Show and Prove Read Online Free Page B

ears. “You’re good.”
    “I know.” Then I spot the flyer with the opportunity of a lifetime. There’s a battle at the Roxy—on my birthday no less—judged by none other than Hazardiss of the Rock Steady Crew. A lot of times when I’m dancing, I fantasize about confronting him at a concert at the Bronx River Center. When Afrika Bambaataa spins “Planet Rock,” I challenge Haz to a battle, busting my freshest moves and dusting that toy. So impressed with my skills, Rock Steady asks me to join them, and then I’d be off to the next Rap City Tour, traveling to England and France with new homies Fab 5 Freddy and Ramellzee. But this is better than any fantasy. I’ll go down to the Roxy and, after taking out all the other suckers, call out the judge for everybody to see. No better way to spend my birthday—going back to the place to be and staking my claim to fame. The only thing I need to bring is a fly routine, some friends, and a fly girl. I grab the flyer, fold it and stick it in my back pocket.
    “Look at what the cat done drag in.” Junior’s ace coom boom Booby and his tail Pooh diddy-bop through the door. “More like drag out, ’cause he’s been dodgin’ a nigga.”
    “I ain’t dodgin’ nobody.” I look around for Moncho, who finished my cut and broke out somewhere while I was lost in my daydream. I whip off the apron, pop my cap on my head, and consider breaking out, even though I haven’t paid him. He knows I’m good for it, and I can get that magazine anytime.
    “He’s only messin’ with you, Nike,” says Pooh, punching me hard in the shoulder. The pain shoots up my neck, but I keep a straight face. “What’s up?”
    “Nothin’ much.” I don’t trust Pooh, but best to play the role. “You still messin’ with that girl on Willis?”
    “Nah, man, that crab quit me, and guess who for.” Booby laughs and throws himself into a barber chair like it’s his couch at home. “That who-ah dumped me for Junior.” He waits for me to comment on that, but I know better. “Not for nothing, he’s my homeboy and all, but you know how he be acting like he Big Bank Hank or something.” True as that is, I’ll be damned if I’m gonna agree so he can run tell Junior,
Nike was poppin’ shit behind ya back.
Then Pooh asks, “Yo, your homegirl—the Rican chick with the braids—she got a man?”
    “Cookie?” I get hot and don’t even know why because I ain’t even down with her like that no more. “Ask me if I care.”
    “Yo, Javi was like, ‘Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina in the mooornin’,’ ” sings Pooh. Booby cackles, and for a moment I’d like to slug ’em both. I don’t want to think of Cookie like that, but she’s not my sister, and I told her back then Javi was no good. She ain’t listen, and I’ve got enough problems.
    Moncho finally comes back from his office, magazine in hand. “Willie, where you going?”
    “He was trying to skip outta here without paying you, but I stopped his ass,” says Booby.
    “Yo, stop playing, man,” I pretend to joke. I want to say,
Quit instigatin’,
but you don’t play a Barbarian close like that, even if he’s lying like a rug. “Here you go, Moncho,” I say as I hold out the cash. He accepts it with one hand while offering me the magazine with the other. I grab it and hightail it out of there.
    I’m three steps out the barbershop when Pooh’s right on my heels singing “Beat it, beat it…” He’s scrawny as he is klutzy, so I can take him in a fair fight, but what’s to stop Booby from jumping in? I double up and look over my shoulder. Pooh’s on the pay phone, and I know what time it is. Junior and the rest of the Barbarians will be waiting for me in front of my building if I go straight home.
    I take the long way, past JD’s store, and he waves me inside. Even though I’ve got no money, I can’t resist—he always has the freshest gear. Those Sergio Valentes that JD has in the window would look so