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the twenty dollars I owed him. I got two ten-dollar pills of dope from him the day I checked myself into rehab. He gave me the dope to deliver it to this guy who was sitting in his car that was parked around the corner from Bee’s dope spot. I was what you would call a runner. Runners were more or less crack heads and dope fiends who ran up and down the block for the dealers. Our job was to deliver the drugs to the addict and collect the money from them. In most cases, dope hustlers tried not to have any one-on-one contact with other dope fiends or crack heads because sometimes that dope fiend or crack head could be a snitch for the narcotics police, or even worse, the drug addict could be an undercover narcotics detective.
    So the runners put their lives at risk and were not even compensated for it, which was why I never took the dope to that car. So instead of playing games with this guy, I reached inside my pocket and handed him the twenty dollars I owed him.
    He took the money from me and smiled. “Now, see, that’s what I’m talking about. Overnight express. I gotta new batch if you looking to jump over the moon,” he commented and smiled.
    Hearing him just said he had some good dope was like music to my ears. “Let me get a room first and then I’ll holla at you,” I said.
    “You ain’t gotta get a room. You can come chill with me in my room,” he told me.
    “All right, well let’s do it,” I replied and followed him from the front desk.
     
     
    The Candy Shop part 2 Kiki Swinson
     
    Back Where I Belong
    The Economy Lodge hotel was a low-budget, roach infested fixer upper. The exterior of the hotel looked like it needed to be condemned, so when I entered Bee’s hotel room it was no surprise to me that the conditions of it were wretched and sordid. In my former years, I would not have stepped foot in a place like this, much less looked at it. I was too high class. But now I’d take what I could get.
    “Come on over here and sit down,” Bee instructed me as he pointed to the queen-sized bed with a worn down headboard. The comforter on the bed was an old wool blanket with piles of lint on it. The pillows had no cushioning in them, and the pillowcases that covered them were in even worse condition. There were filthy. But that was what you got in a one-star resort like this. So I took a seat on the edge of the bed and waited for Bee to pull out his dope so I could get my first fix of the day. I wanted to ease my mind and forget about everything that had happened today. And as soon as Bee gave me a taste of his dope, I’d be able to do just that.
    “You got any needles?” I asked him.
    He walked up to me and stood directly in front of me. “You know I do,” he replied and then he reached inside his front jean pocket and pulled out about five syringes and a couple of ten-dollar bags of heroin. Bee’s bags were always black. He called his dope black widow, and it was good, so I couldn’t wait to get my hands on it.
    I reached for one of the syringes. “Give me one of them,” I said.
    Bee closed his hand and pulled it back. “Slow down. I ain’t going nowhere,” he said.
    I sighed. “Look, Bee, you need to stop playing games and hand that shit over to me so I can get busy. I told you I was in rehab for ten whole days and just got out today, so you know I’m trying to get high really bad.”
    Bee shoved the syringes and the dope back into his pockets and walked closer to me. “If you give me some head, I’ll give you two bags of dope for free,” he offered. But I wasn’t in the mood to suck his dick. I had my own resources to get what I needed, so there was no need for me to trick with him in exchange for a couple bags of his dope. And I had to let him know that too.
    “Look Bee, I had a rough day, and I am not in the mood to give you or anybody else some head. All I want to do is shoot some of that good shit you got into my veins. That’s it.”
    Bee looked at me like I had just