Crackhead II: A Novel Read Online Free Page B

turned to the side to check out his profile with the new piece. Smurf liked how he looked, and the new gun made him feel invincible.
    “Yo, Dink—” Smurf yelled, only to remember that Dink was truly gone.
    He looked at his reflection, and the tear that he had tried to suppress crept down his sepia-colored cheek.
    “Don’t be mad, Smurf, I’m gonna always take care of you.”
    “How you fuckin’ leaving . . . leaving me here? What am I supposed to do? This is all I know.”
    “Naw, my lil’ man, you know way more. That’s why I’m leaving this all to you. You’re the man now.”
    “What? Leaving what to me?”
    “The South Bronx, baby.”
    Smurf roughly wiped the tear away. For the first time since he’d started working for Dink, he was all alone. Smurf never knew his own father, so he looked up to Dink as a father figure. It was Dink who’d taken him under his wing and taught him not only the code of the streets, but also about life, which sharpened his mind. Smurf’s mother had tried to do the same but as he got older, she became too busy with men to make sure he stayed on the right path. Truth be told, Dink had lasted longer in his life than the men his mother had running through her.
    Dink gave Smurf credit because he was hungry and eager to work, and he actually listened and learned. Smurf was his most loyal comrade; and because of that, they’d formed a tight bond. Even though Smurf had never actually worked with Dink in his business, he ended up being the muscle Dink needed 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’d already got rid of the dead weight when he got rid of that snitch Marco and that 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’d brought with him—clothes, cassette tapes, and sneakers. He 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 had 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, he 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 stashed away the last stack. 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 knob on the front door move. He stopped in his tracks and became quiet. Heflipped 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 the West Village 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 high beams twice and killed the lights, Marco got out of the car holding an envelope, then jumped in the front seat. Smurf knew Marco had to be a snitch, just as 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