The Wilderness Years - One Car Parades (part 3)

I'm the man now, he growled and smiled, i can hook you up, i took over for Jack for Mr. Big, fuckin' guy was getting too fast and loose anyhow if you ask me, his eyes were fixed on me as i took a gulp of my Scotch and water and chased it with swig of High Life, i nodded... need you on the team my man, his large hand firmly on my shoulder, you're the kid who can shift the product man, i know it and Mr. Big knows it, you were discussed my young brother, glowingly he chuckled... i didn't know whether to shit or chew bubble gum, i was carefully trying to parse through the bullshit Cocaine Mike was spewing, it very much could have been true or it could be his cold calculation, Mr. Big knew me and i knew him, this was a different game than the shit i pulled at uni, this was a bit more serious, i was still learning, in one of the few times i was allowed to associate on a social level with Mr. Big, invited to join the conversation at the corner of the bar by Hippie Jack i showed how much i had to learn, the subject of cops came up and in my youthful cool and desire to impress i uttered something like, fuck those guys... fucking cocksuckers, he laughed and told me how much he donated to the FOP and the PAL, how they thought he was a swell fucking guy and big supporter of the local PD, straightened me out to the fact you wanted them to think you were on their side, i was a young hood, this dude was into trafficking shit, i stood silent and corrected...

Cocaine Mike had painted his masterpiece of course, he had not only stolen Hippie Jack's stash and money but he had also stolen his connection, slipped in through the back door, and yes apparently it helped that he knew me cuz Mr. Big liked what i did but he didn't want to deal with a young kid and so Cocaine Mike got the North Oakland account and i got a new boss if i wanted it... what choice did i have? same stuff at the same price and the train keeps rolling right? at least in theory that was the plan but i didn't call this post one car parades for nuffin' now did i?  I was also cognizant of the fact that given time i could easily jump Mike in the ladder, it would take some maneuvering but it wasn't that far out of the question, may not have been the most healthy thing so to speak and you could say i wasn't the most confident of sorts when it came to envisioning a long run with Mr. Cocaine Mike at the helm but for the time being i was working with the scariest, craziest motherfucker i had ever known...

That night i went home and thought, i lay on my mattress and stared at the ceiling as the public radio burbled in the background, this was a bit more delicate, how much did i want to let this crazy bastard front me? i could easily buy a pound plus a half or damn near another whole one in cash but did i want to take that much cash to Cocaine Mike's place, i trusted him about as far as i could throw him and it did not seem out of the realm of possibility that he would point a gun in my face, take my cash and laugh as he told me i had 10 seconds to run before i got shot, i had my nest egg growing in the local bank and a safe that was slowly accruing both seed and play money but i was well aware that this psycho could fuck all that up in less than that aforementioned 10 seconds, and what was i gonna do? call the cops? get a gun and shoot at him? i could get a pound at at time but that just meant more trips to his place, the extra half meant roughly once a week, and people think this shit is easy, all this toil and trouble for five or six hundred un-taxed dollars, it's what makes the world go round...

And so i threw my lot in with a 6'6 inch devil in a brown leather jacket. I didn't see much of Jack after that, i'd buy him a drink at the bar and talk to him in passing, he'd ask me if i was getting anything good and that if i did to let him know, i told him i was working to put shit together but could barely scrape up enough to keep my people happy, it was bullshit, i was still doing my thing but had been told in no uncertain terms to not cut Jack in on anything, the punishment being that i would be out as well, as it was Cocaine Mike was getting 5 or 6 pounds at a time of which i moved 90% of, i didn't know it at the time but Mike picked up and then sat back and waited for me to do my thing, i was still making my money but i was a bit more cautious in the way i tossed it around the neighborhood, i knew shit would go south sooner rather than later and so i banked a bit extra, i'm not sure the strippers or bartenders noticed, instead i got shit done and stayed in my room and out of the bar when i didn't have to work, i read books and listened to records, i put the word out to my customers that i was looking for new connections, just to keep my guys honest i'd say, it's a strange thing asking people who are buying weed from you to help you to find people to buy weed from in order to mark it up and sell it back to them but that's just how shit worked, i had accrued the capital for cash and carry,  so far though i was coming up empty...

Then one afternoon i was milling around the alley that led up to the back of the apartments where Hippie Jack and Cocaine Mike lived, Mike of course was his usual ten minutes late and as i stood pacing an alley of cinders and broken glass i was hoping that Jack wouldn't come rolling out of his place, it was after work and happy hour would be starting and Jack being that creature of habit i was hoping he had caught the early bus or copped a ride, then the side door opened and out he stepped, there i stood pacing with a backpack on my shoulder, the same backpack i always used to grab my gear, he looked puzzled and hurt, what's up man? he said... and what could i say? i told him i was waiting for Cocaine Mike, said he had called me and told me he had a line, i wasn't getting much, shit's been tough i lied, Jack stood shaking his head and told me to let me know if i can get any to spare, i'm just grabbin' a Q-per (quarter pound) i lied again, and just then Cocaine Mike came strolling around the corner, he gave Jack a nod and then slapped me on the back and said, come on in man...Hippie Jack turned and headed toward the bar, later man i said and followed Mike up the stairs to his place...

Once upstairs Mike shit-talked Jack to on end and i sat there and nodded in agreement because it was the safest and sanest thing to do, i liked to think i had some honor among these thieves but who the fuck was i kidding, a month back from the beach and my weed slinging career was a fledgling mess, shit gear at expensive prices from a balding ex-frat boy who was less than thrilled when a tall dread-locked white guy pulled up to his redneck enclave, then a chance meeting in the bar and the rest was history, it was close to two years and in this business at this low-level that was a fucking stretch, it was good for both of us and even though i knew i wasn't the one to fuck up i wanted to show some kind of loyalty, call it being young and idealistic, i was going to be some kind of morally upstanding drug dealer, what a fucking laugh, watching Hippie Jack, a guy i called my friend, shuffle off toward the bar beaten and broken i felt like a dick, a first class fucking heel, and i should have, but a man's gotta eat as they say and this capitalist system is a meat grinder even down here in the gutter, and so i got my weed from Cocaine Mike, i'm pretty sure Jack knew it, what could i do? i had a business to run and strippers to tip and student loans to pay and psychedelics to buy and rent to pay and booze to guzzle... as W. Axl Rose put it, Welcome to the Jungle baby... to be cont.