“That I did. I ain’t doin too much. Just sittin here chillin with my cousin. Why, what’s good?”
“I was just wondering if you wanted to chill tonight. Go see a movie or somethin.”
“If it’s with you, I’m down,” he replied with a chuckle.
“Well, okay, um, I live in Harlem, but I can meet you or come pick you up if you want.”
“You know where 119th and Merrick Boulevard is?”
“Yeah, I know where that’s at.”
“Okay, then I’m right there at my auntie’s house,” he said.
“Cool, just stay right there. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Got you,” he replied and hung up.
“Nigga, who was that?” Money asked as he passed DeMarco the blunt.
“This dark-skinned chick from the cell phone store over at Queens Center,” he said.
“The one that look like she could be Stacey Dash’s daughter?” Money asked.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” DeMarco replied with a big smile.
“Fuck outta here, nigga! Shorty like twenty-five-plus. Everybody that go in there be tryna holla at shorty, and she shoot niggas down daily,” Money said with a twisted lip.
“You’ll see when she get here, and remember I ain’t everybody,” DeMarco said with a laugh.
“Yeah, we’ll see.”
Still laughing, DeMarco passed the blunt back to Money as his phone began to ring again. “Yo,” he said.
“Hey, DeMarco, it’s Tiff. Wassup, wit you?”
“Shit, wassup wit you?”
“I was just sittin here wonderin if you were comin through tonight.”
“Nah, I can’t. I got some shit I gotta take care of, but I’ma holla at you if plans change. A’ight?”
“A’ight, hopefully I’ll see you soon. Oh, before I go, my sister said wassup, and next time don’t look so shocked. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”
“Nah, tell her I said wassup and I wasn’t shocked, she just caught me by surprise, that’s all,” he said with a grin.
“A’ight, then, call me later,” Tiffany replied.
“I got you,” he said before hanging up and putting his phone down next to him. He picked up a Dutch and started cracking it down the middle. “Ayo, Money, what time is it?”
“Ten after seven,” Money replied, looking down at his phone.
Taking the blunt from Money, DeMarco was growing impatient. He was about to say fuck it and call Tiff back, when a black Honda Accord pulled up in front of the house.
“Who that?” Money asked, trying to see through the tinted windows.
“I don’t know.” DeMarco stood up to get a better view.
The driver’s-side door opened and Money’s jaw dropped. “Hell no!” he shouted as Jessica stepped out of the car.
DeMarco walked down the steps to meet her. He reached out and gave her a hug. “You’re lookin good,” he said, enjoying the view. She was dressed in a pair of tight jeans and a tank top that showed all of her curves. He was damn near drooling thinking about tapping that.
“You’re lookin good yourself,” she said, smiling.
Money cleared his throat.
“Oh, my fault. Jessica, I want you to meet my cousin Money.”
“How you doin, Money? I’ve seen you a couple times in the store, right?”
“Yeah, you did,” Money replied, excited that she remembered.
“A’ight then, cuz, I’ll holla at you later,” DeMarco said as he and Jessica walked back to her whip. Getting in, he looked over at Money and laughed as they pulled off.
As she maneuvered through traffic, DeMarco couldn’t help but stare. She looked much different than the average around-the-way girl. She was sexy, but not trashy.
“If you live all the way in Harlem, what you doin workin in Queens?” DeMarco asked.
“Well, my cousin used to work there,” she replied. “When I came up here from Georgia, I moved in with her and she got me the job.”
“So where are we headed?” DeMarco asked.
“I thought we could go uptown to Willie’s Burgers for somethin to eat,” she replied.
“That’s cool with me. I’m your prisoner until you drop me back off,” he said, making her laugh.
“You’re crazy.”
“Yeah, I’ve been told that a lot, but at least it’s crazy in a good way,” DeMarco said, still laughing.
* * *
After eating, they rode around the city for a while. Neither of them was ready to call it a night, so they sat parked outside his house and talked. Even though he wanted to bend her over, there was something about her that made him want to get to know her on a deeper level.
“So when we gonna do this again?” she asked.
“You call, I’ll come,” he said.
“You’re too much,” she chuckled.
“I know, but for real, whenever you get time, you got my number, and next time it’s on me,” DeMarco said.
“That’s a deal,” she smiled.
“A’ight, so let me let you go, so you won’t be all tired at work tomorrow,” he said, leaning over and giving her a hug.
“See you soon, crazy,” she said as he got out.
“Looking forward to it,” he replied.
As she pulled off, DeMarco looked at his phone and saw that he had seven missed calls. He checked the time of the last one—12:30 a.m.—and decided not to call back since it was already 1:15. Entering the house, he said hello to his Aunt V. and went to his room. Closing the door behind him, he kicked off his sneakers, jeans, and fell back onto the bed. Just as he was about to fall asleep, his pager went off, but he decided to ignore it.
* * *
His pager was blowing up again. He snatched it off the nightstand and looked at it. Damn, who the fuck is this? he thought, remembering the same number from the night before.
“Hello,” a female voice said after the third ring.
“Who dis? Somebody paged me from here?” DeMarco asked.
“Yeah, nigga, it’s your fucking cousin!” Steph yelled.
“Oh, wassup, cuz?”
“Don’t wassup me, nigga, where the hell you at?” she asked.
“At the house, why?”
“I need to see you now. We got a problem.”
“Where you at?” DeMarco asked.
“Just meet me at my house,” she said, and hung up.
DeMarco hurried up and got dressed, trying to figure out what the problem could be. All sorts of things were going through his mind. Twenty minutes later he was banging on her door.
“Boy, why you hammerin on my door like you the damn police?” she said as she let him in.
“You said we had a problem, so I’m anxious. What