I ended the call, bobbing my head to the beat of the record coming from my speakers.
“Nigga, you fucked up.”
“She fucked me up. Now she has to deal with me.”
“She’s as good as gone, homie,” Sully laughed.
“Nigga, you don’t even believe that.”
“I heard she at the university, taking classes and shit.”
“Yeah. She’s on her school shit right now. I’m not above sitting outside of every fucking building until I bump into her.”
“My nigga in love.”
“That’s the one, Sully,” I claimed, “She gone be mine forever. Once I get her back, ain’t no letting go.”
“I feel ya.”
“And I’m still beating yo’ ass down that aisle. Get your pockets ready.”
I sealed the blunt between my lips.
“Nigga I’m ready.”
“I see. You been watching Saga’s granny door for the last hour. She ain’t coming out that motherfucker. She at the crib, resting up for tonight.”
“You act like you telling me something I don’t know.”
“I don’t think you do. Your eyes big and shit, chin high every time that door opens.”
“Fuck you.”
“I know the feeling, so you all good with me, homie. I waited on Hyph a hot minute before she popped back up in the hood. Best day of my life.”
September had finally rolled in and the heat was still pumping. The sun was setting. The people were crawling from their apartments to enjoy time on their porch.
“Who dat nigga over there?” Sully questioned.
He was no longer sitting in the car with the door open. He was standing, peering down into the square of Dooley Manor. Imatched his gaze. A white G-Wagon was unlikely in Dooley. It stuck out like a sore thumb.
“A nigga that’s about to get popped if he doesn’t state his order of business by the time I finish my blunt.”
From behind the wheel emerged a nigga that neither of us recognized. I lit the tip of my blunt and pulled on it, watching as he made his way around the square, stopping at every other porch.
“The fuck this nigga on?” Sully asked.
He was the same height as me. Same skin tone. Dressed in a white tee and a pair of jeans, he approached my whip.
I gripped my pistol. Sully closed the door of the car, hand on his waist.
Upon further inspection, I noticed the destruction of his skin barriers. Every inch of his face was burned. So was his neck. His arms. His head. Patchy hair was left. I wasn’t sure why the barber was selling dreams and still cutting that shit on top of his head, but that was their issue, not mine.
“What’s up, Bro?” He rasped. Whatever had gotten ahold of him had distorted his voice.
Still, it was the most familiar part of his existence. Still, I couldn’t place it. A chill ran down my spine as I straightened it.
Discernment was heavy on me. It commanded my silence. I didn’t protest.
