Alain didn’t know what she was expecting when she stepped into the dimly lit apartment, but whatever it was, it wasn’t what she saw.

It was a very neat, very small, apartment with brown leather furniture, tribal pictures on the wall, and a decent entertainment center. The kitchen was dark but she could make out a small dinette set with place mats set out. The living room, where she was standing, had two, dull lamps on that cast a cool light upon the room and there was a thick, heady, incense smell that she recognized from living with someone who used the substance quite often — marijuana.

When she was finished absorbing the atmosphere, she realized the van driver had stepped inside with them and was disappearing down a dark hallway to their left.

“D!” she heard the driver call out as he pounded on a door. “D, your company is here. Get the fuck out here and do your thing with them.” Moments later, a door could be heard opening, and the driver plus another figure were emerging from the hallway.

D Ice didn’t fit the mental picture she had assembled in her mind. Instead of the tall, broad man she imagined, he was short and muscular. His eyes were beady and his lips were thin and cool. There was an aura of power about him, though, that defied his height and general size. He wore baggy, red suit that matched his red shoes and the red visor he wore backwards. When he reached out to shake hands with Alain she noticed he wore four platinum rings on his left hand that, when together, read ‘D Ice’ in sparkling diamonds.

“D Ice,” he said by way of introduction, as he shook first Alain’s hand and then T’s hand.

“I’m Alain,” she said, anxiety slowly dissipating.

T replied, “T Money.” She openly admired his rings and he nodded appreciatively at her necklace.

He held one hand out at his couch. “Take a seat, ladies, and we’ll get down to business.” The driver, who hadn’t left, walked back into the hallway and they heard another door shut.

D Ice sat down in the leather recliner and leaned forward, messing with something on the dark coffee table. Alain looked closer and realized he was in the process of rolling a joint. She glanced at T, worriedly, but T just returned the look with a cool gaze that was impossible to read.

He didn’t say anything as he lit the joint, nor as he toked several times. After he passed it to T Money and started letting smoke roll out of his mouth, he spoke.

“Alain an’ T Money. Two newcomers to Liberty City — people M Dog has alliances wit’. He called in a favor fo’ you two and I’m gladly returnin’ it. In the style of our people, his homies are my homies. What can I do for you two ladies?” Smoke accentuated his words and he finished exhaling when he was done speaking.

T Money handed the joint to Alain, notably not looking at her, exhaled, and replied. “M Dog told you I’m a dealer?” D Ice nodded. “I hope he told you that I’m the best dealer he’s ever known,” she said bluntly with confidence as Alain tentatively put the joint to her lips and inhaled, “because I am. You give anything to me, I’ll have it sold within days. I have no problems avoiding the police, either.”

D Ice accepted the joint as Alain passed it back to him. “Aiight. I’ll keep that in mind.” He turned to Alain. “Now, you —”

T Money interrupted him. “No,” she said forcefully and he turned back to her, surprised. “Either you don’t understand or you’re ignoring me. I can deal anything. And I need a job.”

D Ice hit the joint and passed it. “Persistent, ain’t you?” He laughed, the sound low and rich. “Aiight. I’ll work wit’ you in a moment.” His attention turned back to Alain. “What about you? You dealin’, too?”

Alain shook her head, feeling spacey. She hated drugs, with a passion, and T Money knew that, but in the current situation she felt like she had to accept the offering. It left her slightly sick to her stomach, to compromise herself, but she did it because she had to.

“No,” she said, pausing to take her hit, “I’m looking for jobs.” She passed back to D Ice, who held the joint for a moment.

“Jobs, huh.” He raised an eyebrow. “What kind of jobs?”

Hoping she wouldn’t sound too needy, she answered, “Anything. I can do anything you ask. I need jobs that will earn me a reputation, though.” T Money didn’t say anything but Alain thought she could sense approval in her friend.

“Rep, ha,” D Ice chuckled. “Ain’t that we all want?” Shaking his head, he took the rapidly burning joint and put it out. “Aiight. I can help you,” he said to T, “and my brother, the guy that picked y’all up, Memphis, he can help you,” he finished, speaking to Alain. “He got the connections, ya know? He’ll hook you up for a price.” Before she could ask what price, exactly, D Ice continued, “But you’ll have to settle that wit’ him.”

“Okay,” Alain said slowly, feeling like everything was happening in dull motion. Colors and sounds were muted and she felt light, like nothing could bother her.

“Memphis!” D Ice yelled, settling back in his chair. The door they heard close earlier opened and the driver appeared in the shadows of the hallway. He was tall, much taller than D Ice, though their features were similar. In the darkness, he looked sinister. Despite her earlier confidence, Alain felt a touch of apprehension travel up her spine and through her nerve endings.

“Yeah?” Memphis had a deeper, thicker voice that followed the same path the apprehension had across Alain’s nerves.

“M Dog called in a favor,” D Ice explained, “and I need you to work wit’ ’dis lady here, Alain,” he pointed at her. “These are good people, man, and I’d appreciate it if you’d help her out.”

Memphis shifted his aloof gaze to Alain, blatantly sizing her up. After a moment he turned back to D Ice. “Aiight.” D Ice nodded and Memphis gestured to Alain. “Follow me,” he told her, disappearing in the shadows of the hallway.

Heart pounding, Alain stood shakily and followed him. The darkness closed in around her and she felt like she was being crushed in the hallway; she couldn’t see, she didn’t know where Memphis was…

A door ahead of her opened and a soft light spilled out into the hallway. Blinking, she noticed the hallway was longer than she thought. It ended in the door he had opened but there were three other doors lining it, two on her left and one on her right.

She stepped into a bedroom. Music was playing in the background, low enough that she could hear the dizzying beats but not the words; only a steady murmur. There was a sharp, poignant smell in the air that she couldn’t identify though it was familiar. The room had one, large bed with wrinkled covers, a large dresser with a mirror that reflected the bed, and a stand next to the bed with the large stereo on it. The light was the ceiling light; it had a dimmer switch.

Memphis sat down on the bed, pushing himself up against the backboard, and gestured for her to sit on it with him. She perched on the edge, hands on either side of her steadying herself and she felt a brief déjà vu; she had been in the same position days earlier when T Money woke her.

“What can I help you wit’?” Memphis broke the silence. He stared at her, eyes blank but searching.

She turned toward him and forced herself to meet his gaze. “I’m looking for jobs. I want a reputation.” Her words were frank and honest and yet she felt that he could see through them, through her.

“What kind of jobs?” His questions mirrored D Ice’s.

Without blinking, she answered, “Anything.”

Memphis nodded, accepting her words. Then he spoke again. “If I get you jobs that’ll put you out there, what will you give me in return?”

Alain knew he was going to ask. She knew and yet her mind still drew a blank when he asked. Cautiously, she replied, “What do you want?”

With a slow, wide grin that sent thrills through her fingers, he crossed his arms behind his head. The movement pulled his shirt up so it was riding on his stomach, displaying the lower half of a six pack, a thin expanse of muscular stomach that disappeared into a pair of dark boxers that peeked above dark jeans riding low on his hips. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t have to.

Alain was captivated by the smooth, dark skin that was showing. No further words were said; none were needed.

***

As the buzz started to wear off and she realized what had just happened, she flushed dully and her stomach heaved once. Like before, though, she forced herself to remain calm until she was in a place where freaking out would be appropriate.

Memphis spoke and his voice, like before, betrayed nothing. “Do you have a car?”

Masking her thoughts behind a blank façade, she looked back at him. She wasn’t sure where the conversation was heading and she felt too out of control to not know what he was going to say. “No, not yet.”

“I know someone who can hook you up for a small price.” His eyebrows raised in a challenging expression. “If you can handle that?”

Swallowing back the bile that started to rise in her throat, she nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

“Good. Be here tomorrow at the same time.” Hesitating before moving, he brushed a strand of hair out of her face. His hand floundered on the bedspread for a moment until he found what he was looking for and he handed her black hair tie back to her.

She accepted the tie and automatically pulled her hair back. When he spoke again, though, she froze.

“Leave it down tomorrow.” Her hands tucked in her hair, she looked up at him with wide eyes. “I like it better that way,” he offered by way of explanation, his voice cool and distant. Dumbly, she nodded and finished pulling it back.

Memphis didn’t walk her to the door. She didn’t expect him to, either. He stayed on the bed, eyes hooded and sullen, arms crossed beneath his head, and watched her as she stepped out of the warm room, the shadows of the hallway engulfing her.

Her steps were uneven and she paused in the doorway to the living room, staring as T Money did a quick line of a bright, white powder. Like before, the colors surrounding her were contrasted sharply but for a different reason this time. She swallowed hard, trying to stay in control of her body, though it was hard. When the images in front of her started to flicker and darken, she thought she was going to pass out.

Alain couldn’t see herself but she looked sickly. Her hair was in a state of disarray, her clothes were wrinkled, and her lips were swollen. Her normal flush was absent from her cheeks; in fact, all color was absent from her pallid face. And she couldn’t stop swallowing.

Despite her attempts to be quiet, to let T Money and D Ice finish their business, something she did must have alerted them of her presence; either she swallowed loud or made a soft whimper that she didn’t hear against the rushing white noise in her ears. Either way, D Ice and T Money glanced up at her, at the same time, and while D Ice’s expression remained blank, worry appeared on T’s face. The two exchanged a quick conversation and D Ice started to clean up the table while T Money stood and walked over to Alain.

“You okay?” she asked, fear edging her movements.

Alain nodded. She couldn’t speak.

T took a deep breath but let it out without saying anything. “Okay,” she said, “we’re going to go now. Do you need… anything?”

Alain shook her head, her arms crossed over her chest protectively.

T eyed her warily but accepted the answer. She moved and said something else to D Ice, something Alain didn’t catch, and came back to Alain’s side. Alain let her thread one arm through hers, helping her and guiding her to the door. Together they made it down the single flight of stairs and out the front door of the apartment.

But as soon as the bright sun accosted her, Alain tore her arm away from T and stumbled away from the main door of the building. Before she could make it very far, she was doubled over, retching, and she threw up once on the warm pavement. She spat, twice, wiped her mouth on her sleeve to get rid of the trail of spit that dangled out of her mouth, and stood on shaky legs with the help of T Money.

“I’m okay now,” she said in a dry, raspy voice but T didn’t remove her arm from where it was wrapped around Alain’s shoulder.

T hailed a cab once they walked to the sidewalk. As she lowered herself into the backseat of the vehicle, Alain thought she heard T murmur something along the lines of “I’m sorry,” but if she did speak it was too soft, too quick. Alain couldn’t be sure of anything.

Not even herself.

***

© 2003 Brianna Jackson.