Crack Head II. Lisa Lennox

dick. For a black man, he was a disgrace to the race.

      “I can forget all about that sack I got from you, but first…” he motioned toward his dick.

      Marco knew what time it was and he had to do something to save his ass.

      For the next two years, Marco's asshole became a hiding place for the detective's dick. Sucking and fucking was no big deal to Marco because he was already a down low faggot. Molested as a child and raped repeatedly, Marco held his feelings for men at bay until he was able to unleash them.

      Detective Rodney Clifton's sly investigative skills were once again on point. Not only did he find a weak link in the South Bronx's biggest drug ring who was willing to do anything to keep his hot ass out of jail; but the same person provided him with sexual pleasure. What more could a man want?

      Detective Clifton pushed to the side a file that he was reviewing earlier in the day and looked once again at the statements of Tonette Thomas, Shaunna Parker and Monique Daniels. He noticed that Crystal and Tonette had records but Monique and Shaunna didn't.

      “So these are the so called infamous South Bronx Bitches,” he said to himself, rocking back and forth in his wobbly desk chair looking at their pictures.

      “Hey, Jones,” Detective Clifton called out. Officer Terrance Jones was a rookie, fresh out of the academy and was assigned to a veteran for street patrol. He stood about 6-foot-2-inches, with his weight proportionate to his height. Terrance had carmel-brown skin and sported a fade. He had sharp features, a strong jaw line, thin but shapely lips, dark brown eyes and dark, long eyelashes. He wore an earring in his left ear and most of all, looked good in and out of his uniform.

      “Yeah Clifton,” the rookie answered, “what's up?” He walked over to the detective and sat on the side of his desk.

      Rodney looked at him closely then handed him the report. “Take a look at this and tell me what you think.” He was hoping the rookie could shed a light on what he thought he was missing because his mind was elsewhere.

      Officer Jones read the statement given by Monique as well as the other girls then he looked at the picture.

      “Where's this girl right here?” He pointed to Laci. “Where's her statement? She looks out of place.”

      “That's exactly what I thought,” the detective told Officer Jones. The detective looked at his officer, trying not to be obvious, scanning his body.

      Officer Jones handed the picture to the detective to validate his point. “Look at her, then look at the other girls.” The two looked over the picture again. “It's two different breeds here.” Detective Clifton watched Jones' masculine finger point to each girl. “The other girls look like they're from the street.” He shuffled through the mug shots of Crystal and Tonette, then the picture of them one of their undercover officers took of them on the streets. “Look at the clothes, the jewelry, but this girl right here, she really stands out. Actually, she looks like she got her shit together. Nothing like these girls.”

      “Okay…yeah, I see what you're saying but remember, youngster, just because she doesn't look like she'd fit in with them, doesn't mean shit. We busted some wannabe hustlers who used a white boy to transport for them a few years back. In the game, all sorts of people are used for opportunity.”

      “Yeah, you're right,” the rookie confirmed with a head nod.

      “We need to find out more about this girl, though. It looks like when the other officers questioned Ms. Thomas, she mentioned this girl. Actually, I put a big drug case on hold because of this one, but something is telling me that they both have something to do with the other.” He held up a thick brown file and put it on the corner of his desk, “so I'm not closing this one until I talk to her.”

      “Why you think they're related?” Terrance got up from the corner of Rodney's desk and walked to the chair that sat in front of his desk. Detective Clifton watched as Terrance sat down in front of him.

      “In all of my years in narcotics,” Detective Clifton spoke to his rookie.

      “Wait a minute. How did you get a hold of it since you're in Narcs?”

      “Because these girls are known to dabble in some type of drug activity. That's why I think both cases have something to do with eachother. But the weird thing was the initial call. I have never once heard of a man reporting a woman being crazy without saying why. If a man calls reporting a crazy woman, she's normally going after him for some shit he did to her. From the report, he was also very descriptive.” The detective looked in Crystal's file. “He said she was a crazy girl in a red tank top, green Damage jeans and red Reebok Classics shooting a gun outside. When street patrol got on the scene, the gun was in a brown paper bag but after it all went down and tests were done, the gun hadn't been fired from the time the person called in until we apprehended the suspect.”

      “What's so odd about that?” the rookie asked the seasoned veteran. “That shit happens all the time in the hood.”

      “You're right, but a description that clear with no type of follow up with us means that someone was trying to set that girl up. Remember, in the report, Ms. Daniels stated that Ms. Thomas gave Crystal the gun, but it was a male who called in and reported her being armed and dangerous. Now, Ms. Thomas is telling us that someone else is involved. Something smells shitty in the Bronx, man.” The detective got up from his desk. “A'ight rookie, you ready for a stroll through the hood and see what we can find out?”

      After watching Officer Jones, Clifton was was anxious to get back to the hood. He thought back to the last time he had seen Marco—the day he gave him the dossier—but he hadn't seen him since. Marco was known for playing cat and mouse with him, but it was time for some booty, so he had to go get it.

      “Why don't you sit tight and let me handle this,” Officer Jones suggested to his colleague with confidence.

      “Handle what?”

      “I can go to the South Bronx myself.”

      “Naw, fuck that,” the Detective said, shaking his head. “You ain't going down there by yourself man.” Cock blocking bastard, he thought to himself.

      “Why not? You think its dangerous or something?” Officer Jones joked.

      “For a rookie, it can be.”

      “Look, with you having two cases, if you go down there asking questions and shit, ain't nobody gonna say a damn thing to you.”

      “And you think they're gonna talk to you?” the detective questioned.

      “I fit in more than you do,” the officer spoke honestly. The swagger that Terrance had, along with his age and versatile look did have its advantages in the hood. “Let me do this.”

      Detective Clifton stared at his young trainee and grinned. His enthusiasm and eagerness reminded him of himself when he first joined the force. After thinking over what Officer Jones just said, Detective Clifton agreed.

      “Well,” he said apprehensively, “but just so you know, if you end up with a cap in yo' ass, you went down there without my knowledge, I don't know nothing, I don't see nothing.” The detective wanted to cover his ass. “And I ain't going on desk duty because you got a wild hair up your ass.”

      “Got it,” Officer Jones winked, then grinned at his cohort and left. He knew exactly where to go.

      Clifton was glad that Terrance left the office. The longer he watched him, the more agitated he became. Detective Clifton grabbed his keys and left the precinct headed to Westville.

      6

      SMURF WENT ON A MISSION since he had seen Dirty, and hand picked three niggas that could hold shit down and lead the army that he had chosen. He had kept an eye on Drake and Chunky when he was the muscle for Dink, and he knew that they could get real gutta with it if need be. stoney, Dink's