The Downfall of a Hustler. G Money
be talkin’ ’bout the palm of your hand.” She laughed.
“Whatever you like it.”
“Sevyn, please. You think you all that.”
“Nope, I know I’m all that.”
Tracy blushed listening to the comment come out of Sevyn’s mouth. But she knew he was telling the truth.
“I think you need to start back writing books. I think you will make a great author one day.”
“Me too. Maybe I’ll give it some thought. Writing books takes times and dedication, something I don’t have right now. When I’m ready, I’ll get back to it.”
“Sevyn, you gatcha pistol with you?” The question caught Sevyn totally off guard.
“Yeah, why?”
“Because ever since you returned to the tent, those three guys leaning on that smoke gray Tahoe have been watching you and pointing over here.”
“Trust me, Tracy, them niggas don’t want these problems because I really hate to fuck up this cookout. Tracy, what are they doing now? They leaning up off the truck one by one.”
Sevyn reached under his shirt, clutching his 45-caliber pistol. They started heading Sevyn’s way. “Tracy, if they come any closer, Imma start squeezing out this bitch.”
As they approached the tent and got within feet of Tracy, Sevyn slid the safety off his pistol and pulled it out slow. The three dudes stopped in midstep and held up their hands. The slim Kat with the Tom Ford frames on spoke with the smoothest tone ever.
“Hold up, playboy. We come in peace. We just have a message for you. A message from my nigga Rich. He want you to holla at him.”
“Who is Rich? And why does he want me to come holla at him?”
“I guess he’ll let you know when y’all meet up. Rich does understand that time is money, and he doesn’t want to waste your time. Here’s $5,000 for your time. Here take this card. The address is on it.”
“Wait, 456 Fellwood Homes? That’s the projects.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“With all due respect, tell yo man Rich I’m not coming over there.”
Why not? It’s just the projects. I mean, you gotta pistol, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Fall through and stop being so scary tough guy.” He laughed. “We out.”
When the three men were out of sight, Sevyn just stood there, ashamed, knowing he just let Tracy see his true colors. Tracy burst out laughing.
“You scary li’l punk. Why you so scared to go to the projects? My fourteen-year-old son goes over to Fellwood Homes by his self all the time.”
Sevyn turned around and said, “Shut the hell up. Have you ever gone to Fellwood Homes project?”
“Yeah, boy, plenty of times. Sevyn, are you goin’ to the projects or what?”
“Yeah, I have no choice. I took the money, right?”
“Okay, good, because I’m ready to go shopping.”
“Excuse me?”
Tracy totally ignored Sevyn and kept talking. “I need new shoes, a bag, and that new iPhone.”
“Oh, really?”
“Hell yeah, really.”
“I like how you make plans with my money.”
“We a team, right?”
“I guess, Tracy.”
“Okay then, put me in the game, Coach,” she said.
The next day, Sevyn stepped out the house so fresh and so clean. Gucci from head to toe. He approached his S550 Benz. He spotted the young lady from the cookout riding by. He screamed, “Shawtyyy!” at the top of his lungs. She stopped and backed up. As she got near Sevyn, she brought her car to a complete stop, and the window rolled down.
“Is that how you get a woman’s attention?”
“No, not at all, but I had to scream so you wouldn’t get away from me. How are you doing? My name is Sevyn, but my best friend calls me Fresh.”
“Fresh!”
“Yeah, Fresh.”
“Why Fresh?”
“Because whenever she sees me, I’m always dressed in nothing but the best.”
“Your best friend is a female?”
“Yeah, her name is Tracy, but I call her Lady T.”
“Aww, how nice. You sure you’re not fucking your best friend? I know how those best friend situation be.”
“No, trust me, she is just my best friend.”
“Okay, I hear ya, Mr. Fresh.”
“I see somebody got jokes.”
“I do.”
“I like that.”
“Oh, you do?”
“Sure do. I like Sevyn better.”
“That what I’ll call you. My name is Tara.”
“Tara!”
“That’s right, the one and only.”
“That’s such a cute name.”
“Whatever! Don’t try and butter me up.”
“I’m tryna give you a compliment. I like the name Tara.”
“So, Fresh, I mean Sevyn,” she laughed, “is that your Benz?”
“Yes, ma’am. So, Ms. Hazel Eyes, I mean Tara, is that your Lexus?”
“I’m driving it, ain’t I?”
“That don’t mean nothing. People ride around showing off stunnin’ in other people car every day, sweetie.”
“Well, this is my car, and I’m not your sweetie.”
“You will be in due time.”
“Yeah, whatever!”
“Tara, what are you doing later, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Nothing much. I have no plans.”
“Okay. So is it cool if I get your number and hit ya later?”
“That’s cool.”
“Maybe we can go out and get a bite to eat and have a drink or two.”
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Yes, I am, Hazel Eyes.”
“Then a date it is.”
“How about 8:00 p.m.?”
“Sounds good to me. Hey, Sevyn, don’t have me waiting on you all night.”
“Trust me, I won’t, Hazel Eyes.”
Tara couldn’t help but start blushing, loving the new nickname Sevyn had given her. “All right, Sevyn, I’ll see you later.” Tara pulled off slow, and Sevyn just stood there smiling, thinking to himself, Damn, I’m the man.
Moments later, Sevyn jumped into his car and sped off, jamming to his favorite song by Master P, “Gangstas Need Love Too.” Sevyn had the prettiest Benz ever—peanut butter inside, twenty-two-inch Asanti rims with a candy wine berry burgundy to top it off. Sevyn had that candy looking good enough to eat. Sevyn started bobbin’ his head to the music. He switched lanes, making a left on to 37th Street to hit the highway. Sevyn