Philadelphia by Treasure Hernandez

you?” the boy asked.
    â€œYou are fine, young one. I just need Phareed.”
    â€œA’ight. I hear you. Give me fifty and I’ll tell you where you can find that nigga.”
    â€œYou want fifty dollars?” Billie sounded incredulous.
    The boy just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
    â€œFine.” She reached in her purse and produced fifty dollars.
    The boy snatched it from her and counted it before putting it in his pocket.
    â€œFuck you, bitch. Get the fuck out my block.” He pushed away from the car and walked back to his boys. They greeted each other with ritualistic hand slaps and laughed as the young boy told them what he did to Billie.
    She sat steaming in the car as she watched them laughing at her expense. It took all of her control not to jump out and go after the boy. Figuring at least one of the boys had a gun, she thought better and just mean mugged them from her car.
    Seeing Billie still on the block, the boy yelled out, “What I say? Leave, bitch.” He pulled up his shirt to expose the gun in his waistband.
    Seeing that she was correct about the gun, Billie put the car in drive and got the fuck out of there.
    â€œFuck!” She slammed her hands on the steering wheel. She needed a different approach if she was going to get any information about Phareed from any of his workers.
    She drove until she found another group of corner boys, and just like the previous time she pulled right up to them. One of them came over immediately and leaned in her window. “What you need?”
    â€œI need some information.”
    â€œI don’t sell no information, pig.” He walked back to his position on the corner.
    Shit. He thought I was a cop . Another wasted effort. How was she going to get these young bucks to tell her what she needed? She drove off in search of another corner boy. As she drove the dirty streets, she brainstormed how she was going to get any of these kids to talk. All afternoon, she rolled through the poverty-stricken neighborhoods and watched the action on the sidewalks—groups of men gathering in front of buildings telling grand stories that were only partly true, women walking to the bodegas carrying a child in one arm and dragging their older sibling with the other. This was the life that Billie had grown up with. She was familiar with these scenes. She loved her city, but she hated most of its residents. She turned up the music in her car to drown out the neighborhood noises until she could find what she was looking for.
    She pulled down a rather deserted street except for some women loitering near the middle of the block. As she drove past, she saw that they were prostitutes waiting for a john. An idea popped into her head.
    The next dope boys she found, she again pulled right up to them. Like clockwork, the minute the car stopped a boy approached. Billie thought that they seemed like trained dogs responding to a whistle.
    â€œWhat you need?” This boy seemed a little older than the others she had run into. Billie guessed him to be around nineteen years old.
    â€œI need your help. I need you to act like my pimp.”
    â€œWhat the fuck? You serious?” The boy chuckled.
    â€œSome guy I fucked a few days ago is harassing me. I want nothing to do with this buster, so I told him my pimp won’t let me see anyone. I need you to stand in as my pimp.”
    â€œYou ain’t dressed like no ho.” He said with some caution in his voice.
    â€œI’m high end. I’m not some streetwalking bitch.”
    The boy smiled. “Yeah, I like that. Whatever you need, ma.”
    â€œGood. Get in.”
    â€œHold on, ma. What’s in it for me?” He ogled Billie.
    â€œI’ll give you fifty dollars.”
    â€œMake it a hundred.”
    She eyed him for a moment, wary after having just been ripped off. Then, realizing she had little choice, she snapped open her purse and dug out the bills. “Fine.