever seen. Most of the other women around the pool were fat and showed signs of too many children. But not Shirley. Her bikini was small enough to reveal her long, lean legs and her rich, full thighs. Her stomach was flat, and her breasts pushed evenly against her tiny bra. Curtis watched her for the better part of an hour as she relaxed beneath the hot New Mexican sun.

Curtis' attention was diverted by a tall, black dude who ambled into the courtyard. He watched as the man walked across the patio below directly toward Shirley. The beautiful woman said something to one of the other ladies, then got up and walked back toward her first-floor apartment. The black dude followed her, making his way along the opposite side of the pool. Curtis watched as he disappeared into her apartment.

He had never spoken with the girl, but Curtis was fuming. He couldn't understand the anger he felt, or the disappointment. It seemed impossible that he would even have a chance with such a beautiful woman, but nevertheless, the rage was still there.

When the man appeared after only a couple of minutes, Curtis was relieved. At least the chick wasn't a working whore. He had seen so many housewives take on afternoon jobs to keep the spending money coming in that he automatically assumed that was what she was doing. But two minutes wasn't even long enough for them to get mellow.

The black man walked across the patio and left the apartment building. Shirley came out of her apartment a moment later. While she walked back toward her kids, she looked up at Curtis and smiled. It was the kind of look that made Curtis uncomfortable, because it revealed a knowledge in her.

The next day, Curtis watched from his living-room window. He saw his old friend and one-time partner, Dan, walk into the courtyard and go to Shirley's apartment. Dan emerged a second later, strutting happily back toward the entrance.

"Dan, my man. What it is?" Curtis shouted down.

Dan stopped in his tracks and looked up at the figure of Curtis. "Hey! Curtis, baby. Wha's happenin'?"

"Come on up, Dan. Show you my pad.... I just moved in here!"

Dan looked around for a moment. He was always suspicious. When he had decided that there was nothing going on, he climbed the steps to the second story, ambled up to Curtis and gave him a slap.

"Long time, man," Dan said, smiling.

"Yeah, baby. Come on inside and have a beer. I got some things I got to know."

Dan looked at his old friend curiously, then followed Curtis into the apartment. There was still the tension between them of that night with Fat George, and Dan was highly aware of his own feelings. He was also badly in need of a fix. But that would have to wait because Dan wasn't about to admit to Curtis that he was mainlining. A few snorts had been his scene when they had been together ripping the Fernandez brothers off for a few nickels and dimes. But that had been the limit. Curtis was one of those dudes you didn't admit to using in front of, because Curtis didn't use himself. And Dan knew that Curtis would never consider taking him on as a partner if he found out that Dan was on the needle.

Dan still had hopes of getting in on the scoring end, but at the same time, he knew that his chances for making it in that kind of scene were evaporating as fast as he could puncture his veins with the needle. Time was definitely not on his side. It hadn't been since the night he had confronted Fat George.

Curtis came out of the kitchen with two cans of beer. He tossed one to Dan, then sat down in the armchair, resting his feet on the coffee table.

"How you been, Dan?"

"Groovy, Curtis. Nothin' happenin' with me that ain't fine...." Dan took a long swig of his beer.

"Still snortin' the powder?"

Dan lowered his can and stared down at the floor. "Ain't nothin' about nothin' doin' that shit, Curtis. You know that as well as me."

"Yeah," Curtis replied, "but that chick down there don't." Curtis was taking a chance, hoping that his guess about the beautiful woman was correct. From the look on Dan's face, he knew that he had batted a thousand.

"Yeah, well, just a little of the snortin' stuff, you know what I mean. She's cool about short change.... I mean, really cool"

"I dig where you're comin' from, Dan. She looks like a together momma."

Dan grinned, then drank some more of his beer. He cleared his throat and set the can down on the table top. Leaning forward, he began to speak. "Listen, Curtis, I'll be more than happy to set you up with Shirley. She's fine, and doesn't mess with no one, if you dig what I mean."

Curtis started to tell Dan that it wouldn't be necessary, but Dan waved him off.

"No, man, nothin' about nothin'. That's all right. But one thing...." Dan leaned a little closer. There was a special look in his eyes as he spoke. "I hear stuff about you, man. I'm not surprised, you know what I mean, but I hear the thing. You an' me started like brothers, man, and then that fat Mexican screwed us up. Why not pick it up, you know, make it a partnership again"

His words were soft and uncertain. Curtis felt sorry for his old friend. But he knew how unstable Dan was, and how easy it was for him to screw things up.

"Listen, Dan," Curtis began, "let me pull your coat to something. Right now, I've got to move alone. By myself without no one else around, you dig? I mean, this is some motherfuckin' loose town, but not that loose. I hope I've made myself clear on that point."

Dan pushed his beer can aside and stood up. Curtis could see that he was trembling. For a moment, Curtis felt himself tighten to the possibility of a fight. But after looking at Dan closer, he saw that the man was in no condition.

"Easy, baby. Ain't nothing' personal or anythin' like that..."

"You motherfucker!" Dan screamed. "You bastard! You and that cocksuckin' Mexican bean-eater done fucked me up! I was all set, ready to make it with our plan, and you went with that motherfucker instead! Goddamn, man!"

"You listen, Dan," Curtis said, standing up. "You're the fuckin' fool who fucked it up! Man, we had it made and you went and blew the whole damn thing!"

Dan knew that Curtis was right. Besides, Curtis was one dude Dan would never argue with. He had never won anything from Curtis. His only victories came off the Fernandez brothers.

"All right, man," Dan said in a much softer voice, "I dig where you're coming from"

Dan stopped at the front door before leaving. "I got to take care of some business, Curtis. You be cool...." He slammed the door behind him.

From the kitchen window, Curtis watched him leave. The man didn't even have a ride. He walked all the way down the block, then turned the corner toward Main Street. Curtis didn't like the way the dude was turning out. There was something loose inside him that made him worry. He decided, though, that it wouldn't pay off to sit around and worry, because there were a thousand dudes like Dan. It was just unfortunate that he happened to have had some earlier business dealings with him.

The afternoon was turning into evening. Curtis watched Shirley's apartment, then finally decided to make his move. He put on his best shirt, his leather pants, and his suede boots.

She opened the door wearing a terrycloth robe that was partially open. Curtis looked at the smooth brown skin between the bulge of her breasts. She smiled at him, showing even, white teeth. "I've been expecting you, Curtis," she said, opening the door wider.

At that moment, Curtis knew that he had it made. He and Shirley got pretty thick pretty quick!

AS HE LOOKED AROUND the apartment, taking in the new furniture, Curt's chest swelled with pride. His woman, Shirley, was in the kitchen preparing a quick lunch for him and her three children. He stretched his legs on the gold-colored couch and patted the cushion. The smell of the new furniture filled his nostrils as he inhaled deeply. Give another month, he reflected, and he just might have a new house. At the rate the dope was selling, it shouldn't take too much longer. First thing, though, he was going to get him a new car. The old 1955 Buick he had bought was good for now, but for a man as fast as he was, it just wasn't his speed. What he really wanted was a new Cadillac. That was more down his line than some antique Buick.