A Park Heights Tale: The Paper Chase

By Kevin Miller

The first installment of the series, A Park Heights Tale: The Paper Chase, is centered around two unlikely people who cross paths because of their pursuit of money. As they ultimately work together to achieve their goal, they begin to wonder, is it worth risking everything to have everything?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781514435960

Book preview

CHAPTER TWO

A NTWON JEFFERSON! A young female correctional officer yelled from outside of a holding cell inside the Central Booking intake faci lity.

Central Booking was a place where adults were housed at if they got arrested. Either you stayed there for thirty to sixty days then got transferred to the city jail across the street, made bail, or your charge was so minor that you only stayed for twelve to twenty-four hours before being released on your own recognizance.

Heavy jumped off the bench he was sleeping on. Yeah, that’s me.

What’s your ID number?

It’s 207890.

After confirming he was indeed Antwon Jefferson, she slid his charge papers under the door.

The arresting officers never informed him of what he was being charged with. Butterflies began forming in his stomach as he started reading the first line. He thought that he was only being charged with loitering. When he read his charge papers and found out he had an outstanding warrant for a parole violation, he was enraged. All kinds of thoughts flooded his mind, like spending the next ten years behind the wall. Outside of being dope sick and needing a fix fast, Carlita was weighing heavy on his mind, knowing she was pregnant and had a vicious dope habit, two kids to fend for, and no source of income outside of him. He imagined his situation only getting worse by the minute.

The holding cell was designed to hold only ten inmates at a time, but due to the fact that it was Friday, every holding cell was over crowded. Nineteen people scattered throughout the 10' × 4' tiny cell. Bodies were spread out across the entire floor. It was so crowded some people even slept standing up. No sooner than Heavy got up from his seat, a skinny, toothless-looking pipe head hurried over and took advantage of the open space before it could be claimed.

I’m sitting there, slim, Heavy told the skinny crackhead before tapping his leg to reassure him that it was him he was talking to.

On your feet, lose your seat, the crackhead told Heavy before turning back over to finish enjoying the privilege of having a whole bench to himself.

Take my seat, lose your teeth, Heavy mumbled before unloading a fury of punches on the harmless crackhead in an attempt to live out his threat. One by one each blow landed directly on his mouth.

CO! CO! the crackhead cried out. All right, you can have your seat!

It was only after seeing him open his mouth and holler that Heavy realized the mission at hand was impossible due to the fact that he was already missing all thirty-two of his teeth. Within seconds, officers came running from all directions, only to find the toothless crackhead trampled in the corner lying in a pool of blood and no one to point the finger at.

CHAPTER THREE

T WO DAYS WENT by, and Smoove hadn’t heard from Heavy or Ms. Janice, and it bothered him a lot. It didn’t bother him that he was worrying about Heavy. That was normal, if he considered the fact that they did business together. It felt strange to him that Ms. Janice occupied his every thought. Smoove was a big boy, so he was accustomed to the finer things in life, but when it came to Ms. Janice, it was a different s tory.

She was an active member in her church; no men were ever seen leaving her house. She never did anything to make Smoove think she was nothing more than a loving, down-to-earth church lady. He couldn’t believe that just two days ago, he was sexing Ms. Janice throughout the wee hours in the morning.

He started devising a plan as he paced back and forth his living-room floor. Smoove lived in a two-bedroom apartment in Randallstown, located just on the outskirts of the city. It would only take him twenty minutes to get to Park Heights from where he lived. He knew that he either had to take a trip to the neighborhood in order to find out what was up with Heavy or call the local bail-bond in-charge Sharon Mason to find out about his status. Calling Sharon was the best option he thought before scrolling through the list of numbers stored in his phone.

Bail Bonds, this is Jessica. How may I help you?

Yeah, is Sharon in?

Yes, she is. May I ask whose calling?

Tell her it’s the smoovest nigga in the world.

Hey, Smoove! How you doing, baby?

I’m fine. How about you?

I can’t complain. I’m living.

Same here.

Well, let me get Sharon for you.

Seconds later, a cheerful-sounding Sharon came through the receiver. Marcus Tillman, what can I do for not only the smoovest nigga in the world but also the sexiest nigga in the world. Well, not the sexiest in the world, ’cause my man is number one, but you right on his ass, baby.

Sharon, your ass is crazy.

What’s up, Smoove? What can I do for you?

Heavy got locked up again, and he hasn’t called me in two days, so either he lost his phone, or he’s still in there.

What did he get locked up for?

I thought loitering or trespassing ’cause of the way they swept the block and he couldn’t have been dirty.

Well, I’ll check the system and call you back in a few minutes.

Minutes later, Sharon called back only to inform him that Heavy was being held without bail for violating the terms of his parole. Finding out that Heavy was being held without bail put a major dent in his street operations. Heavy took care of everything, from making sure the drugs got packaged to making sure the workers were paid for distributing the drugs. Smoove didn’t even know the workers. That was what he had Heavy for. It was his job to deal with them on a daily basis. With Heavy gone, he was left with no choice but to hit the streets and put a plan in motion.

His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the sound of his roommate’s keys jingling at the door. Before she could get the door completely opened, Smoove came to her aid, grabbing the shopping bags she was carrying.

Whew! I gotta pee! Watch out! Keisha said, brushing past Smoove, dashing toward the bathroom. Smoove was amazed at how bubbly she looked in the Juicy Couture liquid sequined dress with the plunging neckline he picked out for her. It accentuated all the right spots, bringing her hourglass figure to the surface.

Damn, no hello? Thank you for the shopping spree? Nothing? Smoove asked before she closed the bathroom door.

Smoove’s roommate was a childhood friend of his named Keisha Tillman. He and Keisha had a brother-and-sister relationship due to the fact that Smoove’s parents adopted Keisha at the tender age of seven. Keisha was four years his junior so he was more her father than her big brother. She played a very significant role in his life, and every move he made, he informed her on it.

It was Keisha who rented the cars for him, the hotels, and the apartment they lived in, and every bill or piece of mail that came to their home was in her name. With no record, good credit, and a license to carry a weapon, she was more his partner in crime. She would do anything to please Smoove. It was her job to keep the house in order and cater to his every need. In return, she lived rent free, drove different rental cars, and was provided with the finer things in life.

Smoove’s parents were deep into the church, so living under their roof was like being in boot camp. Either you lived their way, or you hit the highway. Once Smoove turned eighteen, he moved out and never looked back. When Keisha turned eighteen, she followed in the same footsteps as her big brother. The only advice they got from their parents was that, if you make your bed, then prepare to lie in it. They knew once they left, there was no going back.

Shortly after Keisha’s eighteenth birthday, their parents were killed in a botched robbery. They had no choice but to stick together. Smoove vowed to always look after his sister and provide her with the life their parents wanted her to have. Every move he made wasn’t just for him; it was for Keisha also. Smoove spent the next couple of minutes informing Keisha on the latest events that transpired before making his way toward Park Heights.

CHAPTER FOUR

P ARK HEIGHTS WAS one of the roughest neighborhoods located in the West Baltimore area.

Every corner was occupied by drug dealers, junkies, and liquor stores. Violence plagued the neighborhood. As of June, the murder rate was at 153, and 32 of them came out of Park Heights. Even though Smoove wasn’t beefing, he kept a pistol close by. At any given moment, anything was liable to happen. Staying strapped was a way of life for him.

Upon entering Shirley Avenue, Smoove noticed that the block was empty with the exception of a few kids. People were lounging on their porches, and a few junkies walked through, searching for the drug dealers in hopes of getting their fix. Though the block was known to produce thousands a day, nobody moved work through Shirley but him.

The last competition he had was a well-known gunner named Swift. They both occupied the block together at one point, eating off the same plate. Their workers looked after one another, and Smoove and Swift had a mutual respect for each other. That was until all the fiends took their money to one person. Out of nowhere, Smoove came out with some dope that was killing people. Strangely enough, every dope head in the city was trying to get their hands on that killer dope. In one day, it went from them being neck to neck to Swift barely making one hundred dollars a day. Three weeks under those conditions, Swift secretly started eating with Smoove. At the other end of the block, Swift would catch all the customers before they made it to Smoove’s crew, selling them garbage dope, convincing them it was the same product. From that point, their rivalry ensued. Eventually, they got into a shoot-out, which left them both wounded and Swift behind bars after being caught with the gun he shot Smoove with on the scene. Since then, Smoove controlled the open market.

Today Smoove’s plan was to find the dudes whom Heavy had on the block and see if they had any work before making them aware of the changes that lay ahead.

Cars began slowing down, some even pulling over as Smoove walked through the block. Where y’all hittin’ at?

Y’all come out yet?

Where Alice in wonderland?

Fiends began swarming Smoove once they’d seen the head honcho of their favorite dope, Alice in wonderland.

Though he didn’t come around often, everybody knew that he was in charge of everything that moved through Shirley Avenue.

Nothing happening. Shop closed for about a week. Disappointment set in everybody’s face as they returned to their cars or walked off without receiving their daily dosage.

Smoove! Black Manny yelled out, trying to get his attention across the street.

Nah, we ain’t out, Manny. We chilling for about a week, Smoove said as he tried to brush Manny off and keep it moving.

Ya li’l crew back there. Manny pointed to the alley behind Shirley Avenue.

Behind the houses on Shirley Avenue was a basketball court and also a spot where hand-to-hand transactions took place. It was more of a secluded area and not in the open. Smoove went over toward him to make sure what he heard was true.

What chu say, Manny?

I was tryna tell you that ya li’l crew is back there on the basketball court serving people right now.

Hearing that, Smoove ran down toward the basketball court in an attempt to stop them before he ended up suffering another casualty. As Smoove reached the foot of the alley, he heard one of them yell to the crowd of junkies waiting to get served, That was the last one!

Smoove was happy to hear that they managed to sell their last bag. Even though they didn’t have anybody watching the corner, they were able to make it without getting locked up.

Aye, all you li’l niggas come here, Smoove said while motioning them to come in his direction.

There were four of them, and their age ranged from fifteen to seventeen. Smoove spent three hours getting to know them—from where they lived and what their numbers were—and he schooled them on how to run a dope shop successfully. After talking to them, he realized that it wasn’t they who were making careless mistakes on the block. It was Heavy’s lack of guidance that led them to believe that the way he was showing them was the right way. He also found out after talking to them that Heavy had a serious dope habit. A lot of thoughts clouded his mind after finding out that Heavy was getting high, especially about money.

On numerous occasions, Heavy told Smoove one of the workers got robbed or their stash was stolen. To make matters worse, some of the customers complained regularly to him about how small the bags were. Everytime he came around, somebody would complain about how small the portion of heroin was inside the bags, but the dope was so good they still bought