The Pusher and The WhoreMarch 9, 2015
Now isn’t that a bitch? Motherfucker shot me over an eight ball. Can you believe that? Business just isn’t what it used to be you know and I ain’t talking Kensington Street either. I gave up on Philly a long time ago. Motherfuckers can have that place, they all violent and shit down there.
Sun’s been down for hours and I’m cold. My breath is flying away like a homesick angel on a chilly breeze coming down from the north. They been saying a big storms coming, but they never get that shit right you know.
Ah…there it is. Hear that? That’s what I’ve been listening for, a siren shattering the night air. I’m bleeding like a bitch and my hand ain’t doing much to stop it. If I’m lucky, it’s an ambulance. If not, it’s the law. Motherfuckers would let me die leaning up against this dumpster and not give it a second thought, one less dealer for them to worry about.
See that woman standing on the corner, looking the other way? She says her names Misty, but I don’t believe it much. Her mamma probably named her fine little baby Sarah or Emily or something real nice like that. If I come out of this, I owe that girl a lot you know. If it weren’t for her, motherfucker would have killed me. I’m sure of it.
I’ve been watching her since I moved up here last year. She’s real nice. Most of the girls working the street won’t talk to my kind of people and that perfume she wears…damn. I figure it smells like one of those English gardens you see on TV. I never been there, but I’d like to someday.
Always wears black. I don’t know why, maybe somebody she knows died? Maybe a part of her did when she started working the streets?
So this cat pulls up in a BMW and starts talking down to me, real nervous you know. He gets out looking over his shoulder like he’s expecting someone to be watching us.
“Come on man,” I tell him. “Ain’t no one out here in this fucking cold. What you want?”
Reaches into his coat pocket and comes out with a shiny new pistol. That girl Misty is just crossing the street behind and I’m hoping like hell she smart enough to keep on stepping, not get caught in this shit you know.
“Coke,” is all he said. This motherfucker was on a bender man.
I know I’ve got three grams in my pocket and I hand it over. “Ain’t no need for that shit though,” I tell him looking at the piece and hoping that he’ll just take the dope and get back in his car. Maybe drive back out to West Chester and get it on with his trophy wife in their suburban split level.
He snatches the stuff out of my hand and puts that shiny barrel in my stomach. He pulled the damned trigger, can you believe that? He shot me over six hundred dollars? Yeah, right. Like that fool didn’t have the money.
That girl she comes walking up. I see, but he doesn’t. She’s reaching in her purse and comes out with a little surprise of her own, puts one into the back window of his new car. She’s got more balls than most dudes I know.
He turns and starts yelling at her. I think they know each other. “Why?”
She stands her ground, and answers, “Honey, you have your vices and I have mine…” And then she squeezes the trigger one last time. Businessman slides down the bloody side of his new car.
I start to think these motherfuckers are married.
She bends to put a handkerchief in my hand and dials 911.
“You’ll be OK,” she said with a big sweet smile on her face. The girl is beautiful man. Face like an angel. “Paramedics will get you to the hospital and get you looked at.”
She’ll stand over there watching for now. When the police roll up, she’ll just melt away in the cold shadows of the city like she was never here.