Free*
Most dealers just want money. Not Jessy. He's always trying to sit me down and talk sense into me, tell me how much brighter my life would be if i quit. It's pretty annoying, but he used to use, so he knows the ins and outs. He's heavily tattooed, young clear skin, boyishly beautiful. Gold teeth, cheeky smile, expensive super baggy shirts and pants he's always pulling up. When I see him he shakes my hand, replacing my folded up cash with drugs. But on Friday, when he came to my door he wanted to come in and sit down. He was worried.
He had been swaggering down the back streets with some friends, when it turned out one was under surveillance. Police pulled up, sirens screaming, guns drawn, searched them all. His friends were coke dealers, so when they searched my guy, they assumed what he had was coke too. Four grams of coke. Four grams of coke is a lot less, and a lot less serious than four grams of heroin. They took a liking to him I guess, because they took his friends to the station. They drove him to a vacant lot, to talk. "We can make this all go away," they said like pigs in a movie. "You help us, we help you." I can just imagine their tough movie-cop faces, over-expressive, regurgitating their favourite lines. Sharks, wanting you to believe they're friendly, so you'll get back in the water. When Jessy asked what they wanted from him, they wouldn't say. "Just lie low for two weeks, then call this number." He hopped out of the car, exchanging his freedom for the unknown. When I asked him if he'd call, he shook his head fondly at my innocence. He won't cross onto the streets of their beat, he's moving, his number's changed. Just like his drugs, now you see him, now you don't.
He had been swaggering down the back streets with some friends, when it turned out one was under surveillance. Police pulled up, sirens screaming, guns drawn, searched them all. His friends were coke dealers, so when they searched my guy, they assumed what he had was coke too. Four grams of coke. Four grams of coke is a lot less, and a lot less serious than four grams of heroin. They took a liking to him I guess, because they took his friends to the station. They drove him to a vacant lot, to talk. "We can make this all go away," they said like pigs in a movie. "You help us, we help you." I can just imagine their tough movie-cop faces, over-expressive, regurgitating their favourite lines. Sharks, wanting you to believe they're friendly, so you'll get back in the water. When Jessy asked what they wanted from him, they wouldn't say. "Just lie low for two weeks, then call this number." He hopped out of the car, exchanging his freedom for the unknown. When I asked him if he'd call, he shook his head fondly at my innocence. He won't cross onto the streets of their beat, he's moving, his number's changed. Just like his drugs, now you see him, now you don't.
posted by tui at 7:34 AM
3 Comments:
He better be careful they can find anyone in this city..too many people do nothing but talk..talk and talk some more.
If they run into him again and give him a hard time..which they will; he needs a feasible story..say he's kicked his demons and never wants to go back or somethin like that.
Who knows they may give him a break. They have a year to the day to press charges by the way..if he can lie low unil then..
Stay well stay safe little one.
x0x0x
seems stechy to me be careful
I know some fucker who is a narcotics cop in Canada now. He was a bullying, violent, arbitrary and Christian fuckhead at school, much older than me.
Cops, hein? On one hand, I sometimes think there are very few jobs open to people in the modern world that stretch you and challenge you every side: have to think sharp, puts you in physical danger, have to be good at dealing with people... But maybe cop is one.
On the other, anyone who thinks that law and justice must be upheld and that I'm the man for the job is automatically a fuckwit and a candidate for involuntary euthanasia.
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