confusion. “What’s goin on?”
“Man, look and see if he left any money layin around in here,” DeMarco said.
Lil’ Nicky, now focused, went through the glove box and every other place he could think to look. He didn’t find even a penny. Not knowing where else to search, DeMarco pulled out the ashtray in frustration and saw that it was full of quarters.
“Got it!” He let out a sigh of relief.
The relief was short-lived when he rolled up to the tollbooth.
“Ticket,” the chick at the window said.
Fuck, DeMarco thought. “Gimme a second,” he said, and began to look around for a ticket he knew he didn’t have.
Nicky joined in too, acting like he was searching as well. The woman was visibly annoyed as a line of cars formed behind them.
“What if I can’t find it?” DeMarco asked. “I must’ve threw it out by accident at the rest stop.”
“Then you gotta pay from the free spot,” she replied with an attitude.
“A’ight then, how much is that?”
“$6.80,” she said.
Under any other circumstance he would’ve cursed her out for her tone, but he was trying to stay under the radar. He looked over at Nicky who was counting out the change from the ashtray.
“Got it!” Lil’ Nicky said.
DeMarco was able to relax again and take a deep breath. He quickly passed her the change and pulled off smiling as they headed toward Grand Central. “Home sweet home!” he yelled.
* * *
Turning onto Merrick Boulevard, DeMarco could tell that not much had changed. He drove up the block slowly, looking around, and all he could do was smile.
“Ayo, look, Lil’ Nicky, I know you wanna go holla at ya peoples, so let’s get a few dollars and I’ll leave you with the whip,” he said as he pulled over. “You can drive it if you want, but remember, it’s hot . . . A’ight? I’ll be right back.”
Lil’ Nicky slid into the driver’s seat and waited.
About five minutes later, DeMarco came back and got into the truck.
“A’ight, Lil’ Nicky, here’s my number and five. Call me when you reach ya hood. Be safe, man, and dump this whip the first chance you get.” DeMarco reached over to give him dap.
“I got you. Thanks, man, I appreciate it. You be safe too, a’ight?”
DeMarco watched as Lil’ Nicky pulled off.
“Coolest white boy I know,” he said aloud as he turned and walked away. “I’m back, bitches!” he yelled with a devilish grin.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Boy, stop standing around looking like you lost,” DeMarco’s Aunt V. said.
“Auntie, it just feels so good to be back home,” DeMarco responded with a smile.
“Um huh, I still don’t see why them people let you go early and didn’t call to tell nobody.”
“I told you, they took time off because I was bein good.”
Aunt V. shook her head, knowing damn well he was lying; she’d let him think she was oblivious for the time being. “Boy, get in here so you can eat,” she said, walking back into the house.
“A’ight,” he replied before taking a quick look at his surroundings once more. Being on the run had him checking his back every other minute—he was betting that they wouldn’t look for him at his aunt’s place.
After he ate, DeMarco realized just how exhausted he was. He felt beat now that all the adrenaline had worn off. He went into one of the extra rooms and dropped back on the bed. As soon as he got comfortable, he fell right out, not even remembering to call Mrs. B like he told her he would.
* * *
“Damn, boy, you must’ve been tired; you slept all day and night,” Aunt V. said the next morning.
“I did? Yesterday was a long day for me.” DeMarco took a seat at the kitchen table as his aunt stood at the sink washing dishes.
“Nice to see you home, nigga,” his cousin Money greeted, walking into the kitchen.
“Nigga, it’s nice to be home,” DeMarco said, smiling.
“Well, you know we got some catchin up to do. I’ma get up wit you though. I gotta make a couple of moves,” Money said, and turned to leave.
“No doubt.”
“So what you gonna be doin wit yourself?” Aunt V. asked.
“I’ma see if Uncle Br—”
“I don’t think so. Me and Momma Paula got just the thing for you. As a matter of fact, wait here a minute,” she said. She got up and left the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a brown paper bag and some money. “Take it and drop this bag off around the way—that’s your job from now on. I don’t wanna see you standin on no damn block callin yourself a hustler! You hear me?”
“Yes, I got you, auntie,” he said, getting up and leaving.
* * *
The weeks flew by for DeMarco. Between chilling with his cousin Money and running around, he was keeping himself busy.
One day while they were chilling, DeMarco noticed Money making a sale.
“Ayo, Money, you hustlin dope?” DeMarco asked, surprised.
“Nigga, this my own shit! Mommy and them pay me a’ight, but what they pay me for a week I see in a couple hours, or a day at the most.”
DeMarco didn’t know how much Aunt V. or Momma Paula were paying Money, but he was getting $800 a week. He figured Money was getting more than that and did some quick math in his head. Just as he was about to question Money some more, their cousin Steph walked up on them.
“Wassup, cuz?” Steph said, giving DeMarco a hug.
“Ain’t shit, girl. Just chillin.”
“Wassup, Money?”
“Shit, what’s good wit you? When you gonna take some of this work and hold it down for me in the spot?” Money asked her.
“Boy, please! Auntie and them would kill us both,” she said.
DeMarco sat listening to his cousins talk until he felt his pager vibrating. Looking at the number, he realized it was Momma Paula.
“Ayo, I gotta make a run. I’ll get up wit y’all later,” DeMarco said, and started walking
