CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As if the call to clear the room was a signal, the whole place suddenly lit up—from outside. I heard shouts, and in a matter of mere moments, black-uniformed figures wearing helmets and brandishing huge fucking guns began to pour into the living room from both ends of the house. Everyone hit the floor except for Big J—who was reaching for his own weapon, shouting to his dealers to put up or get the fuck out. There was a crack, a hiss, and the air around me suddenly burned. I lurched forward as a billowing fog filled the room.
I had to find Mary. She was the only person in this whole situation that was completely innocent; she didn’t deserve any of this. I heard coughing, sputtering, choking sounds and moved towards them, not even certain I knew who it was, not even sure I wasn’t walking right towards a loaded gun. Somehow even though my nose and throat were on fire, even though my eyes were streaming, and the air was thick with what I suddenly realized was tear gas, I managed to find Mary; she’d dropped to the floor, and I joined her there, reaching out to grab for her hand. At first—even blinder than me—she flailed, shrieking and kicking out to get away from me. “Mary! Baby, it’s me. It’s me.” She grabbed at my hand and we both sank down more fully onto the ground as the whole world lit up around us.
Crack-tat-tat-boom! Shots split the air and roared in my ears, and I knew that there was no point in even trying to cover them. I shifted as close to Mary as I possibly could in the chaos, wrapping my arm around her. There was no point in saying anything to her; she was just as deaf as I was, and the shots continued to whiz by us along with shouts from all corners of the room.
It felt like hours; but later I found out that it was only a couple of minutes before the police cleared the room. Agonizing minutes where I was sure I was going to suffocate on the tear gas, or that I was going to get shot—or even worse, that Mary would be. In spite of how short the time was, there was still plenty of opportunity for me to think about the fact that I had used in front of her; that I had let her get into this mess with me, and that I had—so selfishly—put Mary in the position to use coke for the first time like the fucking coward I was.
Someone shook me and just like Mary had when I found her, I flailed, punching out at whoever it was. “Hey—hey, it’s the police,” I heard through the ringing in my ears.
“North, it’s them,” Mary said; she had to be shouting. She was just as deaf as I was.
“We’ve got you, man. We’ve got you. Calm down.” Gradually, I did. Someone was pouring something into my eyes and some of the burning began to recede; someone attached some kind of mask to my nose and mouth and the agony in my sinuses and my throat began to abate. My eyes still felt as though someone had scoured them with sandpaper, but I could see.
“Fuck,” I said, croaking the word. “Remind me never to get tear gassed again.” Someone laughed; I didn’t know who.
“You’ll be all right tomorrow.” Someone was lifting me up and I saw that Mary was on her feet as well, her eyes bloodshot, her face red and irritated.
“You okay, hon?”
Mary’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Not really, but I’m alive.” I reached out and pulled her close to me, and before I even thought about anything, I was kissing her, holding her body pressed against mine as if for life itself. The cops gave us a few moments, and then I felt someone pulling me away from behind.
“We’ve got a few questions for you two, but you can come in tomorrow for your official statement,” one of the cops was saying.
As they questioned Mary and me, I found out that they’d caught Big J with a fresh supply; they said they were carrying out pounds and pounds of product. I heard, too, that Nick, Jules, and the other guys in the band had been targeted by other dealers working for Big J; the Dade County police department were all ready to become huge fans of Molly Riot thanks to all the legwork we’d done getting Big J’s organization apprehended. “Some of them will roll over on the guy,” one of the cops said with a shrug. “All we need is one or two to turn in state’s evidence, and we’ll be able to take care of the whole lot.”
“As long as I’m not going to have to look over my shoulder ten years from now,” I said.
“Nah, we’ve got enough to put him away for life, along with his org. No worries there.” I figured that was probably pretty optimistic, but I didn’t want to get into it with any of the cops. “We’ll get you guys home; you’re not in any shape to drive. If you can give us the keys to the car you took to Vagabond, someone’ll bring the car back to your address.” I was too tired and hurt too much to argue, and Mary was in the same boat as me. We let the cops take us back to her place, with the promise that we’d get the car back.