Street Pharm (11 page)

Over the next hour, I also figured out that her family wasn’t half bad. Halloween at home was a family tradition since nobody wanted to take the kids trick-or-treating in a neighborhood with a rep for Halloween eggings, muggings, and drive-bys. There
must’ve been six or seven little kids running around the place. I tried not to step on any of them.

The whole apartment was done up with plastic spiderwebs, black and orange streamers, and colored lightbulbs. In the living room, space was cleared for a dance floor. Alyse’s bedroom was Candy Central. I spent some time chilling there with the kids, and even swapped my Mars bar for a Twix with her six-year-old cousin Vicky.

All and all, her family seemed like good people. But I had to stop myself from laughing when Aunt Grace asked, “What church do you go to?”

“I’m Presbyterian,” I answered. “My mom’s a church elder.”

“Is she? She’s setting a good example for you.”

“Definitely.”

Alyse came up beside me. “He’s from a good family,” she said.

Good thing she don’t know about Orlando.

Aunt Grace said, “This family’s AME, but we like Presbyterians, too.” She winked and walked away.

Alyse nudged me. “So you’re a Presbyterian, are you?”

“You got it.”

She put a hand on her hip. “When’s the last time you went to church?”

“Um, let me think . . . ”

She laughed.

A few minutes later, on a sugar high from Cousin Riqui’s Halloween punch, I let Alyse drag me onto the dance floor with the kids. Michael Jackson’s
Thriller
was playing. I taught the kids some of the hot dance moves I had worked on over the years, especially my Moonwalk. Alyse cheered me on.

We collapsed onto the sofa, out of breath.

My cell phone rang. Sonny’s number. “Yeah?”

“You want the bad news, or the motherfucking awful news?”

“What happened?”

“K-Ron got busted with a shitload of coke in his trunk.”

“Whoa.” I closed my eyes. “That ain’t good.”

“Guess who he fingered as his dealers?”

“Who?”

“Us. You and me.”

“Don’t play me.”

“I ain’t playing you, Ty.”

“I’m on my way over.”

“Wait! Should I pack a bag and get outta here? I mean, do you think the cops are gonna pick me up?”

“Just stay put. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I hung up.

“What’s going on?” Alyse looked worried.

“A friend’s in trouble. Sorry, but I gotta bounce. I better go say good-bye to your family.” I got up. “I’ll call you tomorrow about the Knicks game. I’m thinking we’ll meet around six.”

“Okay.” She got up and touched my face. “Seriously, Ty, is there something I can do? Can I come with you?”

“It wouldn’t be a good idea.” I kissed her cheek. “But thanks, Alyse. Tonight’s been great.”

But I knew the night wasn’t gonna stay that way.

W
ithin ten minutes I was in a cab, coaching Sonny over my cell phone. “You got nothing to worry about, Sonny. The stuff wasn’t from us. We been set up.”

“Set up? But we the ones supplying K-Ron!”

“Chill, a’ight? Have a beer. I’ll be there in ten.”

I wanted to smash my fist into the seat. Smash it like I was hitting K-Ron’s and Darkman’s faces. But Ty Johnson didn’t lose control.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned back into the seat.

A few minutes later I gave the driver a twenty and walked into Sonny’s building, real calm in case somebody was watching. Sonny
buzzed me up. As soon as I was in the hallway in front of his apartment, he swung the door open and I went inside.

I saw that Sonny had an overstuffed gym bag at the door.

“You said the coke ain’t from us, right?” Sonny was mad panicked.

“Right. We gotta unpack that bag right away. The cops could come anytime to search your place. If they see you running, it looks like you done something wrong. Come on.” I grabbed the bag, and we went into the bedroom. “Where’s Desarae?”

“At her mom’s in Queens.”

“Good.”

We started unpacking.

I said, “When I heard K-Ron was back in town last week, I gave him a call. It was weird. Usually K-Ron calls me the same night he gets in town. He didn’t this time. I only heard he was in town because my”—
damn, I almost said girlfriend
—“because my homey read it in the
Post.
When I called, he said he didn’t need anything this time. Said his manager was gonna put him in rehab again if he didn’t slow down. K-Ron got another supplier. It’s gotta be Darkman.”

Sonny looked up from his gym bag. “You think Darkman set K-Ron up as a way to bring us down?”

“I don’t know. Maybe K-Ron got caught, and Darkman saw a
chance to bring us down by telling K-Ron to sell us out.”

“Why would K-Ron do that? I thought you two was tight.”

“I bet Darkman got plenty of ways to be convincing.”

“Do you think the cops are gonna come after us?”

“ ’Course they will, but they won’t be able to prove shit.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Now promise me you ain’t got an ounce of nothing in here.”

“I don’t keep nothing big here, you know that. I ain’t suicidal. But I got a tiny bit of weed and a pipe.”

“A milligram is too much if they come sniffing. Let’s get rid of it.”

He went to the nightstand, took out a small bag of weed and a bong from the drawer. In the bathroom, Sonny poured the weed into the toilet and cut the bag into pieces, then flushed. I smashed the glass bong against the counter, then crushed the pieces under my feet, scooped it up with my bare hands, and flushed it a few pieces at a time.

“Anything else in here, Sonny? Think.”

“Nothing.” He was breathing hard. “They don’t have anything on us, do they, Ty? They can’t touch us.”

“Right. Remember that when they questioning you. We friends. You don’t know K-Ron from any other nigga. They can place
me
with him, not you. You got nothing to worry about.”

“So what you gonna say?”

I came up with the story in the cab. “Me and K-Ron used to be friends, but we ain’t anymore because he accused me of being jealous and talking trash about him. He hates me now, and that’s why he fingered me as his dealer.”

“I got you.”

“When the cops follow up a lead on us and it turns up cold, it’ll be done. Sure, they’ll know we ain’t choir boys—they already know that—but it won’t be enough.”

Sonny nodded, taking it all in. Sweat dripped off his face. “I trust you, Ty. You won’t sell me out.”

“Selling you out would be selling
myself
out.”

“I know. It’s just, this Darkman’s making me crazy.”

“That’s what he wants. He’s hoping the po-po will find something on us or our names will get leaked to the papers. His plan won’t work. We unshakable. Did I ever let you down, Sonny?”

He shook his head. “No, nigga.”

“Then why would I do it now? In this business, we brothas. Remember that.”

Suddenly the front door burst open and shouting filled the apartment.

I felt a body slam into me, shoving me to the ground. Someone
pulled my hands behind my back and smashed my face into the carpet.

Cuffs snapped around my wrists. Cops started searching the place, looking for drugs or cash. They wouldn’t find either.

“I hope you got a warrant!” Sonny shouted.

“Wouldn’t leave home without it, Mr. Blake,” said one of the pigs. “Come on, we’re taking you in.”

They yanked us to our feet and took us down in the elevator, then hustled us into different cars. “Easy, I ain’t struggling,” I said.

On the way to the station, one of the cops said over his shoulder, “So, I hear you and K-Ron are buddies.”

“Not anymore,” I said.

“I guess he ruined the friendship when he ratted you out, huh?” He laughed. “K-Ron used to take you to some wild parties, I bet.”

“I never been much of a partyer.”

“You mean to tell me you don’t like to party?”

I didn’t say nothing.

“What’s the matter, kid? You deaf or something?”

“I wish.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

I didn’t have to deal with his stupid questions for long because
the precinct was nearby. As we pulled into the lot, I got ready for what was coming.

I knew a little something about interrogations. My dad went through enough of them.
If they bring ya in, don’t sweat it. Stay cool and stick to yo’ story.

The cops took me inside the precinct. Nobody gave me a second look. A young black man coming in was nothing new to them.

This whole thing was messed up. The one time I
didn’t
do the deal, they brought me in.

An officer led me into a gray room with paint peeling off the walls, and left me alone.

This was when I was supposed to sweat.

An hour later, I still wasn’t sweating.

After the second hour, I still wasn’t sweating, but I was damn bored, and pissed that they were wasting my time.

I closed my eyes and relived my night with Alyse.

When the door opened, the detective found me as calm as if I’d been lying on a beach in the Caribbean.

He was big and dark-skinned. If I was a skinny white guy, I might’ve been scared. Still, his black eyes grabbed my attention. “I’m Detective Akindele.”

I cleared my throat. “Hey.”

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“No, sir.”

“Do you know K-Ron Maxwell?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you heard what happened to him?”

“He got arrested.”

“Now do you know why you’re here?”

As a character witness?
I wanted to say. “Maybe you could tell me, Detective Akindele.”

“Probable cause, Johnson. Do you know what that is?”

“It’s when the police got reason to pick somebody up, question them, maybe search their place, but not charge them.”

He seemed impressed. “Not bad at all. Did you study law in school?”

“Yes, sir.” But law class wasn’t where I learned about probable cause. Most hustlers knew the words that told them if they were busted. It went something like this:

Probable cause: They ain’t got shit on you.

Charged: We got evidence on your ass.

Probation: You one small step away from going up north, homeboy.

Community service: Here’s another way to find new customers.

Akindele cut into my thoughts. “K-Ron had a few things to say about you. Can you guess what?”

“No, sir.”

“Tell me, what was it your father did for a living?”

“He was a full-time hustler.”

Akindele smiled. “That’s one way of putting it. And why did he go to jail?”

“He was convicted of drug dealing. What does this have to do with K-Ron, Detective?”

“I was just trying to establish your understanding of the charges that could be filed against you.”

This Akindele thought he was the shit.

It was gonna be a long night.

*  *  *

I didn’t get home until eight o’clock the next morning. All I could think of was falling into bed and passing out.

I opened the door, blinked. “Fuck is this?” Cupboards emptied, drawers opened, sofa cushions on the floor, papers everywhere.

Mom burst into the front hall, dressed in her pink bathrobe and slippers. “Look, look at this place! Look what they did to it! Like it was no better than a crackhouse! What are the neighbors thinking with the cops searching my home?”

“Mom, I’m sorry. I’ll clean this up. They tried to pin something on me, but I didn’t do it. They won’t be pressing charges.”

She squeezed my arm, hard. “They told me you was running with Sonny, that no-good nigga.”

“Mom—”

“What, you gonna deny it? Go ahead, then. Deny it.”

“Sonny and me—”

“Go ahead. I’m waiting.”

I hung my head.

“I wouldn’t have been stupid enough to believe you, anyway.” She wrenched her hand away. “You your daddy’s child, ain’t you?”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t you talk to me like that!”

I stalked past her, going to my room.

She followed me, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. “You had it too good, you always did. I’m working my ass off to pay the bills while you be running the streets with Sonny! Well, no more, baby boy.”

I lost it. “What—you kicking me out? Well, I’ll make it easy for you.” I grabbed a duffel bag and started shoving clothes in.

“You wanna leave, huh? See what it’s like when you ain’t got mama taking care of you all the time? Go ahead!”

“I’m gone.” Grabbing the bag, I pushed past her and walked out. She slammed the door behind me.

*  *  *

The red numbers on the alarm clock said: 5:34. In the morning? At night? I rolled, feeling fat pillows around me. Where the hell was I?

My foggy mind figured it out. After the fight with Mom, I called a cab and went to a hotel. I’d rented rooms here before, sometimes with girls, but mostly to make deals. It was clean, comfortable, and the staff didn’t ask questions.

I listened to my messages.

Sonny: 2:50 a.m.
“They grilled me, but they didn’t get nothing. Damn pigs gave me forty-five minutes of their time, no more. Call me when you get out.”

Sonny: 3:32 a.m.
“They still got you there, Ty? What’s going on? Call me ASAP. I’m gonna crash, but I got my phone on.”

Sonny: 10:12 a.m.
“Where you at, man? They still got you?”

Sonny: 1:30 p.m.
“Ty, where the fuck are you? Get your ass on that phone.”

There were three more messages from Sonny. Then I heard Alyse’s voice.

“Hey, just calling to talk about the plan tonight. I thought maybe we could meet at Madison Square Garden since Mom and Gavin and I are going shopping in the city. Call my cell.”

“Ty, me again, call me about tonight.”

The last one was left ten minutes ago.
“Ty, what’s going on? I’m at Madison Square Garden already, I have the tickets. Are you coming?”

Damn.

I called her cell phone, and the voice mail picked up. I was getting off easy. “Alyse, hi, it’s me. Looks like I can’t make it to the game. I’m mad sorry I didn’t call before, but I got serious family stuff going on. You still got time to call a friend to go with you. Bye.” I hung up, feeling like shit.