Backstage: Street Chronicles Read Online Free

an upset by asking him how much. I reached in my black leather Burberry and tossed him a thousand dollars still in the rubber band. Straight dope money. Straight slow motion. It went in the air; everybody looked at it in awe as if Venus and Serena were center court at Wimbledon. He caught it and I looked around for any other homies who needed a stack. I just wanted to toss another stack for the hell of it ‘cause I could.
    A table full of girls were popping bottles like they had that work. Let me find out. I chuckled when I saw my sister was among them. Cubby wasn’t really my sister but we grew up together, so you know how that goes. We shared everything but the same umbilicalcord. Although we busy doing what we do, it never mattered how much time passed since we last talked, when we did see each other it was just like we saw each other yesterday.
    She don’t sell a lick of dope. Credit cards were her hustle. She popping and they scanning that card like it’s a platinum with no limit. I knew she was working them, though, and switching cards like the hoes switching their ass in here.
    I peeped her going big by sending some dude a bottle. His table looked like he didn’t need another one. When he smiled and tapped his homie to tell him, I knew she had a victim. If only he knew that one bottle was bait. My sister going to work you. Ole boy wasn’t from around here, country-ass Murfreesboro, Tennessee, and it was obvious. Everybody who’s somebody knows you, and I’m that somebody, and never seen him a day in my life. A big boogly bear fucker. Only thing worth discussing on him was his ice. His ice outweighed the bad.
    Cubby threw her hands in the air so that I would come to her table. She stood up and hugged me. She introduced me to the nobodies. I wouldn’t remember a damn name. Who are you? She motioned for the waiter to come our way while her other arm never left my neck. She started pointing the hand around my neck down on me like the man right chea.
    She grabbed her bottle of Moët rosé and hit it and then put it to my mouth. I tilted my head back. We never stopped swaying to the music. The waitress approached us and instead of her stopping what we had going on she just held up her bottle. She knew what it was.
    The victim had hoodrats who flooded his table shaking their asses, ready to give up the bootie hole, meaning anything goes. However, how could he pay them attention when we shaking it? They say the economy down. You couldn’t tell looking at the atmosphere in here. Fuck what Bush was talking about!
    Cubby and the victim, Wes, exchanged numbers and I knew it was just the beginning of something beautiful, especially if hehad that work. Everybody claiming it’s a drought. Now that the song was gone off I looked around at the familiar faces. Yeah they down!
    All of these non-voting drug dealers that couldn’t find no dope all of a sudden were into politics real heavy. “It’s an election year. There’s a war in Mexico,” was the excuse for the drought. They had all the inside information like they had a chair in the Senate. The price had skyrocketed to twenty-four thousand a key. That’s high to someone who buys weight. Listen to me when I tell you ain’t nobody got no dope here for no damn ten a key! I’m used to paying nineteen or twenty thousand a key. The more bricks you purchase the more love is shown. It’s somewhat like a wholesale market. With the ticket being as high as it was, the others that were not into politics sat back on the porch and complained like a hot sunny day: “I ain’t never seen it like this.” Meanwhile they steady spending and not making nothing. Do the math.
    I called myself a different breed, a real hustler. Due to my circumstances (on bond), I had ballz bigger than some of these nig-gas round here. I will raise the price just a little so they will feel where I’m coming from. I will cut the dope to make up the difference and retrieve the same profit cause it’s