Prince of the City by Jason Poole Page B

the driver’s seat.
    â€œBye. And don’t forget to tell Connie to call me,” Linda yelled out before getting back in the passenger seat.
    Michael jumped into his freshly cleaned Jaguar and drove up to Wahler Place to pick up Gerald, a youngin’ from Simple City who was in Mike’s crew down Lorton. He had just come home, so Michael made Gerald his top lieutenant. Gerald was loyal and dependable. He handled everything from packages to murder.
    As Mike pulled up, everybody stopped to speak to him.
    â€œMy muthafuckin’ man, smooth-ass Mike P.”
    â€œWhat’s up, Fats?”
    â€œAin’t shit. Out here tryna make that money,” he said while making a transaction.
    Michael looked up and down the street, making sure Fats was safe while doing business. “Is everything cool?” he asked.
    â€œYeah, except the fact y’all pushed up the prices on a nigga,” he said with his hands in the air.
    â€œWhat are you talking ’bout?” Mike asked. For all he knew, their prices never changed.
    â€œMan, Sam came through here earlier talking ’bout I owe him a thousand dollars ’cause the prices went up. Shit, man, it ain’t even a drought.”
    Mike paused. “I know, Fats. Don’t worry about it. You can keep paying your regular price. I’ll talk to Sam.”
    â€œThanks, Mike. You a good nigga. I wanna be just like you when I grow up.”
    â€œYou’re older than me, remember?” He chuckled and shook his head in amusement.
    â€œOh, that’s right. Never mind me. You know I be trippin’ sometimes.”
    Michael smiled, and then continued to walk down the alley where Gerald set up shop.
    Gerald emerged from the alley with gun in hand and shouted, “So what? Nigga, you getting bored with sitting on top collecting all that money? You wanna come back on the strip to see if you still can slang?” He was happy and honored that the man he looked up to as a father figure would come all the way down to the strip just to check on him.
    â€œNah, I came to pick you up. I wanna talk to you for a minute.”
    â€œIt ain’t about my car. Is it, Mike?” Gerald was afraid that his mentor wouldn’t approve of him buying a lavish gift.
    â€œWhat car?”
    â€œMy new car. Sam ain’t tell you?”
    â€œNah, I haven’t seen Sam in two days,” Mike replied, looking confused.
    â€œOh well, I couldn’t wait. The joint was so pretty that I had to get it.”
    â€œWell, where’s it at? Can I see it?”
    â€œCome around back.”
    For the first time, Michael was happy to see that Gerald had gotten something he liked. He purchased a candy apple red, turbo Nissan 300ZX.
    â€œThis joint is fast. Get in and see,” Gerald said.
    â€œHow much did you pay for this?” Mike asked as they took a drive up to the Starr carryout on Wheeler Road.
    â€œThirty thou’.”
    â€œThat’s cool. I thought these joints were more than that. Man, I hope you still got something nice put up. I hate to see niggas buy cars then end up broke ‘cause they spent their last.”
    â€œI still got a hundred forty thousand in the stash. I got a good deal at a dealer auction. ”
    â€œThat’s good. I’m glad you’re taking my advice about hustling.”
    â€œYou know we go a long way back, and whatever advice you give a nigga it’s always in his best interest.” Gerald dipped in and out of traffic as they continued to talk.
    â€œHey Gerald, tell me something. What do you want out this game?” Michael asked. He had bigger plans for Gerald and wanted to make sure he was able to handle the new responsibility.
    â€œFor real, I’m cool with five hundred thousand. I can do a lot with that. Remember, we’re from Southeast, and we’re used to having nothing. So when we finally get it, we live how we want.”
    â€œYeah, I hear you, but I got an