Gets No Love by Eric Pete

Author:Eric Pete
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Romance, Rap musicians, Male friendship, Romance: Modern, New Orleans (La.), Bildungsromans, Contemporary, Fiction, Fiction - General, Rejection (Psychology), Romance - General, General, Love stories
ISBN: 9780451213242
Publisher: New American Library
Published: 2004-12-06T06:00:00+00:00

27

“I’m getting tireda takin’ yo money, boy.” His smile was god-awful and made me grimace every time he flashed it.

“The game’s not over, man.”

“That’s the same thing you said three rounds ago. Why don’t you jus’ quit? Some people waitin’ that gonna give me a challenge.” He was right. As much as I didn’t want to admit it and give up to the gold-toothed, dried Jheri Curl–wearing hustler, he was right. Maybe my subconscious had brought me to The Hole after work this Friday. Hell, it was still early as the sun had just gone down and I was already out a C-note.

At the bar were the same tricks who had tried to take my life over Kyne last time I was here. They were now all smiles and trying to buy me drinks ’n shit, which I politely refused. I wasn’t about riding Akhet’s coattails.

Speaking of Mr. AK, I hadn’t talked to him or Kyne in weeks and was trying to gain a sense of normalcy of some sort. I had remembered the phone ringing late one night awakening me from a decent slumber. It rang only twice. I let it stop and didn’t pick up. I knew it had to have been Akhet having one of his bad dreams again. He didn’t call back either. The funny thing was that I stayed up the rest of the night watching the phone, but still being too stubborn to call him back.

“Are you gonna take yo shot or just look at the ball, boy?”

“I’m going to take the shot . . . and your money,” I replied smugly. This had been the closest game of the night and I had a chance to win. I drew back and struck the white ball, driving it into the green ball with a loud clack. It bounced around before rolling straight for the corner pocket . . . and coming to rest right on the edge. I stared in disbelief and prayed for a large truck to drive by outside to jar the ball and change my fortune, but my luck was running true.

“Ha!” he laughed as he drove the eight ball home and sealed my fate. “Go home, son!”

I started to protest and try to talk trash, but my game was unusually lousy and spoke for itself. A guy that looked too young to even be in the joint was already rushing up to take my place at the pool table, so I paid up my money and moved on. “Use the money on a hairstyle from the last ten years . . . at least,” I said as I got a jab in on the “Soul Glow Man.”

I sat at the bar as far away as possible from my two newfound friends and ordered a Hennessy and Coke. People from the neighborhood were starting to file in as the seafood buffet was being set up in the corner. Drinks were two-for-one so I drank on as the music went from the

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