Read Online Slipping by Y. Blak Moore - Free Book Online Page B

he reached Semo's house in a matter of minutes. As he came around the garage behind the house he could hear his friends’ voices. For the first time in weeks he realized just how much he missed his friends. He realized that he had replaced their constant companionship with Juanita and crack cocaine. They had grown up together, braved the dog streets of Chicago's South Side together. They had faced bullies together, stole together, fought together and one another. It brought tears to his eyes thinking about all the things they had been through together. Composing himself, he put his hand on the rusty gate. With a shove he opened it. Standing perfectly still he watched the boys for a moment. They were so engrossed in one of their petty sports arguments that they didn't notice him.
    Keno looked up and saw him standing there. He signaled to the others that they had a guest. Everyone stopped talking at once and looked at Don.
    He felt a little self-conscious under their stares at first, but he knew it was now or never. He walked over and sat on a lawn chair. Under their collective scrutiny he felt anything but at ease. He tried to play it cool. With hooded eyes he stared at his sneakers waiting for one of them to make the first move. It didn't take long.
    “What you want, nigga?” Big Man drawled.
    “Yeah, nigga, what brings you around?” Semo added.
    Don said, “I just wanted to see you studs. I mean damn, we is homies and shit.”
    “That's not how you been playing it since you hooked up with yo new broad,” Semo countered.
    Apologetically, Don offered, “Man, I'm sorry 'bout all that shit. Ain't no thang, you know. It was just I made a mistake is all. Pretty little bitch had my head all fucked, yo. I can't even front. I'm cool now, though. My fault if I seemed like I flipped on y'all niggas.”
    “Yeah, nigga, you was in love like a motherfucka,” Carlos said. “Now get you a beer and hit some of this blunt, nigga. We yo niggas, we ain't tripping on that little shit. We glad you back, we sick of hearing Dre bitch-ass whining 'bout missing you.”
    Carlos held the lit blunt out to Don.
    “No thanks, kid. Since we back down and shit, let's make some loot so we can throw a big-ass party. I'm talking 'bout some off-the-hook shit. Dre, run to the crib and grab about three stacks. Shit, hopefully we can get Diego to at least go for three-to-one odds. Shid, we gone stomp them niggas. I been working on my game and shit …”
    Don was talking so fast he never noticed the looks of disappointment on his friends’ faces.
    Semo interrupted. “Slow down, nigga. Is that what you came over here for? Dude, you outta pocket. We really missed kicking it with you, dog, but I see all you missed is having us help you make some scratch.”
    “Nall, Semo, you got me all wrong. I didn't mean it like that. I was just thinking on the way over here that it would be fun to kick Diego and them ass for some of that easy money so we could throw a party.”
    “You mean so you could buy you some crack don't you?” Carlos interjected. “Nigga, we played them studs last Sunday for five gees. We won of course. And while we was at the court Diego noticed that you wadn't playing and mentioned just how good a customer you done became. Nigga, we knew something was wrong wit yo ass.”
    “Man, I don't know what the fuck you talkin’ 'bout. I know y'all don't believe that funky-ass half-breed. I been copping from him, but it was so I can get my swerve on. I been hustling so I can help out at the crib and shit with the bills.”
    “See, I told y'all he wadn't fucking with that shit,” Dre said, wanting to believe that Don was straight. “He been copping pieces trying to get his pockets right.”
    “Dre, shut yo ass up,” Carlos said. “Look at this nigga. Do he look like he been hustling? This nigga is clucking. Look at all the weight he done lost and shit. His face skinny as hell. Tell me he ain't starting to look like a baby