“Dollar, you know this li’l nigga ain’t old enough to drink,” Booby said mockingly. He was a local shit bird who jumped on the dick of anyone who he thought was holding a few dollars.

“Bullshit. My li’l homey is good wherever I say he is. Come on, Jah,” he said, throwing his arm around the youngster’s shoulder. “Just have one with me and you can go back to snatching purses or whatever the hell it is you’re up to these days.” Dollar steered him toward the bar and Jah grudgingly allowed it.

Even in the middle of the day, the interior of the bar was pitch black. A withered old man wearing a gangsta suit stood behind the bar cleaning glasses. When he noticed the men enter, he gave a half smile and waved them to the seats with a crooked finger. Booby took a seat at the end, leaving a stool available on either side of Jah. Tech took the right, while Dollar plopped on the left, inches from his .40.

“Jackson, give us a round of my usual shit. For the next hour I don’t wanna see a dry glass in the room!” Dollar barked. There wasn’t a damn soul in the bar other than the five of them, but Dollar said it like it was a packed house.

“You got it, Big D,” Jackson said, pulling a large bottle of Jack Daniel’s from beneath the bar. He raised the bottle, but stopped short, zeroing in on Tech. “Hold on, man. You boys are good, but I ain’t serving the kid.” He thumbed at Tech.

“Come on, yo, I can hold my liquor. Why you acting like that?” Tech protested.

“I don’t give a good goddamn what you can hold, I ain’t losing my license over some wet-behind-the-balls teenybopper,” Jackson said, squinting at Tech.

“All right, give the young boy a soda then, and set that fire out for the rest of us,” Dollar said, patting the bar top. “So Jah, I hear you’re out here on your real thug shit?” He turned to the young man.

“You can’t believe everything you hear,” Jah told him.

“Come on, Jah. You ain’t gotta front for me, yo. I ran into a couple of heads from ’round the way while I was locked down. They say you out here doing ya one-two.”

Jah shrugged. “I’m just trying to see tomorrow, kid.”

“You hear this nigga?” Dollar asked Booby, who just shrugged. “Spoken like a real made nigga,” Dollar said sarcastically.

“Yo, niggaz know what time it is wit’ my dude out here,” Tech said, supporting Jah’s notoriety.

“Shut yo young ass up!” Booby shouted from his perch.

“Damn, Jah, you even got cheerleaders?” Dollar elbowed him. “You came a long way from the shorty I knew, snatching chains for bread.”