Page 34 of Here Comes the Judge

Aunt Blue was right, too… I do like Jude. A lot.She’d taken a curious partiality to Jude. They’d been talking a lot, lately, and it troubled her. She looked forward to their conversations, and their attachment to one another was growing. He said something noteworthy to her the other day…‘I’m going to make you mine, Iris. Understand that after I do, no matter what happens between you and me, if we work out or not, I want you there for Eli. Nothin’ will change…’

The world Jude came from was so different from her own. She’d read about his brother, and their parents. How incredible. He was an enigma, and he was complicated like math problems all jumbled up. His nature pulled her in, his voice intoxicated her, his face and body excited her, his love of Eli made him almost irresistible. It didn’t help that he’d called her on her way over, and told her…

“I love Eli with everything inside of me. He’s been my eyes when I could not see. My heart when I could not feel. My ears when I refused to listen. He’s my ticket to heaven, and if he were to suddenly hate me, I’d be in hell. Anyone who makes Eli happy, I’m gonna have to love them, Iris. You ain’t got to like me, you ain’t got to be okay with the things that I do or say, but you will respect me, and if you make that man forget his troubles for an hour or two, then I’m indebted to you for life. And that’s just all there is to it…”

CHAPTER TEN

Exactly Where I’m Supposed to Be

“Man, Ken wantsto sit up here and argue with me, Judge, after you already negotiated the fuckin’ price,” Kash, one of his top trap house dealers, complained.

Dr. Ken was one of his high-roller clients, one of the few that was a functional addict. A medical doctor, he wasn’t the stereotypical tweaker many thought of when envisioning a meth user. He bought large quantities at a time and had been a steady customer for over half a year.

“Where you at, Judge?”

“I just left Brandon’s house a minute ago, now I’m over here near Palmer Plaza, so not close enough to double back.” Jude had run a few business errands, then made a pitstop to get something to drink at a convenient store. He made his way to his truck and stood in front of it, taking a smoke break. “Tell him to go on to that motherfucker if he wants to keep talkin’ about Ralph is cheaper. He’ll be bent over and pukin’ his brains out later tonight, too—that’s even if he wakes up again. He better have the Narcan in the hands of a friend on call.”

“Exactly. I told him that. He said the prices fluctuate too much, and I told him that you go by market price, and the purity.”

“Ralph is adding all kinds of weird shit to his product for a bigger high, but that could have detrimental consequences, all to increase profit. He couldn’t give uh shit if these tweakers hit the wall and die. You pay for what cha get. My motto has always been, if you’re gonna get high, get high, but at least get somethin’ decent so you won’t be wondering what the hell you’re putting in your fuckin’ body. I don’t mix my stuff with fentanyl and Xanax, and all of this crazy shit. Some of the tweakers want that sort of thing, but you know I’m not tryna get involved in that.” He paced in front of the store, noticing the gloomy clouds were returning. It had been raining on and off the past couple of days. “It’s a mortuary cocktail as far as I’m concerned.”

“It sho’ nuff is. They said his shit is randomly laced, like, each time it’s never consistent.”

“Kash, several people have told me he even had Adderall in there, mixed with a bit of heroin, okay? But the motherfucker didn’t even tell the customers.”

“That’s messed up, but you know it happens a lot.”

“Hell yeah it does, because most of these guys don’t have any business acumen, and then D-Boy was sent down to Florida for rehab a couple of months ago, but it was one of those fake rehabs, and now I heard he’s strung out more than ever. Can’t even afford to hitch a ride back here to Tennessee.” D-Boy used to be another high-paying client of his who used to be in minor leagues baseball, but his career had been washed away due to drugs.

“Maaan, Casey tried to warn him! Dr. Ken is trippin’ though.”

“Hold up, is his ass still there?” He cracked the seal on his water bottle and took a few gulps.

“He just left, but he was yellin’ and talkin’ shit the whole time. I told him to chill. He said he’s going to Ralph next time, and I told him if that’s the risk he wants to take, fine, but he always says that shit anyway. He knows it’s garbage.”

“Hope the discount is worth it to him. Could be fuckin’ arsenic in his shit for all he knows. I’m tired of Andy, Rodrick, all of them, hassling you after they already know the deal. They never used to do that with me. They’re testin’ you. Now, Dr. Ken here has been with me for about six or seven months, and the price for the past two months is the same every damn time.”

“I know. It’s bullshit. I was standing towards the back there with Paul, Nathan was guarding the door, and he was tryin’ to get around me! I thought I was going to have to put another hole in his ass! He said he wanted to see if it’s really pure, prove to him how we make it because of the price.”

“He had a death wish today I see… Nah, that’s unacceptable.” Jude waved his jeweled fingers about as he paced back and forth by his truck. “Tell him next time he opens his fuckin’ mouth, he’ll be cut off. Period. We’re not putting up with this shit anymore. He’s becoming more trouble than he’s worth.” Jude ended the call, tossed his cigarette onto the ground, then got inside his ride. The smell of rain was all around him, hanging in the air and ushering in memories, both bad and good.

He’d been busy since early that morning, visiting his properties, checking inventory, talking with Paul and Sizzle about their projected monthly amounts, dropping off payments to some of his employees, calling the distillery for a check in, and making sure the muscle at all his ‘offices’ were at their assigned posts. He had bodyguards assigned with all of his smaller dealers who handled the transactions. Everyone was strapped at all times. It was a vicious business—he had no time to be sorry, or full of regrets. He’d had to move the locations quite a bit lately, a juggling act of sorts due to a big, gnarly rat chewing into his creature comforts. He suspected the culprits to be a few gang members who were tired of him having more customers than they believed he should have, and jealous of his money train.Bunch of bitches…

Jude sat in his truck lamenting about it all.Like the green-eyed snitches they are, they alerted the authorities.However, just like always, those calls were reported to him before the boys in blue arrived. As soon as his informants heard the police were being signaled to one of his outposts, they were on the horn:Judge, the cops are coming…

It was like a school drill at this point. He and Cain had set up an operation that worked seamlessly. Everything was packed below triple-locked floorboards and covered in thick insulation material, making any odors virtually undetectable. They also used a special cleaning agent that only the professionals used who cleaned former meth and crack houses, so a random meth particle test right there on the spot had a higher likelihood of coming up negative.

After the relocation and cleaning was complete, a rug and furniture were moved above the hidden lab that was stored away below. Moveable partition walls were placed just so, creating the illusion of a nice, cozy home, scented with peppermint air freshener. If there was time, fresh baked cookies and a pot of coffee would also be baking and brewing, a burst of pleasant smells blending in, creating confusion in any officers with keen noses.

His staff was so used to this, it was like changing scenery between acts at a play. They did it fast and efficiently, and as long as they had at least seven minutes before 5-0 arrived, which was more than likely, a crew of four to five people at each location could have it done and done right. If they were vacating the property permanently, clean-up would last two to three days and would be done in hazmat suits with all of the proper protocols and materials.

He heard a police car going by, as if they were privy to his thoughts.Being arrested and going to prison didn’t stop me or my show.He waited until the siren faded in the distance and took another exhale. Once he’d gotten released from his last stint in the slammer, he was back on the scene in less than forty-eight hours, faster, colder, and harder.

The only thing that would save him was to be smarter, and never be caught slipping. He took another swig of his water and smiled. It was rather pleasing how crafty and diabolic he’d become over time, as if there was even room for improvement. One thing he prided himself on was that he was never trigger happy, but sometimes a good icing was necessary. Some folks begged to be sent to the farm, their bodies taken away to Lake Guntersville, Old Hickory, and Marrowbone.

Work smart, not harder, that’s what Daddy used to say…

And he did. The phony tenant agreements—just in case an officer decided to be a hero and dig deeper into his various properties.‘Oh, yes, sir. I’ve been renting from Agatha Henderson for about three months now…’Every blue moon, they’d threaten to return with a warrant. By then though, everything would be long gone, with the exception of whoever he decided to rent the property to before selling it once again.

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