“Yo, bounce, Eight,” Larry said seriously.

Eight looked like he had something on the tip of his tongue, but whatever it was, he kept it to himself. “Yo, I’m mobile,” he said, riding a loop around them on his ten-speed. “Y’all niggaz stay up.”

“A’ight.” Paul waved. He waited until Crazy Eight had ridden off before questioning Larry. “Yo, why you always treat that nigga like that?”

“Fuck that crazy-ass dude. He ain’t nothing but a con artist anyhow.”

“What’s he ever done to you?” Paul asked.

Larry looked at the fleeing form of Eight and turned to answer Paul’s question. “Check it, about two or three months ago, I bump into this piece of shit, sitting on the curb in the rain. He gets to telling me how he’s down on his luck and hungry. I offer to buy him something to eat, but he has a better idea, ‘Loan me a hundred dollars so I can get a room, and when I get my check next week I’ll give you two.’”

Paul let out a snicker. “Larry, tell me you didn’t go for that shit?”

“Man, that’s Little Harv’s older brother, so I gave him a play. I didn’t think he was gonna beat me for my bread. Anyhow, a month or so goes by and this nigga is ducking me. When I finally catch him, he feeds me a song and dance about how he got robbed and was too ashamed to tell me. What a fucking liar.”

“So did he ever give you your money?” Paul asked.

“You damn right, he did!” Larry said triumphantly. “I took his ID and held it hostage. When he went to the check-cashing spot, I was right there with him.”

“Guess you’ll know better next time.”

“Damn right, I will. He’s lucky I didn’t fuck his ass up.”

A ’78 Caddy slowed to a stop right next to Paul and Larry. It was painted sky blue with brown angels and red devils, warring for the pearly gates of heaven airbrushed on its hood. A short chick, with an ass made for a horse, stepped from the passenger side wearing a tight black leather skirt and heels. She opened the rear passenger door and a miracle stepped out.

When he stood to his full height, he was at least six foot two. His midnight black skin almost blended into the black silk button-up he was wearing. He carefully shook the creases of the dark blue jean shorts he was wearing, and placed a size-twelve Jordan on the curb.