Seth crept into the kitchen, moving very slowly, fearful that something bad was going to happen. Rock was sitting at the table counting his bags of white powder and placing twenty small bags into a sandwich bag. He looked up from his mountain of snow. “At least you look half human now. You and me are gonna go out for a while. We’re gonna drive around and drop off these bags to people I know. You’re gonna help,” he told Seth.
At the thought of leaving the house, Seth almost let out a yelp of excitement. Instead, a big grin washed over his face. “I like to help,” Seth said, trying to get Rock to like him. “I used to help Aggie wash our clothes in the sink when we lived at the house with John William.”
“Oh yeah, whoever the hell John William is. Well, that’s good. All you have to do is follow my instructions,” Rock said in a dismissive manner. “If you don’t do exactly what I tell ya, then you’ll stay here the rest of the summer. Ya got it?”
Seth nodded his head but didn’t utter a word.
It was ten o’clock in the evening when Rock and Seth got into the car. They drove to different places, and Seth would shove the sandwich bag into his pocket and run to the person waiting. The person would give Seth a roll of money, and he would run back to the car and give it to Rock.
By twelve thirty, Seth was sound asleep in the front seat of Rock’s car. Rock stopped at the house where Maggie lived on his way home to check in with his boys, leaving Seth in the car. As usual, there was an argument in full swing when he entered. Two of the hookers had gotten into a fistfight. One was accusing the other of stealing her cigarettes when she’d put them down on the curb earlier in the evening.
“What the fuck is this about?” Rock demanded.
“Bitches are fighting over a pack of cigarettes. Got into a damn fistfight, and the cops picked them up. Had to bail their rank asses out of jail,” explained Diesel, the one who looked out for them.
Rock strode over to the two girls, who were sitting on a mattress, still arguing. He snatched up a handful of hair from each of them and banged their heads together. “Where ya whores think you are? Disney World? You stupid bitches cost me money tonight. What do ya think? I pull bail money outta my ass? Get your fuckin’ asses up and get back out on that street. Don’t come back until you made enough money to pay me back for your mother fuckin’ bail,” he yelled.
The girls quickly forgot about the cigarettes and hurried out the door. Rock turned to Diesel. “Looks to me like you can’t handle your shit. These sluts don’t run you; you run them. If you can’t handle this job, I’ll give your girls to one of the other men who can,” he threatened.
“I’m handlin’ my shit, Rock. I can’t help it they fightin’ over a pack of smokes,” Diesel said.
Rock punched Diesel in the face, and he flew backward into the wall. By then, the other men were all watching. “That’s right. You can’t stop them from fightin’ over a pack of smokes. But when you get their dirty asses out of jail, you put them back on the streets to work off the bail money, after you beat them. You don’t let them sit on their lard asses in this house and continue to argue. You got me?”
Diesel nodded, rubbing his jaw where Rock’s fist had landed. “Yeah, I got ya.”
Rock sat down with his men and explained what he was doing with Seth. “The kid is gonna run drops for me to my pushers. That way, they ain’t spendin’ all that time coming to my house to get more dope. They can use that time selling,” he told them.
It had been Juju’s idea. While she recognized that it was a bad thing for Seth to be doing, she also knew it would get Seth out of the house and away from Thelma. She feared that the child would die in her care if something didn’t change. The bright side was that Seth and Maggie would be in contact with each other on the streets.
The next morning, Maggie arrived at Juju’s apartment at nine o’clock, the same time she arrived every day. She sat at the kitchen table while Juju made them instant coffee. “So, I heard some shit on the street last night,” Juju announced.
“What now? Someone out killing prostitutes? That would be my luck,” Maggie responded sarcastically.
“Nope. I heard there’s a little blond-haired boy riding around with Rock to deliver dope to his pushers,” Juju stated victoriously.
Maggie jumped out of her chair. “Seth is out on the streets? Oh my God! That’s awesome,” she blurted.
Then, in the next moment, Maggie paused. “He’s helping to sell drugs?” she asked, scared for Seth.
“Yep. But he’s selling to the sellers, Maggie. People like me. Besides, Rock’s driving him to each spot. It’s not like he’s walking Kensington Avenue,” she said. “It was my idea. Thelma left him outside for three days. He got bad sunburn. Rock said his skin was blistered and peeling off his body. Rock put him in the basement with a bottle of lotion for a couple days. Said he wouldn’t stop crying, and he thought Thelma was going to hurt him more. So, I came up with this idea. I know it ain’t what you want him to be doing, but it’s better than being left outside or starved to death. Sometimes we gotta do shit that ain’t what we want to do. You know that better than anyone,” Juju rationalized.
Maggie understood, and she knew that Juju had good intentions. She gave her friend a hug. “You’re right. I don’t want him involved with selling drugs, but it is better than dying at the hands of that beast. Man, I hate that bitch. I hope Thelma burns in hell. There’s a whole bunch of people I hope will burn in hell someday,” Maggie stated vehemently.
Then Maggie realized that she would more than likely see Seth on the streets. She got excited at the very thought of holding him even for a brief moment. She had mothered Seth for almost half of his life. Unbeknownst to Maggie, Seth would turn eight in another month.
As if Juju could read her mind, she asked, “When will Seth be eight?”
Maggie shoved her hands into the pockets of her skintight jeans. “I don’t know. He was too young when they took him. He didn’t remember anything.”
“Well, then we have to make up a birthday for him,” Juju said, hoping to lighten her friend’s mood.
“Yeah.” Maggie perked up. “That would be cool. We’ll pick a date. Then every year we’ll celebrate it with him.”
“OK, what date?” Juju asked, enjoying the game.
“We need something easy for him to remember. How about December 3? Get it? One, two, three?”
“Yeah, that’s so cool. I love it,” Juju told her.
Then Maggie had another thought. “Why don’t we head down to Needle Park?”
“Really? Why do you want to go there? I thought you didn’t want to hang with those people—people like me, let me remind you,” she teased.
“Because I want to get to know as many pushers as I can, ’cause if they know Seth’s with me, then maybe they’ll watch out for him. If they like me, then they’ll keep an eye out for him, right? Isn’t that the way it works?” Maggie asked in a sassy tone.
A huge grin spread across Juju’s face. “Yep, that’s how drug dealers fly. See, you’re learning. We ain’t like you damn streetwalkers who will eat each other alive to fuck some smelly old man,” she quipped.
Hearing Juju call her a streetwalker made Maggie feel as if a dozen butterflies had suddenly hatched in her belly. Maggie was a smart girl. While she’d known the truth all along, to hear it coming from her only friend suddenly made it very real. “Yeah, but I didn’t pick my career; it sorta picked me,” she responded sadly.
“Come on, Maggie. I was only messing with ya. You’re much more than some low-down, dirty tramp. You’re smart, and someday you’re gonna be something great,” Juju told her, convinced there were good things in store for her friend.
“Do you really think so?” Maggie asked, wishing Juju had magic powers and could see into the future.
“Of course I do. You’ll see. First, we gotta help Seth. Then we’ll work on what we’re gonna do. You know, like what we’re gonna be when we grow up,” Juju said with optimism.
For the first time since arriving in Kensington, a spark ignited in Maggie—a tiny flame of hope that one day she could see her family again and help Seth to find his family. She had the feeling that something good was about to happen. She clung to that feeling as if her life depended on it.
In fact, it probably did.