far.
“Don't trip offa him,” Slim said to Dink as he nodded toward T.J. “He just hatin. Aye, why don't you come down to the frat house later on? You know, have a lil drink, shoot some pool, you know…hang out, see how we do it.”
“Frat house? You mean it's more black folks here?” Dink joked.
Slim laughed. “Yeah man, it's—”
“Excuse me,” a tall, slim, caramel colored honey interrupted, as she brushed past Dink, Slim and Laci. It was the same girl who sat next to T.J. during lecture. She headed toward the stoically posed T.J. She shook out her shoulder length auburn hair then said something to him. With little resistance on his part, she led him out of the lecture hall. Just as she and T.J. got to the doorway, she turned and looked at Dink from head to toe. With a raised eyebrow and a half grin on her face, she winked, and then walked out.
“A'ight, I gotta burn out, but the offer still stands,” Slim told Dink, ignoring what just happened.
“A'ight, cool,” Dink responded. “I just may do that.”
The two dapped, then Slim bounced and dipped out of the lecture hall.
“Let's go,” Laci snapped, shoving her backpack into Dink's hands.
“What's wrong baby?” Dink asked, noticing Laci's attitude change.
“Did you see how that girl was looking at you?”
“Man, I wasn't even paying attention to that chick,” Dink said. Actually, he did notice the girl. She was stunning. Almost a dead ringer for his ex, Crystal. A shadow cast over Dink's face because he still couldn't get over the malicious part she played in Laci's tragic summer.
Dink grabbed the backpack, put his hand in the small of Laci's back and escorted her out into the hallway.
“Looks like you were really into the lecture,” Laci told him, changing the subject, as they headed outside.
“Yeah, he said some stuff that was really deep.”
“You're right, the whole good, bad, angel, God and Devil thing was something to really think about,” Laci admitted. “You and Mr. Giencanna were about to make that T.J. guy mad though.”
They both laughed.
“Well, if you think about it, Laci, he has a point. We were brought up believing in something that we were told exists but in actuality, how do we know? I mean, we know that Jesus was a man who walked the earth, but how can we validate God, the Devil or angels? What about the religions that believe in God, but don't believe in Jesus? That is truly subjective reasoning.”
Laci chuckled. “Subjective reasoning?” She stopped and faced Dink. “I didn't even see you take notes.”
“I have everything right here,” Dink pointed to his forehead. “How do you think I made it this far? You can't take notes on the street, sweetheart. I may be a college student now, but I'm a hustler at heart. I bet Giencanna was a hustler back in his day,” Dink joked.
Laci frowned at the thought.
“The greatest lessons learned come from the streets, baby, and you can't trust everybody, so you have to use more than just common sense to peep game.” Laci stopped walking and turned to face Dink. She loved to hear him talk with such passion. “On the streets, baby, a hungry nigga would do anything or say anything just to get put on and come up. But for me, I listen to what's being said. When I hear something that don't make sense, my radar goes off and I automatically think someone tryna fuck me. It doesn't necessarily mean that they are, it's just that with all the shady shit folks do, you can't trust just anybody and those that can be trusted, you keep close to you. I fucked up in the beginning, but as I grew with the streets, I started looking at stuff differently. I became more defensive, on guard, and more aware of what was going on around me. In the game you have to be careful because one fuck up, it's over. It all boils down to being able to spot the real from the bullshit,” Dink told Laci. “Besides a broke hustler, ain't nothin' worse in the game than a wannabe hustler because shit bound to go down.”
Dink's thoughts went to Marco and Dame. He was still shocked that his boys would try to play him shady, but repercussions in the hood were a muthafucka. Disloyalty was honored by death. “Niggas will try to get at you all the time but you have to have to be sophisticated enough to be able to differentiate between the straight shooter and the nigga tryna take you. You have to work on that balance, and that balance is called…”
“Objective reasoning,” Laci said out loud.
“Exactly,” Dink confirmed. “Niggas take kindness for weakness so you still gotta be cool, all the while, ruling with an iron fist. There's a time to be hard and there's a time to finesse shit.”
Laci looked at Dink in awe and with respect. She didn't realize that hustling required that type of thought. “Do you miss it, Dink?”
“Do I miss what?” Dink replied.
Laci was studying the look on Dink's face as he talked about his former life. “Do you miss being on the streets?” she asked.
He paused momentarily. Everything was still fresh and new to him. “Nah, not really. That was just something to do for the time being. But things happen for a reason. I'm where I want to be now.” Dink stepped toward Laci and put his arms around her waist.
Laci smiled at him, and then placed a tender kiss on his lips.
“I knew there was more to you all along,” she confessed. “You are truly a smart man.” She kissed him again. “And guess what?”
“What?”
“You're all mine,” she smiled back at him. “But right now,” she looked at her watch then grabbed her backpack from Dink's grasp. “I'm late for my next class and this isn't the way to start the new school year. I'll see you after class, baby.” Laci quickly kissed Dink and ran in search of her second class.
Dink loved Laci's innocence and smiled while he watched her scurry away. He was glad he was a part of Laci's rehab and saw how much it helped her. After she had disappeared out of his sight, Dink glanced at his schedule then shoved it in his pocket and flung his backpack over his left shoulder. He strolled through the campus with the swagga of a man who owned the world. It was a new day, and Dink saw that there was another life outside of being a dope man. Of course, the game gave him cash and material things, but now he had the opportunity to exercise his mind. Dink realized that he had it all. Money at his disposal, a girl he loved and now he was legit. Giving the ‘what up’ nod to those who passed him, confidently Dink walked to his next class, now living the white man's American dream.
3
SMURF SAT INSIDE DINK'S APARTMENT on Gun Hill Road contemplating his next move. It had been a couple of weeks since Dink had left the Bronx, and Smurf needed to make sure that he had everything on lock just as Dink had. He wasn't a sentimental cat, but he couldn't believe that Dink gave him his entire empire—the South Bronx. He was no longer Dink's best-kept secret…he was the dope man now.
He started exploring the apartment. Although Smurf had been to Dink's place before, he never really tripped off of all the luxuries he had because he was so busy taking in everything Dink taught him. Dink was a street philosopher and in order
