Push Comes to Shove Read Online Free Page B

house and get us something to drink.”
    “I ain’t; you go.”
    Secret nudged him. “Scaredy-cat, you’re too old to be afraid of the dark.”
    “I’m not thirsty. Go get your own drink.”
    “Chicken.”
    “You must be scared yourself.”
    She smirked. “No, I’m not.”
    “Go get something to drink, then, with your ugly—”
    Kitchie pointed to the light pole while coming up the driveway. “What did I tell y’all hardheaded butts about being outside when them street lights are on?”
    “It’s lighter out here than it is in there.” Secret aimed a thumb toward the house.
    Junior skipped to Kitchie. “Something’s wrong with the lights. They broke, Ma.”
    Kitchie sat the duffle bag down, looked at the dark interior of their home, and began to cry.

    GP climbed a steep hill that led to Cliffview Apartments. He never understood why they were called apartments when they ranked as no more than drug-infested projects.
    He went into the building and held his breath to avoid inhaling the thick cocaine smoke as he passed a group of addicts smoking crack on the stairwell. He reached the third floor and pound on his best friend’s door.
    “Don’t be banging on my shit unless you’re in a hurry to get fucked up.” The metal door squealed as Jewels yanked it open. “Oh, what’s up, homeboy? I thought you were somebody coming to borrow some shit. A motherfucker asked me to borrow my dustpan yesterday.”
    Their fists touched in a greeting manner.
    “I did come bumming.”
    Jewels turned away from the door. “You don’t count.”
    She wore brush waves and dressed better than any man GP had ever known. Beneath today’s expensive urban wear was an average-looking woman. She was built like Serena Williams but much stronger.
    She lay back on the weight bench and pumped 225 pounds effortlessly. “I didn’t hear that raggedy-ass car of yours pull in the lot doing the beat box.” She racked the iron after ten reps.
    “You got jokes. It broke down yesterday. I went to check on it before I came here, but it was gone.” GP plopped down on thedesigner couch in front of a McFadden and Whitehead album cover littered with marijuana.
    Jewels sat up and stuffed a rolling paper with marijuana while looking at him from the corner of her gray eyes.
    He shrugged. “I had to leave it in Chang’s Chinese Food parking lot. Ignorant-ass Chang said it sat there too long, called my bucket an eyesore. Fake chink could’ve left my ride alone, you know?”
    Jewels nodded and put a flame to the joint.
    GP kicked a foot up on the coffee table. “He had it towed. Damn thing ain’t worth more than it’ll cost to get it out the impound and fixed.”
    “That’s fucked up. Anything is better than footing it…unless you enjoy a good walk.” She passed GP the joint. “Chang do got more Black in him than me and you, fronting like he grew up in China.”
    “Rent-A-Center stuck me up yesterday. I got five days to pay the bank or the foreclosure is final.” He choked on the smoke, then released it. “And the list goes on. Junior wants a bike—which he deserves. Secret needs, and wants, new clothes to keep up with the Joneses. She’s a good kid, too.”
    “You need some money, homeboy. It’s cool to have big dreams and shit.” She tugged at his Street Prophet shirt. “But you got a good wife and kids, too. They don’t deserve to get dragged through a mud puddle while you chase your rainbow.” She averted her gaze to her kickboxing trophies lining the top of the entertainment center. “It’s not about you no more, GP. You need to come up or do something to start contributing to your social security. Do your cartoons on the side. Fool, you ain’t young no more; you got real responsibilities.”
    “Twenty-seven ain’t old.”
    “It’s too old to be dead broke.” She pointed the remote at the flat screen. “You lucky I ain’t never been on dick. If I had been the one to give you some pussy, for real, I’d do something