Thanks for the visit. Before I published under my own name I published under a pseudonym. Check this one out if you would please, my attempt at a Hood novel without following a template. I felt like Hood novels were like that, just your own voice saying what it is. So, take a free look and if you like follow the link and get it. Thanks, Sam…
The Dope Man
Copyright © 2023 Prophet X, all rights reserved foreign and domestic.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your bookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
LEGAL
This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual living persons places, situations or events is purely coincidental.
Adams
State Park Area
Magic and TooFast
TooFast opened his eyes. He closed them, opened them again and then screamed in panic. The shit had blinded him.
“I’m blind! I’m fuckin’ blind! Poison! Poison,” he screamed. He lunged forward, slammed into the dashboard and then fell back, flailing around the front seat of the car.
“What! What?” Magic yelled as he suddenly came awake to the screaming.
“We are blind! We are blind! It was bad shit, Magic, bad shit and it blinded us.” TooFast started to sob.
Magic’s hand shot past him in the pitch black and fumbled around on the dashboard. A second later the headlights came on, lighting up the outside and making TooFast jump and smack his head on the hangar book above the car door as the dash lights seemed to flood the interior of the car in light. He looked at the hook and rubbed his head. Who in fuck would put a hook there anyhow, he asked himself.
“We are not blind, you goofy fuck,” Magic said. “It’s just dark; we must’ve fallen asleep or something.”
TooFast nodded… “The whole fuckin’ day, Magic? The whole day?”
“Or more,” Magic said.
Silence held for a few minutes.
“Did we do the deal, Magic?” TooFast asked hopefully?
“I do not remember doing it,” Magic said. He reached over, pulled the keys from the ignition, got out and hurried back to the trunk. He unlocked and raised the lid. The light came on. It was all still there.
“Motherfucker,” Magic said.
TooFast came up beside him. “We will blame them, whoever they are… They… They did something… Right?” TooFast asked.
“How in fuck do we blame them, TooFast?” Magic asked.
“Are you stupid? We say they did it. They were late… Something,” TooFast said.
“But We are the ones who’ve been out of touch, not them. They probably already called their people wondering where we were. They got the alibis, we do not,” Magic said.
“He’ll kill us,” TooFast said. “We damn well better have an alibi, something: Carlos is nobody to fuck with and we know who he works for.”
“Like it’s my entire fault?” Magic asked.
“No, man, it was mixing that cocaine with that heroin, that’s what did it,” TooFast said.
“Great,” Magic said. “We will just tell Carlos, “Sorry man, that shit we stole from you fucked us up and we passed-out and missed the buy … I’m sure he’ll love that.”
“We really are fucked,” TooFast said. “If we do not do the deal we can’t say they ripped us off. It will never be in their hands… We are so fucked.”
“Yeah? Well, start the fucking car and get us out of here before you kill the battery and then We are stuck out here in the sticks on top of everything else: Let us at least go see if maybe we got here too early or something,” Magic said.
TooFast looked at him. “But it’s night-time,” TooFast said as if talking to a child.
“Yeah, but maybe this shit has us so fucked up that we got here before we were even supposed to be here, you see? Like it’s not even Thursday morning yet, get it?” Magic asked.
“No, man, I do not, ’cause, see, we got here in the morning.”
“Yeah? Well you better start remembering it different. We are going up there and take a look and if in the morning? If those guys aren’t there? Well, they messed it up, not us, do you see that? Do you see how we waited and waited for those fuckers and they never showed up?” Magic asked.
“Yeah… Okay… I see that,” TooFast said. He reached down, started the engine and bumped over the rutted turn out and onto the overgrown dirt road. He turned back onto the main road a short time later and headed toward The Burg.
The Burg
Dumpline Road
Janine Jones Trailer
Tessa
“Come on out, girl, I do not bite,” John Porter said. He pounded on the trailer door.
She moved behind the door and then slipped the chain, opening it slowly.
“Hey there, Miss Janine, I do not bite: Although I could be persuaded to… Why you here all alone on a Thursday night?” he asked.
“I was sleeping until you pounded on my door,” she said.
“Oh you got a little temper. Why do not you come on out and party with me, Janine? You won’t be sorry,” he said.
“Not tonight, I have to work tomorrow.” She eased the door shut and locked it back up. She lay back down on the couch where she had been and tried to drift back off.
Off Dumpline Road
The car seemed abandoned, and she supposed that made sense. Her concern was whether it was truly abandoned of if it only looked abandoned. She made her way silently through the dark trees, finding her way by the weak moonlight.
Dumpline Road
Dollar
Dollar sat up and scratched his head. It was late, he’d slept pretty well. He had awakened once when he heard an ambulance down the road, or cops, or whatever it had been. And that was it. He’d gone right back to sleep and slept straight through. Probably a fight in the trailer park again, he thought.
He got up, padded through to the kitchen and turned the TV on, went back and got dressed. He was on his way back to the living room when a commercial ended and a news break came on. A pretty blond, probably not much older than he himself was, smiled into the camera and began to talk as he yawned deeply.
“Good morning: Coming up on News Fifteen in ten minutes, your local headlines, sports and weather. Topping our local headlines this morning the grisly discovery of the body of a young woman earlier this morning on Lott road; police are releasing no details, but a source has told News Fifteen that they do suspect foul play. The body was discovered in a drainage ditch by a passing motorist. In world news, Mieka Petre, USGS lead seismologist tells us that everyone can release their collective breath over the news that DX2379R, the errant meteor that was said to be on a collision course with Earth early next month, will actually miss us by thousands of miles.”
“Whew,” the lead anchor, a young man named James, with jet black hair said and laughed. “Had me worried.”
“Had all of us worried, James” the female lead agreed. She returned the laugh before she began speaking once more. “Cable Corp has issued an apology for the wide spread internet outages of the last several days. They are blaming it on faulty satellite down feeds, hinting that maybe the government has been messing with their transmissions.” She nodded toward the handsome anchor somewhere off camera. “Cue the conspiracy theorists,” she joked. The anchor chuckled briefly off screen as she turned back to the camera with a serious expression on her face once more. “And this from a small village in Ecuador, the jungle of the living dead? The locals claim their relatives are returning from the dead. All that and more inside of 10 minutes: But first these messages from our sponsors…”
Dollar closed his mouth. Well, he thought, it was not the first body to be found out here. Just before he had moved here they found the body of a local prostitute whose throat had been cut. She’d been dumped nearly in front of his house.
He headed back toward the bathroom. Probably the same thing again, he thought. Welcome to your night off, Dollar.
Friday morning
Mistakes
Sharp
The headlights swept the area of the lookout and then flicked off. Sharp waited to see what would happen next. The car had parked right next to their car, but they had not been in it: They were a hundred yards up, just inside the tree line, waiting.
The door opened and a light came on. A voice: “It’s the right color, maybe it is them,” the voice said. A young, thin black man stepped out into the circles of light cast by the headlights and stretched his legs.
The driver, a shorter, even skinnier white kid, got out and looked around. “I do not see them,” he said. He lit a cigarette and then shut the car door. “Yo ho,” he said loudly. “If you are here speak up. We know We are late.”
The silence held. Sharp put one finger to his lips so Bob Johnson would not be tempted to answer.
“Told you: They are fuckin’ long gone,” the black kid said.
Sharp made a follow me motion and headed over to the car. Not really sneaking, but walking quietly. He held his gun at his side and Bob Johnson did the same.
Both men were smoking now and looking out at the city lights. Sharp walked right up to them and then purposely ground his foot into the gravel to make a noise. Both of them screamed and jumped.
“Where the fuck have you two been?” Sharp asked. He actually was mad, but he was even more relieved and trying hard not to laugh at the way they had screamed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” the black kid asked. He seemed to recover the quickest. “We do not know you.”
“Yeah?” Sharp asked. “Do you know Carlos by any chance? Are you two sorry looking fuckers TooFast and Magic? Huh? Would that be you two?”
“Man, there ain’t no call to cuss,” TooFast said.
“No? Then explain why you are almost twenty-four fuckin’ hours late?” Sharp asked.
“Car broke down. Carlos only gave us enough for this shit box and it broke down,” TooFast said.
“For twenty-four hours?” Sharp asked.
“Hey, man, we had to get a part, okay?” TooFast asked.
“What part?” Sharp asked.
“The mother fuckin’ alternator, okay, white man?” he asked.
“No need to go in that direction,” Sharp said.
“Yeah? Then get off my fuckin’ back,” TooFast said. “And put those guns away unless you are going to use them.” He pulled a gun partway out of his own pocket. It looked like a Chinese made 9 mm to Sharp.
Sharp was tempted to shoot the kid just for the threat, but he slipped his own pistol back into his jacket pocket, walked over to the Ford’s trunk, unlocked it and swung up the trunk lid. “You ready or what?” he asked.
Up The Hill
The Cop
It felt like he broke his kneecap when he slammed it into the bottom of the dashboard. He must have dozed off, he told himself. When he had come awake, he had heard them talking and realized the deal was finally going down. He had sprung suddenly forward and rammed the knee right into the lower metal lip of the dashboard. He had jumped out of the car, rubbed the knee for a second and then started down the hill at a quick pace.
It was maybe a quarter mile and he was not in bad shape, but he was not in great shape either: And the knee was not helping at all. It was the goddamn cigarettes, which was what the worst of it was: Killed your wind; heart, lungs, bad shit. He had to stop soon before they fucking killed him.
By the time he got close to the lookout he had to stop and catch his breath. He did not want them to hear him breathing heavy; he meant to sneak up on them. He finally caught his breath and crept forward into the woods that surrounded the lookout area.
The Turnout
The Deal
TooFast opened the trunk of the Toyota and picked up the blue duffel bag, he tossed it to Sharp and Sharp caught it deftly. Sharp stared at him until TooFast broke the stare.
“If you want it any time you can have it,” Sharp said softly.
TooFast’s eyes cut back up. “What’s that supposed to mean, white boy?” His hand plunged into his jacket pocket.
“Words to an old song,” Sharp said and smiled. The smile did not extend to his eyes. His eyes said, ‘If you want a piece of me you can have it.’ TooFast looked away again.
Sharp set the bag down and ran the zipper. He pulled a few bricks out, counted and then looked back at TooFast who refused to meet his gaze. His eyes kept sliding way.
“A little short,” Sharp said.
“My ass,” TooFast said.
“It is going to be your ass,” Sharp agreed quietly. “There are two and two missing. See this mark?” He turned one of the bricks over to show a mark in the shape of a star. “I know that mark. That mark tells me a lot: Where it came from, which clan made it, and what it is: Pure heroin. I mean pure. Hasn’t been touched. From Torres, deep Mexico.” He turned the other brick upside down. A double circle with a triangle was stamped on the wrapper. “Also pure, this time cocaine: Almonte’s crew, Ecuador. I know this stuff, like I said. And I know what should be here. Two and two missing. Cough it up.” His gun magically appeared in his hand.
“Hey, man,” Magic said. “I think we need to calm down. Why you wanna kill someone right off the bat, man, huh?”
“Where is it?” Sharp asked. He set the duffel bag into the trunk, and switched the gun to his shooting hand. “I do not necessarily want to kill anyone, but I will. I have no problem with that.” He lifted the gun and aimed it at TooFast’s head.
“Hey,” TooFast started.
“Drop the mother fuckin’ gun,” a new voice yelled out. “Do not think about changing positions… I mean all of you fucks: All of you; starting with you, wise guy. Bring that gun down.” The man who owned the voice stepped up behind him and pressed the barrel of a gun to Sharp’s neck. Sharp’s hand dropped and the man took the gun from him. “On the ground out flat, hands behind your head,” the man told him.
The cop took Sharp’s gun and dropped it into the blue duffel bag. He took Bob Johnson’s gun, then TooFast’s, and Magic’s last. He checked the cars, found the other 9 mm in the glove box. He took Bob Johnson’s bundle of cash when he searched him, whistling as he did. He dropped the cash and the three cheap, black 9 mm guns into the blue duffel bag, which he set into the open trunk of the Ford. He holstered his own weapon and flipped the safety off the small Chinese gun TooFast had been carrying; he stepped back and tripped over the curb. The gun went flying and all hell broke loose.
Sharp jumped up and caught Bob Johnson’s elbow dragging him backwards fast. TooFast and Magic grabbed the brown suitcase, threw it onto the back seat of the Toyota and jumped inside.
Sharp had retrieved his spare gun, a 22 caliber, and was fishing for his silenced 9 mm from his inside jacket pocket. He had been about to make his own move when the cop made the mistake of tripping, playing right into Sharp’s game plan.
The cop found his feet, got his own gun back into his hands and then ran for the woods. Sharp got his other gun from his jacket, passed the 22 to Bob Johnson, and palmed the 9 mm himself. They both duck walked around to the front of the Ford, got to the door, levered it open and got in. Bob Johnson crawled across to the passenger’s seat while Sharp jumped into the driver’s seat. A shot came from behind them, staring the rear window and passing through the fleshy part of Sharp’s shoulder. Bob Johnson leaned out the window and opened up on TooFast who was leaning out of the driver’s side of the Toyota trying for another shot. He apparently had no idea how to use the gun. He ducked downward into the car when Bob Johnson fired back.
“Bob Johnson, you have to drive. You have to drive, Bob Johnson” Sharp said. He held his shoulder as he slid across the seat and they switched places. Bob Johnson was nervous, but he got the car going. He started to turn around to see where he was going, but another shot starred the glass and he simply floored the Ford and dropped it into reverse.
The Ford leapt backwards, smashed into the rear quarter panel of the Toyota and pushed past it. The Toyota skipped across the gravel as the Ford screeched past it, spun around, and came to a stop pointing outward. Bob Johnson floored it and started out of the turnout.
TooFast had the Toyota started a second later. “We got to get them, Magic. We got to get them or were dead, man. We got to.” He spun the wheel hard left on the Toyota, jammed the gas pedal to the floorboard and slewed around, clipping the stone wall and then screaming out onto the blacktop; chasing after the Ford.
Sharp managed to get his cell phone out of his pocket and punched in a number.
“I’m coming to you,” he said… “No… Like a dream… A bad fuckin’ dream… I’ve been shot… Not bad, but be ready for me.” He clicked off the phone and shoved it into his pocket. “I’m going to tell you where to turn. Do not sweat it. This was part of the plan, except being shot and it was supposed to be just the cop, not those two dip shits. Now it will probably be both… I can shoot: If I have to take them out I will… You understand, Bob Johnson, you got me? You drive. Turn when I tell you, we’ll be fine. Drive hard, but do not lose them. They stole from us, we have to get that back, plus the cop was probably parked farther away. We have to give him time to reach his car and follow us.”
Bob Johnson nodded.
“Good… He took a deep breath. The pain was heavy in his shoulder: Maybe a fractured bone, maybe worse; maybe just the freshness of the wound. “Okay, turn left at the bottom of the hill. First left, that will get us on our way.” Sharp told him.
Up the Hill Again
The Cop
He made it back to the car and nearly passed out. He could not open the door. The door was stuck, and then he remembered he had locked it. He reached into his pocket for his keys but the pocket was empty. He searched his other pocket, his coat, but there were no keys.
He yelled. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He slammed his fists into the top of the car over and over again. He finally turned around, leaned back against the car and then slid to the ground.
He stayed that way for a while; he had no idea how long. Finally, the rage passed and he got back to his feet and walked off down the hill in search of the keys.
Thankfully, most of the lookout was well lit. Still, he did not find the keys until he was at the absolute end of his journey. They were on the ground amid some scuffed up earth, just about a foot past the curbing he had tripped over.
He pocketed the keys just as the sound of distance sirens came to him and looking out over the city he saw the red lights pulsing in the valley below the park. He sighed and began to run once again.
Dumpline Road
Tessa
She ran to the car, a little spooked to be out here on her own in the pitch black of the early morning. She got the car started, pulled out of its hiding place, and headed for the next road over that paralleled Lott road. There was a four by four trail that cut across to a mud bog; the trail also joined the two roads. She made the parallel road, which was really nothing more than another old logging trail, this one in only slightly better shape because it was used to reach the river where it ran nearby. An unofficial party spot for most of the teenagers that lived around here: This early on a Friday morning it was deserted. She parked the car, locked it and headed off through the trees at a run.
The Cop
He raced for the entrance on the back side of the park, hoping he would make it before one of the police cars came up that way.
He was nearly halfway to the bottom when he realized it was probably stupid to go down and chance getting caught: Wherever they had gone to he did not know. He stopped, did a fast K turn, took the bubble out from under his seat and plugged it in: He started back up the hill.
When he got back to the turnout there were already four cars there, and another one came up from where he had come just as he was parking.
Dumpline Road
Tessa
She waited. She heard them coming before they actually got there and it worried her.
She pulled the 9 mm out of her waist band. Flicked off the safety and slipped back into the trees. There was only the one trailer down this far where Sharp planned to dump the car, Dollar’s trailer and it looked like he was up: That was not part of the plan either.
She thought about taking him out of the equation right then, before he could become a problem. She was nearly to the door to do just that when the lights splashed across her as the cars made the turn about a quarter mile away and headed toward them. She heard gunshots and hoped they were coming from Sharp and no one else. If this was going down close to right, Sharp’s car would be the first car, but she could not be sure. Everything else had gotten screwed up, not gone according to plan, so there was no real reason to expect that this part of it had not also been screwed up.
It was her job to get the cop set up. To get Sharp away; posing as Janine Jones to get the cop set up had been her own idea. She did not belong here, that was how she ended up with the problem with Janine Jones in the first place. Janine Jones, on the other hand, lived here. No one would find her being here out of place. She had spent last night in her trailer. All she had to do was plant the shit that Sharp had given her in the cop’s car. She had it in a small duffel bag along with her own things, then catch up to Sharp later.
She was supposed to call him once she was away. An easy job, it had seemed, and Sharp had planned it out. But now it was all going down and she was not so sure she could do what she was supposed to do.
And it really was not according to plan. It was supposed to be three cars and she could see there were only two cars. Either the two delivery guys We are missing or the cop was. She had no way of knowing, and no more time to think about it. She stepped out into the backyard of the trailer so Sharp would see her.
One Week Earlier
The Burg
Tessa
Tessa’s eyes opened slowly. It was early. So early that the light seeping around the edges of the drapes was the orange sodium vapor light of the city street lights outside, dawn was not yet here. She slipped quietly from the bed and the warmth of Sharp’s body and made her way to the bathroom, the wood floors cold against her bare feet.
She made her way into the bathroom without a light and then nearly tripped over something on the floor. She cursed quietly, toed the door shut and then flipped on the light.
Sharp’s robe: He liked, for some reason known only to him, to hang it on a hook on the back of the door. Fine, except the hook was missing the end and the robe often slipped off onto the floor and lay there waiting to trip her up in the middle of the night when she least expected it. She scooped it up and returned it to the hook and that was when she saw the scrap of paper on the floor.
She stared at it a long time. Things that were written on scraps of paper, to her limited experience, were always bad things. She could not think of a single good thing that could come from picking that scrap of paper up and doing anything other than returning it to the robe pocket it had fallen out of. Not a single thing. She picked it up and unfolded it: Smoothed it out against her palm.
The handwriting was Sharp’s. No doubt about that. There was little written, but what was written caused her heart to go cold instantly.
Call Rochelle.
Rochelle: You could not mistake that name for a man’s name. It was a woman’s name. No number. And that implied that he knew the number well enough that he did not need to write it down. Nothing else, just the reminder to call her; why, Tessa asked herself, did Sharp need to call Rochelle? Sharp said they shared everything. Nothing was hidden. She had certainly hidden nothing from him. So why had she never heard this woman’s name before she had found this scrap of paper with it written on it.
She reached over, turned the light back off, and sat down on the toilet lid thinking. She sat for nearly twenty minutes before she remembered why she had gotten up in the first place. She stood, raised the lid, remembered the slip of paper, now no more than a crumpled ball, wet with her sweat and opened her hand allowing it to roll off her palm into the water. She lowered her pajama bottoms and sat down once more.
When she made her way back to the bedroom she was subdued, but the anger at being betrayed was building inside of her. She made her way back under the sheets, but she did not snuggle into Sharp’s warmth where she had been. Instead, she lay awake waiting for the sunrise. Wondering exactly who Rochelle was and what she had that she did not…
Come along on a crazy ride: Mob button men. Crime bosses, dirty cops. Top-level dope dealers and Dollar, a low-level loser just trying to stay alive… #Crime #OrganizedCrime #Mob #Readers #Thriller #BookLovers #BookWorms #Drama
Home: https://www.writerz.net
Discover more from Writerz
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.