I followed him out of the station. At this point I probably could have walked right next to him and he wouldn't have noticed or recognized me. He walked two blocks west and one block south before approach ing a row of town houses. He was walking slowly, but then all of a sudden his head perked up.
Another young man was walking down the street in the other direction. He looked to be the same age as the guy I was following, maybe a year or two younger. He was wearing loose jeans, sneakers, a Mets cap with the brim turned sideways. The other guy's head snapped up, too, in a familiar greeting.
These two men knew each other. They slowed down as they approached. I slipped behind a wall, out of sight, but easily able to hear every word they said.
'S'up, Scotty?' the other man yelled as they got closer.
'SSDD,' my guy, apparently Scotty, yelled back.
Same shit, different day.
As they got closer, their voices lowering, I heard
Scotty say, 'What'd you pull in today?'
'Four-fiddy. Would've been more but these trustfund princesses thought they could get a taste for free if they shoved their tits in my face. Don't need to tell them I can get that on my own. How 'bout you?'
'Five-twenty,' Scotty said, a note of pride in his voice. 'And that's after the man takes his cut.'
'Better than serving lattes,' the other guy said. 'I'm cleaned out for the night. Gotta re-up in the morning.'
'Same here,' Scotty said. 'How's your moms doing?'
The other guy shrugged. 'Her hair hasn't started falling out yet, but the docs say it's a matter of time.'
He scratched his nose. 'She's strong as a bull. Wouldn't mind moving out on my own like you, but not while she's like this.'
'Give her my best, bro'.'
'Will do. Hey, meet on the corner tomorrow morning at seven? Go over together?'
Scotty nodded. 'Sounds like a plan. 'Night, Kyle.'
'Later, Scotty.'
The kid named Kyle kept on walking, as Scotty entered his building.
I stood there stunned as Kyle passed by me.
Re-ups tomorrow morning. I knew what that meant.
They'd both cleaned out their stash today, and would need to restock tomorrow to make more deliveries. It meant they weren't working for themselves, and they didn't keep any drugs at their houses. Somebody held them for re-upping. And there was enough to resupply at least two soldiers.
Which meant that if Scotty and Kyle were going to meet at seven, I would be there waiting for them.
18
I was standing on the corner of Broadway and West
Sixth Street at 6:30 a.m. I didn't know what corner
Scotty was referring to when he and Kyle made plans to meet, so I wanted to make sure I had my eyes on him from the moment he left his apartment. I was on my second cup of coffee when, at six fifty-five, the front door opened and Scotty came out. He was dressed just like the day before. Natty suit, hair combed, a briefcase slung over his shoulder.
He yawned and stretched, and I watched while won dering if this was a morning ritual. Whether he and
Kyle met every day, or only on re-up days. He began walking east, presumably toward the corner.
I walked half a block down and watched as he stopped on the corner. Scotty checked his watch, dawdled for a bit, then turned around and nodded his head at someone I couldn't see. A minute later, Kyle joined him on the corner.
Last night when I saw Kyle he was loose, relaxed.
This morning he and Scotty looked like twins.
Gone was the baseball cap, and a mop of red hair was slicked back into place. He was wearing a navy blazer and slacks. Kyle, too, had a briefcase in his hands.
They spoke for a minute, and I saw Kyle pass Scotty a stick of gum. I retreated into a deli as they passed, then fell into line.
They entered the N train at the corner of Canal and
Broadway. Again I took the adjacent car. They con versed as though they'd known each other a long time.
Neither wore a wedding ring. They were just two young guys, mid to late twenties if I had to guess. Much the same as thousands of other young men in the city, dressed and ready for a day at the office.
Only I knew that their work entailed something much darker than punching a clock.
At the Fifty-seventh Street station, Kyle and Scotty left, went upstairs and began walking north on Seventh
Avenue. I had no idea where they were going, but when they turned on Fifty-eighth and headed toward Sixth, I noticed both Kyle and Scotty cock their heads in that familiar 'what's up' way that insinuated they saw someone they knew.
I picked up the pace. Felt my pulse quickening.
Then I saw something that nearly made me stop dead in my tracks.
At least half a dozen young men were approaching from the opposite direction. All of them were well dressed in business suits. All of them were smiling and jeering at Kyle and Scotty.
And all of them were carrying briefcases that were most certainly empty.
'S'up, bitches!' Kyle yelled at the oncoming group.
Kyle and Scotty joined the other young men as I hung back, dumbfounded. They'd stopped outside of what appeared to be a small office building. I wrote down the number and address in my notepad. I couldn't get any closer without arousing suspicion.
After a minute of horseplay, all eight men entered the building, like a troop of bankers ready to conquer the world. When they'd gone inside I ventured closer until
I could see. They were writing their names down at a security station, and giving a good-natured ribbing to the guard on duty. He was laughing and playing along.
He must have known them.
Then, just like that, they were gone.
Could all of these men have been going to the same place for the same reason? Were they all part of the same crew? Were they all dealers?
As I stood outside weighing my options, several more young men entered the building, stopped by the security station and went upstairs. A few of them chatted with the guard. I assumed they were part of the same crew as Scotty and Kyle.
I decided to wait. I couldn't go inside in case Scotty or Kyle came downstairs. Thankfully, I didn't have to wait long, because within twenty minutes a veritable crush of young, well-dressed men came pouring out of the front doors. Their pace was quick. They offered pithy 'laters' and 'rake it in, boys' goodbyes to each other.
And, I noticed, all of their briefcases looked full.
I waited another fifteen minutes to be sure, then I walked inside the building. I pretended to act confused, reading the directory on the wall.
'Help you?' the guard asked.
'Yeah,' I said. I went up to his station, saw the logbook open. I pretended to be thinking while I scanned the log.
And there, right next to each other, were two names:
Scott Callahan
Kyle Evans
Scotty and Kyle. And by the company line they wrote
