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Authors: JaQuavis Coleman

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BOOK: The Dopefiend
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“That's the past. We going to get you off that shit, feel me? I got your back,” he said sincerely as he grinned at her, trying to cheer her up. He remembered when she disappeared for a while and left the hood for the detention center, but he never knew that was where she picked up her habit. It all finally started to make sense to him. He didn't see her until years later when she got older and by then she was already so far gone.
“Thanks, Seven,” she whispered as her voice cracked, displaying her pain. A man had never looked at her as more than a sex object and showed that he cared about her since the days of Apple. However, for some reason she felt safe with Seven. She truly believed him, but it was far more difficult to kick the habit than she could have ever imagined.
The clicking sound of Seven's deadbolt being unlocked echoed throughout the apartment. Hazel's and Seven's eyes shot to the door and seconds later, GiGi came strutting through the door with big, oversized shades on that added to her diva look. She wore a long peacoat and a Chanel rag on her head.
“Hey, baby. You got it smelling good in here,” GiGi said as she began to pull off her coat without even looking at who was in the apartment. When GiGi finally did look up, she quickly snatched off her shades and snapped her head back. “Who the fuck is this bitch?” she asked with a heavy attitude.
“Betta get yo' bitch,” Hazel whispered to Seven as she gave him a chance to save GiGi from getting the ass whooping of her life.
“What up, ma. Calm down. This is Hazel . . . Apple's daughter,” Seven said, knowing that he had mentioned her to GiGi on numerous occasions.
“Hmph!” GiGi scoffed as she put her nose in the air and walked into the kitchen. “Nice to meet you,” GiGi said sarcastically as she walked to Seven and kissed him.
“Likewise,” Hazel answered as she continued to eat her food.
“Nice hair,” GiGi added mockingly as she looked at Hazel's wild 'do.
“Betta get that bitch before she get fucked up,” Hazel said under her breath to Seven while smiling. GiGi heard her and instantly caught an attitude.
“You got some nerve! I'm not going to even stoop to your level,” GiGi said as she flipped her hair and stormed into the back room. “Seven!” she yelled as she disappeared into the back.
“Let me handle this,” Seven said with a smile on his face. Hazel smiled back and continued to eat while shaking her head. Seven went into the back and when he entered the room he saw GiGi with her arms crossed. Her left foot tapped the hardwood floor and she was heated.
“Why is that bitch in here?” GiGi whispered before she closed her lips tightly.
“It's not even like that, G. I'm just trying to help her out,” Seven said as he approached her.
“What? You Captain Save a Ho now?” she asked.
“I ain't trying to hear all that. She is like a little sister to me. You know how much Apple means to me. I'm doing this for him. I gotta look out for her. She out there bad,” Seven said as he stood over her, looking down into her eyes.
“Fuck that, Seven. She gots to go,” she demanded.
“Or what?” Seven asked as he smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist. His deep, low baritone and fresh scent put GiGi in a trance-like state. “You ain't gon' leave. You love this dick too much,” he said, knowing how to make her see things his way. Seven began to kiss on GiGi's neck and his hands fell down to her plump, round cheeks that resembled melons. He palmed them gently and massaged them in slow, circular motions, causing a moan to escape her lips involuntarily.
“You miss me? Tell the truth,” Seven whispered in between kisses.
“You know I do,” GiGi answered as she felt her spine tingle, and her love button began to pulsate at his touch. Seven always knew the right spot to touch and the right thing to say when GiGi was on her bullshit. Seven quickly scooped GiGi up by her behind and sat her on her oak dresser. She parted her legs, letting Seven into her personal space as they kissed passionately. Seven's hands found GiGi's neatly trimmed love box. She had a habit of wearing no panties and Seven loved that about her. Seven dropped his pants, already rock hard, ready for a stellar performance. He began to play with her love button with his thumb while slipping his two middle fingers in and out of her slowly. He then began to rub his tip on her button as he moved his hands away and let his soldier take over the job. He slowly slid into her, making her back arch in pleasure. She began to suck on his neck as she dug both of her nails into his back.
“Ooh, Seven, you so hard,” GiGi complimented as he began to slow grind her, moving her ass better than a Latin dancer while inside of her. Seven went deep, hard, and slow as he gradually made her forget why she was even upset. Seven knew by her silence that he was hitting her right spots. She didn't even worry about moaning or pretending that it was good, because she was too busy being in ecstasy. Seven was seasoned enough to know that if a man is hitting it right, all the moaning and dirty talk is nonexistent. That was all for show and Seven wasn't there to be playing. He was handling business. GiGi gripped his tight ass as he grinded her with a stroke of a genius, making her wetter with each pump. Slurping noises filled the room and Seven sped up, making her love box make noises.
“Right there, right there. Don't stop, nigga!” she crooned as she felt herself about to orgasm. Seven licked his middle finger and reached around so that he could play with her other hole, bringing her to a climax. He moved his finger in swift circular motions as her other entry got just as wet as her love box. GiGi smiled in pleasure as she enjoyed Seven's skills and perfect timing. She began to thrust her pelvis against him as she came closer and closer to her orgasm. “Seven!” she yelled as her love came down and a small squirt shot from her womb, dripping onto Seven's inner thigh. Seven instantly pulled out, not even wanting to get his orgasm. He just wanted to let GiGi know who the boss was. GiGi hopped off the dresser, staggered over to the bed, and collapsed.
“Seven, you the best,” GiGi said as she breathed hard and waited for her legs to stop trembling. Seven smiled and smacked her on the ass just before he walked into the bathroom that was connected to his room.
“I have to hit the streets. Call me later, right?” Seven asked.
“Yeah, baby, I'ma call you,” she said as she stood up and looked in the dresser mirror, fixing her hair.
“You still got an attitude?” he asked as he stepped in the shower. “Betta lose it and don't say nothing to that girl when you leave,” he demanded.
“Okay, Daddy. I'm sorry. You know I get jealous sometimes,” she said, standing up and straightening out her dress. “I am running late for a photo shoot in Detroit. I will call you when I get back,” she said as she walked into the bathroom. She opened up the curtain and watched as he washed his body with the sudsy soap. “You hear me?” she asked.
“Okay. Talk to you later,” Seven said as he closed his eyes, letting the water cascade down his face and onto his body.
“Okay,” she said as she closed the curtain and left. She picked up her coat and saw Hazel washing her plate in the sink. Wanting to respect Seven, she said, “Bye.” Hazel acted as if she didn't hear her and didn't even acknowledge her. GiGi shook her head and exited the apartment. Hazel caught an attitude as she thought about what she had just heard.
Why am I catching an attitude?
Hazel thought while trying to convince herself that she wasn't feeling Seven. In due time, Hazel would stop faking and realize that Seven was the man of her dreams.
Thirty minutes later Seven emerged from the back, fully clothed. He had a tan sport jacket on with a tan casual dress shirt on underneath. The first button was undone on his shirt but he still looked neat and debonair. The casual yet sophisticated hook up he had on made him look like he had just jumped out of a
GQ
magazine. His neatly ironed slacks and crisp loafers only added a cherry on top of his debonair look. Seven carried a duffle bag in his right hand, ready to go handle business. Hazel was watching television as he entered.
“Okay, Hazel, I'm about to head out for a couple of hours. Make yourself at home and there is food in the fridge. We will talk later this evening and I will take you shopping then, cool?” he asked as he headed to the door.
“Why are you being so good to me, Seven? You know you don't have to do this,” Hazel said, not understanding his loyalty to her. Hazel turned around and took a look at Seven and couldn't believe that Seven was looking so professional, totally the opposite of his hardcore persona. Seven pulled out a pair of non-prescription, sophisticated-style glasses and slid them on, making him look more like a doctor than a drug dealer.
Damn,
Hazel thought, amazed at his new appearance. Seven gave her a small grin and opened his door. Seven was on his way to meet his connect and transport a few bricks of heroin from Canada back to Flint. He only wore professional attire to stay off the police's radar while moving the weight up and down the highway, a mistake that Apple made that wouldn't go in vain.
“See you later,” he said as he left, not answering her question. Seven disappeared into the hallway and closed the door, leaving Hazel there alone. Hazel felt like a little child again as she watched Seven walk out the door with a bag full of money, just like Apple used to do.
Chapter Six
Seven cruised the highway with Rah-Rah on his passenger side. It was the first of the month and it was time for Seven go to cop from his out-of-town connect. Rah-Rah sat, sunk low in the passenger side with a black .45 pistol on his lap while he moved the toothpick around in his mouth with his tongue. Rah was black as night with smooth skin and a full beard that came three inches off his face. A three-sixty wave pattern graced his head and added to his neat look. Rah-Rah was Seven's shooter, his enforcer, and right-hand man.
“So you fucking her or what?” Rah asked bluntly as he wondered about Hazel, who was back at Seven's apartment. Seven, always the one to choose silence over an explanation, remained quiet and smiled as Rah tried to get the 411. “Man, I know you hitting that,” Rah said, trying to convince himself. Seven just shook his head and smiled at how curious Rah was. “All the years I have known you . . . You never let a chick move in with you. Not even GiGi,” Rah said, referring to his current girlfriend.
“How those niggas over in the fifth ward moving through them joints?” Seven asked, quickly changing the topic of conversation. He was referring to the bricks of heroin that he had fronted them a couple of weeks back.
“They are done with the first shipment. The young boys over there getting it. They just called me to re-up again.” Rah said, nodding his head in approval. Seven was the man who brought all the dope into Flint, but he let Rah be the front man. Seven just sat back and collected the money like a true boss should; just as Apple had taught him.
“Cool. And the south side boys?” Seven asked.
“They paid yesterday. They ready for some more joints too,” Rah answered. Seven could already feel the money in his hands, which made the trip they were taking to Canada all the more sweet. They just passed Detroit preparing to get on the Canadian bridge that separated Canada and Detroit. Rah-Rah also dressed in professional wear trying to hide their gutter appearance from any suspecting police just in case they got pulled over. The dummy gas tank under Seven's coupe was empty, but not for long. Soon it would be jam-packed with Saran-wrapped heroin bricks, making the car a few kilos heavier.
Meanwhile in Seven's apartment, Hazel walked back and forth, pacing the floor anxiously, while clenching her stomach, contemplating larceny. She was itching for her first shot of the day. Her stomach was in knots and bubbling as she grimaced, waiting for the pain to settle. She had been to the bathroom about five times since Seven had left. He had only been gone two hours, but even that was too long. Her bowels were getting the best of her and she couldn't stop herself from feeling like she was about to go on herself every five minutes. “Fuck!” she yelled as she grabbed her own hair while still pacing.
“I can't do this shit,” she said, trying to talk herself out of what she was about to do. Seven's forty-two-inch plasma television was calling her name. She knew that she could get a pretty penny for it, and internally her conscience was having a battle. “I can't take this shit. He's trying to help me though,” Hazel said, battling with her conscience as she tried her best to not look at the TV.
“I can get about five hundred for that for sure,” she said to herself as she began to scratch her arms as they felt like ants were crawling all over them. A sharp pain shot through her stomach once again, this time knocking her to her knees. Hazel began to cry as she balled into a fetal position in excruciating pain. Once the throbbing subsided, Hazel jumped up and went for the television. As she unplugged all of the cords, the only thing she could think about was shooting the dope into her veins and stopping the pain she was feeling. Using heroin was a full-time job. If a person doesn't have it in their system, their body will let them know and Hazel was feeling it full strength.
“Sorry, Seven. I'm so sorry,” she whispered as she unplugged the television, yanking the cords out of the socket. Seconds later, she struggled with the television and headed out the door on her way to the hood to sell Seven's property. Fuck a monkey; she had to get that gorilla off of her back. She was about to catch a cab over to Millie's apartment to put her up on the stolen goods.
 
 
“Stop playing, nigga. Damn! This mufucka go for about two thousand dollars at Sears,” Millie said as she tried to sell Seven's television to a hustler who sat in the dope house. Hazel stood behind the TV, letting Millie broker the deal.
“Well, this ain't no fuckin' Sears, as you can see. You gon' take it or leave it? I'll give you two packs for that mufucka,” the hustler said as he eyed the television. Millie and Hazel had been trying to get the TV off for over an hour and both of them were already jonesin' badly.
“Man, fuck it. Take that shit, Millie,” Hazel said as she gripped her stomach and shifted her weight from one foot to the other one. Hazel didn't care that she was trading a two-thousand-dollar TV for a hundred dollars worth of dope. She just wanted to get her fix so she could stop the excruciating pain in her stomach. She knew that she was seconds away from using the bathroom on herself but she wanted to see the deal through before rushing to the stool.
“You's a old bitch-ass nigga! You know this shit worth way more than what you offering,” Millie said as she snatched the two packs of dope off the table, which he had set there to entice them. As soon as Millie got the dope in her hand, they both dipped into the back room, which was one of the only remaining free rooms left in the crowded dope house. Using the bathroom was the last thing on Hazel's mind as she anticipated shooting up.
“Come on!” Hazel demanded as she began to pull down her pants so that she could find a vein in the crease next to her vagina. She didn't want to use her arm, because she had used it the day before and she liked to switch it up so that she wouldn't overuse the same spots. Millie sat at the table and began to set up. She emptied the dope in a spoon and pulled out her syringe that was in her purse. She sucked the water from a bowl that was at the center of the table. Hazel's eyes lit up as she thought about where she was about to go. Millie looked into Hazel's eyes and saw no depth. Millie wanted so badly to tell Hazel to leave the drug alone, but she knew how it felt to have a monkey on your back. Millie wanted to cry every time she did drugs with Hazel, but the sad feeling always was trumped by the thought of the ecstasy that the drug provided. Millie help Hazel tighten the belt around her thigh and they both took the cold train to cloud nine.
Seven and Rah pulled up to the humungous house that sat on the lakefront in a small suburb just miles away from the Canadian bridge. The house sat back a couple of acres from the curb and was a spectacular sight to see. It was something that Seven was looking forward to having one day. As they pulled up the long driveway, two beautiful Asian women with long, flowing hair came out the front door, both wearing black dresses and six-inch heels.
“Damn, are they twins?” Rah asked as he stared at their tight, petite bodies and small, firm asses. When Seven stopped the car, one lady went on each side and opened the door for them.
“Hello, gentlemen. Welcome,” the lady on Seven's side said with a perfect smile and a flawless English accent.
“What up, ma,” Seven greeted as he stepped out, handing her the keys so she could park his car in the back. Seven loved the way Hassan was living. It was a residence, but Hassan had a valet-type system with gorgeous women as valets.
“Right this way, gentlemen,” the other Asian woman said as her twin sister got into the driver's seat and pulled the car around. “Hassan has been waiting on your arrival,” she said as she began to lead them to the twelve-foot front door. Rah fell behind, trying to get a good view of the woman's assets while being escorted into the house. When they entered the house, the sound of Prince's song “Soft and Wet” lightly played throughout the mansion's speaker system and the mixed smell of weed and incense danced through the air. The well-lit, spacious front room was equipped with marble floors that were so shiny they looked as if they had a layer of glass on them. The high cathedral ceilings were thirty feet high and painted with Arabian angels, all of them resembling Hassan's face. The mansion never ceased to amaze Seven and Rah as they looked around and saw many women of different nationalities walking through the mansion; all half naked. The skimpy silk robes and exotic negligees were enticing to any man who walked in. It was as if Hassan was the Arab version of the infamous Hugh Hefner. His home was crawling with beautiful women and he was living every man's fantasy. Moments later, Hassan came down the stairs with his all-white terry cloth robe on, complimented by Ferragamo suede house slippers on his feet. A glimpse of his abundance of chest hair peeked out the opening of his robe. Hassan had olive-colored skin and his long hair was neatly combed back into a ponytail that fell to the middle of his back. His Arab heritage was very evident in his physical features. Hassan had perfectly manicured nails and feet because of his metrosexual tendencies and narcissistic views on life. He approached Seven and Rah while smiling and extending his hand to Seven.
“Good evening, my friend.”
“Hello, Hassan,” Seven answered as he shook Hassan's hand firmly. Hassan nodded his head at Rah, but didn't speak to him. He focused his attention back on Seven and opened his hand, waving it toward the den that sat in his tri-level mansion.
“Shall we?” Hassan asked as he led Seven toward the den. Seven leaned over to Rah and told him that he would be right back after negotiating with Hassan. Rah rubbed his hands together and stared at the thick Latino woman coming down the stairs in lingerie, and had no problem being left unattended. His eyes were glued on her huge breasts and her long-pointed nipples that showed through her see-through garments. Rah always loved to come to Hassan's place with Seven. Hassan's palace was like a 24-7 orgy waiting to happen and with Rah being a freak and all; he was in paradise.
“Take your time, fam. Take your time,” Rah said as he began to follow the ass and perky, plastic-surgery tits into the main room.
Seven followed Hassan into the den, which was on the lower level of the house. As Seven went down the stairs that led to the den, he noticed the mood and decorative theme had changed. The speaker system was turned off in the lower den and the all-white carpet made it look immaculate. The carpet was so soft, Seven felt like he was walking on pillows as he went across the floor. The Italian, white leather couches equipped with round, glass in-tables, and a huge plasma television that hung on the wall were nothing short of amazing.
“Have a seat, my friend,” Hassan offered as he took a seat on the couch, right across from Seven.
“I need two whole things and was wondering could you spot me two on consignment,” Seven said, getting straight to business.
“I see that you are trying to step your game up, Seven.”
“Something like that. I am ready to make some power moves. I just need to start thinking about the future.”
“You're a smart man. You remind me so much of Apple. I just wish that he had been thinking the same way you were thinking back then,” Hassan replied. Apple was on his way back from copping from him when he got busted years ago.
“Yeah, me too.”
“I tell you what. You say you want two kilos on consignment. I'ma give you ten. It's time to step you up into the big leagues. You have been buying from me for years and every time you come, you just buy a few at a time. Usually I would have cut you off as a customer, but Apple spoke very highly of you and off the strength of him . . . I fucks with you. But it's time for you to do this right,” Hassan said as he glanced at the tall, slender Russian woman who came into the room heading straight for the bar. Her hair was short and white as snow. She began pouring Hassan his favorite drink: Scotch on the rocks.
Seven nodded his head in agreement as he began to rub his hands together thinking about the opportunity that Hassan had just placed in front of him. The woman brought the drink to Hassan and asked Seven if he wanted something. Seven shook his head no and focused back on Hassan.
“I'm ready, fam,” Seven said, looking forward to shutting the whole city of Flint down with the raw he was about to get hit with.
“Great,” Hassan said as he took a sip of the drink and looked at the Russian woman. “Get ten kilos for our friend.” Seven smiled and put his plan to flood the city in motion.
BOOK: The Dopefiend
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