“You know I only fuck with the best, man.” Ice patted Larry on the back. “For a few dollars, you can spend some time with her. What do ya say, baby.” He turned to Spice. “You think you might be able to handle my man Larry here?”

Spice walked over, slow and seductively. She ran her hands from the top of Larry’s head down to his chest. With her other hand, she gently caressed him through his jeans. “Yeah, I might be able to do something with him.”

“What ya know about it, nigga?” Ice crossed his arms over his eighteen-karat gold cross.

“I wish I could, Ice. But I ain’t got the kind of money to cover one of your bitches,” Larry copped out.

“Come on, nigga. Since you and Paul is peoples, I’ll let you get the family discount. Give me a buck and you can take this bitch somewhere and nasty up her pussy.”

“Next time, daddy.”

Black Ice shrugged his thin shoulders. “Suit yourself. Get back in the car, Spice.” The young whore did as she was told. As she was climbing into the back of the car, her short skirt rode up, exposing her entire pussy to the three men assembled. Paul just sighed and tried to ignore the erection in his pants.

Rhonda, Jean, Reese, and Billy strolled through the park, talking shit and sipping nut crackers. They had originally planned on going to the liquor store, but decided that it was too warm to drink hard.

“These shits ain’t even strong,” Rhonda complained, swishing the ice around in her cup. “That bitch is falling off.”

“Shit, mine is strong enough,” Reese said, sipping her drink.

“I need something harder than this. Let’s go to the liquor store like we planned. I need some Hennessy in my life.”

“Rhonda, you must be out of your mind. I ain’t trying to drink nut crackers and Henny back to back,” Billy said.

“Youse about a punk bitch, Billy.” Rhonda waved her off. “With four of us on a pint, we’ll only get buzzed.”

Crazy Eight pedaled over to the girls and looped them once. He had a crusty-looking blunt tucked behind his ear and a half-smoked cigarette dangling between his lips. “Ladies,” he sang, skidding his bike, “what’s good?”

“Definitely not your silly ass.” Rhonda sucked her teeth.

“Stop acting like that, ma, and recognize game when you see it,” Eight said confidently.

Rhonda looked at her girls to make sure her ears weren’t playing tricks on her. “Is this nigga serious? Crazy Eight, you need to get your bootleg CD-selling ass outta here before it be some shit.”