“What?” he asked, thinking he had heard her wrong.
“You heard me. Do you got some or not?” she demanded again, but this time she pulled out a hundred dollar bill from her bra. The hustler couldn’t believe what she was asking, and he knew that her brother would not appreciate him serving Breeze, so he stepped back and shook his head.
Breeze smacked her lips and put up her middle finger as she began to look past him, searching for a willing hustler.
“You know I can’t do that. This is Mecca and Zyir’s territory, ma. You can’t do that,” he said, trying to put her up on game without getting disrespectful. He knew that the dope he had in his pocket came from The Cartel, and to give it to Breeze would be straight up violating.
“Nigga, fuck what you talking about? You just scared, that’s all,” Breeze said as she waved him off, dismissing him like a flunky. At that point, she bruised the young hustler’s ego, and it noticeably got to him.
“I’m not scared of yo’ peoples, believe that. I just ain’t for the bullshit that comes along with this,” he responded.
“Like I said, you scared,” Breeze said as she realized that her words were getting him upset. Breeze was smart enough to know that when a man’s ego is bruised, it’ll make him do things he usually would not do. In this case, he played right into Breeze’s hand.
“Look, ma, I ain’t scared of no damn body. I just-”
“You just a pussy,” Breeze interrupted as she waved the hundred dollar bill in the air. The hustler looked around and then reached into the car, snatching the money out of Breeze’s hand. He then dug into his pocket and pulled out two packs of dope and tossed it on her lap.
“There you go. Fuck it,” he said as he stood back up, feeling like a big man.
Breeze’s eyes went directly to her lap and on the packs. Her eyes lit up and her anxiety went into overdrive as she anticipated what was to happen next. She couldn’t wait to get back to Zyir’s house. She wanted to shoot up immediately.
“Yo, is it somewhere I can take my medicine?” Breeze asked as she turned off the car and looked at the hustler.
“Yeah, up there,” he said as he threw his head in the direction of the house behind him. “Just go through the back and then you can do your thing in there,” he said, feeling like a big man now that he had served her.
Before he could complete his sentence, Breeze was out of the car and headed to the back of the house. All of the hustlers looked at her as she passed as if she were crazy. They looked at her nice body and the jogging pants that hugged her petite behind.
Breeze went to the back of the house and entered. The foul smell of blood and body odor filled the air as Breeze made her way through the shooting gallery, a nickname junkies gave a residence where users went to shoot their dope. Breeze walked through the house and saw different people scattered throughout the studio-style place, all using their preferred drug.
She stepped over a man that was laid out on the floor in a deep nod and found a table that was in the far corner. She quickly sat down and pulled out her two packs. She reached into her purse and got a shooter, also known as a syringe, and began to set up. Once she melted down the drug and got everything in order, she was ready to take the mystical train to cloud nine. As she filled the syringe with the smack, she felt her vagina get wet as if she were about to have sex with her dream man; however, the only thing that was about to go into her was a needle filled with heroin.
She pulled off the jacket to her jogging suit and grabbed a belt that someone had left on the table. She tied the belt around her arm and fastened it as tightly as she could. She put the end of the belt in between her teeth to keep the tension. She slowly pushed up the syringe to eject the water that was at the tip, and prepared to put it into the big green vein that had formed on her forearm. She slid the syringe into her vein and slowly ejected herself with the dope.
She instantly became relaxed, and a small smile formed on her face as her eyes closed. Drool began to creep out of the left side of her mouth as she slumped into the chair. Within seconds, she had slipped into a deep nod, and all her pain was temporarily taken away from her.
Unbeknownst to Breeze, another hustler by the name of Scoot had known about the relationship Zyir and Breeze once shared, and he immediately called his mentor to tell him that Breeze was inside of the dope house shooting up. Scoot knew that once Zyir or Mecca found out that Breeze had been served on one of The Cartel’s blocks, it would be hell to pay. That’s exactly why Scoot called Zyir to notify him, hoping he would be saving his own ass.
Zyir sped down the street with Illiana in the passenger’s seat. Their lunch date was cut short by a phone call Zyir had received moments ago. “Can’t believe this shit,” Zyir whispered as he maneuvered through traffic, trying to get to Breeze. Illiana sat in the passenger’s seat with her hands crossed over her chest tightly. She had a major attitude, and the way that Zyir cared for Breeze had her jealous.
“Just let her be,” Illiana said as she rolled her eyes at Zyir. He shot a look over to Illiana that said much more than words could describe. Basically, if looks could kill, Illiana would have been dead right then and there.
Zyir pulled onto the block, turning the corner almost on two wheels. He stepped out of the car and began yelling. “Where she at?” he asked no one in particular.
Everyone pointed to the house, and Zyir quickly entered his dope house and scanned the room. What he saw in the corner broke his heart. Breeze was nodding, with a syringe stuck in her arm.
“No, Breeze… no,” Zyir whispered as he slowly walked over to Breeze. She was so high she didn’t even know that he was there. Zyir reached Breeze and dropped to his knees so he could be eye level with her. He slowly took the syringe out of her arm and forcefully threw it across the room in anger. He then grabbed Breeze by the face and lightly smacked her, trying to wake her up.
“Wake up, beautiful. It’s time to go,” he said as his heart ached. Seeing Breeze high was one of the worst things he could ever endure. He loved Breeze, and he refused to let her continue down the path of destruction.
“Breeze!” he called again.
“Hey, Zyir,” she said in a slurred voice, barely opening her eyes. She smiled goofily because the drug had her in a total daze, and her body was completely relaxed.
“Come on, baby,” he said as he picked her up and headed out the door. Zyir kissed Breeze on the forehead gently as she kept nodding uncontrollably.
“Open the door,” he ordered to Illiana. She rolled her eyes and got out to do as he requested.
Zyir slid Breeze into the back seat and then closed the door. Zyir immediately pulled out his gun and made his way to the stoop where the hustlers were posted.
“Who served her?” Zyir asked with an ice-grill expression on his face. He was extremely upset, and was about to show the youngsters how The Cartel got down. “Who?” he asked again after not getting an immediate response. The hustlers on the stoop knew that Zyir meant business, so it did not take long for the finger pointing to begin. Zyir saw that everyone, including Scoot, pointed out the guy who had sold the dope to Breeze. Zyir instantly grabbed the dude by the neck and put the gun in his mouth.
“I want everybody to listen and listen close,” Zyir yelled, trying to get everyone’s attention. Everyone on the block looked at Zyir as he dragged the young hustler to the middle of the street. “Nobody serves Breeze. Do you fuckin’ hear me? The Cartel runs this city, not y’all. You work for us!” he yelled, something that he rarely did. “If I hear about anybody giving her dope, this is what’s going to happen.”