“You do and I’ll knock you the fuck out,” Larry joked, breaking loose. “You think you can have your shit ready in less than a week?”

“Damn right I can. Yo, I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“You wanna thank me, get this art shit popping and get your life in order, my dude.”

Larry felt good about seeing his friend smile. Paul had been down a rough road and his luck was long overdue to change. Putting the whole thing together had been no easy task. The girl he’d slept with for the hookup was a mud duck, but she had some very powerful friends. The hardest part had been getting the bread together to make it happen. Larry worked and hustled on the side, but he still hadn’t been able to put up the money to rent the set and kick out all the bribes it would take to get everybody onboard at Silver Cup. Even though Seth had the security hookup, there were still people who would have to be taken care of. This is where Jah came in. When Larry came to him and revealed his idea, Jah was more than willing to do his part and then some. For the last few months he had been pulling capers and dropping the bread into Larry’s lap. If it hadn’t been for him, they’d still be trying to get it up. There was a lot about Jah that Larry didn’t like, but he had to give the little dude his props. When it came to looking out for family, he would go through hell or high water.

P.J. had finally gone to bed for the night, leaving Marlene some much-needed quality time. She was beat from chasing him around all day. P.J. was a good kid, but children that age required a lot of attention. They had played, watched movies, and baked cookies before the youngster finally dropped off to sleep. Marlene was going to make herself a cup of tea and take a nice hot bath. No sooner had she put the pot on the stove, than she heard her house phone ring.

“Hello?” Marlene said, not recognizing the number.

“Yeah, can I speak to Paul?” Rhonda said, as if Marlene wasn’t supposed to be answering her own phone.

Marlene looked at the phone, not believing the nerve of the little ghetto bitch. “He’s not here, and P.J. is sleeping.”

“I figured P.J. was sleeping, that’s why I asked for Paul,” Rhonda said in a borderline stink tone. “Look, when he comes in, just tell him that I’m still waiting for P.J.’s sneakers and I’m gonna need some money to pay Verna to do his hair.”

“I’ll relay the message about the sneakers, but I braided P.J.’s hair this afternoon,” Marlene told her.