a street called pain
b. benedict braddock
Carmine Stellano sat on his front porch and gazed down in the direction of Washington park. Some of the boys were shooting hoops while Johnny Pop made his daily quota. He was pacing back and forth across the parking lot, trying to ignore the crack heads that were pestering him for a handout. Every few minutes a car would pull up and Johnny would lean into the drivers window to make the deal. He had learned not to remove himself from the window until the cash was in his hand. They’d burn you every time they could on the hill. Carmine turned back toward the street and thought about Vinny. He was one of those guys you met and never forgot. If it hadn’t been for his habit he might’ve been something really big, something people respected. They had found him in a closet last Sunday morning. The police said it was suicide, but word on the street was there wasn’t a chair or ladder. The boy had gotten whacked. Johnny Pop was driving Vinny’s car these days. He had his stereo and gold watch too. Hell, he even had his girl. It was funny what crack would buy on the hill. Word was that some boys from the city had fronted Vinny an ounce of snow for the weekend. He had always been good before about paying his tab by deadline. He had made himself a name in the park, even cutting out Johnny Pop now and then. But not this time. He used the stuff himself. The boys came for the pay back, no money, no dope... then it was Sunday morning. Carmine wondered if Vinny really didn’t have the cash. He had never freaked and burned anybody like that before. Across the street Rita was searching through the tall grass for cans. If she got enough of them she would cash them in at the corner market and cop a nickel bag of off Johnny Pop. If not, she would be his personal sex slave for the whole night, and for probably the same amount of crack the cans would’ve gotten her. He watched the Jehovah’s witnesses over at Mrs. Reynold’s house. One thing was for sure, they wouldn’t stop and offer Rita one of their little booklets. They would walk right past her like she was a dog and move on to the next house. Bullshit.
Carmine hadn’t exactly found religion, more like just another chance. He wasn’t about to go preaching door to door, but he wasn’t gonna hang in the park anymore either. They stayed in their back yard and he stayed in his. Carmine watched his back if the boys passed on the street though. They didn’t let you out that easy. The way they figured it, if you cleaned up you were on the fiveO’s payroll. And a rep like that could get you into the closet next to Vinny. Mrs. Reynolds got tired of the religion freaks and slammed the door in their faces. They started to cross the street, saw Carmine, and changed their minds. Looking like he did had it’s advantages. He had changed his outlook, not his wrapper. The doorway preachers were apparently intimidated. As he suspected they walked right past Rita. She had tried to say hello but couldn’t talk. She was coming down hard as usual. Carmine called across the street to her. “Yo, Rita.” The girl looked up for a moment and then right back down to the ground. She was searching now to see if any of the boys had dropped a bag while walking to the park. They never did, but she always checked. “Rita.” She saw him now and started across the street. Carmine stood up. “Whoa, Baby. Watch out for the cars, girl.” Somehow she made it across without getting killed. Carmine reached into his pocket. “Here, Rita. Here’s five bucks. You keep hanging on the street and they’re gonna bust you sure as hell.” The girl smiled but still couldn’t talk. She grabbed the bill and ran down toward the park and Johnny Pop. It would last her five minutes and then she’d be right back searching for cans and viles along the street.
Carmine had only been clean for a few months, but it felt good, really good. It bothered him still being in the neighborhood and all. The hill district was no place to be when you were trying to kick the habit. Carmine saw Rita reach Johnny Pop down the street. The boy smiled like he knew he owned her. Carmine regretted giving her the five bucks.
