Larceny by Jason Poole

here. Somebody on the phone for you.”
    â€œWho is it?” Mal-Mal asked.
    â€œAnswer the phone and find out.”
    Mal-Mal came running to the phone and said, “Hello.”
    â€œMal-Mal, what’s up, youngin’?” I said to him.
    â€œHey, Uncle Jay. What’s up, man? I thought you was gonna bring me some fireworks and light ’em with me tonight.”
    â€œI’m still gonna do that, Mal-Mal. I’m on my way over there to drop the fireworks off to you.”
    â€œYou gonna stay, Uncle Jay?”
    â€œFor a little while. Then I gotta go do somethin’, but I’ma come back and light ’em up with you, though.”
    â€œA’ight, Uncle Jay.”
    â€œOkay, young soldier.”
    As I was driving to Twelfth and Wyle Northeast to go see Mal-Mal, I got a page from this little freak broad out in Bowie, Maryland that I was staying with at the time. I didn’t call her back right away, though.
    When I pulled up onto Wyle Street, Mal-Mal came running out of the house.
    â€œUncle Jay, Uncle Jay,” Mal-Mal said, running up to my car.
    â€œWhat’s up, youngin’?”
    â€œMan, Uncle Jay, this your car?”
    â€œYeah, that’s my joint.”
    â€œMan, this joint is tight! I bet it’s fast, ain’t it?”
    â€œYeah, it’s fast.”
    One of Mal-Mal’s little buddies came running outta Gloria’s house. He was there to see the fireworks. Mal-Mal was always bragging about his Uncle Jay so much that his buddies would be just as happy as he was to see me pull up, but this particular kid was a little too grown. He always felt he was in competition with Mal-Mal, so when he noticed that Mal-Mal was fascinated by my car, he felt the need to say something just to make him mad.
    â€œHey, Mal-Mal, that joint ain’t all that. My uncle got a Benz, and his joint is way tighter than that!” his friend said.
    â€œShut up, punk, ’fore I bust your nose again! That’s why you ain’t playing wit’ my fireworks,” Mal-Mal said to his friend.
    â€œSo? I don’t care.”
    â€œMe either, punk.”
    That shit was funny, seeing two youngin’s ready to wreck. If I wasn’t in such a hurry, I would have taken both of ’em around back and let ’em fight. I was almost certain Mal-Mal would whip his ass, because Mal-Mal was eleven years old now and big as a house. He was also bad as fuck.
    I kept getting pages from that broad out in Bowie, Maryland. This bitch was blowing my shit up with 911-911-911-911. She used to page me so much when I was out with other bitches that I ignored it when she put in 911 because most of the time, she’d just be trying to find out if I was with another bitch or not. Damn, she was getting on my nerves, but at the present time, I needed her. She had a nice apartment in Bowie, which was twenty minutes away from the city, and she had a nice job working for the Department of Labor, so I needed her credit.
    She was the one who co-signed for the 300ZX, and when I got my bank right, she was gonna sign for a Mercedes 300CE for me. Plus, she was a stone freak in bed. She loved sucking my dick, and I loved it too. One thing about her I didn’t like was that she was a Bamma-ass broad. She talked loud, she couldn’t dress, and she wore cheap shit. Even when I’d try and buy her some fly shit, she still looked fucked up in it. She couldn’t even rock it right. To add to all this, she had a two-year-old daughter by some punk-ass nigga that used to beat her ass.
    As I looked down at my pager while Mal-Mal was still arguing with his buddy, I figured I’d use Gloria’s phone to call her back. As soon as I entered through the front door, I could tell that Gloria was in a rush. She was running back and forth from the bathroom to the living room, as if she was in a hurry to go somewhere. She was fixing her hair and ironing her clothes at the same