Jean went over to her husband, sat on his lap with her arms wrapped around him and proclaimed, “You’re a wonderful father to him, Jason. And you push for the best. With the love we give him, our son will turn out okay, baby. I trust him.”
Mr. Grey stared up at his wife and smiled. “I love the both of you so much,” he proclaimed.
“I love you too.”
Vincent hastily strutted to the bus stop. He was still angry at his father. It never fails, he said to himself. All the time, he’s gotta be on my ass about sump’n. He’s never happy with anything that I do.
Vincent was one block from Guy R. Brewer Blvd when he noticed a white four door Acura Legend with tinted windows coming to a slow creep towards him. He got a bit nervous, thinking about any previous beef that he may have with anyone. In the hood, it didn’t take much for someone to get shot or murdered. A wrong stare at an individual could be a reason.
Vincent took a deep breath thinking fuck it, if its beef then let them bring it. He clenched his fist. The Acura pulled beside him and the passenger window came rolling down displaying a friendly smile. It was his boy Spoon who lived across the street from him. Tyriq was behind the wheel.
“What’s up, Vince,” Spoon hollered.
“Yo, why y’all creeping up on me like that? You lucky I ain’t strapped.”
“Nigga you ain’t never been strapped,” Tyriq shouted out.
“Yo man, where are you going this early?” Spoon asked.
“Work…”
“Work…? Your pops got you slavin’?” Tyriq asked.
“Yeah, he got me a job in the city. I gotta be there by nine.” Vincent lied then quickly changed the subject. “What y’all doin’ out here so early anyway? It ain’t even eight yet.”
Tyriq reached into his pocket and pulled out a phat wad of twenties and fifties. “Gettin’ that gwap,” he smiled. “You know the early bird always gets all the worms.”
“Damn, you stackin’ like that?”
“Twenty-four seven…”
“Is this your whip?” Vince asked pointing.
“My nigga, you need a ride?” Tyriq asked.
“We ain’t in no rush,” Spoon added.
Vince thought it over with the quickness. “Let’s do it,” he replied jumping into the backseat. He admired the soft, gray leather seats thinking of owning a car like this. His favorite whips were Acura’s and Accords.
“The E or A train…?” Tyriq asked.
“E. What y’all dealing wit’ today…?”
“Yo, we fit’n to see some white bitches out in L.I. We met ‘em on the Ave last week doing their thang. They want ballers,” Spoon said twisting a blunt.
“Oh word…damn, I envy y’all. I gotta go to this bullshit-ass job,while y’all get high wit’ some white bitches,” Vince said.
“Fuck the job. Roll with us ayyite my nigga,” Tyriq suggested.
“Today is like my first day.”
“Ayyite, I’ll double whatever you was gonna make today. Have some fun, get some ass, my niggah, cuz these bitches are fuck-freaks,” Tyriq said.
Vince smiled. His pops would flip out if he found out that he missed the first day. Vince knew he would get screamed on. But temptation was stronger.
“So what’s it gonna be, Vince? You down or what…?” Spoon asked taking a long pull from the burning blunt and passing it to Vince.
“Fuck it, yo…I’m down with y’all,” Vince said, taking the smoldering blunt from Spoon’s hand. Pussy and partying was on his mind. “I’ll just tell the people at work, I got lost. That’s all. This is my first day. It ain’t like they gonna miss me.”
“Ayyite, that’s what’s up,” Tyriq said.
“When you leaving for school, my nigga?” Spoon asked.
“Last week of August, kid...” Vince answered sucking on the blunt.
“Damn, college yo…you doing your thang, boy,” Spoon said.
“Yeah, pops got me stressed about this job though, talkin’ bout I need to save some money for books, food and shit while I’m there.”
“I ain’t mad at you, my nigga…do your thang my nigga,” Spoon complimented.
“Fuck a college! I don’t need no degree to get paid out here. Me, personally I feel school’s a waste of time,” Tyriq said, with his ignorance.
“Vince, don’t listen to this cat. Keep doing your thang. He can’t read anyway,” Spoon joked.
“I know how to count my money, ayyite. And how to hold down these streets, that’s all I need to know, ayyite?” Tyriq quickly retorted.
“Hey to each is own,” Vince chuckled, feeling the affects of the weed. “Damn, this some strong shit y’all fucking round wit’,” he coughed.
“Shit coming straight off the island boat. We got half a pound stashed,” Spoon informed.
“Damn!” Vince was still coughing.
Tyriq continued onto Southern State Parkway. Weed smoke lingered in the car, and heads nodded in the rhythm to the sound of the Lost Boyz’s, Jeeps, Lex, Coupes, Beemers and Benz.
“Yo, how far out on the island these bitches live?” Vince asked, work became a distant memory.
“Damn Vince, you thirsty like that?” Tyriq joked.
“Messing wit’ this weed got me hornier than a muthafucka,” he laughed.
Spoon and Tyriq joined in.
“Ayyite! But nigga don’t leave any stains on my seat,” Tyriq joked.
“Fuck you, nigga,” Vincent said, his middle-finger held high. “Yo, I hope y’all got a bitch for me,” he continued.
“Nigga, the way these bitches are, they’ll fuck you, me and your pops,” Tyriq stated, smiling.
“Leave my pops out. Just have a bad bitch for me to fuck wit’,” Vince laughed.
“And you was ready to go to work, like a Herb? Now you can do your thang hard, nigga,” Spoon said.
The three pulled up to a two-level bricked house in North Babylon. The tree-lined street was quiet, with manicured lawns and a silver Benz parked in the
