Street Pharm Read online

  “So what, we supposed to forget they threatened our peeps?”

  “They don’t want us to forget it. But they know we won’t do nothing stupid.”

  “They fuck with my family, I get stupid.”

  “With Darkman around, we gotta play it cool. We don’t need more enemies.”

  Sonny waved a picture in my face. “Ain’t this telling us we enemies? Y’ever had a friend threaten your mama before?”

  “Look, Sonny, they ain’t the worst we gotta deal with right now. As soon as Darkman is out of the picture, we’ll find new suppliers. For right now, it ain’t smart to change.”

  “That’s fucked up!” He went over to a chair and plunked down. “Where’s Orlando when you need him?”

  I didn’t answer. My eyes were still on the pictures. The way I saw it, a bond was broken. It was a bond of trust that had lasted from the time they worked with my dad until now.

  The messed-up part was, they didn’t need to go and threaten us like that. We’d never sell them out. That was our code.

  First K-Ron stabbed us in the back, now Jones and Menendez were threatening us. Maybe honor among thieves was bullshit.

  I looked at Sonny. Would he sell me out if the price was right? If we both got charged one day, would he testify against me if it meant he could walk?

  Could I blame him if he did? After all, if I got locked up I wouldn’t have as hard a time as most brothers since I was Orlando Johnson’s son. Sonny wouldn’t get the same protection.

  But Sonny wasn’t my partner, hadn’t been my dad’s helper, because he was smart. He was with us because he was loyal.

  That kind of loyalty was rare, especially in this business.

  INNOCENCE

  Monday morning I came to school halfway through Earth Science class. Alyse glanced back at me, frowned, and looked away.

  I could’ve used one of her sweet smiles this morning, but I didn’t blame her for being salty with me. I ran out on her Friday night and ditched her Saturday—not that Knicks tickets weren’t a hot consolation. I had to think up a good family emergency if she was ever gonna talk to me again.

  And then there was Mom, who kept leaving messages telling me to come home. The more I thought about it, the more I knew I should stay away for now. It’s not just that Mom would be constantly in my business. With all the Darkman shit going on, it was safer for her if I stayed away.

  Sonny kept asking me why I still bothered going to school. Fact was, I didn’t know. Maybe I needed a break from the streets, or maybe it was to be around Alyse.

  Hell, maybe it was because, for a few hours in the day, my life felt normal.

  When class ended, I tried to catch Alyse, but Ms. Millons caught me first. Her blue eyes stared right through me. “Where were you? And before you answer, know that I intend to verify whatever you say.”

  “I slept in. It ain’t an excuse, and I know that if it happens again I’ll be sent to the dean.”

  I took the words right out of her mouth except, “You’re doing well in this class, Ty. I think you have a seventy-five. But you know what? You have an aptitude in this field and you could be getting nineties.”

  “I like it.”

  “You’re a very capable young man. You just have to decide how to use those capabilities.”

  “How about for Earth Science?”

  “Good answer.” She smiled, but her eyes didn’t trust me.

  I didn’t trust me either.

  I left the class, stopping when I heard my name.

  Alyse was waiting for me. She hugged her books to her chest, looking so innocent. Too innocent to be hanging out with me.

  “I know you must be mad about Saturday night,” I said.

  “Mad? Of course I’m not mad. I heard all about what happened. I know what you meant by ‘family emergency.’ Under the circumstances, I don’t blame you.”

  I was blown away. “You know what happened?”

  “It was all over the TV and the papers. Everyone’s been following the K-Ron story.”

  “Wait, so you know . . . ”

  “Yeah, I know he was caught with drugs. It’s so sad, isn’t it?”

  I nodded.

  She shifted her books into her left arm and took my hand. “It must’ve been hard for you seeing that happen to your friend.”

  “Uh, yeah.” It took me a second to figure out what she was talking about. “His family was pretty broken up. I spent most of the weekend with them.”

  “I knew you would.” She squeezed my hand, and I felt a stab of guilt.

  I heard a security guard’s yells as he tried to clear the hallway. “I don’t want you to be late for class. Let me walk you.” I tugged on her hand.

  We took a back stairway. Though we went fast, I couldn’t outrun her questions. “That was so good of you to be there for his family. Do you think they suspected he was doing drugs?”

  “His family thinks he was set up.” Far as I knew, that was true. K-Ron’s mom said so on Entertainment Tonight.

  “How sad. K-Ron has everything he could possibly want, and he’s throwing it all away because of his addiction.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Gimme a break. Any nigga would give his right arm to trade places with K-Ron.”

  “Not now, I bet. It sounds like the charges are serious. Oops—this is my class.”

  “If K-Ron’s lucky, he’ll get off with probation and rehab.”

  “I hope so, for his sake and his family’s.”

  Her sympathy for him made me sick, but I kept my cool, reminding myself that she didn’t know any better.

  “You better hurry to class,” she said. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

  “Sure.”

  She held my hand a second longer. “I just want to say, K-Ron’s family is lucky to have your support.”

  “Thanks.” But I wanted to puke.

  BREAKING THE RULES

  That night at nine, I knocked on Alyse’s door, half an hour late.

  The door opened. Alyse pulled me inside, wrapped her arms around me, and kissed me. Her lips were irresistible. Alyse was irresistible.

  “What a hello,” I said.

  “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

  I smiled down at her. “Then why didn’t you?”

  “Maybe I’m afraid for my safety.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “C’mon, you know all the girls at school would love to get with you.” She touched the diamond stud in my ear. “I don’t want to show off the fact that we’re together.”

  All I could think was, We’re together? Are we together? I felt good and panicked at the same time.

  “Sorry I’m late. I got caught in the rain and had to go back and change.”

  “No problem. What do you say we do an hour of work, then chill for a little while? I’ve had a long day; bet you have too. Tomorrow night we’ll get together earlier, say six, and finish the rest. If we don’t have it done by Wednesday, Amullo’s going to take off ten percent.”

  In the next hour we got a lot done. Alyse usually took charge when we worked on the project, but today she seemed out of it, and wanted me to make the decisions.

  Later we closed up the books and went to the couch. Alyse curled into my side. I was gonna turn the TV on when she reached up and stopped me.

  “No TV?”

  “Not now.”

  “You okay, honey? You look tired.”

  She nodded against my side. “I am.”

  “You want me to go?”

  “Not yet,” she mumbled.

  I stroked her hair. I didn’t say nothing because I didn’t think she wanted me to. Maybe she needed a few minutes of quiet. I was cool with that.

  Suddenly she made a hiccuping noise. I looked down and saw her wiping her eyes.

  “What’s going on, boo?”

  She pulled away from me. “N-nothing.”

  What was wrong with her? What was I supposed to do?

  “Shh, don’t cry.” I pulled her
against me, and let her cry against my chest. “Well, if you wanna cry, that’s okay.”

  After a couple of minutes, she stopped. She got up, cleaned herself up in the bathroom, and came back.

  “Ty, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to happen. When I’m tired, I sometimes get emotional.”

  It was more than being tired, I could tell. “You can cry all you want, I don’t care about that.” I smoothed her hair back from her forehead. “But I wanna know why.”

  She wouldn’t look at me. “Mike called earlier tonight. He’s Gavin’s father.”

  “He bothering you?”

  “Nah. He’s just a loser. I don’t want him to have anything to do with me or Gavin. I told him as long as he stays away from us, I won’t take him to court for not paying child support.”

  “Did he agree to stay away?”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “Hearing him on the phone reminds me of what an idiot I was.”

  “Everybody got regrets. You gotta put them behind you.”

  “Most of the time I do, but sometimes I can’t. I messed everything up. I mean, how will I get into a good college with “Last Chance High” on my record?”

  “The Alyse I know don’t talk like that.”

  “The Alyse you know is the Alyse I show people. Now you’re seeing the real thing.”

  “Good.” I wrapped my arms around her. “I’m sick of you being Miss Perfect all the time.”

  “You’re tripping,” she said, hugging me back. “Ty . . . ”

  “What?”

  “You’re the best.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “Well, I do.” She raised her lips.

  The passion in her kiss took me by surprise. I could feel how emotional she was.

  Even as we kissed, I knew I was breaking one of my golden rules. No relationships until I turn twenty-one. But how could I turn away from something that felt so damn right?

  I couldn’t.

  When the kiss was over, we held each other. I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Happy. Just plain happy.

  But soon, fear came creeping up behind it.

  How long could I hold on to Alyse before she found out who I really was?

  SHATTERED GLASS

  The next night I left the gym, my muscles tight from a good workout. Stepping onto the wet dark streets, the smell of earthworms hit me. Poor suckers, the rain flooded their homes and forced them out to die in the streets.

  My growling stomach couldn’t wait until I got to the hotel. I walked into a Dominican restaurant and ordered dinner. I ate in five minutes flat. Then I went outside and walked toward Flatbush.

  A car came around the corner, a little too slow.

  Without thinking, I hit the pavement.

  Shots cut through the air above me. My body went into overdrive. Rolling twice, I dove behind a mess of trash cans, covering my head as bullets ricocheted off metal. My arm burned. I knew I was hit.

  I looked right and left for an escape. The door of a Chinese Laundromat was a few feet away. I made a run for it.

  In two seconds, I was crashing inside. Everybody started screaming as bullets shattered the front windows. I heard the screech of tires, and the gunfire stopped.

  I was on my knees, blood all over the white tile floor. Trying to catch my breath, I looked up to make sure they were gone. Then I passed out.

  * * *

  I didn’t stay unconscious for long. I guess God wanted me to remember this day.

  When I opened my eyes, two EMTs were bent over me. I groaned as they put pressure on my right arm and my stomach. Every breath meant more pain. Gritting my teeth, I focused on a piece of glass on the floor. You gotta survive, I told myself. Be strong.

  A needle went into my arm, and in a few seconds, blackness.

  * * *

  For a long time I was in the dark. I knew that stuff was going on around me, but I couldn’t wake up. I was too busy wrestling with the pain. I saw the lights of the operating room above me, and later, voices, some I knew, some I didn’t.

  I woke up in a hospital room. A fat black nurse was doing something to my arm. I moaned.

  She looked at me. “Are you waking up, dear?”

  “I . . . oww!”

  “Sorry, honey. Your bandages have to be changed.” I felt a pull, and turned my head to see what she was doing. When I saw the gooey, bloodstained bandage, I looked away.

  “What’s your name?” she asked me.

  “Shouldn’t you know that if you messing with me?”

  “I know your name. I want to make sure you know it.”

  “It’s Tyrone Johnson. I didn’t get shot in the head or nothing.”

  “You better thank the good Lord for that! And thank Him the bullet in your abdomen wasn’t an inch to the left.”

  I went silent, taking this in. I was still dealing with this life-and-death shit. I didn’t need it thrown back in my face.

  “You scare all the patients like this?”

  “Just the ones I think should be scared. The ones I think are involved in gangs or drugs.”

  “You say that to every young black man?”

  “Only the ones people ain’t calling innocent bystanders. You might as well know, your first visitors will be the cops.”

  “Jesus.”

  She cleared her throat loud. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”

  “Sorry.”

  She pulled back the sheet to look at my stomach, bunching it in front of me so I couldn’t see what was going on.

  In the other bed on my side of the room, a middle-aged white guy was watching TV. An old man was sleeping in the far corner. The bed across from me was empty. Guess this was the best Mom’s cheap-ass insurance could do.

  I gasped. My wound stung like hell as she changed the bandage.

  The pain sobered me up. I could so easily be in a body bag right now. My enemy took the step I didn’t want to take, and that’s why he almost won.

  Almost.

  The fist on my good arm tightened. This wasn’t over.

  Not by a long shot.

  “There, it’s done and everything’s looking good.” The nurse put the sheet back in place. “I have to call those officers and tell them you’re awake. They’ll be coming to ask you some questions.”

  “Fine,” I grumbled. “I ain’t going nowhere.”

  * * *

  Two cops showed up stinking of coffee and cigarettes.

  I recognized Akindele the minute he walked through the door. The guy with him, a white beanpole with a bushy mustache, walked up to the bed.

  Time to get grilled. The guy next to me was gonna eat this up. He’d probably turned down the volume on his headphones.

  “I’m Detective Scanlan. I understand you’ve met Detective Akindele. How are you feeling, Mr. Johnson?”

  “Like I been shot.” I didn’t need no cops pretending to give a shit about how I was feeling.

  Scanlan closed the curtain around the bed. Oh, I got it—our own little interrogation room.

  “We don’t want to encroach on your recovery time, Mr. Johnson. So the better you answer our questions, the sooner we’ll leave.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Do you know who shot you?” Scanlan asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Do you have any idea who could be behind it?”

  “I must’ve been mistaken for somebody else.”

  Scanlan looked surprised. “You’re calling it a random drive-by?”

  “You got it.” I closed my eyes and took a breath. All this talking was making me hurt worse.

  “Please describe the car and anyone who might’ve been inside.”

  “They was shooting at me. I can’t describe nothing.”

  Akindele stood at the foot of the bed. “We already have reliable descriptions of the car, but not of the assailants.” Damn, the guy sounded like James Earl Jones. “We believe that the shooting is drug relat
ed. We suspect that you’re a dealer, but we’re not taking steps to prosecute you at this time. We would, however, like to prosecute whoever tried to kill you, but that’s impossible without your help.”

  “I don’t know what you talking about,” I said. “This ain’t no drug-related shooting.”

  Akindele curled his hands around the rail at the end of the bed. “What was it then?”

  “I dunno.”

  “I would’ve thought you’d want to see justice done,” Akindele said. “Not only for yourself, but for the other victims of this shooting.”

  “Other victims? What do you mean?”

  The detectives looked at each other and shook their heads.

  “What happened? Did other people get hurt?”

  Scanlan turned to Akindele. “Thought you said this one had some brains in him.”

  “I thought so too. Let’s go.” Akindele opened the curtain. They headed for the door.

  “Wait!” I shouted. “Tell me what happened—did somebody else get hurt?” I had to know.

  “Read the paper,” Scanlan said. “Good night, Mr. Johnson.” He closed the door behind him.

  I buzzed for help.

  A young white nurse came in.

  “Nurse, I need to know if anybody else got hurt when I got shot.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know. Why don’t you just have a rest and—”

  “I wanna know what happened! Can’t you get me a damn newspaper?”

  “Please quiet down. I’ll try to find one.”

  Minutes passed and nobody came. Shit, did everybody think that telling me the truth would freak me out?

  The guy beside me kept glancing at me. Finally I shot him a mind your business glare. He turned away fast.

  I couldn’t stand it. Did someone get killed? An innocent nobody just doing their laundry or walking down the street?

  It didn’t matter, I told myself. If someone got hurt or died, it was a damn shame, but it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t ask for this to happen.

  But somehow I had to know.

  Another nurse came in—it was the don’t take the Lord’s name in vain one. She gave me a copy of the Daily News.“Page four.” And left.

  The headline: LAUNDROMAT SHOOTING IN BROOKLYN.