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Oktalonli's Site
Never lose your passion to dream, it's the best thing given to you...
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Song of the Dinosaur
Chapter 2
by:
POOLSHARK
You�re my only friend
That I know
Who�s got something to live
And post my bail...
(LongBeachDubAllStars - �Rolled Up�)
Noah sits. And waits. And waits some more. The sun goes down and he pitches the syringe from hand to hand. A noise makes him look up and around. He sees nothing out of the ordinary but stands up anyway. Noah stays that way for a long time. Finally he hears footsteps. He squints his eyes in the darkness and tries to see through the inky blackness. He holds the syringe like a knife, ready to stab. He swears he hears breathing, and strains his ears to listen, the upper half of his body straining forward unconsciously.
Finally he hears a whistle; one long note, sharp and piercing, like a bird. He whistles back with his own version, deep and staccato: rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat, rat-a-tat-tat. He stops to breathe and stares all around him. The shadows move, and four bodies step out of the brush. Exhaling, he steps forward and into the moonlight.
Their features are blurred in the moonlight, but he knows them. The so-called �Chicago Gang�. They are all dressed similarly, with red and black bandanas tied around their foreheads and big baggy clothes. There are 7 of them, 3 still in the brush, all users, and some pot smokers too. He knows, he�s smoked with them before. He reaches back with his left hand and feels for the small .44 magnum speed loader in his back right pocket. Just in case, of course. You can never be too careful with a gang, no matter how many times you�ve dealt to them, or smoked with them, or how many are your friends. One shadowy figure, the leader of the Chicago Gang, stepped up and looked around.
�Que pasa? You got the dirt?� said the short, black-headed, Mexican youth to Noah. He nodded and tossed the syringe to the youth, named Joseph. He caught and inspected it like always. Noah�s mind screamed at him: How many times have I dealt to you and how many times have we smoked together?! You should know I haven�t fucked you in the ass!! He bit his tongue hard, until he tasted blood, and stamped on his right foot hard with his left to ensure his silence.
Joseph tossed him a roll of money held together by a rubber band, which Noah caught and yanked off, then quickly counted: Three and a quarter. Grand. He stuffed the wad in his back pocket and backed away, watching the other gang members, although they seemed too interested in the needle to pay him much attention now. Noah knew they most likely had AIDS, or if they didn�t now, they soon would, as they all shot up with the same needle.
Noah quietly backed away and melted into the overgrown brush all around. He kept his eyes on the small clearing until he was a good distance away, and even after he turned around he kept his ears behind him. Never trust a gang, that was his motto. His left hand went up to his throat and automatically rubbed the long scar that went from his left ear and stopped right under his chin, in the middle of his throat.
He had gotten in a fight with the wrong gang over his price of heroin. The leader, Miguel, had started an argument that he was told that two rocks were only two thousand dollars. In all actuality, two rocks were three and a half thousand dollars. They haggled and Noah told Miguel to find another street dealer. It was then that Miguel pulled a knife on Noah. He meant to kill him, but somehow Noah turned the knife around. Miguel was now in a shallow grave in Red Eye Bluff. Nobody ever found him, and Noah�s conscience was clear. He had then made a chart and given it to every gang in Long Beach, CA. The chart looked like this:
| Number of Rocks: | Price: | Amount of Weed: | Price: |
| 1 Rock | $2,000 | 1 Nickel | $10.00 |
2 Rocks | $3,500 | 1 Dime | $20.00 |
| 3 Rocks | $5,000 | 2 Dimes | $30.00 |
| 4 Rocks | $7,250 | 3 Dimes | $40.00 |
| 5 Rocks | $9,000 | 4 Dimes | $50.00 |
| 6 Rocks | $11,250 | 5 Dimes | $100.00 |
The price of weed in Long Beach was always high, because it was so hard to obtain. And also because there were always cops around ready and waiting to shut down the next truck coming in. They never stuck to the same schedule because of that, so you had to be ready to get to the truck, get the products, and get out as fast as you could. A good hustler could do it in 10 - 15 minutes. A slow or new hustler took 30 and was a risk. The drivers never liked dealing with the newer ones and dealt their own �street justice� if they were exceptionally slow, although after 2 trucks they were masters at unloading a truck and did so as well as the veterans. The truck was seldom kept waiting longer than 25-30 minutes after it pulled into the alley.
Noah walked home along the dark alleys and walkways, always on guard, always alert.
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