Chapter 13
Addicted
Lonnie Wade woke up to a strange woman lying naked in his bed. He sat up in confusion and looked down at himself in disgust as he discovered the vomit that was covering his clothes. Fuck! he thought as he tried to remember the events that had taken place the night before. From the looks of things, he knew that he had brought a girl home with him last night. What he couldn’t remember was if he had worn a condom.
Damn, I hope I strapped up. I ain’t tryna fuck around and catch something from one of these New York hoes, he thought.
He examined the filth that had accumulated in his downtown apartment. There were empty Hennessy bottles everywhere, and the place reeked of liquor and weed. Lonnie had always been a social drinker, but after the murder of his cousin Tiffany, he became indulgent and began to drink heavily. He had seen a lot of murders and had worked a lot of cases as a police officer, but the day that he was called to the scene of his cousin’s murder was the same day that his work began to fuck with him. Tiffany’s death had hurt him because they had been so close. He began to drink and smoke heavily after her murder, and his habits affected his work.
Detective Lonnie Wade had been hired into the department because of his ability to get the job done. He graduated at the top of the police academy and was good at what he did. His thuggish appearance and nature didn’t change once he put on his badge. He had been born and raised in Brooklyn’s Pink projects, and his environment was one of the things that put him above the rest of the rookie cops on the force. He quickly excelled in the department. He stood out because of his ability to go undercover. He was a hood nigga who happened to be a cop, so it was nothing for him to change faces and play a drug dealer to make a case. His cornrows and thuggish demeanor were what the department hated the most about him, but those were the same qualities that enabled him to do a good job and close cases.
After Wade was called to the scene of his cousin’s murder, he grew an “I don’t give a fuck” attitude and disregarded the procedures of the precinct. He had been reprimanded more than once for using unnecessary force when subduing a suspect, and had also been warned about his drug and alcohol use. Lonnie Wade became a tyrant on the streets. He did what he wanted, to whomever he wanted, when he wanted, because he had a badge that said he could. He was an asshole, and was on thin ice with the police commissioner. NYPD had been forced to settle a couple of civil suits because of Wade’s renegade tactics. He had become a loose cannon, and even though he had once been a good cop, his recent actions had forced the department to take action.
I was close. I was so fucking close to getting a good case on Anari. Zya Miller was my way in. With her telling me what was going on during the Supreme Clientele meetings, I would have been able to bring them down.
Wade took a shot of his cognac straight from the bottle then threw it across the room out of frustration. I’m so close to making the case of my life. He stood up and felt the room spin beneath him. He was fucked up, and had been for almost three months. Lieutenant Jones had suspended him on paid sick leave after finding Wade passed out in a squad car with an ounce of weed and a couple pints of Henny.
“Don’t walk your sorry ass back through these doors until you’re clean,” the Lieutenant had screamed at him. “Your sorry black ass is a waste of God-given talent. You have all the potential in the world, but you are too busy screwing your life away to use it!”
Lonnie Wade knew that his boss was right, but instead of getting his shit together, he took two steps backward by giving in to his habits. He didn’t care about the suspension because he figured, Shit, I ain’t on the clock no more. I can do what the fuck I want to and get paid for it. Wade was deteriorating fast, and it wasn’t until now that he began to realize that he was throwing his life away.
“Wake your ass up,” Wade said as he smacked the girl lightly on the ass then laid back down with his body half hanging off the bed. The girl stirred and tossed and turned as she pulled the covers up above her head.
“Get the fuck up and get your clothes on,” Wade said with his eyes closed. The girl sat up and rolled over on top of Wade. Wade gagged as she pushed the air out of his lungs. He leaned over the side of the bed and hurled right onto his hardwood floor.
“Ughhhh,” he yelled loudly as the alcohol began to come up in large amounts.
Oh, shit. I promise I won’t ever drink again, just please ...
“Ughhhh,” he heaved as he tried to control the convulsions of his stomach. “Oh, shit!” he yelled loudly as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. The girl was staring at him with a look of disgust plastered on her face.
“Bitch, what you looking at? Put on your clothes and bounce,” Wade yelled. The girl smacked her lips and hopped out of bed.
“Nigga, fuck you. You ain’t nothing but a drunk. As a matter of fact, you can lose my number,” she spit out as she quickly put on her clothes.
Wade was in too much pain to talk. He stuck up his middle finger, and the girl picked up an empty liquor bottle and threw it at him before she stormed out screaming, “Fuck you!”
Lonnie closed his eyes and shook his head from side to side. Things had been bad before, but they had never gone this far. Wade knew that he had a problem. He had a serious alcohol and weed addiction. He was living a reckless and fucked up existence. He had always known that, but the fact that he maintained his job at the precinct soothed his soul. He loved being a cop, and even when everything else in his life was fucked up, he knew that his job would always be there. Now that his job was on the line, he felt lost and foolish. His behavior was putting him in jeopardy of losing the one thing that mattered most to him, and that was his badge. His badge kept him sane and let him know that he was needed in this world. He had always prided himself on being a good detective, but his frequent and abundant use of substances was affecting his career in a negative way. He wanted more than anything to find his cousin’s killer, and he knew that if he nabbed Anari, her conviction would be the case that took his career to new heights.
“I got to get myself together,” Lonnie stated to an empty room. He could smell the liquor seeping out of his pores, and his tongue was dry from all the weed he had been smoking.
His apartment was a mess. There were soiled clothes from his many hangovers lying all over the place, and trash was scattered all over the floor. “I’m gon’ get my shit together,” he said as he tried to sit up. He got up and maneuvered his way around the cluttered floor and into the kitchen. His stomach felt like it was riding its own personal rollercoaster, and his head was banging from the dim light shining through the blinds of his apartment.
Damn, I’m fucked up. Lonnie finally made it to the refrigerator and opened it up, hoping that he had something to settle his stomach. The refrigerator was dirty and bare. The only items inside were a bottle of ketchup, some spoiled milk, and a box of baking soda.
Wade slammed the door closed and took off toward the bathroom as he felt his stomach threatening to erupt again. He just made it to the toilet when he threw up, and felt the most excruciating pain of his life. He noticed that blood began to appear in the toilet boil. What the fuck? he thought as he continued to throw up. His vomit changed from clear to red as more and more blood continued to come up. What the fuck is wrong with me? he thought as he got up and staggered into his bedroom. He had heard that drinking destroyed your liver, but Wade hadn’t thought that he was at risk. He didn’t actually realize how much liquor he ingested. He never thought he was a drunk, only that he needed to slow down.
Fuck. I need to slow up on this shit. Something ain’t right. Wade lay down in his bed and closed his eyes, trying to stop the headache that was causing excruciating pain behind his temples. I need to see a doctor, was the last thought that crossed his mind before he passed out from the pain of his intoxication.
Jules walked away from the prison with a smug expression plastered on his face. He mugged each guard as he walked by. His lawyers had finally come through, and his appeal had been granted. The one thing on his mind was getting to Zya. He had been thinking about getting to her ever since he discovered she had played him. Grimy-ass bitch. She gon’ get hers, he thought as he walked toward the gates, where Amir was waiting to pick him up.
“What’s good, baby? You finally out!” Amir yelled as he slapped hands with Jules and embraced him in a quick hug.
“Hell yeah. That mu’fuckin’ cop thought he could keep a nigga down just because I had to do a bid. He got another thing coming, cuz I’m back, baby. I’m about to be back on top,” Jules said.
“You trying to get back in?” Amir asked.
“Hell yeah. Ain’t shit changed. I’ma do me until the day I die. I trap. That’s what I do best. Selling drugs paid my bills,” Jules bragged as he thought about getting back in the streets.
“A’ight, man,” Amir said skeptically.
Jules frowned and replied, “What you mean a’ight, man? What’s that all about?”
“Shit has changed, man. You been gone for a hot little minute. Harlem is different. The game ain’t the same as it used to be.”
Jules shook his head and confidently replied, “Nah, nigga. Shit ain’t changed that much. Niggas still like to eat, right? I’m about to make all these Harlem cats rich. All I got to do is make the call to Snow, and I’m back in the game.”
Amir shook his head, knowing that Jules had been out of the loop while he was locked up. He didn’t want to be the one to tell him the news, but Jules saw the look on his face.
“What?” Jules asked.
“Man, Jules, yo’ man Snow got Harlem locked.”
Jules shook his head. “Nah. I got love in Harlem, baby. When niggas find out I’m out, they gon’ be singing a different tune. Besides, how the fuck y’all mu’fuckas gon’ let a nigga from Jersey come through and run Harlem? That shit don’t happen. Only Harlem cats know how to get down in Harlem.”
“Shit, Snow got a Harlem cat on his team.”
“Who?”
“Zya,” Amir said.
Jules waved his hand in dismissal. “That bitch is dead. You hear me? As soon as I see her ass, his little connect with Zya is finished. That’s on my life.”
“Nah, man. It ain’t gon’ be as easy as you think. Zya ain’t the same broad you used to fuck with. She is running shit for real. She’s getting money out of all the boroughs in New York and in Jersey. Shit, that bitch started fucking with Snow and took over. The pussy must be right, too, because he be deading niggas. Anybody who even looks at Zya wrong gets they shit rocked.”
Jules clenched his jaw as he listened to Amir talk. He hadn’t known that Zya had started fucking with Snow. His jealousy and rage seethed through him as he thought about Zya and Snow . . . together. She was probably fucking with him all along. I had her ass making runs to pick up from that nigga, and she was fucking stepping out in the process. I don’t give a fuck how big she is. I’ma get to her sooner or later. Jules was hot at the fact that Zya had moved up in the game. He was even hotter that she was playing wifey to Torey Snow.
“Fuck Snow. That mu’fucka doing shit that I’ve already done. He ain’t doing nothing new. I taught Zya everything she knows. I’m gon’ go see Black Ty to see if he can give me some work on consignment.”
Amir nodded his head, but knew that Jules was setting himself up for failure. Zya controlled all of the drugs in New York and New Jersey. There was no room for anybody but her and Snow. Even if Jules did cop something from Black Ty, he would still be underneath Zya because she supplied Ty.
As soon as they made their way into Harlem, Jules instructed Amir to drop him off at Black Ty’s. He was on a hunt for Zya’s head, and he knew that he would have to get on his feet before pursuing her. She was now the queen pen of New York, and he realized that she was going to be harder to touch than he had expected. He needed to get back in the game so that he could get back on his feet. He was going to get to Zya one way or another, no matter how long it took.
“A’ight, Jules. Get at me when you get settled,” Amir yelled as he put two fingers out of his car window and drove off.
Jules went to Ty’s dope house. He knew that he would be able to find him there because Black Ty stayed in the trap house all day and all night, trying to make his pay.
He walked around to the back door, not wanting to make Ty’s block hot. He knew that being on parole, he had to be careful where he was seen. He wasn’t trying to get sent back Upstate.
Jules knocked on the door in a rhythmic pattern.
Tap-tap . . . Tap-tap . . . Tap.
Black Ty opened the door immediately and went crazy when he saw Jules. “Oh, shit! My nigga out!” he yelled as he slapped hands with Jules. “You ready to get back on?” Ty asked immediately, already knowing why Jules was standing on his doorstep.
“You already know,” Jules replied. He entered the dope house and looked around at the crack heads scattered about.
“I see you still letting these mu’fuckas get high in your shit,” Jules commented.
“Hell yeah. When they highs fall off, they already at the candy shop,” Ty replied in a joking way. A skinny, fiend-out-looking girl with matted hair and dirty clothes walked up to Black Ty, begging.
“Ty, let me get a pack. I’ll do anything, Ty. I’ll make you feel good,” the girl said as she looked at him with soul-less eyes.
Ty shook his head and replied, “Damn, don’t you see me over here talking to my mans?”
“Come on, Ty. You know I’m good for it. I’ll do whatever you want . . . even in the butt,” she pleaded as she clung to his shirt.
Ty smacked the girl’s hand off of his white T-shirt and pushed her away forcefully. She scurried away and huddled in the corner as she scratched her arms frantically. She was scratching so hard that you could hear the skin tearing, and she began to bleed.
“Man, that shit is fucked up. I actually used to want to fuck with that bitch before she got all fiend-out,” Ty said as he turned toward Jules to continue their conversation.
Jules looked closer at the girl in the corner, and a smile slowly crept across his face. He couldn’t believe what he saw. It was Vita, shooting dope in the corner.
Damn, she out here bad. I know she knows where to find Zya, he thought as he approached her. Vita looked up at Jules and began to fix her hair out of embarrassment. She kept her eyes on the floor as she rocked back in forth in the corner.
“Hey, Jules. You holding something?” Vita asked with a half-smile. Her teeth were yellow, as if she hadn’t brushed them in weeks, and she looked bad.
Jules didn’t give a damn about how she looked. He saw an opportunity and took advantage of it. He knew that he would have to give up something to get the information he wanted, so he ran over to Ty and whispered in his ear. Ty smiled and slapped hands with Jules. He grabbed two packs of heroin off the table and walked back over to Vita.
“I can help you out if you help me out,” Jules said.
“I’ll do anything, Jules . . . anything,” Vita said as she opened her legs and exposed her vagina.
Jules had been locked up for three and a half years without any pussy, and even Vita’s cracked-out offer was appealing to him. He grabbed Vita off the floor and went into one of Ty’s rooms. Vita stood in the middle of the room, still scratching at her bleeding skin as she waited for Jules to approach her. The only thing she was thinking about was getting her high. Jules turned her around and bent her over the edge of a dresser and rammed himself forcefully inside her anus.
“Aghh!” Vita yelled out from the pain of Jules ramming in and out of her asshole. Vita tried to get loose from his hold, but Jules kept grabbing her by the hips, forcing her to take his ten inches. Tears slid down Vita’s face as Jules pushed her head onto the top of the dirty dresser.
“Jules, stop!” Vita screamed, but Jules continued to please himself, disregarding her screams. He turned her around and pinned her against the dresser. The drawers dug into her back as he humped in and out of her.
Vita closed her eyes and pictured her mother, dead from her drug habit. She realized that she was doing the same thing to herself, and tears flooded down her face as her best friend’s ex-boyfriend fucked her harshly.
Jules finished his business by pulling out of her and emptying his semen all over her naked stomach. Vita fell to the floor and cried as Jules pulled up his pants and fastened his belt buckle.
“Where’s Zya?” Jules asked without any remorse for what he had just done.
“I don’t know,” Vita lied as she shook her head from side to side.
Jules began to head toward the door, and Vita crawled after him, begging for her form of payment. “Jules, what about the dope?”
“Tell me where Zya is and you will get your shit,” Jules said as he waved the heroin in Vita’s face.
Vita knew that she shouldn’t, but she told Jules where Zya’s apartment was located. Jules threw the dope on the floor, and Vita quickly scurried out of the room to take a dose of her deadly medicine.
“Junkie-ass bitch,” Jules said in disgust as he walked out to discuss business with Black Ty.
After seeing a doctor, Wade discovered that all the liquor he had been drinking over the years had caught up to him. His liver was polluted from years of alcohol abuse, and the doctor had informed him that if he didn’t give up alcohol, he would drink himself into an early grave. Wade decided to get himself together, and he enrolled in Alcoholics Anonymous classes. He was determined to get clean so that he could get back to his case. He wanted to catch Anari, and knew that he would not be able to do it if he was not in his right mind. Anari was too smart to be brought down by a washed-up alcoholic cop. He knew that he had no chance of catching her unless he flew straight. Wade even cut off his braids and bought new clothes that were appropriate for work. He still wasn’t the suit-and-tie type of cat, but he did buy some slacks and shirts to wear on the job.
Wade went back to the precinct to talk to the Lieutenant about coming back to work. He took a deep breath and knocked on the boss’s door.
“Come in.”
Wade stepped into the office and said, “I’m ready to come back to work, sir.”
The Lieutenant squinted his face and reached for his eyeglasses. “Wade? You look like a completely different person!”
Lonnie chuckled and replied, “That was kind of the point, sir.”
“How long have you been clean?” he asked as he folded his arms and stared intently up at Wade.
“Only a couple days, sir. But I’m enrolled in an Alcoholics Anonymous program, and I’m flying straight from now on. You have my word that I am only about the work from here on out,” Wade proclaimed with a serious expression on his face.
Lieutenant Jones sighed and threw his pen on his desk. He sat back in his chair and propped his finger to his chin as he thought about bringing Wade back.
Lonnie read the expression on his boss’s face. “I know you’ve heard this story before, but it’s different this time. I’m done with everything.”
“Even if I bring you back, you’re going to have to work in the office for a while.”
Lonnie’s face contorted in anger. “That’s bullshit. I have to get back on the Supreme Clientele case!”
“No, you have to get clean! The Commissioner is already riding my ass because of you. I can’t take any more chances on you, Wade.”
Lonnie leaned over the wooden desk and stared intently at his boss. “You won’t be taking a chance, Lieutenant. You know me. I can clear this case. I can bring down Anari Simpson. Think about how much publicity you will get when our department brings her in. That conviction will put you in the Commissioner’s seat.”
Lonnie knew exactly what buttons to push to get Lieutenant Jones on his side. Everything in the justice system was political, and if Wade was able to get a conviction on Anari, then everybody associated with the case would excel in their careers.
“I don’t know . . .”
“Let me back in, sir,” Lonnie stated.
“No drugs?”
“None,” Lonnie agreed.
“No alcohol, Wade!”
“Never, sir,” Lonnie replied.
“Don’t bullshit me, Wade. I’m sticking my neck out for you. Don’t make me regret it.”
Lonnie cracked a smile and knew that he was in. All he had to do was pick up where he had left off. “I won’t, sir. Thank you.” Lonnie hurried out of the office before his boss changed his mind.
I just got one call to make.
Zya felt the sun warm her skin as she relaxed in the beach chair on the secluded Miami beach.
“Would you ladies like a drink?” a young white boy asked.
“Yeah, bring me a green apple martini,” Zya replied. She looked over at Anari, who was lying on her back with huge sunglasses over her eyes.
“Hey, Anari, you want a drink?” Zya asked. Anari didn’t reply, and Zya figured that she had fallen asleep.
“That’ll be it,” Zya said as she waved the waiter away.
It was their last day in Miami, and they had decided to spend it relaxing on the beach. I don’t think I’m ready to go back to Harlem. It’s like paradise down here, Zya thought as she watched the waves roll onto the hot sand.
Zya’s cell phone rang loudly, startling her and interrupting her peaceful moment. She picked it up, thinking that it would be Snow, but when she saw a number she didn’t recognize, she thought, Who is this?
“Hello,” she answered, revealing her irritation.
“I know you didn’t think I forgot about you,” the voice said on the other end of the phone.
“Who is this?” she asked with an attitude.
“This is Detective Wade. Meet me Friday night at nine o’clock at the abandoned warehouse down by the Hudson River.”
Zya’s eyes darted to Anari’s sleeping body, and she thought about what they had discussed the previous night. I know that your loyalty to me will be tested. One day, you will have to choose between loyalty and supremacy. Anari’s words echoed in her head.
“I can’t do it,” Zya said firmly.
“You will do it, or I’ll put your pretty ass in prison and let some dyke make you her bitch.”
Zya was silent as she weighed her options in her head, frantically trying to think of a way out. I can’t snitch on Anari. She’s too powerful. She can’t be touched. This nigga don’t even know who he’s messing with. He’s trying to get me to do his dirty work, and I’m gon’ be the one fucked up if I get caught. Fuck that. I’m not a snitch. I haven’t heard from him in months, now he wanna call me up out of the blue and threaten me.
“I can’t do it,” Zya repeated.
Lonnie Wade smirked in the phone and said, “Don’t get cute. You must have forgotten about the pictures that I have, placing you at the same hotel as King’s murder. Oh yeah, and we still haven’t found the match to those fingerprints.”
She was silent, and he knew his threats were working. Before she could say another word, he coldly stated, “This is not a negotiation. Be there.”
Zya snapped her cell phone closed and looked over at Anari. Her heartbeat sped up as she thought about what Lonnie Wade was asking her to do. I don’t have a choice, Zya thought. She couldn’t see another way out, and realized that her hand was being forced. She didn’t want to turn on Anari, but she wasn’t going to jail.
It’s either her or me.