Free Slipping by Y. Blak Moore Page A

geeking for a hit. Coming off like a hype would destroy his chance for getting a piece on consignment. On the curb he rehearsed the lines he would use like a theatrical understudy. Using his T-shirt he wiped his forehead. He got a sip of water from the water fountain in the middle of the park. He spotted Diego. The drug dealer was doing his usual strutting in front of some young girls of suspect age.
    “Yo, Diego, check it out,” he called pleasantly, closing the distance between himself and the drug dealer.
    Diego instantly recognized from Don's patronizing tone that he wanted a favor. He had been selling drugs longenough to know that when customers was short or didn't have any money they could be the nicest people on Earth. The closer Don came, Diego could see for sure that his old archrival was a fucking clucker. The sly smile that played upon his lips showed his pleasure at seeing Don like this. Now that Don was a crack monster he knew the boy wouldn't be challenging him anymore.
    Diego asked, “What's up, Don-Don? How you living yo?”
    “I'm tight, bruh. I just came to check you out. I done ran into a little snag with this scheme I'm running. My loot is low right now, so I was hoping that you could hit a nigga up wit a little something to hold me over until I get my paper in order. You know I'm good for it.”
    Diego had heard it all before. “Yeah, you good for it. You done spent a decent piece of paper wit a nigga. But I'm duty bound to let you know that all credit cost double. And even a cool fella like you got a deadline like everybody else or …”
    “Yeah, Diego, I know all that shit. But you don't got to worry about that shit. Once my little scam come through I'll have some nice paper.”
    Nodding, Diego said, “Awight, Don. I hope you right, 'cause I don't want to have to come looking for you. What you trying to touch?”
    Throwing caution to the wind, Don said, “Nothing huge, just a quarter. That should hold me until I touch this paper I've got coming to me.”
    Diego looked him up and down. “Run over there and tell Lonnie that I said to give you a quarter ounce.”
    “Thanks, bruh,” Don said, hoping that he didn't sound too eager. He backed away to find Lonnie quickly in case Diego changed his mind.
    The business transaction with Lonnie took only a few seconds. Don had to admit that they did have a smooth operation. It took only a nod from Diego and he had seven grams of crack in his hand. He ran all the way home with the quarter ounce stuffed in his pocket with his hand on it.
    Bursting into the house, Don bound up the steps and crashed into his room. Juanita was lying in the bed. She appeared not to have moved an inch since his departure. He walked over to the bed and triumphantly dangled the quarter ounce over her head. She bolted upright and retrieved the saucer from under the bed. Razor blade in hand, she waited eagerly for him to dump the contents of the plastic bag on it.
    “See, girl,” he bragged, “I told you that I was gone cop. I ain't no shorty in this shit. If you stay with me and act like you got some sense, I'll keep both of us high.”
    Stroking his ego, she said, “You know I love you, baby. I wasn't worried 'cause I know that my man can handle his business. I knew that you wasn't coming back without some shit. To celebrate after I take me a hit Imma try to suck you dick to the bone.”
    Don took off his shirt and shorts. Chivalrously, he waited for Juanita to take a bump off the pipe so he could receive his reward.

7
    A QUARTER OUNCE OF CRACK FOR SMOKING PURPOSES was considered to be a lot, but Don and Juanita consumed it in record time. Two days of continuous smoking and sex was all the time they needed.
    Juanita was relentless. “Don, you need to do something. That little shit we had is gone. I need something else.”
    “I know,” Don said as he scraped res from the pipe. “You think I don't know that shit, girl. Shit, the way you smoke we need about a ounce to hold