Crackhead II: A Novel Read Online Free Page A

away. He was glad he was a part of Laci’s rehab and saw how much it had helped her. After she had disappeared from his sight, Dink glanced at his schedule, then shoved it in his pocket and flung his backpack over his left shoulder. He strolled through the campus with the swagger of a man who owned the world. It was a new day, and Dink saw that there was another life outside of being a dope man. Of course, the game had given him cash and material things, but now he had the opportunity to exercise his mind. Dink realized that he had it all. Money at his disposal, a girl he loved, and now he was legit. Giving the “what up” nod to those who passed him, Dink confidently walked to his next class, now living the white man’s American dream.

CHAPTER 3
    S MURF SAT INSIDE Dink’s apartment on Gun Hill Road contemplating his next move. It had been a couple of weeks since Dink had left the Bronx, and Smurf needed to make sure that he had everything on lock just as Dink had. He wasn’t a sentimental cat, but he couldn’t believe that Dink had given him his entire empire—the South Bronx. He was no longer Dink’s best-kept secret . . . he was the dope man now.
    He started exploring the apartment. Although Smurf had been to Dink’s place before, he’d never really tripped off of all the luxuries he had because he’d been so busy taking in everything Dink taught him. Dink was a street philosopher and in order to learn, Smurf had had to listen. Maybe he was schooling me on all of this all along so he could get out the game, Smurf thought to himself, but does a hustler ever truly get out of the game? He remembered arriving at the apartment when Dink called, and seeing the huge Louis Vuitton traveling trunk near the front door.
    “Where we going?” he remembered asking.
    “We’re not going anywhere,” Dink had said. Smurf was confused. “I’m going. I’m leaving this place. I’ve done all that I cando for you, Marco, Dame, shit . . . even Crystal. I got to do for me now.”
    Smurf realized that doing for him meant following his heart, which meant starting a new life with Laci—a crackhead. He remembered how deeply Dink was wrapped up in her and how he’d always had a smile on his face, even when he saw her at her worst. Smurf knew that leaving was the right move for Dink. He only hoped that one day a woman would make him feel that way as well.
    Walking slowly around the apartment, Smurf admired the black art that graced the walls and small African figures that were placed strategically throughout. He looked at the picture that hung above the fireplace. It was a close-up of a beautiful black woman’s face, and there was something about the picture that he connected with. There was so much sadness in her eyes that he could relate to. Smurf’s thoughts traveled back to his mother. He’d always wanted a good life for her and with him being the man now, he would make sure she would have nothing less.
    Smurf stood and studied her for what seemed like hours, as if he was staring right into her soul. Then he remembered that behind the picture was a wall safe. He removed the large picture and leaned it up against the wall next to the fireplace. Remembering the combination that Dink gave him, he slowly turned the dial to the right, to the left, then back to the right. He grabbed the handle gently and turned it.
    Click.
    Smurf’s heart beat rapidly as he looked at the perfect rubber-banded stacks of dead presidents that lay before him. He reached his hand inside and took one out.
    He fanned through the stack, inhaling the fresh, crisp scent of money, then a smile crept across his childlike face. Smurf took out the remaining stacks just because he could. A brand-new, shiny Beretta .380 that sat just behind the money shocked him. He took the piece out and walked over to the full-length mirror by the front door and posed. First, he stood with his legs apart and the gun pointed at his reflection as if he were the bad guy. Then he