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[left]Jamey sat in his brand-new Lexus SUV and snorted a line of coke. He jerked his head back and felt the coke kick in, his heart racing and his head clearing. He was ready for the night. Jamey decided to do another line and then he would decide what his evening"s entertainment would be.
Jamey finished the second line and cleaned the mirror. He got out of the Lexus and smelled the warm night air. He polished the door handle, with his handkerchief, of the Lexus. Life was good.
Life had been very good indeed for Jamey. He had purchased the Lexus three days ago. He paid cash. And he paid cash for that fine, large plasma TV, complete with blue-ray and surround sound. And yesterday he had a brand new weave put into his hair. Life was good.
His coke trade was doing fine. He was bringing down about $5000 a week. And the three fillies he had working were kicking in a bit more. So what if he was a pimp and a dealer? He wouldn"t have half of what he owned if he had become a working stiff or had wasted time in college. All it took to be successful was a pair of balls, and Jamey had them.
Jamey grinned and leaned against the car, gazing at the strip club across the street. Maybe he would go for some variety tonight. The strip club was classy, and the honeys were hot. Jamey knew that some of those girls would do anything for the white powder. He had some spare powder right now. Maybe he would go in and pick up one of those fine white ladies and tempt her. He could go for some fun tonight.
Jamey watched as the two girls, one blonde and one brunette, walked down the street. Two fine babes, going to work in the club.
"Yo, ladies!" he shouted, flashing his best smile. "Up for some fun, yeah? I got the stuff right here!" Jamey grabbed his crotch and wiggled his hips.
"Only if ya got what I need!" the brunette shouted back. The blonde tossed her head and laughed. Then the girls turned into the alley next to the club and headed for the stage entrance.
Then Jamey saw something that made him frown. An old, homeless man was shuffling along, in front of the strip club, pushing his shopping cart.
"Shit," Jamey muttered. "Another smelly bum. Prolly a wino or sterno freak. They give the "˜hood a bad rep."
Jamey watched, carefully. Bums like that hanging by the club were not cool. Jamey decided to do something about this old bum. Yeah, that was it. Jamey would take care of this old loser. Then he would head into the club and pick up one of those fine white girls who wanted to share some of his spare coke.
Jamey crossed the street slowly, staying behind the homeless man but keeping the old guy in sight. He waited until the man was about halfway down the alley, right next to the dumpster pushed up against the wall of the club. Then he took out the nasty, razor-sharp hunting knife and held it in his right hand. He walked softly up behind the old man.
The old man heard him. He turned and looked at Jamey, and then he smiled, holding out his right hand.
"Hey, man," the old man said. "Got some spare coin? Hep a brotha down on his luck?"
"Got your coin," Jamey snarled, revealing the knife. "Got it here in my right hand. You dog meat, old man!"
Jamey gasped as the old man, with lightning quickness, grasped Jamey"s right wrist with his left hand. Jamey"s hand released the knife and it fell to the alley with a clang. Jamey was certain he heard some of his bones crack. The pain was excruciating.
Next the old man pulled Jamey into him. He grasped the dealer firmly by the shoulders and tossed him across the alley. Jamey landed on his ass, his back resting against the dumpster. He looked up to see the old man grinning and walking slowly toward him. And, for the moment, the cocaine released its powerful hold on Jamey"s brain. He could see glittering eyes and shiny white teeth in the old man"s head. To Jamey, that did not make sense. No homeless old man should have teeth that white and shiny.
"The problem, as I see it," the old man stated, his voice now quite clear and crisp as he stooped at Jamey"s left, "is that you coke, meth, and crack dealers attract all sorts of police into the "˜hood. It gives the hood a bad name. And I really don"t need that sort of attention. It drives the good, paying customers and my meals away from the strip club."
Jamey"s eyes opened wide. He saw the old man"s mouth open, and the bright, shiny, elongated canines move closer to his neck. He felt the old man"s one hand pin him to the dumpster and the other tilt his head to the right. He wanted to scream, but he couldn"t. His vocal chords were paralyzed.
The old man put his lips on Jamey"s neck and bit hard.