Cash Rules by Wavy Davey

Author:Wavy Davey [Davey, Wavy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, United States, African American, Urban, Genre Fiction
Amazon: B00NLN2E84
Publisher: Street Lyfe Publishing
Published: 2014-09-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

One game turned into six. I had dozed off after watching the third. My nap was terminated by the sound of my phone. It was one a.m. by the time we left, and Dessi had lost sixty dollars.

“A’ight, Juanito,” I said, walking out the door behind Dessi.

“A’ight y’all,” he said. “Y’all niggas be safe out there! Love y’all!”

“Love you, too!” Dessi and I both said, looking at each other in confusion. That was kinda odd, even for Juan. He’d never said that before. I mean we all loved each other, no doubt about it; we were cousins, but none of us was ever vocal about it.

“You goin on da block?” I asked Dessi once we were back in the car.

“Yeah, I got da Beemer parked up da way from da buildin.”

I headed down the hill. I figured I’d take Queen City Avenue all the way over the bridge; it led right to the block.

“Stop at da Dairy, cuz; I need some wraps!”

The Dairy was a local convenience store/gas station, sort of like 7-11. It was actually named United Dairy Farmers, but all the locals called it either ‘the Dairy’ or ‘UDF’.

I pulled into the parking lot of the Dairy, pulling right up to the double doors in front of the joint so Dessi didn’t have far to walk. There were a couple of bitches standing in line, and they were looking hard in our direction. I knew Dessi was gon bag one of ’em; that nigga stayed on hoes! I was just hoping he didn’t bag the real thick one; I wanted that one.

A raggedy-ass Ford Expedition truck pulled up on my passenger side and parked next to me just as Dessi was going in. To my surprise, Dessi passed the bitches up and headed to the back of the store where the coolers were. I rolled down my window ’cause the bitches were coming out.

“Wassup, shorty?” I said to the thick one.

“Shit wassup witchu, bae?”

‘Hood bitch!’ I thought. I hated ghetto-ass bitches. I liked classy, conservative, school-type bitches. I was too hood myself to be with a bitch like me. I needed credentials; hood bitches didn’t have any. I knew this hoe was a hood bitch though ’cause she called me ‘bae’ out the gate! Only hood bitches did that shit, and I couldn’t stand it. Shorty was too thick to pass up though. I had to hit that fat ass at least once; fuck that!

“Tryna fuck witchu!” I told her. “What’s yo number?”

Shorty stepped to my window, leaned in and looked around, scanning the interior on some nosey shit, then gave me her number. I asked her the basic questions I asked every bitch, making idle chit chat until Dessi came back out. You know: Where you stay? Where yo dude? You got kids? You go out? That type shit.

Shorty checked my whereabouts as well. “So you from da wes’side?” she asked, looking over the top of the car as she pulled her pants up over all that ass.

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