Shizz had a customer. He spit a crack rock into his hand.
I sat nearby, in the playground.
A police cruiser stopped.
I wanted to walk away.
I had crack rocks in my mouth, underneath my tongue.
And I had a ten-pack of crack rocks hidden in the bushes behind me.
But I stayed because it was my crack that Shizz was selling.
One of the officers questioned Shizz.
The other came into the playground.
"Stand up," he ordered.
I stood up.
He circled around me looking on the ground (cold), underneath the bench (still cold), through the grass (warm). Then he shook the bushes (hot).
He saw the ten-pack and picked it up.
He cuffed me, asking, "Why are you selling crack in the park where kids play?"
I didn’t answer.
I began to swallow the crack rocks I had in my mouth, one by one.
After I was booked I phoned Kendra.
"Kendra, tell my mother I got arrested. Tell her where my stash is. Tell her to sell the ten-packs for fifty dollars and come and get me."
The officers handcuffed me to a chair.
My belongings sat in a plastic bag on a desk.
My beeper vibrated.
The officer asked me if it was a crack head.
"Maybe," I said sarcastically.
I had just bought my first half ounce of coke. Over a thousand dollars worth of product, gone.
I had to start from scratch.
I didn’t have any money.
As soon as I was bailed I went to Cameron.
Cameron was this big fat black dude that sold weight.
"Cameron, I just got arrested. I lost my product. Can I borrow three eight balls? I’ll pay you back."
He reached into his pants, and from his crotch pulled out three eight balls.
I ran home.
I cut up the crack, bagged it, and went back outside to sell it.
I made Cameron’s money back within hours.
I was back on my feet.
I went home to bed.
I had to be at the courthouse at nine the next morning.