9780063056534

Five
Dre swing by the house around noon to take me and Li’l Man to the store.
His ride fly as hell. It’s a ’94 BMW, but Dre keep it so on point it look
like a ’98 or a ’99. He found it at a salvage yard and fixed it up himself.
Added candy paint, twenty-inch rims, and a sound system in the trunk.
Oooh-wee! I can’t front: I like to be seen in it.
Dre help me get my son’s car seat situated—I don’t know what the hell
I’m doing—and we head to Mr. Wyatt’s grocery store. It’s around the
corner, on Marigold. Dre roll all the windows down, lean back in his seat,
and drive with one hand. He nod along to that “1st of tha Month” joint by
Bone Thugs-NN-Harmony that’s playing on the radio.
I’m too tired to nod along. Right after King left, I put my son back to
bed and tried to get a nap. Couldn’t for thinking ’bout that conversation
with King.
Dre glance over at me. “You good, cuz?”
I rest my head back. “King rolled through earlier. I told him what you
said.”
“How’d that go?”
“How you think it went? He was pissed, but he said he’d stop,” I lie. I
gotta look out for my boy.
Dre nod. “Good. That’s all that’s bothering you?”
“Dawg, when did Andreanna start sleeping good?”
He laughs. “Don’t tell me you worn out already.”
“Hell yeah. I ain’t sleep worth shit this weekend.”
“Come with the territory, playboy. Be glad you got nothing else to do,
like school. You told Shorty ’bout him yet?”
He mean Lisa. My baby only five two, but she ball like she six feet.
I twist one of my cornrows at the root. Last week, I sat between Lisa’s
legs on her front porch as she braided me up. Fireflies flashed around us,
and cicadas hit high notes. It was the kinda peace I needed.
“NNah,” I say. “I haven’t had a chance to go over there. I can’t tell her on
the phone.”