Chapter 8: Lil Ron

Jason had a cousin named Lil Ron. Lil Ron looked the complete opposite of Jason. While Jason was ridiculously tall, Lil Ron was short. He was an ambitious hustler with a bowl cut hybrid hairstyle. His dark hair swept across his forehead. He had a big nose, perfect for snorting as much coke as possible and an overbite optimized for chewing up pills.

Jason got majority of his weed from Lil Ron. Since Jason and I started putting our money together I started getting my weed from Lil Ron as well.

Lil Ron sold weed like us, but he also sold pills. He took a lot of pills as well. Zannies (Xanax), X (ecstasy), Oxys (oxycodone). Whatever he could get his hands on.

Sometimes Lil Ron would come hang out with us in the garage. He would take a bunch of pills and act stupid. He had a habit of taking too much Xanax and then hatching shady little plots to steal weed and pills from other drug dealers. I started to theorize that when taken in large amounts, anti-anxiety pills start to remove more than anxiety. They also removed common sense, morals and guilt.

Jason and I did not participate in Lil Ron’s shady schemes, but he always managed to find other pill popping fiends who would.

I know at one point he tried to steal $500 worth of weed from Doogie’s scooter guy from Hermosa. Lil Ron was no longer welcome in Hermosa. Jason and I joked that they had put up wanted posters all over town with Lil Ron’s face on them.

Lil Ron and I did not always get along. He was a year younger than me and a lot shorter than me. He was very cocky and often had an attitude. If he tried to speak to me disrespectfully or talk shit, I never put up with it like other people did.

One time when I stood up to Lil Ron, he gathered the courage to challenge me to an actual fight. When I agreed, he threw a book at me and took off running out the door and down the block like a pussy.

Lil Ron was getting his weed from this local guy called Stubbs. Stubbs was twenty years old and hung and sold drugs to high school kids. Stubbs was getting half pounds fronted to him by his cousin who was a genuine Mexican cartel drug dealer called Hookr.

Lil Ron was basically kissing Stubbs’ ass because he was the big dealer in town. He used to ride around with him in his car and run sacks out to customers like Stubb’s little bitch.

One night Stubbs and Lil Ron were on the way to meet with Hookr to pay him and get fronted more weed. They had time to kill so they stopped at a McDonald’s and Stubbs went inside while Lil Ron waited in the car. While inside Stubb’s somehow gets arrested. I don’t know this exact story. I just know what Lil Ron told us.

Stubbs was a maniac like Lil Ron and decided to snort coke in the public bathroom while he was waiting for his Quarter Pounder, right before a cop walked in behind him.

Lil Ron realizes what happened from in the car, he sees Stubbs getting handcuffed through the window and Lil Ron runs off with Stubb’s money he was planning to pay his cousin with.

Lil Ron shows up instead of Stubbs and meets with Hookr at their meeting place in a local park. Lil Ron pays him the money. He asks Lil Ron where Stubbs is and Lil Ron tells him Stubbs got arrested.

Hookr was apparently impressed with Lil Ron’s initiative. He ends up putting Lil Ron in charge of Stubb’s business and starts fronting him the half pounds. I think this was Lil Ron’s goal from day one of hanging out with Stubbs.

Lil Ron started fronting Jason and I. He gave us a great price just to help him get rid of the weed quickly. The price he gave us was so low I was able to take back all my customers from P.J. and put him out of business in a week.

I literally called everyone I knew had sided with P.J. after P.J. fucked me over. I asked them how much they were paying and how much they were getting. It was easy to offer a better price, and I was still making a profit.

People I had bought weed from years before were now buying from me. Jason and I introduced gram and a half dubs for $20 and half eighths for $25. Typically, a $20 dub sack was only a gram unless you were friends with the dealer. Maybe you could get 1.2 grams. Jason and I were doing 1.5 for $20 and still making a good profit.

Eighths were $50 and you typically got 3.5 grams. We started doing 1.8 for $25 and calling it half eighths. At the time this was unheard of.

In order to match our prices, the other dealers in the area had to go through us to afford it.

It got to the point I was making about $500 per week in profit and smoking an unlimited amount of weed on a daily basis.

As a teenager I am thinking to myself this is a lot of money. I don’t need to go to school or get a job. After a few months of Senior year, I got tired of going to school every day, so I actually convinced my parents and the school to allow me to finish my Senior year in independent study.

I only needed to go to school once a week to turn in homework and collect new assignments. Independent study suited me. I got a lot of work done and made-up credits I needed to graduate.

I took advantage of the fact that the security at school did not know I was in Independent Study and still showed up most days for Snack and Lunch. I sold some weed and bought food at school. When class started, I went home.

In a few of my classes they never took me off the attendance list. The teachers continued to ask for me in class despite the fact I was already moved on.

Some of the students in those classes saw me on campus at Snack and Lunch. As far as they were concerned, I seemed to never be getting in trouble even though I was not showing up to class. People made up stories that I was bribing the school or selling weed to the principal.

I was outside the school one day just as I had gotten out of my independent study meeting. This friend I knew from school happened to be parked outside the independent study offices.

My friend saw me, said he was heading my way and offered me a ride home. I graciously got into the car. We made small talk.

"I was there to drop off my girlfriend. She's also in independent study." he told me.

"Do you have any weed I could buy from you right now?" he added.

"No dude, I don't bring weed with me when I have to actually go to class and turn in assignments." I told him.

"If you want to wait while I run inside and weigh something out, I can do that." I offered.

"No, I don't have the time." he replied.

He dropped me off hastily at the cross street and not in front of my house. I assumed it was because my street is a dead-end street and he did not want to have to turn around. He said he was in a hurry after all.

As I am walking down my block, I see several people standing in the street outside my house. I got a bit closer and realized it was P.J. and a few members of my old crew.

My initial thought was "Have these losers come to beg me to do business with them?"

I approached them casually and asked:

“What the hell do you want?”

Without warning P.J. sucker punches me right in the face and then grabs my neck and throws me in a head lock.

He yells at me “Take off the backpack!” over and over several times.

He probably thought I had weed in the bag.

I tell him, “I can’t take the backpack off if you have me in a head lock!”

P.J. loosens slightly. He thinks about it for a moment and then lets me go. I immediately bolt to my house. The front door is open. I throw my backpack down in my living room and grab a golf club my dad keeps next to the door.

I charged back out and P.J. and his friends fled down the street. I saw them get into the car of the friend who drove me home.

The only thing I had in my backpack was school supplies, but I was not letting him take my textbooks, those are expensive. Imagine they went to all that trouble to set me up and rob me. Had they been successful all they would have come back with was my shitty backpack and some schoolbooks.

A few weeks later I got a phone call from Taylor who usually only bought $20 worth of weed at the most. Taylor’s older brother was my best friend growing up so I knew Taylor and his family pretty well. Foolishly I trusted him.

Taylor tells me he needs two ounces of weed for a friend. Over $500 worth. I only had an ounce at the time, but I was with Jason who had his own ounce he could sell. We decided to go in on the sale together.

I told Taylor to meet us at this local park about ten minutes from Jason’s house. Jason’s dad owned a bicycle shop so there were always extra bikes at Jason’s house. We each borrowed a bike and rode down to the park to meet Taylor.

Jason and I were coming down the main street about two blocks from the park. We stopped at a red light, and I just happen to glance over to the cars in the street. I briefly see P.J. in the back seat of one of the cars. He ducks when he sees me looking.

It started to click in my head. P.J. and Taylor were neighbors. Taylor had a little attitude with me ever since that day at Dougie’s house. I never thought he would hold a grudge over $20.

I quickly told Jason:

“Turn around quickly, head back to your house now!”

Jason stopped his bike and turned to me.

“What the fuck is going on?” Jason demanded.

“I just saw P.J. in one of the cars going towards the park. When he saw me, he ducked. This is a setup dude! We need to get out of here now!” I told him.

We turned around and hustled the pedals back to Jason’s house.

Just as we are getting to Jason’s house Lil Ron got dropped off from a friend outside. He went inside with us, and we explained the situation to him.

Taylor calls me. At first, I ignore his call. Lil Ron tells Jason and I:

“Don’t trip out! I got this!”

He answers my phone the next time it rings and puts it on speaker phone.

“You trying to set up my boys?” Lil Ron says in his absolute best impression of Capt. Hook.

“Who's this?” Taylor asks not recognizing Lil Ron’s voice.

“Who's this? Who are you mother fucker? This is Lil Ron. I don’t play games! You trying to rob my boys, you about to get the green light!” Lil Ron continued.

“You asking for two ounces, where did you think it was coming from?”

“I don’t know.” Taylor said nervously.

“You don’t know? You about to be dead shit little white boy. Where this little white boy live?” Lil Ron responded.

(Lil Ron is in fact shorter than Taylor)

“He lives over on Maria with his grandparents...” I told Lil Ron.

Taylor clearly heard my voice in the background. Taylor apparently was too busy shitting in his pants and handed the phone over to P.J.

“Who is this?” P.J. asked.

“This is Lil Ron clack clack! We know where you live.” Lil Ron responded.

Jason and I had to leave the garage and go inside the house we were laughing so hard.

“I am sorry we did not know.” P.J. replied.

“It’s too late to apologize! You still at the park? I’ll be there in a minute!” Lil Ron said.

P.J. hung up the phone. They were probably too busy getting as far away from the park as possible.

Him and his crew never fucked with me again. In person Lil Ron was hardly intimidating. But over the phone to someone who never met him and did not know what he looks like, he could be scary.

Jason and I could not believe he pulled it off.

Chapter 9: Tom Petty