“True,” Spooky said, trying to kick away some of the mess he had made. As he made steps toward the park across the street, he noticed Crazy Eight was following. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“We about to get high,” Eight said, continuing to push his bike.

“Nigga, you ain’t smoking wit us.”

“Yo, I went to the store and can’t get high?”

“Eight, you’re good,” Jah cut in.

“Yo, Jah, I ain’t trying to get high with this crazy nigga,” Spooky protested.

“Then roll yourself a personal blunt,” Jah said, continuing across the street with Eight on his heels.

“How long are we gonna ride around, man?” Groovy asked, turning left on 135th and Eighth.

“Till we spot the little muthafucka. Why, you got somewhere to be?” Rel barked.

“Fam, watch how you talk to me,” Groovy warned him. “All I’m saying is that we’ve been riding around the same ten blocks for the last hour and we still ain’t seen the cat.”

“Ralph, you sure this is where he hangs?” Slick asked the man in the backseat, who was fidgeting uncomfortably. After leaving the house, Slick and his men had tracked Ralph down and pressed him about information on the kid Jah. After comparing notes about the robbery and what the streets were saying about Rel’s run-in, they discovered that the perps were one in the same. This only added urgency to their quest to find Jah.

“Yeah, man,” Ralph said, looking as if he was trying to sink into the seat. When they had approached him about info on Jah, Ralph was more than willing to give it to them. But when they insisted that he come along for the ride, things got complicated. He knew that if word got back to Jah about him running his mouth, the clock would start ticking on his life.

“If you’re so goddamn sure, why the hell haven’t we bumped into him yet?” Rel snapped.

“Why don’t you chill out?” Groovy said, lighting a cigarette. He took a long drag and tossed the smoldering match head out the window.

Rel looked at him, frowning. “Chill? This little muthafucka robbed us and tried to split my shit. Word to mine, son, I’m ready to tear this kid’s head off.”

“Rel is right. We can’t let this li’l nigga slide,” Slick agreed.

The men continued to talk among themselves, while Ralph tried to remain calm. The task proved to be harder than he’d hoped as his hand kept sweating and he felt like he had to take a shit. Just then he looked across the street and saw Jah leading Eight and Spooky into the park.

“There he is!” Slick said, pointing in their direction.

“Yeah.” Rel checked his revolver. “Roll up on this nigga so I can pop his ass.”