“Would you mind if I did something related to Hurricane Katrina and, you know, used your presentation as part of my research? Don’t worry, I won’t plagiarize.”
Candace glows. “You’d never do anything like that.” Then she kisses my temple. “You’re the best guy in the whole school.”
Inimical (adj.)
unfriendly, hostile, having the disposition of an enemy
The block’s poppin’ more than usual even for a Thursday night. “It’s warm for November, the city workers got paid today …,” says Nestor. “I smell cheddar.” We had to re-up an hour earlier than usual, and I make money hand over fist. It’s dope to not grind for pennies. If every night were like this, I can see how dudes get caught up.
I only break for dinner, treating myself to
un biftec empaniza’o
with yellow rice and black beans at Floridita’s, a Puerto Rican restaurant across the street. When I walk out of Floridita’s, a disheveled guy wearing a week’s funk bops up to me.
“You got?”
“What you need?”
“I heard those white tops be whispering sweet nothings in a nigga’s ear,” he says.
It still bothers me to sell crack. The money is usually too good to resist, but I don’t need the extra sale tonight. “I’m out,” I lie, “but let me introduce you to my man over here.”
The throwback shakes his head. “Nah, man, never mind. My cash has to go long this weekend. You got any weed?”
“No doubt.”
“Hit me up with a nickel, then.” He gives me a ten-dollar bill, and I pocket it. I start to signal LeRon when I feel a hard yank on the hood of my jacket. I fly backward until I crash against thebrick wall of the restaurant. A forearm slams across my throat, and my Adam’s apple reaches for my eyebrows.
Then milky dark eyes breathe the tang of stale endo into my face. “What the fuck you think you doing?”
With both hands, I grab at the arm and try to pry it off my neck. “Get the fuck off me, yo!”
“You run with Snipes!” The stench of old reefer invades my nostrils again, followed by another thrust of the forearm to my throat. “You one of Snipes’s boys, right?”
I close my eyes and brace myself for the blow. But then the forearm whips off my neck as if someone was rewinding a video. Then all I hear is a bunch of guys cursing, feet pounding, jackets chafing. I finally open my eyes to catch boys from my crew pulling back Nestor while some guys from Hinckley’s posse restrain one of their own. I run into the middle of the drama. “What the hell’s going on, man?”
“How you gonna try to hustle on this corner?” says this Latino kid I’ve never seen before. “All in our face like we ain’t shit.”
“You got it twisted,” says Nestor. “That’s all I was trying to explain, man. It’s just a misunderstanding ’cause my boy’s new, that’s all.”
“New, my ass!” shouts Reefer Breath. He’s a skinny, yellow-skinned dude with a knotty Afro and pointed jaw. “He’s been out here slinging long enough to not even be thinking about plying no trade on this side of the street.” He jabs his finger toward my face. “You finna get smoked?”
Nestor reaches into his pocket and moves toward Reefer. His boys crowd around him so our crew closes ranks around Nestor. Nestor takes a few steps back and raises his hands in the air, waving a fifty-dollar bill. “Look, let’s squash this before someone calls the po and we all get knocked, okay?” Soldiers on both sidesmutter
Word
and
For real
. “Just consider this compensation for any inconvenience.”
Reefer Breath paces in a small circle like a mutt about to settle on a rug. He starts toward Nestor, but the Latino kid in his crew clamps a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, Julian, squash it.”
Julian knocks off his friend’s hand. Eventually, he faces off with Nestor, but homeboy doesn’t blink. He just raises the bill and dangles it in front of Julian. They stare each other down for a few seconds with both posses set to jump.
Candace glows. “You’d never do anything like that.” Then she kisses my temple. “You’re the best guy in the whole school.”
Inimical (adj.)
unfriendly, hostile, having the disposition of an enemy
The block’s poppin’ more than usual even for a Thursday night. “It’s warm for November, the city workers got paid today …,” says Nestor. “I smell cheddar.” We had to re-up an hour earlier than usual, and I make money hand over fist. It’s dope to not grind for pennies. If every night were like this, I can see how dudes get caught up.
I only break for dinner, treating myself to
un biftec empaniza’o
with yellow rice and black beans at Floridita’s, a Puerto Rican restaurant across the street. When I walk out of Floridita’s, a disheveled guy wearing a week’s funk bops up to me.
“You got?”
“What you need?”
“I heard those white tops be whispering sweet nothings in a nigga’s ear,” he says.
It still bothers me to sell crack. The money is usually too good to resist, but I don’t need the extra sale tonight. “I’m out,” I lie, “but let me introduce you to my man over here.”
The throwback shakes his head. “Nah, man, never mind. My cash has to go long this weekend. You got any weed?”
“No doubt.”
“Hit me up with a nickel, then.” He gives me a ten-dollar bill, and I pocket it. I start to signal LeRon when I feel a hard yank on the hood of my jacket. I fly backward until I crash against thebrick wall of the restaurant. A forearm slams across my throat, and my Adam’s apple reaches for my eyebrows.
Then milky dark eyes breathe the tang of stale endo into my face. “What the fuck you think you doing?”
With both hands, I grab at the arm and try to pry it off my neck. “Get the fuck off me, yo!”
“You run with Snipes!” The stench of old reefer invades my nostrils again, followed by another thrust of the forearm to my throat. “You one of Snipes’s boys, right?”
I close my eyes and brace myself for the blow. But then the forearm whips off my neck as if someone was rewinding a video. Then all I hear is a bunch of guys cursing, feet pounding, jackets chafing. I finally open my eyes to catch boys from my crew pulling back Nestor while some guys from Hinckley’s posse restrain one of their own. I run into the middle of the drama. “What the hell’s going on, man?”
“How you gonna try to hustle on this corner?” says this Latino kid I’ve never seen before. “All in our face like we ain’t shit.”
“You got it twisted,” says Nestor. “That’s all I was trying to explain, man. It’s just a misunderstanding ’cause my boy’s new, that’s all.”
“New, my ass!” shouts Reefer Breath. He’s a skinny, yellow-skinned dude with a knotty Afro and pointed jaw. “He’s been out here slinging long enough to not even be thinking about plying no trade on this side of the street.” He jabs his finger toward my face. “You finna get smoked?”
Nestor reaches into his pocket and moves toward Reefer. His boys crowd around him so our crew closes ranks around Nestor. Nestor takes a few steps back and raises his hands in the air, waving a fifty-dollar bill. “Look, let’s squash this before someone calls the po and we all get knocked, okay?” Soldiers on both sidesmutter
Word
and
For real
. “Just consider this compensation for any inconvenience.”
Reefer Breath paces in a small circle like a mutt about to settle on a rug. He starts toward Nestor, but the Latino kid in his crew clamps a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, Julian, squash it.”
Julian knocks off his friend’s hand. Eventually, he faces off with Nestor, but homeboy doesn’t blink. He just raises the bill and dangles it in front of Julian. They stare each other down for a few seconds with both posses set to jump.
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