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About fifteen minutes later, when I had finally given up on doing it because it was really no fun after a while, two of my father's brothers came in.
"'Sup little homie?" Dwayne asked, giving me a nod as he started stuffing the bags into his pockets. "Your pops run out for food?"
"Yeah."
"You being good?"
"Yeah," I agreed, choosing not to tell them that I had made the baggies they had taken off the table. Because, well, I didn't want to get in trouble. Trouble would mean a butt whooping. I'd had enough of those. I wasn't going to volunteer for more.
Then it happened.
Blue and red lights out front.
"Motherfuck!" Fast Frank, the other brother hissed, looking around helplessly even as we heard doors slam.
I didn't know a lot about the world, but I knew one thing - we didn't like cops. My life had been overhearing nothing but bad things about them.
Did you hear those fucking pigs locked up Mick?
Don't go down on Madison, the cops are trying to snag everyone with a DUI trap.
Those fucking cops shook me down when I wasn't doing dick.
In our world, they were the bad guys, always out to get us.
Seeing the lights made my belly twist and slosh around, thinking for sure they would make me confess to playing with my father's stuff, and then put me in a cell for years.
"Yo," Dwayne called, yanking a big grate off the wall. "Get your little ass in here, and don't say shit. No matter what you see. Got it?" he asked as I flew inside, making my knees crunch into my chest painfully as Dwayne slammed the grate and moved to stand just as the cops barreled in.
"Police. Get your fucking hands up!"
My insides jumped at the sounds of their voices, loud and mean, as they pressed guns into Dwayne's temple even though he did what they said.
"Been watching you fucks for months now. Finally got you," the other one said as he started pulling the white baggies I had made out of their pockets, piling them back on the table.
I wanted to stop it. To come out and say not to punish them, that I had made the baggies.
But Dwayne's gaze went to mine for a second, and he gave me a firm look that my own father had given me countless times. It was a look that said Do what I fucking told you to, boy.
So I did what I was told to do as my father's brothers were cuffed and led out of the room with the police who had my baggies in a bigger clear bag with red tape on top.
It wasn't until much later, when my belly was growling so loud that I was sure you could hear it from miles away, when every part of my body was aching from being in the cramped position for so long that the door finally opened, and my father walked in.
He seemed to know exactly what happened, coming in and walking directly over to me, pulling off the grate, then reaching inside to drag me out.
"Just went through your first raid, huh, bud?" he asked, ruffling my hair. It was the only way he knew how to show comfort and affection.
After that, he brought me home where they had an emergency church meeting where they made me tell them what I saw.
With all their eyes on me - hard - my belly twisted back into knots, and I decided to leave out the part about the baggies I had made.
Not five hours later, though, Fast Frank and Dwayne came back through the doors to a chorus of cheers, demands for shots, and a lot of fanfare until it all died down, and the president asked what happened.
"Turns out, all the bags were full of straight fucking sugar," Dwayne said, looking pointedly over at my father.
Who in turn looked at me.
"You got something to say, boy?" he asked, clearly wanting me to be a man again, own up to what I did.
"He told me not to," I started, not wanting my father to get in trouble. "But when he left, I decided to help and fill the baggies."
"I had used all the H," Phil explained. "Brought the product to drop to Mace."
I braced myself as the president's eyes went to me, knowing he wasn't the nicest man, knowing he flew off the handle easily, beat the hell out of his men when they did something that made him angry. But I had to stand up straight, take my punishment like a man. But then he clamped a hand on my shoulder, and burst out laughing. "Guess we oughta call you Sugar now, huh?"
And so they did.
Even after that MC collapsed in on itself and Phil, Dwayne, Virgin and I took off to a new one, this time slinging cocaine, the name had stuck.
