Patterson Heights by Felicia Pride

Author:Felicia Pride
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kimani Press
Published: 2009-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

That night and every night I listened to hear Rashid’s voice. It was reason enough to look forward to living.

twenty-three

Spoiled Rotten

It was the second blunt Ricardo had rolled and smoked by himself. We were chilling in his apartment-sized bedroom. The joint had its own bathroom and Jacuzzi tub. Ricardo had his own level in the house. His peoples slept upstairs and hardly came down to his “kingdom” for fear of invading his personal space. Ricardo ran the household like he paid bills.

And what a household it was. His peoples were paid like some Beverly Hills cats. Their house was in the cut, by itself. You had to drive up this long-ass driveway to reach it. His house could have been on MTV Cribs and outshined tons of rappers’ homes. There were all these fancy paintings and expensive-looking furniture that you didn’t want to sit on. All around the house were pictures of Ricky and his parents—them happily smiling on beaches, at events where Ricky sported a tuxedo and in the snow in ski outfits. And his spot was clean. Like eat-off-the-floor clean. Ricky told me that a maid came every week to make sure it stayed that way.

I’ve only met his peoples twice. It seemed like they were never home. His father was some big-shot lawyer and his mother didn’t work, but she was busy like she had a job. They never ate dinner together like my family used to.

“I can’t believe you’ve never smoked before,” Ricardo said with a blunt hanging out of the side of his mouth. “I think you be fakin’. You ain’t from the city.”

“You act like every cat from the city gets high or something,” I shot back.

He and I had been hanging out at his house for a few hours. I liked being over there because I didn’t have to do nothin’. Plus there wasn’t any fighting. I felt like I could breathe even with all the marijuana smoke.

“Check this out,” Ricardo said in his cocky voice.

He opened the bottom drawer of his black leather dresser. It was stacked to the top with weed.

“I’m in business, man!” Ricardo shouted like he lived alone. He grabbed handfuls of the green and threw it in the air. He watched them scatter onto his plush tan carpet.

“Where did you cop it from?” I was curious.

“You know my man Boo.” Ricardo namedropped. I knew Ricardo talked too much from the moment we met. I was more or less testing Ricky’s gangster even though I didn’t think he had much.

“Where did you get the money to buy all this weed?” I asked in disbelief. Then I thought about how long it took Rashid and I to save the two G’s that was in our savings stash. Months.

“From my peoples,” Ricky said. He looked like he wanted to pat himself on the back. He put out the half-smoked blunt in his Bob Marley ashtray and threw the remainder over the dead legend’s face.

“Your parents gave you money to buy drugs?”

“Naw, they ain’t that cool.

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