Chapter 7 #2
That wiped the smile clean off my face because the crazy part was that he wasn’t wrong.
We lived in one of the roughest neighborhoods, and the trap we stood in was a vacant house that we basically took over.
The only thing I was worried about was that this product we now had was what some may call a rich man’s hobby.
The crackheads in the hood around us didn’t have the money for this shit.
We would have to broaden our horizons a bit if he wanted to get this shit off.
Two days passed, and once we made it back inside from a store run for some scales and baggies, it felt like we never left that trap house.
Time blurred together. I couldn’t tell the daylight from the nighttime.
The only thing that changed was the number of empty fast-food bags that started to pile up on the floor.
Grease-stained wrappers, half-drunk sodas, and crumpled napkins were scattered on the dingy floor.
All evidence that we were surviving off whatever was quick and close.
We didn’t even leave the house together. One of us stayed while the other went. That was the rule. I shook my head from side to side while leaning back for a second. My eyes were starting to burn from being up too long.
“Man… I’m tired of smelling this,” I muttered.
Ghost didn’t even bother looking up. His hands were moving with focus.
We were new to this shit and didn’t have any room for error.
The only thing working in our favor is that we didn’t have a plug to repay.
Once we got rid of all this weight, all the money was ours to keep.
What was new to us started to feel routine.
After a while, breaking down and bagging up this work stopped feeling foreign.
At first, it was messy, sloppy even. We were second-guessing everything, moving too damn slow, and watching each other more than the task we had at hand.
But once we found a rhythm, everything changed.
You get into a groove… and it’s like your hands start thinking for you.
It was the same motions, repeatedly. Break it down.
Portion it out. Package it up. Again. And again.
And again. The conversation lessened as the work got smoother.
It was less thinking and more doing. Before we knew it, what started as ten solid bricks turned into stacks on stacks of small baggies, lined up across the table like inventory waiting to be moved.
By the looks of it, we seemed to be ready. Or at least as ready as we were going to get.
I sat back and stared at everything we’d done. A slow exhale left my chest as I finally let my shoulders relax.
“This is crazy,” I muttered. “We did all this in two days.”
Ghost finally leaned back, too, while stretching his neck.
“Told you we could.”
“Na, nigga, you said that we could move it all. We didn’t cross that bridge yet.”
I shook my head while reaching for my phone off the table. For a second, all this faded when she crossed my mind. I shot Maliah a quick text.
Good morning, baby girl. Have a good day at school.
It was simple and normal. Like I wasn’t sitting in a trap house surrounded by enough product to change everything or ruin it.
I stared at the message for a second after it was sent, then locked my phone and tossed it back down.
I had two different worlds in front of me, and somehow, I was standing in both.
By the time we finished, the room looked completely different.
What used to be the chaos of open wrappers and scattered work was now organized and clean.
Every baggie was zipped shut, grouped, and ready.
Ghost moved first by grabbing the now-empty black duffel that the bricks were in.
“Aight, let’s pack it up.”
We worked in silence, both of us too drained to talk for real. Just the sound of plastic shifting and the occasional exhale filled the room. Everything got stashed neatly and was now tucked away like it was never there.
It was like those last two days didn’t just happen. Once the last bag was sealed, I straightened up slowly and stretched my back until it cracked.
“Man…” I dragged out while shaking my head. “I’m done.”
Ghost gave a small nod.
“Yeah, me too.”
We grabbed what we needed and headed out.
The ride back to the crib felt longer than usual.
I was nodding while trailing behind Ghost’s car.
Probably because my body was finally catching up to me.
As soon as we pulled up to the complex, I noticed it was quiet.
It was morning, and most people were gone already for work.
Ghost’s mom’s car wasn’t in her parking spot.
I got out of my car, and he got out of his.
“She has to be at work,” he muttered before heading inside.
I didn’t even respond. I just followed him. We passed beer bottles and cigarette buds on the way up the stairs to the apartment. Once we made it inside, I kicked the door shut behind me since I was the last one in.
The house felt calm and normal, like nothing about our life was off.
I made it halfway down the hall before I started peeling my shirt off and heading straight for the bathroom.
I needed a shower badly. I needed to wash these last two days off.
It took me no time to strip and then hop in.
Hot water hit my skin, and I just stood there for a second.
I let my head drop under the shower head.
I didn’t rush it, and I didn’t think. As I looked down at the water circling down the drain, the chipped paint in the tub held my attention.
I had to live better than this shit. By the time I stepped out, the mirror was fogged up, and my body felt heavier but in that good way. Like I could finally shut down.
After wrapping my towel around my waist, I grabbed my dirty clothes off the floor, my backpack with my money inside, and headed to my room.
I was glad that when Ghost and his mom had taken me in, they lived in a three-bedroom apartment, so I always had my own space.
And I was thankful to his mother for that because she could have used this room for anything, but she made sure to clear it out for me.
I wasn’t even completely dry before throwing on some underwear and basketball shorts.
I didn’t check my phone. And as soon as I hit the bed, that was it. I was knocked out.