Out in the Woods

AuthorHouse

Chapter One

"Let me get two ... I just need two, and I'll be straight man!" I mumbled.

"Dude, do I know you, motherfucker?" yelled Desmond. "You look like the fucking police. You a cop, man?" he asked.

I looked down at the ground and spoke slightly louder "Hell, naw! Do I look like a cop to you?"

"Yeah ... I ain't never seen no hype as big as you," Desmond replied.

"I just got out the joint ... I was locked up in Pittsfield. I just need two for my lady, and I'll be up," I said. "Hey, Vick, tell him I'm good, cuz."

"Yeah, this is my cousin, man. He's good," said Vick.

"Okay, if you say so, but if I find out this is a cop, I'm going to kill your ass. Meet me down at the spot in fifteen minutes," said Desmond.

Victor and I walked towards the spot.

"Hey, Dorraz, why you tell that man I was your cousin?" asked Vick. "We ain't cousins.

I looked at Vick "Hell, I know that, and you know that. I just need these rocks so I can get some head."

Vick spoke with a sense of distinct fear. "Don't be doing that shit! That fucker will kill me if you're a cop," Vick said cowardly.

I looked Vick straight in his eyes and lied to him. "Don't worry man," I said. "I'm cool. I just got out the joint. Here's a ten for you for your big mouth staying little, okay? Let's go inside and wait for him."

Moments later, Desmond came into the vacant house with two of the biggest niggas I've ever seen. As we stood in the middle of the dingy, piss-soaked floor, I felt quite uncomfortable and wanted to get the hell out of there as soon as I could.

"What's up? Yo, I got the shit. What do you need?" asked Desmond.

"I just need two, and I'm good. I got twenty, and that's it!" I said. "But let's test this shit out and make sure it's good shit, okay?"

"First give me the twenty, aw-right?" said Desmond.

"Here you go, dog."

"Let me get one, too!" Vick said. "I need to see what's up with this shit for myself."

Vick gave Desmond the ten and got a rock in return. He bent down and pulled a small glass pipe from his sock, put the pipe in his mouth, opened the baggie with both hands, and then removed the pipe from his mouth, held it in his hand, and filled the pipe with the crack. He put the pipe back in his mouth and pulled out a lighter and lit the shit up. Vick eyes were wide as hell as he pulled on the glowing crack pipe. "Dammmmnnnnn. That shit is good as hell," he said and let out a sigh. "Shit, this is the shit, nigga."

Desmond looked over at me. "Now that Vick has tried it, it's your turn, trick." Desmond then showed me the large Desert Eagle shoved in his pants pointing at his dick. I didn't say a word, but I thought, damn it, if I smoke this shit, I'm done! But if I don't, I'm a dead man. "Man, I ain't smoking that shit" I told Desmond and his crew.

"What, so you are a fucking cop? That is your ass fool," Desmond said angrily.

"Naw, I just don't have my pipe with me, that's all," I explained.

"Motherfucker, you better use Victor's pipe then!" Desmond yelled as he paced rapidly around the concrete floor as if he were looking for a place to shoot me.

"I ain't using his fucking pipe," I told them again, this time with a little more bass in my voice.

"Oh yeah?" Desmond asked, and his boys walked closer and pulled out their pistols.

I had to think fast, so I said "Hey man, everybody knows that Victor sucks dick, he might have AIDS."

"Fuck you, bitch, what I do is my business. I just do it to get my high on," said Vick. "Don't be putting my shit out like that. That's fucked up, man. You're an asshole!"

The group put their guns back and starting laughing loud as hell. "I knew Vick was a gump," said the big-ass nigga on the right. "Faggot as motherfucker," he said as he chuckled and walked up the dark stairway, heading outside.

"Let's get out of here, fellows. I have to go sell some moe of this shit" said Desmond, still laughing and giggling. Desmond stopped and turned around and stared at me. "Hey, man, if you need any of this shit, hit me up. I always have shit, just not on me! Fucking police be watching me."

"I got it man. I will hit you up," I said. "Vick, let's get out of this shit hole."

"You go ahead, I'm about to get my high on some moe."

"Later, bro," I said as I left the basement. I could hear the crackling from the pipe as I walked outside. Once up the stairs and outside, I could see the three dudes walking down the street. I hit the pager button, and thirty seconds later, the detectives and a marked unit pulled up and grabbed the three dudes and put them on the car.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," said one of the white cops. "What's your fucking names?"

As the guys rattled off their names, the officers took photos and wrote the names down. My cell phone rang. "Yeah, it's the one with the black jacket and red hat that sold me the shit. All three of them have pistols on them. The officers started to ask the guys if they knew who had robbed an elderly couple and where they were about an hour ago. The guys mumbled something back, but it was not easily understood. Then the phone went silent. I heard the Spanish detective yell at the guys in a sly-like voice, "Listen up, niggas. You niggas better stay off my fucking corner, or next time your asses are going in for loitering, you got me, boys?"

They all nodded their heads and replied, "Yeah, we got it, man."

"Good, now get the fuck out of here, niggas," said the detective.

The police let them go without hesitation, as they knew these smaller dealers weren't their goal. There were bigger dealers out there that were priority.

The three dealers walked up the block to Charles Road. "Man, that was some close shit. They could have had us with these pistols and this shit. Let's just lay low for a li'l while and go to Haywood and make some cash," said Desmond.

Vick then walked past me down the street the other way, out of sight, heading to the west end. I went to Mickey's, got a hotdog combo meal with a suicide drink. "This shit is going to get me killed," I said.

After I downed the dogs, I walked down the street and on to the east end of town. I saw what appeared to be a large group of guys running toward me from about a block and a half away. They were getting closer and closer. "Damn, what's going on?" I said. A few of them had baseball bats. Wait a minute-there aren't any parks around here ... hmmmmmm. The group was getting closer and closer. They were about a half block away, so I crossed over to the other side of the street, and moments later, they did the same.

Fuck this shit. I turned the other way and started to run when I heard the sound of breaking glass behind me. As I ran and turned to see if they were gaining on me, a beer bottle just missed my fucking head. The guys were just a few houses behind me and gaining quickly. I put my feet in "scared as hell mode" and took off. Bats and bottles followed me, and after about a five-block sprint, they stopped the chase.

"Get the fuck off our turf! Go back to Chicago!" they yelled.

"Fuck this shit," I said. I hid out for the rest of the day on Martin Luther King Jr. Drive in the safe house. About four hours later, the detectives came in. They wore blue jeans, boots, and black vests with...