shit, just tryna stack some money, so I can snatch this whip.”
“How much you need?” she asked.
“$1,100,” he replied.
“What you got now?”
“Girl, I ain’t tellin you how much bread I got.” He stopped walking. Even though they were blood, he didn’t trust anyone enough to say how much money he had.
“Boy, I don’t want your money,” she countered, punching him in the arm. “Just know if you need me for anything, holla at me.” She gave him a quick hug before turning to walk away.
* * *
After making his drops for the day, DeMarco sat in his room and counted all the money he had saved up so far.
$3,500. Damn, I’m still $7,500 short. Fucking with auntie and them it will take me three, four more months to cop this whip, DeMarco thought to himself, and then put the rubber band back around his knot. Placing it back in the shoe box, he tried to figure out how he could make a quick come-up. He thought about Steph and what she’d said. Maybe she had a connection for him or maybe Money could put him on. His aunts would be pissed, but he needed to figure something out sooner than later.
* * *
The next morning, DeMarco was up early. He got dressed and headed downstairs, not surprised to see his aunts sitting in the kitchen.
“Wassup, aunties?” he asked, before giving them each a kiss on their cheek.
“Shit, you up early today. What you about to get into?” Momma Paula asked.
“I fell out early last night, so I’m well energized, plus I got a couple of things I need to handle,” he said.
“A’ight, well, just be in the area around 1:00,” Aunt V. said.
“I won’t be far,” he replied, and left without eating. He was focused on finding his cousin and seeing if she could really put him on.
He walked around the block to 118th where he figured Steph would be, but was pissed when he didn’t see her. Damn, where the fuck is this girl at? he wondered.
His stomach started growling, so he walked to the closet corner store to grab something to snack on. He came out of the store a couple minutes later with a bag of chips and a Pepsi and started heading back up the block. He continued on his mission to find his cousin, but before he did a light-skinned chick with a fat ass distracted him. She was on the other side of the street, but he wasn’t about to let her get out of his sight.
Damn, he thought as he yelled out, “Ayo, shorty, can I get a minute of your time?” Looking around as if there might be someone else with her, shorty stopped and stood looking at DeMarco as he came across the street. No doubt she was fine—he had to know her name. Standing there in a pair of Guess shorts that barely held her ass inside of them, and a Guess shirt with a pair of white 5411 Reebok Classics she had his full attention. He couldn’t front: shorty was bad.
“Where you headed to, ma?” DeMarco asked.
“Why would I tell you that? I don’t know you from a can of paint,” she said.
“You don’t have to act like that, yo. If I’m bothering you, I’ll keep it moving.”
“No, I’m sorry about that, it’s just I’m annoyed as hell right now. I was supposed to meet my homegirl at the park, but she stood me up,” shorty said.
“Come on. I’ll chill with you in the park if you want some company. Do you mind?”
“Well, I don’t got shit to do till later, so that’s cool,” she said, and they started walking toward the park.
DeMarco perched on the back of a bench and shorty sat down on the seat. “So what’s your name?” he asked.
“Tiffany, but everybody calls me Tiff.”
“I’m DeMarco. Nice to meet you Tiff,” he said, causing her to smile. “So where you from?”
“I live in 40 projects with my sista when she’s home,” Tiff answered, pulling a piece of gum out of her pocket. “Want one?”
“Nah, I’m good, ma.”
Sitting there talking to Tiff, he didn’t realize how the time was passing until he felt his pager vibrate. Damn, he thought to himself as he clipped it back on his shorts.
“Tiff, I gotta go handle somethin, but I’m definitely tryna get up with you again,” he said, getting down off the back of the bench.
“Okay, well, here go my number, just call me.” Tiffany pulled a pen and piece of paper out of her pocketbook, then stood up. “I hope to hear from you,” she said, licking her lips and walking off.
“Oh, no doubt you will,” he replied, slipping the number in his pocket.
* * *
Back at the house, he went into the kitchen where he knew his aunt would be.
“Sorry about that, auntie, I kind of lost track of time,” he said as he grabbed the bag off the table and turned to leave.
“Uh, some boy named Lil’ Nicky called here for you,” she told him.
“Word?” He stopped in his tracks.
“Yeah, he said he’d try you back later.”
“Auntie, if I’m not here, can you give him my pager number?”
“I ain’t your damn secretary! You need to go and get you a cell phone.”
“I love you,” he said, smiling, telling himself that once he made his drop he was going to do just that.
* * *
Coming from his last drop-off, he went to Queens Center mall, heading straight to the first cell phone store he saw.
He looked around for a minute or two before the store clerk approached.
“Can I help you?”
He turned around, but couldn’t speak for a moment because the chick who stood in front of him had him completely mesmerized. She looked like a darker, younger version of Mrs. B.
“Can I help you?” she asked again.
“My fault, shorty, you just reminded me of somebody, but yeah, I need a phone,” he replied.
“Okay, well, come this way.” She led him to a display case. “Now, what kind of phone you looking for?”
“It don’t even matter, yo, as long as it works.” He was more interested in her than the phone.
“Okay, well, let me show you what we have.”
* * *
Thirty minutes later, she was packing
