Confessions Of A Former Child Prodigy Turned Heroin Addict [Ch. 7: The Outsider]

Chapter 7: The Outsider

A lot of things changed that weekend. Several events occurred which showed me the gravity of what I was involved in and the people with whom I was involved in those things. Leading up to that weekend, there were a handful of events – like the one described with Jake in the last chapter – which showed me that I was involved with people who, for one reason or another, had forgotten the value of human life. Both Jake and his girlfriend were willing to put her life on the line over a single shot of dope and coke. There were many dealers I had come across who were willing to risk their lives and the lives of others over relatively small amounts of drugs, and even more addicts willing to do the same over only a few bags.

That weekend began with dealing with an issue surrounding a couple of such individuals. It was a long weekend, and Andy had gone back to his hometown to visit his parents and brothers, while Jeff was spending the weekend in an IV-heroin-induced haze. This left me more or less alone to run things at our trap house. I was there a couple hours early in the morning, bagging up while waiting for the runner and dispatcher to arrive. About an hour before their shift started, our dispatcher arrived. I was actually planning to tell the dispatcher that he could work from home for the day if he wanted. It wasn't a problem as long as he had his burner phone and BlackBerry with him so he could direct customers appropriately. I knew that he and his brother took care of their elderly father, who had MS, and I thus had frequently allowed him to work from home. On this particular morning, he arrived before I had a chance to call him and tell him it wasn't necessary to come in.

“Morning Reese,” he greeted me.
“What up Rio? You aight? You're a little early,” I replied.
“Yeah, um... I kinda need to holla at you about something... It's just... You know I be steady workin' right, Reese? I don't be missin' no calls unless it get too crazy, I don't be fuckin' the money up, none of that, y'know'm sayin'?”

I knew that Mario was a bit of a loose cannon before he started working for us, but Black apparently knew his family pretty well. Mario had been known to rob a few drug dealers but it was only because he had no other options and needed to support his family.

“I know. Don't trip. You good with me, Mario. What's goin' on?”

Mario sighed heavily and paused. He clearly was afraid that telling me whatever this was would cause me to be disappointed in him, though he knew I wasn't going to physically discipline him the way Jeff might have.

“Got into a bang out this morning. The bull Splitz, man. I'm comin' out the store this morning on 52nd, he musta seen me from across the street 'cause he just start dumpin' at me, word. So I threw back a couple. But I know you know dat nigga. I ain't know what to do so I just came here man. I know I done fucked up, Reese,” he said, looking up at me.
“Just now? Nobody got hit?”

I honestly didn't even realize Mario was carrying a gun. Splitz was a Puerto Rican drug dealer originally from North Philly. North Philly has a very large area known as “The Badlands” which is basically one huge open air drug market. As soon as you get off the train in that area, you'll hear people yelling out things like, “diesel”, “works”, and specific stamp names. Splitz's family had controlled the majority of the drug trade in that area for years, though that section of North Philly was so large that dealers from all over the city had their people working the various corners. I knew Splitz because he had relocated to West Philly a few months back after getting into some kind of disagreement with his family. As a result, he needed a new supplier and Jeff had sent him my way a handful of times. He wasn't a regular customer so I knew he was shopping elsewhere as well, and he had never bought more than a couple thousand dollars worth of heroin from me. What was clear to me, though, was that he no longer had the backing or protection of his family that he once did. Had that been the case, things would have been handled very differently. I'm certain his family was being supplied by a cartel, but Splitz was basically on his own at this point. Rio continued explaining exactly what happened.

“It was like 20 minutes ago, dropped my egg sandwich and everything... But nah, we ain't hit nothin'.”
“So why the fuck are you and Splitz throwin' shots at each other?”
“Me and my bro robbed a dice game he was at like 3 or 4 months ago. Honestly I ain't even put the shit together until I was running over here. But we took around 8 bills man. What the fuck am I gonna do? You know I'm finna see him again, I'm surprised it took this long.”
“Seriously Rio?! First of all, you're gonna stop risking your life over $800. You make enough fucking money working for me. If you need something more, fucking ask me. You're a goddamn kid and right now you're running around West Philly with grown man beef. Sit the fuck down and let me think for a second.”

Clearly this was a bad situation that had to be dealt with, though I wasn't exactly sure how. I didn't know Splitz well enough to squash this moronic beef over less than a grand, but I was pretty sure that Jeff did. Failing that, I knew I could get Black involved, but I really didn't want to. He had been trusting me more and more recently and I really didn't want to fuck that up. I sent Jeff a message.

“I need to see you asap. When can you come by?”

Around an hour passed and I had received no response from Jeff. I was quite sure he was either in a heavy nod or had fallen asleep. Rio fidgeting on the couch and clearly growing more nervous by the minute. I couldn't really blame him considering he had just been shot at, even if it was his own fault. I decided I had better give Jeff a call before the situation got out of hand. I was fairly sure Splitz could make a couple of phone calls and find out that Rio worked for us pretty quickly, and Splitz had been to our trap house a handful of times at that point. I dialed Jeff's number.

“The fuck are you calling me for? You know the rules, no calls unless absolutely necessary.”
“Then fucking message me back. I need to see you NOW.”
“Aight, aight. Gimme 20, I'll be over.”

I hung up and told Rio to just sit tight for a few more minutes. The kid was sweating bullets at this point and clearly on the verge of having a panic attack.

“You want a Xanax or something, Rio? I can see you freaking out.”
“Nah, I'm good, but what the fuck Jeff gon' do? Splitz finna put a hole in my head the next time he see me.”
“Just fucking relax. You'll be fine. I'm pretty sure Jeff and Black know his whole family. I'm not about to let you get killed, but you need to stop running around and pulling guns on people you don't even know. We might not be able to squash it next time. I know your fam been in a bad situation for a while, but ain't no future in that violent shit you and your brother been pulling. If you're hurting and need something, fucking ask me. You know I'll take care of you.”
“Thanks dawg, that's love. I swear I ain't rob nobody or do no dumb shit since I been working for y'all. And I ain't finna do that shit no more.”
“I fucking hope not, Rio.”

We sat in silence for the next 10 minutes or so, with Rio on the couch holding his head in his hands, clearly on the verge of tears, while I sat next to him, attempting to comfort him while bagging up the bundles of dope that would likely be sold that day. Pretty soon there was a knock at the door. Jeff had arrived.

“Fucking finally,” Rio said, breathing a sigh of relief.

I let Jeff in and he immediately looked at me quizzically after seeing Mario on the couch in obvious distress.

“The fuck you call me over here for? I know you ain't run out yet. What the fuck's with him?” Jeff asked, motioning to Rio.
“We need your help, Jeff. Rio got himself into a bit of trouble,” I explained.
“What kind of trouble?” Jeff asked, his voice raising to an angry tone.
“You know the bull Splitz? Rio and his brother robbed him of 8 bills a few months ago and they ended up throwing a couple shots at each other this morning on 52nd.”
“You call a fucking shootout 'a bit of trouble'?! What the fuck is wrong with you, Rio?”
“I know I fucked up, Jeff. It was months ago and I practically forgot about the shit. I swear to God I ain't done no dumb shit like that since I been working for y'all and it'll never happen again,” Rio attempted to explain.
“You damn right it won't happen again! It's always you dumb lil' ass niggas who pull this shit. Aight, I guess we gon' have to squash it. You talmbout Splitz the Rican bull, right?” Jeff asked.
“Yeah, the Puerto Rican dude from Erie Avenue near The Badlands,” Rio continued.
“Bet. I know dude, but you lucky as hell he ain't in North Philly with his fam no more, cause they don't fuck around... he basically out west by himself now, or you'd already have 50 Puerto Ricans tryin' to knock your head off. He's a small time dealer without his family. Reese, grab 50 bundles and wrap 'em up, I'ma hit his phone and we'll go see him and squash this.”
“You sure that's a good idea?” I asked.
“The fuck else are we gon' do? Let him get killed? I'm pretty sure giving him $5000 worth of heroin's gon' squash an $800 debt. Like every other street level dealer, he's all about the money. But don't think you getting a pass on this, Rio. You'll get the wholesale price on them bundles, but you still finna work off that debt one way or another.”

I grabbed the bundles for Splitz, wrapped them in a sandwich bag and stood up, ready to exit with Jeff.

“You gripped up, Reese?” Jeff asked.
“No. Do I need to be?”
“Just in case man. I know Splitz well enough that it should be smooth, but you never know.”

I grabbed my gun, tucked it in my waist, and walked out the door with Jeff. We hopped into Jeff's Tahoe and he pulled out his phone. Before dialing Splitz, Jeff made sure to tell me that I and Rio had ruined his plans for the day.

“You know y'all fucked up my whole day right? I was nodded out with my girl cause this was the one day we could get a sitter.”
“I'm sorry man, I ain't mean to fuck up your plans. I just found out about this shit when Splitz showed up at the trap.”
“I know it ain't on you, Reese. This shit just be annoying as hell. Aight, lemme make this call.”

Jeff dialed Splitz on speakerphone and he picked up after a couple rings.

“What up?” Splitz answered.
“What's crackin', dawg? Hey listen, where you at right now? I needa come holla at you about something,” Jeff replied.
“For what, Jeff? I'm pretty stocked up on everything right now.”
“It ain't about that. Lemme come holla at you.”
“Tell me what the fuck it's about or I'm hanging up right now, Jeff.”
“You know we don't talk on phones, Splitz. I see why your family cut you off now. But we need to talk about the fact that you shot at one of my peoples a couple hours ago. You get me now?”

After a long pause, Splitz answered, “Aight, I'm at 43rd and Lancaster. You know the spot. I'm waiting on you.”
“Ten minutes, man,” Jeff responded.
“Listen Jeff, I ain't know he was with you. The bull robbed me a while back and I just seen him today on some random shit, what was I supposed to do?”
“How many times do I have to fucking tell you not to say shit on the phone. Just shut the fuck up and I'll be there in a minute. Goddammit, Splitz,” Jeff yelled, hanging up.

Jeff quickly peeled out of his parking space, clearly annoyed at the conversation he just had with Splitz. A few minutes later, we arrived at the apartment building where we were to meet with Splitz standing outside waiting, and Jeff giving a head nod to him before parking about halfway down the block.

“What up y'all?” Splitz greeted us.
“Let's go inside where we can talk,” Jeff said flatly, a scowl still on his face.

Splitz unlocked the door as we followed him up to an apartment.

“Listen Jeff, I'm sorry about that shit on the phone, it's my bad,” Splitz tried to explain.
“Just don't let it happen again. That's not why we're here.”
“Yeah, I know,” Splitz answered as he unlocked an apartment door.
“Look man,” Jeff began, “Rio's off limits. I don't give a fuck what he did to you. You not about to take his life over fucking $800. You understand?”
“You know how it is, Jeff. Guns already been drawn and shots been fired. That boy gotta feel some kind of pain.”
“Did you not fucking hear me?! HE BELONGS TO ME. You touch him or even try to ever again and I'ma run you the fuck out of business, and then I'ma kill you. On my daughter's life, Splitz, if you don't back the fuck off you ain't ever finna sell another bag of dope. This ain't North Philly. You know damn well I can cut your supply whenever the fuck I want. You got two choices. Either you take these 50 bundles from Reese and consider that debt paid and that beef squashed, or I'ma make sure you stay bone ass dry the next time you try copping from anyone around here.”

Personally, I'd have been terrified at hearing a monologue like that from Jeff, but Splitz just smiled. At the time, I wasn't sure if that was a defensive mechanism or if he actually wasn't scared, but I'd soon find out it was definitely the latter.

“Aight Jeff, I'll take the bundles and I won't touch your boy, but I want your word that he's not gonna come back on me either,” Splitz responded.
“He won't. I'll make sure of it,” Jeff assured him, now speaking in a much calmer tone.

I handed Splitz the dope we had brought him and he unwrapped the bundles, breaking out a bag to check the quality. He poured a small bump between his thumb and index finger and lifted his hand to his nostril to snort.

“Bet. Shit is good. We all good now?” Splitz asked.
“Yeah, we good. Let's roll, Reese,” Jeff replied.
“Listen Jeff... I'm not trying to be an asshole, and I swear this ain't even coming from me or my fam... But shit is changing in West Philly. New players moving in, with serious backing. I'm telling you as a friend, watch your back.”
“Is that a fucking threat, Splitz?” Jeff asked, his eyes growing wide, and his breathing becoming heavy.
“No, of course not. You know I don't want problems with any of y'all. I'm just telling you what I been hearing. Like I said, it ain't coming from me or my fam.”
“Just watch your fucking mouth, Splitz, and remember who you're talking to. C'mon Reese, I'm not spending another second around this jackass.”

Jeff and I left, after which he dropped back at the trap house, and he returned home after we both assured Rio that the beef was squashed and he wouldn't have any more problems with Splitz, but that he couldn't touch Splitz either. I was glad to see Rio relieved, but what I was really wondering about was the last thing Splitz had said. What did he mean by “new players” were moving in? About 2 days later, I found out.

Up next - Chapter 8: The Importer