Dope Fiend

"You take my cigarettes nigga?"

"Wha-"

"Don't get to stuttering mutha fucka. Did you take my cigarettes?"

Everyone who had been talking in the room up to that point shut up. Pusha was standing in front of Smoka's chair, his fists balled angrily at his sides.

"I didn't take nothing Pusha."

"You lying to me nigga?"

"N-n-no, I'm not lyin'."

"I think he lyin' Pusha," Tiny said. Pusha shot him a look and he shut up. Slim and I were seated on the love seat, closest to Pusha and Smoka. I could see that Smoka was scared; he was shaking like a leaf. No one in the room was saying a word. Someone had muted the television.

"You take my scale nigga?"

"What scale," Smoka asked dumbly. Pusha slapped him with the open palm of his hand.

"What scale nigga? You gonna try to play me now?"

"I ain't take nothin' Pusha." He sounded as if he was begging.

"There were three stones and a hand scale on this table earlier nigga and now they gone. Don't nobody smoke dope but you. So I'ma ask you again, you take my shit nigga?"

Smoka didn't say a word.

"You been gettin high nigga?" He leaned forward and sniffed at Smoka.

"I been smoking sticks."

"Stand yo bitch ass up nigga." Smoka made an attempt to stand and Pusha grabbed him by the coller, yanking him the rest of the way up. With his foot Pusha kicked the chair away. He and Smoka were standing toe to toe. Smoka was attempting to not look afraid, but he was sweating. Pusha looked him up and down, an expression of contempt on his face. "Empty your pockets you punk mutha fucka."

"What?"

"Nigga I said empty your mutha fuckin' pockets. " He took a step towards Smoka. Smoka took a step back and found himself against the living room wall. Pusha stepped forward and grabbed a hold Smoka's pants. He stuck one hand in each front pocket and snatched as hard as he could. The ripping noise was loud in the silent room and the contents of Smoka's pockets scattered on the floor.

Smoka bent down in an attempt to retrieve the lost items, but Pusha shoved him aside. I leaned forward on the love seat to see what had fallen: a smashed pack of Newports, two $20 stones, a metal hand scale, a sherm stick and three lighters. Pusha picked all the items up and spread them out on the living room table.

"Get your ass over here," he commanded. Smoka walked over to the table, his eyes staring down at the floor in shame. Everyone in the room was looking at him - me, Slim, Tiny, Yvette - and he was aware of it. Pusha held the cigarettes in Smoka's face. "Are these my fuckin' cigarette's nigga?"

"I bought them Pusha, Them ain't yours."

"You bought them? Nigga you was just over here an hour ago begging me to sell you a $2 hit. Where you get money for rocks, sticks and cigarettes?"

"I had some money."

"You had some money? So you was trying to hustle me?" He raised his fist.

"No! No. I wasn't trying to hustle you. When I came the first time I didn't have no money. Then I got some. That's how I got the stuff."

"Where you get money from nigga?"

"I washed some cars down at the car wash for some people."

"Nigga, you were only gone for an hour. I'm 'sposed to believe that shit?"

"Pusha!" Yvette had been leaning over the table looking at the contents of Smoka's pockets. Her hands were wrapped around a blue lighter with yellow and white daisies on it. "This my damn lighter! My initial carved in it!"

She held the evidence out to Pusha to investigate. He took it from her and flipped it in his hand so that he could see the "Y" scrawled on one side of the lighter. He looked at the lighter then looked up at Smoka.

"Nigga, you stole the homegirl lighter?"

"I didn't steal nothing Pusha, I found it."

"Where you find it at?"

"Outside on the brick wall." As he said this, Smoka flashed Yvette a pleading look. Yvette rolled her eyes at him and turned to Pusha.

"Pusha, that's my lighter. I may have left it outside, but he didn't have no business taking it. Fucking crackhead." She flopped onto the sofa. Everyone turned their attention to Pusha. He picked up the two stones, the sherm stick and put them in his pocket. He left the lighters on the table and grabbed the smashed package of cigarettes.

"Come outside Smoka." He marched through the front door with Smoka trailing slowly behind him. The rest of us jumped up to follow and watch the action. Pusha paced around smoka in a circle.

"Nigga, don't you never come to my house stealin' again, you understand me?"

Smoka nodded his head. Pusha shoved the package of cigarettes at him.

"Here." Smoka took the cigarettes and, not having any pockets to place them in, held them in his hand.

"Smoka, you gonna get away easy this time. I'm even going to get you high tonight."

The look of relief on Smoka's face quickly turned to one of surprise. He grinned at Pusha and nodded his head gratefully.

"Wait right there," Pusha said and turned towards the house. He walked three paces then turned suddenly and punched Smoka in the jaw. Smoka crumbled to the ground.

The rest of us let out a collective, "Oh shit!"

As Pusha stormed past us and back into the house Tiny said, "Damn. He just dope fiend a dope fiend."

No one laughed.