“Fucking jump-off-ass nigga. I’m ’bout to walk over there.”

“A’ight. Let me see what’s up with this nigga, and I’ll probably walk over there. Give me about fifteen minutes. If you’re gonna get stupid, call my phone.”

“I ain’t gonna get stupid, I’m just gonna get him to buy the bottle.”

“Oh, Lord. If that’s the case, I’ll be there in ten.”

Paul was leaning against a parking meter, discussing a mural that Ice wanted him to do on his living room wall, when his phone rang. When he heard the lyrics to Three 6 Mafia’s “Baby Mama,” he knew who it was without looking. Letting out a long sigh, he picked up the phone.

“Hello.”

“What’s good, Paul? Where you at?” Rhonda questioned.

“I’m in my skin,” he said, not bothering to hide his irritation.

“Don’t be fucking funny, nigga. I was just calling to see what you were doing.”

“Me and Larry are kicking it. What’s up?”

“Nothing, just wondered if you felt like chilling?”

“Nah, I’m good. Besides, I ain’t coming through the projects till later on. I’m handling some business right now.”

“How’re you handling business, standing in front of the liquor store?”

“What the fuck, are you spying on me?” He looked around nervously.

“You know I always got my eye on you, baby daddy.” She blew him a kiss and hung up.

“That girl is asking for trouble,” Billy said, shaking her head.

“Yo, ya friends be on some real chickenhead shit,” Jean said.

“Don’t be trying to dis my girls, Jean.”

“It’s the truth and you know it, Billy. That boy is over there minding his business and Rhonda is gonna fuck with him for no reason.”

“Well, that’s between her and her baby daddy. Rhonda and Paul have always had a love/hate relationship.”

“I’d hate that bitch, too, if I was stupid enough to have a baby by her,” Jean told her.

“Well, you don’t have a baby by her, so mind your business. Now, let’s see if we can catch some of this game,” Billy said, heading into the projects.

There were people for as far as the eye could see. Some were watching the game, but most were just getting their stunt on. Over near the end of the parking lot, Billy spotted a familiar face. Teddy was leaning against the gate talking to a girl who looked like she couldn’t have been more than sixteen.

“Oh, shit.” Billy tapped Jean and nodded in Teddy’s direction.

“Who’s that?” Jean asked.

“That old married nigga that Reese is fucking,” Billy replied.

Jean frowned. “Married? Does the bullshit ever end?”

“I’m ’bout to call Reese and let her know what the hell this snake is up to,” Billy said, pulling out her phone.