Black Ice and Paul had known each other for quite some time. Ice used to deal with Paul’s brother back in the day, so it wasn’t unusual to see him in the hood. The thing about Ice, though, was he didn’t sell drugs. He bumped a little weed here and there, but his main source of income was pimping. Ice was a young nigga with a good-size stable and respect from the old heads on the track.

Paul smiled proudly and extended his hand. “Black Ice, what da deal, my dude?”

Black Ice slapped his palm and gave him a diamond-toothed smile. “Taking it light, cat. You know how I do it.”

“I see that paint job is holding up.” Paul admired the car.

“Yeah, you put the God hand on it, son.”

Black Ice’s car was one of Paul’s masterpieces. When Ice had initially restored the ride, he’d put it through a series of face-lifts. Everything from paint and tire color, to rims and grilles. It was hot, but Ice still felt it wasn’t flashy enough. This is where Paul came in. Back then, he was just airbrushing jackets and T-shirts. Ice was telling Paul about a car he had seen in Cali and asked if he could do it. Paul stepped to the plate and did a wonderful job. Ice hit him with a nice chunk of change and promised to keep him in mind for future jobs.

A motorcycle roared by, drawing everyone’s attention. It was a nice bike, with a custom paint job, but the main attraction was the girl on the back. She was wearing a leather corset, with denim shorts that left hardly anything to the imagination. Her plump but not oversize ass was cocked up on the back of the bike, nearly causing several traffic accidents.

“That bitch had a phat ass!” Larry shouted.

“Yeah, she’s a fine little bitch.” Ice rubbed his hand over his chin whiskers. “I’ve been trying to get Yoshi under the wing for a minute now. Damned renegade bitch knows how to get a dollar.”

“That was Yoshi?” Paul squinted. “That bitch is getting thick!”

“I’ll fuck the shit outta Yoshi, B.” Larry rubbed himself.

“Yeah, she a’ight. But my new little bitch ain’t no slouch. Spice,” Ice called over his shoulder. “Come out here, and let these square niggaz see what a sporting bitch is supposed to look like!”

The girl who slid from the back of Ice’s Caddy was stunning. She had long legs, connected to a perfectly round ass. Her skin was banana yellow, with a tinge of honey. A long black wig flowed down her back and dropped slightly over her arched brow. She gazed at Paul with catlike green eyes, making him turn away after a while.

“Shit, Ice.” Larry stared openly at the woman.