White Lines by Tracy Brown

He would pay them in crack, rather than in cash, which worked perfectly for all involved. So everything had a purpose. The boosting was to keep them looking good, and to keep them with money in their pockets from all the stuff they were able to sell. The robberies gave them jewelry to pawn (althoughthey did keep some things for themselves), and working for Lucas fed their habits. Once they got rid of the package Lucas had given them, they would scurry to find him to collect their take for the work they’d put in. At the end of the night, they could count on that high. It made them work harder.
    As she prepared to go outside to work on this day, Jada felt a sense of uneasiness. She had a strange feeling that something was going to happen that day. Still, she was determined to go out and get her high. Jada waited until Shante’s mother had left the house to go food shopping. She dragged herself out of bed, still teary and sad. She took a hot shower and got dressed, putting on her tightest jeans and a little tank top, and no bra. She did her makeup, and she brushed her hair.
    They went to work that day for Lucas, selling in the lobby of 240 Broadway. They had been down there slinging their package for quite a while, and they were almost finished with their pack. Jada was anxious to finish selling what was left. She peered out of the lobby windows looking for another customer. Finally, one arrived. The Hispanic guy who came in asking for Lucas wasn’t familiar to either of them. Still, Jada went into the stairwell to sell to him, while Shante stood in the lobby standing watch. Jada and the man made the exchange, and he walked out of the stairwell. Jada stood there counting the money, making sure everything added up. The last thing she wanted was for any of Lucas’s money to be missing, which would give him an excuse not to pay them. She took her time, recounting the money, confident that Shante had her back. Then she checked her pack to see how much was left before she could go and get high herself. Only five left. Jada wondered how long it would take her to sell these few remaining cracks, as she headed back to the lobby. But to her surprise, when she walked out of the stairwell and stepped into the lobby, handcuffs were slapped on her wrists.
    “You have the right to remain silent.” A plainclothes officer began reading Jada her rights.
    “What the fuck is this?” Jada demanded.
    “The guy you just sold to was an undercover,” the cop explained. “Anything you say can and will be used against you.”
    Jada stopped listening, and looked around desperately. She saw four plainclothes cops. Shante was standing there in cuffs as well. Jada glared at her in contempt. “Why the fuck didn’t you say something, Shante?”
    “They told me to be quiet, Jada!”
    “So what?
What part of the fuckin’ game is that, Shante? You were supposed to have my back.” Jada scowled at her friend, pissed. They got arrested for the sale and for possession, and Jada was going to jail.
    Jada was put in jail for ninety days, and then was sent to a mandatory drug program in a prison hospital for ninety days as well. Being in rehab at the prison hospital was no better than being in the prison itself. She was not free to come and go as she pleased, and any vistors needed to be searched thoroughly in order to gain access to the facility. Being in prison was torture for her, mainly because she was unable to get high. She thought about it every day, and she longed for that feeling more than ever. Once she was in the program, Jada couldn’t wait to get out. She wanted to get high so badly that it was all that she could think about. Rehab was not what Jada wanted at all. She didn’t want to hear that she had a problem or that she needed help. What she wanted was to get out, get high, and get back to where she had left off. She was resistant at first, unwilling to allow the counselors to convince her that she had a serious problem. She was