Crack Head II. Lisa Lennox

and the eyes to see what he couldn't. Smurf saw a lot and knew that he could hold Dink down if need be. He already got rid of the dead weight when he got rid of that snitch Marco and bitch ass nigga, Dame, now it was time to get the rest of his soldiers together. But who could he trust?

      Smurf remembered all he brought with him—clothes, cassette tapes and sneakers. Smurf shook his head pitifully at what little he had, but then remembered he was the man now, and soon he would have more.

      Thank you man, he thought. How can I ever repay you? One phone call changed his life—from rags to riches, and young Smurf vowed never to live in poverty again.

      Smurf looked in the mirror and saw his come up. With the profound confidence he had gained, Smurf turned and happily sauntered toward the stacks of money and put them back into the safe.

      “I ain't gotta want nothin' no more. Now I can get a nice ride, get me some hip gear and take care of my moms. Shit, I can even pull a fine ass bitch instead of these corner hoes,” he said as he put the last stack back into the safe. Right before he closed the door, he decided to take two stacks for himself. He closed the safe, put the picture back in front of it and prepared to leave to meet Dirty, Dink's play cousin who was the big man in Harlem, at the corner store.

      Just as Smurf was about to leave, he saw the doorknob on the front door move. Smurf stopped in his tracks and became quiet. He flipped the light switch off and stood to the side of the door with his gun drawn. Smurf hadn't silenced anyone since Marco.

       Smurf had cut across a back street in West Ville when he thought he saw a familiar car in the alley. When he looked closely, he confirmed that it was Marco's ride. Wondering why he was in the Ville, Smurf's thoughts were quickly interrupted when he saw an unmarked Lumina pull up. Smurf wasn't dumb. He knew it was a cop car. When the driver of the Lumina flicked the highbeams twice and killed the lights. Marco got out of the car holding an envelope then jumped in the front seat. Marco had to be a snitch like he had suspected all along.

      It was unfortunate that Smurf would have to put someone asleep in his own apartment, but whoever it was, obviously had a death wish. He heard the person fiddling with the door then heard something slide into the keyhole.

       Click.

      The door opened cautiously and the light from the hallway illuminated the glass table in the entryway. Smurf saw the large shadow of someone, but couldn't make out who it was. He raised his gun to the edge of the door so when the person tried to shut it, they would be head to head with his gun. The light came on.

      “You got three seconds before I smoke you,” Smurf spoke. “Three, two…”

      “Aye, yo cuzzo it's me,” the man said in haste.

      “Who is you?” Smurf spoke menacingly.

      “Shit, who you is?” The man spoke as he turned around. “I'm lookin for my muthafuckin play cousin.”

      “Play cousin?” Smurf repeated. He put the safety on his gun and tucked it away in the small of his back. Smurf had never seen Dirty until now.

      Dirty had a reputation of a smooth businessman with major playa status. He had connections that were hard to come by in the drug world, making him the only distributor for the Bronx. Little did Smurf know that when he killed Marco and had Dame sliced, he did Dirty a favor as well.

      Smurf looked closely at Dirty. He was a short specimen of a man, only standing a few inches above him. He was also slightly older than the average hustler in the streets, somewhere in his early 30s, brown skinned, with a noticeable scar on the lower right portion of his chin. Fresh razor cuts outlined the hairline of his low cut fade. He was dressed nicely in a red and black Troop jogging suit with a pair of Troop sneakers. He wore two gold rope chains, one plain, and the other with a cross dangling from it and on his left hand, he wore a gold nugget ring. He had a reputation as a ladies man, with women all over the South Bronx, Harlem and Manhattan. He knew that money talked and bullshit walked and he didn't mind putting a woman in her place either.

      The larger than life image that Smurf had of him quickly vanished but he looked all of a nigga who knew how to take care of business. His body was muscular as if he done time in prison at one point in his life. Regardless, this was the man and the reason he ate.

      “What you doing here?” Smurf questioned.

      Dirty looked at him quizzically like he should know.

      “No, I meant here in my apartment.”

      “Your apartment?”

      “Yeah.”

      “I always crash here when I'm in town.” That explained why he had a key. Dirty thought for a minute. “Cuzzo told me to meet you here.”

      “Anyway,” Smurf extended his hand. “I'm Dink's right hand. I'm—”

      “Smurf,” the man said, still cautious but moreso pissed that a gun was held to his head just seconds ago.

      “Right, and I'm the one you'll be dealin' with until further notice,” Smurf smarted back, upset that Dirty cut him off.

      Dirty sized Smurf up and wondered if he was as bad as Dink claimed. He didn't look like a ruthless killer but he knew that looks could be deceiving. Dirty knew that Smurf got rid of the weak links in Dink's crew and for that he was glad; but he and Dink put a key player in their operations in a most unexpected place. Now it was time for it to pay off and to take shit to the next level. Dirty walked over to the wet bar, grabbed a glass, clunked two ice cubes in it and poured himself a glass of Absolut. Sitting down on the couch, he swirled his drink in the glass and took a sip.

      “I know that Dink is away.”

      “So you know what's up?” Smurf asked. He didn't plan on giving any more information than he already had. Smurf felt that not everyone needed to know what was going on, but in Dirty's case, if he and Dink were that cool, he would have already known what the deal was.

      “I know it all,” Dirty confirmed, “and you got yo work cut out for you, but first you gotta check that goddamn attitude and get the fuckin ‘base outta yo voice when you dealin with me, son.” Dirty put his glass down on the coffee table and walked over to Smurf who was sitting on the edge of the recliner chair, next to the couch. Catching Smurf off guard, Dirty grabbed him by the collar. “And if you ever point a gun at me again, I'll kill you. Do you understand?”

      Smurf didn't answer. He wasn't gonna get punked by Dirty or no other man for that matter. The last man who got in his face was Buck, the nigga who fucked and beat his mama and Smurf blew him to pieces, but he knew he had to control his anger, so it was best he didn't answer, and stick to business at hand.

      For the next 30 minutes, Smurf and Dirty talked about the product, price and placement.

      “You got your crew in order?” Dirty asked Smurf.

      “I got some niggas I been watchin' for a while. I don't trust everyone.”

      “That's good,” Dirty told him. “You need to be cautious. But hey, check this out. I got somebody I want you to meet and—”

      “I choose my own people,” Smurf told Dirty seriously, cutting him off. “You know I had to clean house on some of Dink's people.”

      “Look youngster, we on the same team here,” Dirty confirmed beginning to get irritated with Smurf's stubbornness. “I trust your judgment because my cuzzo trusted you, but if you let me finish, I was gonna say that I'm cool with you steppin' in the way you did.” Dirty shook his head in disbelief about Marco and Dame. “Just meet the man and I trust your judgement. If there's something you don't like, just let me know and we can move on from there. Bet?”

      After a momentary pause, Smurf said, “Bet.”

      “Well lil nigga, I'll be back later. I been gone for a while, so I wanna see what's up with the hoes. Ya feel me?”

      Smurf smiled. Dirty was going to go find some ass and he couldn't hate. “A'ight man,” Smurf laughed.