Street Pharm

  “Yeah. Last time it was down on Coney Island. Time before that, it was in a Wal-Mart parking lot in Islip.”

  “I’ll stay on his tail. Another thing. Do you think Natty will testify against Darkman and Alejandro?”

  “He’ll do whatever it takes to stay outta jail. If that means testifying against Kevin, he’ll do it. He’s tight with Alejandro, though, so he’ll probably blame it all on Kevin.”

  “Fine with me.”

  We slapped hands.

  JUDGMENT DAY

  I woke up at 6:58 a.m., two minutes before my alarm was set to go off. It was a good sign. This was the day Darkman was gonna go down in flames, and I’d be there to watch.

  I noticed my cell blinking and listened to the message.

  “Yo, it’s Sonny. It’s one in the morning. I guess you getting some rest since everything’s going down tomorrow morning. Look, I know you pissed off at me’cause of how I reacted to the plan, but let’s forget about that shit. I wanna come with you, back you up. So call me, I got my phone on.”

  I called him right back.

  He answered, “Ty?”

  “It’s me. I’ll meet you at Hertz on Bedford in forty-five minutes. We’ll pick up the car and go for coffee. I’ll catch you up on the plan.”

  “A’ight.”

  The car service got me to Hertz rental car at 7:45 a.m. sharp. Sonny was waiting for me outside.

  “Sure you don’t wanna take my car?” he asked.

  “We can’t risk Darkman recognizing it.”

  “I hear you.”

  A few minutes later we walked out of the building with the keys to a red Honda Civic. “I’ll drive,” I said.

  “Be my guest. I’ll be in charge of the ra-di-o.” He yawned. “When we getting that coffee?”

  “When we in Bed-Stuy. Let’s do the parkway now, in case there’s delays.”

  There was mad construction on the parkway, so I was glad we started out early. I gave Sonny a play-by-play of what I went over with Crow and Monfrey last night.

  I turned onto Utica Avenue. Traffic was thick, but moving forward. Sonny put on 97.1, and I nodded my head to the bass.

  “Was Desarae pissed off that I called so early?” I asked.

  Sonny turned down the volume. “She always pissed off in the morning, it don’t matter what time it is. We got a policy: We don’t talk until after breakfast. But sometimes I can soften her up with a little morning nookie, know what I’m saying?”

  “You got yourself a fine woman, Sonny.”

  He smiled. “I’m a lucky mutherfucka, ain’t I?”

  By 8:05 a.m., we pulled into a Dunkin’ Donuts in Bed-Stuy. I parked at the far end of the lot on the off chance that Darkman stopped here too. Sonny ran in and brought out the coffee.

  I was halfway through my coffee when my cell rang.

  9-1-1 Crow.

  I answered the phone. “What’s going on?”

  “Kevin wants me to go with them on the pickup.”

  “What? Don’t he know how sick you are?”

  “Kevin don’t care. He’s suspicious. If I don’t go, he’ll know something’s up. Shit!”

  “Calm down, Crow, we’ll figure this out. If he wants you to go, then go.”

  “Go?”

  “Just listen. You go with him to make the exchange, and on the way back, you tell him you got the shits and he gotta pull in somewhere. You go inside, then run out a back door and get the hell outta there. I’ll have the cops there in five minutes. Kevin’ll still have the stuff on him.”

  “What if Kevin comes looking for me?”

  “He’ll think you sick in the bathroom. Don’t you think that’ll buy you five or ten minutes?”

  “Guess so.”

  “Leanne and Monfrey can clean out the crib without you. You just gotta relax. The plan’s changed, but it’ll still work. Remember, make him pull over ASAP after the pickup, because if you get too close to home, he could tell you to wait till you get there. Let him know he has to let you out or you’ll shit in the car.”

  “When I get away, you’ll pick me up?”

  “Yeah, just call and tell me where you at. I’m in a red Honda Civic.”

  “Okay.”

  We hung up.

  “Crow’s going on the pickup?”

  I leaned back against the seat. “Yeah, he can’t do nothing about it. But I think the plan can still work.”

  “I hope this Crow nigga is good under pressure.”

  “Me too.”

  A few minutes later, we were sitting on the corner of Darkman’s block. We saw Alejandro and Crow drive up, park in a visitor’s space, and go inside.

  We waited. Sonny drummed on the dashboard. After ten minutes, Darkman’s silver Lexus drove out from behind the building.

  I dipped the car into traffic.

  The Lexus headed for the Manhattan Bridge. I stayed three cars behind and in the right-hand lane, close enough to keep an eye on him, far enough that he wouldn’t know it.

  After the bridge, Darkman turned west and drove along the waterfront. I wasn’t surprised the deal was going down in this area. We met shipments here, too, sometimes.

  “They slowing down,” Sonny said.

  “Take a look at the place when we drive past.”

  We drove by, then I made a left turn and parked the car. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a few. All I need is a look to know the deal’s going down. I don’t need to get close.”

  “You be back in five minutes or—”

  “You’ll come save me. Thanks.”

  I crossed the street and jogged along the boardwalk. A group of South American workers played hacky sack on the pier. I walked onto the property, cool like I owned it, then jumped a fence, landing behind a storage shed. I looked around the side.

  The silver Lexus was there, only ten feet from a green Camry. Alejandro, all three hundred pounds of him, leaned against the Lexus with his arms crossed while Darkman talked to a short, hairy Latino guy. Behind the Latino guy were two thugs, almost as big as Alejandro.

  It was the first time I set eyes on Darkman. He looked like any brother on the street—hair in cornrows, snorkel jacket—except that this brother tried to kill me.

  I checked out the area. Crow was off to the far right, holding on to the guardrail, looking into the icy water. At one point he doubled over and started coughing. Then he slowly walked back toward the cars, his hand on his stomach.

  Good acting, man.

  Darkman didn’t pay Crow no mind. He snapped his fingers at Alejandro, who opened up a briefcase. The Latino guy peeked in, nodded, and signaled his guys to open the trunk of the Camry.

  The shipment was in two suitcases. Crow opened Darkman’s trunk, and he and Alejandro fit the suitcases in.

  I saw all I needed to see.

  I climbed over the fence and jogged back to where Sonny waited. I banged on Sonny’s window.

  “Damn, son! You gave me a heart attack,” he said as I got into my seat.

  “Ain’t my fault you was looking the wrong way.” I started the engine.

  “Saw the deal?”

  “You bet.”

  I swung the car back onto South Street, heading north, then turned on a side street and switched off the engine.

  “Now we wait. We’re halfway between the pickup spot and the bridge. Crow’s gonna get them to pull over somewhere around here.”

  I took out a map and gave it to Sonny. “We’re right here, see? The pickup was here, and the bridge, you can see where it is. When he calls, I’ll tell you the place and you gimme directions.”

  “A’ight.”

  I took another sip of coffee, cold by now. I didn’t need caffeine when I had so much adrenaline pumping through my blood.

  All I needed was for Crow to call.

  I held on to my cell phone.

  The car started to get cold. I put the heat on for a couple minutes, then turned it off again. I didn’t need the car stalling on me.

  The call came.
/>
  “Crow?”

  “Ty! I’m in the bathroom at Basha Gas Station, on the corner of Dover and Front Street. There’s a Carvel and a McDonald’s half a block away. Got that?”

  “Basha Gas Station, Dover and Front. Got it. The cops’ll be there soon. I’ll meet you in the McDonald’s parking lot.”

  We hung up. I called 9-1-1.

  “Emergency center.”

  “I just saw a big drug deal go down outside Basha Gas Station, on Dover and Front.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Positive. I’m from Flatbush, lady. I know what a deal looks like.”

  “Can you describe the people involved?”

  “Yeah, there was a big fat guy, and another guy wearing a blue snorkel jacket. He’s got a silver Lexus parked at the gas station with Florida plates.”

  “I’m dispatching the police. Where are you located now, sir?”

  “I’m on my cell a block away. Me and my cousin saw the whole thing. Them fools shouldn’t be pulling that shit out in the open like that. Excuse my language, ma’am. My cousin’s only eight. He don’t need to see that.”

  “Sir, are the suspects still at the gas station?”

  “I think so. The Lexus is still there.”

  “Do you know if the suspects are armed?”

  “Hustlers is always strapped. Tell the cops to be careful.” I hung up.

  By now, I was driving. Sonny told me to turn right. I did, rounding the corner too close and screeching the tires.

  “Go straight through the next two sets of lights. Wait, it’s only one—turn!”

  I turned onto Dover Street and spotted Basha Gas Station right away. I slowed down. “We gonna drive past it. Tell me if you see Darkman and Alejandro.”

  I coasted by the station at a relaxed speed. Sonny said, “A guy’s smoking outside the car. Don’t know if it’s Darkman or Alejandro.”

  “He look three hundred pounds?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s Darkman. There’s nobody in the car?”

  “No.”

  I parked in the McDonald’s lot.

  “Maybe Alejandro went inside to buy something, or he went to the bathroom,” Sonny said.

  “Maybe.”

  A gunshot.

  Sonny and I looked at each other.

  “What the fuck?” we shouted at the same time.

  I opened the car door. Sonny grabbed my arm. “You fucking crazy? You don’t wanna get in the middle of whatever’s going down.”

  “Crow might need help.”

  As soon as I got out, I felt someone practically jump on my back. I let out a shout and swung around. It was a sweaty-faced Crow.

  “Get me outta here, Ty.”

  “Get in the back, and get down!”

  I jumped into the driver’s seat.

  “Sonny, meet Crow.” I started the engine and swung out of the parking lot.

  A muffled voice came from the back. “I shot Alejandro. Fuck!”

  “What happened?” I asked over my shoulder.

  “After I called you, I left the bathroom. I was gonna bounce, but Alejandro stopped me and asked where the fuck I was going. I told him I had to run, and he should too. He tried to grab me. I had to shoot him. Then I took off running. Thank God you was here.”

  “Don’t thank God yet,” I said. “Maybe nobody saw you. That means they’ll think Darkman did it.”

  He breathed heavy. “I have to get outta town. I can’t risk going down for shooting Alejandro.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “I don’t know. He was bleeding a lot. I shot him in the stomach. I didn’t want to, but his stomach’s so fucking huge and I didn’t have a chance to aim. Ty, you gotta take me to the airport.”

  “I’ll take you.”

  “Thanks, man.” I heard him using his cell phone. “Leanne, honey, things didn’t go so good. Alejandro came after me and—listen, just listen, I shot him. Baby, he was attacking me! Shh-shh . . . I’ll explain later. Meet me at JFK. You been to the bank already? Great. Meet me at the Air Jamaica desk at JFK. Love ya.”

  Crow sat up in the back. “I hope you understand, man, I can’t stick around, not after what I did.” He put his face in his hands.

  “Easy, Crow, you’ll get on a plane just fine.” But it wasn’t Crow I was worried about. I was thinking about Darkman. Did they catch him with the drugs? If he ran when he heard the gunshot, would they be able to trace the car to him?

  It took forty minutes to get to the airport. I dropped Crow off at Terminal 4.

  “I’m good from here,” Crow said. “Thanks.” He leaned forward and squeezed my shoulder, then got out.

  * * *

  On the ride back, we flicked from one radio station to another, trying to find some local news. The airwaves were filled with dumbass Christmas jingles.

  Finally we got lucky. “. . . the murder victim’s name has not yet been released pending notification of his family. After a car chase in Lower Manhattan, the suspect was arrested with a sizable amount of narcotics.”

  I slammed the wheel. “That’s gotta be him! Darkman’s locked up!”

  We howled and cheered.

  “He won’t see the light of day till he’s old and gray, if he survives that long,” Sonny said. “They’ll get him for drug possession with the intention of dealing. Plus, I betcha they’ll charge him with Alejandro’s murder.”

  “Damn right they’ll charge him. 5-0 sees a guy leaving the scene of a murder with a car full of drugs, and it’s all over, nigga.”

  “I hope they rough him up something good.” Sonny grinned. “Can you believe things worked out even better than we thought? Darkman’s locked up, he’s gonna get charged with some serious shit, and Crow and Leanne are too pussy to stick around. This means we don’t have to give up no territory!”

  “Word.”

  Sonny switched to a hip-hop station. We grooved to the music like two homies in their first ride. I put down the windows to spread the tunes to the public.

  After dropping off the rental car, we went to Sonny’s crib. Desarae was making French toast in her slinky Victoria’s Secret bathrobe.

  “Des, slap on a few pieces for me and Ty. We celebrating!”

  “Sure thing, sweets. Take a look at the news. They might recap the car chase.”

  I looked at Sonny. “She knows?”

  “ ’Course she knows. She’s my girl.”

  We sat in front of the TV and flicked channels but couldn’t find the car chase. In the meantime, we ate the delicious French toast.

  I watched Desarae curl against Sonny’s side.

  Alyse.

  I shoveled more food into my mouth. I had to forget about her.

  At 12:30, a newsbreak on CBS-2 gave us an aerial clip of the car chase.

  Sonny clapped his hands. “Look at that! He driving like a madman!”

  “A wonder he didn’t mow nobody down,” Desarae said.

  “Thank God for that,” I muttered, and finished my French toast.

  * * *

  For the rest of the day, I walked around in a daze. It was a satisfied kind of daze that came from things going my way. Maybe now that Darkman was out of the picture, Alyse could come back into my life.

  That night, as I sat in front of the computer, an e-mail from Alyse popped up in my inbox. My eyes bugged out.

  When I opened the e-mail, I cursed. It was a damn message from Amnesty International asking me to sign an online petition to save some woman who was gonna be stoned to death in Africa. Alyse sent the e-mail to everybody she knew.

  Instead of pressing delete, I pressed reply.

  I wrote: So I’m still on your list?

  Less than two minutes later, I got an answer. Sorry about that. I’ll delete your name.

  I wrote: You don’t have to. It was a very interesting message about that woman in Africa. I signed the petition.

  She wrote back: That’s B.S. Why are you always pretending to be someone you’re n
ot?

  My fingers shook over the keyboard as I tried to think of an answer.

  In the end, I wrote: My feelings for you are real.

  I waited for her answer, refreshing my screen every few seconds. I hoped she’d call me. That would be an easier way to have a conversation.

  Five minutes passed, then ten. She didn’t answer.

  Fifteen minutes.

  Damn it, she had to answer.

  Caving in, I e-mailed her again: Are you there?

  I stared at the screen.

  No answer.

  DOWN FOR THE COUNT

  In the days after Darkman got arrested, I worked harder than ever, wanting to prove to myself and anybody who didn’t know it that I was still the King of the Streets.

  I got myself an apartment, a seventh-floor, two-bedroom on Washington Avenue. The building wasn’t much to look at on the outside, but my crib was a different story. I spiffed it up with a fly stereo system and a huge plasma-screen TV. I bought black leather furniture, had the hardwood floors shined up, and even got some African artwork for the walls. For the first time, the king had his own castle.

  Mom didn’t like it one bit. Her nerves were shot these days. I had a helluva time convincing her that I wasn’t up to no good. Didn’t have a prayer of convincing her that the shooting was a random drive-by.

  I don’t think she believed anything I said anymore. But there was nothing she could do, and she knew it.

  For Mom and her family, Christmas Eve was a big deal, so I made sure I showed up. Every year they went back to the old neighborhood in Crown Heights, went to church, and had a feast at Aunt Mary and Uncle Phil’s. I skipped church, but caught up with them at the party.

  “Ty!” Mom threw herself into my arms. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “ ’Course I am. It’s Christmas!”

  Aunt Sherise and Aunt Doris came up. It’s a wonder they hugged me instead of knocking me upside the head. I guess Mom told them to be good.

  We went into the living room. Everybody was there. They all looked at me with a lot more interest than usual. Whatever. I was expecting it.

  I made the rounds, doing my best to answer questions about school (I’m going back soon), living by myself (I work at the gym, so that’s how I can afford it), and my future goals (I want to be a personal trainer). It sucked that they all seemed to be extra careful around me, like they didn’t want to say the wrong thing. But I guess that was better than having to answer questions about the drive-by.