FIFTEEN

“Okay, check this shit out. Homie of mine got all hopped up on Angel Dust two weeks ago, went on a fuckin’ rampage. Dude went straight up loco. Wuz running around the streets naked and shit, terrorizing people. I hear all of this screaming and yelling out the front of the apartments and there’s Mike buck-naked tryin’ to hold off the cops with a fuckin’ pool cue. Man, half the fuckin’ neighbourhood was out watching. Mike has bugged the fuck out. He’s waving the pool cue around screaming STAND BACK THIS MOTHERFUCKA IS LOADED! Fool thought he was holding a shotgun, or some shit. I mean, even the cops are busting up at this stupid bastard. So the pigs try and calm him down for a while, but Mike ain’t giving the shit up, so they decide fuck it. They fucking tazered the shit outta him. They musta zapped him, like, twelve, thirteen times. He wuz just down there on the concrete flopping around like a big, dumb fuckin’ fish.

“Best part is I filmed that shit. On my iPhone, yeah? That fucking shit went viral. Got over ten thousand views on YouTube already. Someone even did their own version of it, added some beats, fed his voice through some kinda computer an’ called it the “This Motherfucker Is Loaded Song”. Funny shit. I told Mike that when he gets out he’s gonna freak, ’cos he’s kinda famous now…” D-Low sniffed, looked around, and then whispered, “I’ve got a hook up for some dope-ass crystal right now, but I’m having trouble moving it. Still, I don’t mind having it sittin’ around, ya know? Nice to know it’s there when I want it.”

Without waiting for anyone else to speak, D-Low carried on, warming to his new theme.

“I’m tellin’ ya it’s the weirdest thing. I can have the fuckin’ best meth in the world and it don’t matter. When those little college niggas are buying off of me, all they want is this pharmacy goop – Adderall, Ritalin, all of that shit. They fuckin’ look down on speedfreaks, like they’re the real dope-fiends or some shit, but all the while these little bastards are gobbling up this milk-sugar pharmacy speed like it’s fuckin candy.”

D-Low, although you wouldn’t know it from listening to him, was a skinny white drug dealer who dealt mostly in speed and pharmaceuticals. He was severely tweaked out, talking fast, his eyes popping out of his skull. His blond hair was braided into tight cornrows, and his platinum grills twinkled in the dim light as he spoke. “I’m tellin’ ya,” he continued, taking a gulp of his Incredible Hulk, a bright green cocktail made of Hennessy and Hpnotiq, “I’m fucked if I understand young niggas these days. They all seem whack as shit, yo.”

“The poor bastards were raised on it,” Lupita said, “They don’t know any better. I can’t believe this stuff has a higher street value than the real deal.”

“Oh yeah. Same with junk. These niggas’ll turn their nose up if ya offer ’em some smack, but if you got Vicodin or any of that other crap they’re all over it…”

They were drinking in Casanova’s, a run-down down little hole in the wall across from the Starlight Motel, where D-Low and his crew operated out of. The bar was dark and cool, with wood panelled walls and a sticky black floor. The only light was coming from the neon Budweiser and Pabst signs on the walls, and the cathode glow of the TV set. Maury was on, with the sound turned down. On the jukebox James Brown was singing Living In America. A fat man wearing denim overalls and a cowboy hat was the only other customer, sitting at the bar nursing a beer and reading the newspaper. The barmaid, an elderly American Indian woman, was sitting behind the bar, breathing softly with her eyes closed.

“The game’s changing man. It’s all fucked up. But you gotta adapt or die, right?”

“You got that right, D-Low. Adapt or die. Well, I guess we’d better get down to business.”

Lupita nudged Genesis. Genesis slid a McDonalds bag across the table to D-Low. The bag contained a couple of hundred pills, mostly amphetamine-based ADD medication, and some milder painkillers like Norco and Tylenol 3s. Without peeking inside, D-Low took the bag and placed it on his lap. He reached into his racing jacket, which was emblazoned with an image of Al Pacino as Tony Montana, and took out a sealed envelope. The envelope was fat with cash. He slid it over to Lupita, who pocketed it. They sat there for a few moments, contemplating their drinks.

Genesis looked at Lupita, and then at D-Low. D-Low was tall and skinny. Besides the Scarface jacket, he wore a pristine white wife-beater and a thick rope-like gold chain. On one wrist was a watch encrusted with diamantes. D-Low caught Genesis’s gaze on him and smiled at her. When he exposed his teeth, he looked like a shark.

“So, uh, how you ladies meet?”

Genesis shrugged. “We had a friend in common.”

D-Low sucked his teeth thoughtfully and nodded. “You gonna stay in town for a while?”

Lupita shook her head. “We’re just moving around. Been thinking of heading to San Francisco. Got some buddies out there I’ve been meaning to look up.”

“Hear it’s a nice place. Lotta faggots, though.”

Noticing the dark look that came over Lupita’s face, D-Low smiled apologetically and said, “Not that there’s nuthin’ wrong with that, yo…” He held up his palms. “I mean I don’t got nuthin’ against it. ’Specially when it comes to chicks. I mean, yeah the idea of a guy, you know, putting his dick in another guys ass… it kinda skeeves me out, yo, but chicks? That’s a different story… yuh know what I mean?”

Lupita looked at D-Low and imagined putting her gun against his forehead and blowing a hole clean through his skull. She imagined the surprised look that would cross his ridiculous face the moment he realized he’d just talked himself into an early grave. Her hand fluttered, ready to appear above the table again holding the piece… but somehow she controlled herself. After staring through D-Low for a couple of beats, Lupita smiled coldly and said in a low, dangerous voice, “Stop stuttering, buttercup. You don’t gotta convince us.”

Genesis laughed, and the situation was – for the moment at least – defused. The fear in D-Low’s eyes was perfectly obvious. Genesis had intended to ask Lupita why the fuck she hadn’t checked the envelope to make sure that D-Low hadn’t burned them. After all, he looked like the type who’d pull the morphine suppository out of his dying mother’s ass if he thought he could make a buck off of it. But when Lupita called him “buttercup” D-Low didn’t do shit. He just laughed awkwardly along with Genesis, and pretty soon after he went back to jabbering nonsense again. Now he was being careful to avoid saying anything that might set Lupita off. Genesis saw that D-Low was scared of Lupita, so scared that he wouldn’t dare try to fuck her on the deal.

On the jukebox, Juicy, by Notorious BIG came up. “Oh shit!” D-Low laughed, “That’s my fuckin’ jam!” He looked to be pleased to have an opportunity to change the subject.

“You like rap?” he asked Genesis.

Genesis shrugged. “Some.”

“You know a rapper called Trina? She did one of my favourite tracks – Nann Nigga with Trick Daddy. You know it?”

“No.” Genesis did not crack a smile or feign interest. D-Low didn’t seem to notice.

“That bitch was pure fire on that track,” D-Low rambled on, “That bitch could spit like crazy…”

Lupita leaned across the table and said in a low, clear voice: “Motherfucker. I think you must be feeling a bit too comfortable around me these days or something, because you’re dropping the B-word a hell of a lot, and to be perfectly honest you’re starting to piss me off. You got me? I don’t dig rap. I don’t dig all this fuckin’ talk about faggots. And I sure as hell don’t dig all of this bitch talk. You got your fuckin’ pills, so why don’t you go take your fake-ass honky self back to that fuckin’ motel you live at before I shoot off your little Caucasian cock? Okay homie?”

They watched D-Low scurry out of there moments later. Genesis leaned over and kissed Lupita on the neck.

“I love you, baby,” she said.

Lupita turned to Genesis, and raised an eyebrow.

“Now what on god’s earth brought that on? That’s a pretty heavy thing to say to someone, Genesis hun. I don’t take that shit lightly.”

“Me neither,” Genesis whispered, kissing Lupita on the neck again. “Thanks for keeping your cool around that big mouth motherfucker. I thought for a moment you was gonna blow that little prick away right here at the table.”

Lupita grabbed her drink and finished it with a flourish. She looked around the bar one last time and said, “Honey, what do you think I am? As much of an asshole as D-Low is… I mean, killing someone in a bar full of witnesses over an insult? Genesis hun, you’d have to be crazy to even consider doing some shit like that.”

Genesis laughed a little, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m right. D-Low may be a little prick but his money’s still green. Come on, let’s get the fuck outta this dump. I feel like blowin’ off some steam. You up for dancing?”

“Always.”

“Ok sweetie. Come on. Let’s go see if we can find some fun in this shit-hole town.”