“Yo, I like ya style,” Tone commented, taking an instant liking to her. “New York Tone, huh? Got a lil ring to it.”
Tone felt like he had met a mover and shaker in the streets. Shorty was someone on the frontline who was very knowledgeable. That he could already see. Already she was his eyes and his ears.
As soon they got to the opening of the alleyway, Tone peered in. There he witnessed a sight he had never seen before. Grown people, addicts, standing in a single file line, silently, like children waiting to receive their bags of dope. The line seemed to stretch from one end of the alley to the next. Unsure of what he was seeing, Tone did a double take and continued walking. Then suddenly he doubled back to get a second look. This only served as confirmation. He had seen what he thought he saw. It all happened so quickly nobody noticed him.
“What’s that?” Tone asked.
“Dope,” she assured him. “That’s a dope line, yo.”
Damn! Tone thought. All he saw was dollar signs in his head as he did a quick count of all the customers on line.
“Yo, it’s like that out here?” he wondered.
Shorty replied, “It’s like that everywhere out here, New York. If you got good product and some hustle in you, you gone make money, yo. Believe me.”
“No doubt,” Tone added as his mind continued to race.
They walked back to the car with Tone remaining rather quiet as thoughts of money raced through his mind. Meanwhile, Shorty continued to fill him in on the drug trade in the area and the players involved. She told him who was who and what was what.
“This neighborhood is wide open, yo. Ain’t no good quality coke around here since the Feds come through here, yo.” Shorty proclaimed. “The game don’t stop because a player gets popped.”
Shorty told him that there had been a big drug bust a few months before he arrived in Baltimore. A federal indictment had swept the area clean of any major drug organizations that had control of the area. So the neighborhood was basically up for grabs. She explained to him that the time was right for him to come in and do his thing.
“What you got, girl or boy?” Shorty questioned.
“What?” Tone answered, confused.
“Dope or Coke?” she reiterated.
“Coke,” Tone replied. “Fishscale.”
“Is it raw?” she wondered.
“No question,” Tone added, confident in his quality of drugs.
“You got some that shit on you now, yo?” she moaned.
In Baltimore, everyone and their mother was looking for a good New York drug connection. Here it was Shorty, out of all people, had the good fortune of just stumbling across one. Inwardly, she was thanking her lucky stars. She knew their relationship could be mutually beneficial.
He answered. “Nah, I ain’t bring none out. I wanted to scope shit out first.”
“Damn yo, if you had that shit on you and yo shit as good as you say, we would have made a killin’ right now,” she said, trying to entice him.
“Shorty, slow ya roll. Tomorrow is another day,” Tone stated. “I’m not rushin’ into nuttin’. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
Shorty replied, “Yeah, you right New York. What time tomorrow we meetin’ up?”
“You tell me? What’s the best time?” he wondered.
“Mornin’,” she assured him. “The junkies cop that boy in the mornin’. If we set up early and put the word out, they’ll come cop that girl from us. Once they know it’s raw, they’ll keep comin’ back all day long.”
Tone liked the sound of that. From what he had heard, there was a whole lot of money to be made.
By the time Stew finally exited the house, Tone and Shorty had arrived back at the car and had made arrangements to meet up at a prescribed time and place.
“Shorty, what up yo?” Stew greeted her. “You out here hollerin’ at my people, huh?”
“Oh, this ya peoples?” she replied. “I was wonderin’ who he was waitin’ on….. New York you should have said somethin’.”
“Why?” Tone said. “Did it matter?”
“No, but ya peoples is my peoples. Me and Stew go way back like car seats. Ask him bout me, yo! He’ll tell you how thorough I am.”
Stew cosigned her street credibility. “Shorty more thorough than most of these niggas out here yo. She’s a soldier.”
Stew went on to explain how Shorty’s name was good as gold in the streets. Shorty was as much of a staple in East Baltimore as any good brand of heroin. When junkies wanted to know who had that good stuff, they sought out Shorty. When drug dealers wanted to spread the word about some good product, they bought a few vials or bags over for her to sample. If she said a dealer had the bomb, then he had it. Shorty was the number one drug runner and tester around.
Tone felt fortunate to run into the right person on his first trip to the hood. That was all Tone needed to hear. He was completely sold.
“Yo, Shorty,” Tone announced. “I’ll see you later.”
“New York, lemme holla at you for a second,” Shorty replied before Tone and Stew could drive away.
“Yeah,” Tone responded, taking a few steps away from the car.
“Say, New York,” Shorty began as humbly as possible. “You wouldn’t happen to have a few dollars on you that you could spare. I’m on e right now.”
Tone dug into his pockets and handed over the first bill he touched. It was a ten-dollar bill.
Shorty’s eyes lit up in anticipation of the bag of dope that she would soon be copping.
“Thanks New York. You alright, yo,” Shorty said.
Tone knew in the grand scheme of things, it was a small price to pay in exchange for all the helpful information Shorty had given him. He saw value in Shorty and it was way more than ten dollars. If no one else saw value in her, Tone certainly did.
“You’re welcome,” Tone told her.
“We gotta go,” Stew interrupted as he blew the horn.
