*This is chapter EIGHT to my first short story titled, Da G.O.A.T (The Gangsta of ALL Teachers). Remember, these blogs are only available for TWO WEEKS and they will be deleted. Then, chapter 9 for 2 weeks and deleted, chapter 10… I appreciate all likes and loves. I respond to all comments. Those SHARES tho? OMG! I LOVE THOSE SHARES!!!*
Strange settled into the driver seat of his car, fiddling with the EQ balances while bobbing his head to Eightball and MJG’s Mister Big, The car’s interior lights held hands with the lowest thumps of the chopped and screwed music. It was midnight, hot and his frustration was building as he sat, parked outside of the small cemetery. The dark alley was aptly named, the cut. For years, the narrow lane operated as a loading dock of sorts for Williams Cemetery while simultaneously being the back exit to the downtown Main Street. He drank straight from an E&J Brandy bottle, 750ml, and sucked his teeth. “These niggas take forever.” he thought. He dropped four hard, apple flavored, jolly rancher candies into the bottle, twisted the cap on and shook it for a few seconds. Nervously glancing around, he spotted what he was looking for. Someone was crawling through the broken wire fence, just ahead of where he parked. The figure, stood up and looked around quickly before walking to Strange’s driver side window. He lowered the music and rolled the window down.
W’Kendrick blew cigarette smoke away from the window before leaning in, “Nigga, THIS white bitch go hard.” He spoke slow and emphasized ‘go hard’. “Where you find her? Math? Chemistry?” He stood up and drug from the Newport 100 cigarette.
Strange winced, a small reflection of his distaste for the upcoming conversation. “Neither. She found me.” He took a quick swig of the bottle, coughed and offered it to W’Kendrick; who refused.
“Naaaw, I’m working homie. You blowing?”
This is one of the complicated truths that Strange envied in W’Kendrick. His dedication to a goal, his singular focus. W’Kendrick sold marijuana, cocaine, crack and heroin. He smoked marijuana but never from his own supply. Tonight; Strange brought another college white girl to this cemetery; she agreed to a train in exchange for cocaine. A train is multiple males having sex with one female in the same session. W’Kendrick explained his idea when Strange returned home from out-of-state college, due to legal issues. Strange would attend college at the local university and convince white college kids to buy drugs from the P.I.M.P.ino Squad. W’Kendrick would supply Strange’s insatiable marijuana habit. “Nigga, these white hoes gon love your black ass. You nerdy, quiet and talk like them.” There was a two day celebration in Strange’s honor. His decision to continue college in their hometown would immediately explode their fledgling drug business. For awhile, it did.
Strange shrugged his shoulders, “If you roll it, I’ll blow it.” He unlocked the car doors.
W’Kendrick sat in the back seat and pulled a handful of swisher sweet cigars from his back pocket. “You know I keep my homie locked and loaded.” He passed a single, razor thin cigar to Strange and sighed.
Strange lit the blunt and looked at W’Kendrick through the rearview mirror, pulsing, alternating lights throbbed along to the music. “Bruh, no more. I’m serious. I’m sick of bringing chicks here. Number one, it’s getting wild out. Number two, the last chick? Dog, she hasn’t been back to school?” Strange was beyond worried. W’Kendrick was facing aggravated assault charges, two other squad members were sentenced to 10+ years on drug convictions, another member died in a drunk driving accident, another was awaiting sentencing for spousal abuse.
“NIGGA!” The anger in his voice was evident. He lit another cigarette, it took longer than usual to catch. “You crying over these white hoes is bitch shit. We selling. We working.” His body shook and his shoulders relaxed; his voice was deeper and milder when he spoke, “We fucking them hoes the same way white folks fucked us. Take that to college.” He laughed softly at his own joke.
Strange’s eyes never left the rearview mirror. “Talk that thug shit all you want. We were in the same classes and you had the better grades.” It was his turn to emphasize words and he chose, you had better grades. “You told me to bring white kids for dope. Cool beans, I did. But this? Y’all running trains on unknown chicks for a little powder. The last one said she would suck dick but dude…” All of his conviction drained as he remembered the last girl, her bruised face, ripped clothing, the screams and yelps.
“I know. I know. I know.” W’Kendrick looked out the passenger window. “That shit got outta hand. It was Junior. He always go too far.”
Strange, voice still broken, kept his eyes on W’Kendrick. “Bullshit and if she tell, we all go down dawg.” The girl had been raped; Strange was sure. She came for drugs and was overwhelmed, forced to do more. Strange could still see her ragged walk and hear her refuse his help. After all, she followed Strange to this awful cemetery; he must have known what would happen.
W’Kendrick’s face caught fire with anger. His guilty conscience sacrificed to a manlier image, “AND. SO WHAT NIGGA.” It wasn’t a question, didn’t require an answer. “BITCH TELL AND WE GON BE AIGHT. WHAT ABOUT YOU?”
Now, it was Strange’s turn to look away; his strength and resolve fading. He wanted to scream back, to try and talk sense into his friend. He believed W’Kendrick capable of transcending the meager beginnings and bleak outlook. Instead, he turned up the volume, smoked on the blunt and drank from the bottle. W’Kendrick rolled his window down, ashing his cigarette. After a few minutes, they both saw people emerging from the hole in the fence. W’Kendrick stepped out from the car.
The group, three men and a single woman, walked towards his car. She spoke first, “Heeeey Strange! Your friends are wiiiild.” She staggered and required help to stand. “They said you’re a virgin and probably gay so you don’t join. Is that true?”
“How many friends did you meet?” Strange asked her. His eyes focused on the EQ balance menu of the car radio, pretending to adjust the settings.
The woman looked around, her face showed visible bruises, she struggled to complete sentences but clutched her purse tightly. Strange noticed that her pants were backwards. She counted again, “Hey? Where did the rest of the P.I.M.P.ino Squad go?” She stumbled towards her car and the two men helped her.
“I’m out. You don’t need me and what I’m bringing. You a big shot now.” Strange didn’t even attempt to make eye contact, instead watching the woman pull up behind him.
W’Kendrick flicked his cigarette ash. “Show her home Captain Save-A-Hoe. This shit ain’t made for everybody and it’s over now.” He drug his cigarette again, stared at Strange and slapped his car hood. Strange wouldn’t see him again for 11 years.