woman finally buzzed off down the alley. When Wink turned around, there sat J-Bo in his yellow 924 Porsche, just sitting there, staring dead at him. Wink got to the end of the alley and tried not making direct eye contact with J-Bo, but he hit his horn.
“Com’ere, young dawg,” Ordered J-Bo with a wave.
The moment Wink had been waiting on had arrived sooner than he thought. He played it cool and walked over to the driver’s side.
“What you doin’ out here?” asked J-Bo.
“The same thing everybody else is out here doing, Try’na eat,” answered Wink.
J-Bo sorta liked the young nigga’s answer because he didn’t lie, but he didn’t like the fact that the young nigga didn’t show any signs of fear.
“You know who I am?” asked J-Bo.
“I’ve heard of you here and there. Why? What’s up?” asked Wink.
“Then you know this my block. This whole hood is mine’s, and everything in it.”
Again, Wink showed no sign of fear. This made J-Bo angry because he had put so much work in to keep every nigga in line, and now some youngin’ wasn’t recognizing his authority. The last thing he needed was for a renegade to sprout up. Next thing you know, everybody would be on renegade time, bucking J-Bo’s system to getting money.
J-Bo pulled over and got out. “I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he started, extending his hand for Wink’s. “What’s ya name?”
“Wink.”
“I’m J-Bo, as you may know. Don’t you stay down the street?”
“Yeah, across from Ms. Bowers.”
“I thought you looked familiar. Anyway, check this out, young dawg. I saw what you were doin’, and that shit can’t happen again.”
“What, me try’na get some money, or me sellin’ in the alley?”
“Both. Come on. Let’s walk down to the corner,” said J-Bo. They started walking, and he continued speaking. “You can’t be out here, especially not in the alley. That’s a sure way to bring the cops around here. There’s a reason why I got things centered in the middle of the block. What I just saw you doing is called short-stoppin’, and it can get you killed out here.”
“By who?”
J-Bo laughed, then stopped to face Wink. “Young dawg, when somebody kills you, the last thing you’re going to be worried about is who. Hopefully we understand each other that I won’t see you back out here on my block again.”
“J-Bo, with all due respect, I grew up on this block. Born and raised. How can you or any other nigga tell me I can’t get money out here?”
“I’m not tellin’ you. I’m warning you. Young dawg, I don’t know what you think this shit is out here, but it ain’t a game. What, you woke up this morning and just decided that you were going to sell drugs? It don’t work like that.”
“Then how does it work? Why don’t you teach me, because I’m gon’ get some of this money.”
J-Bo had to laugh. He held a smile while he looked Wink over. He reminded him so much of himself, thirsty and eager to learn the game. But just as fast as the smile appeared, it vanished. “You have to first learn the game before anything. Then once you do that, you have to stack yo’ own money. Then find you a spot you can call your own and get your own clientele. You see,” J-Bo said, raising his hands and spinning around in a circle. “You see, this is mine’s, and I will do what’s necessary to protect it. If you ever make it this far in the game, you’ll feel the same way, and only then will you understand.”
Wink soaked up every word. He’d never listened to any of his teachers at school as intently as he was listening to J-Bo. He couldn’t believe that he was actually standing there, having a face-to-face talk about the game with his idol.
“Let me see what you’re out here workin’,” said J-Bo.
Wink raced to the mailbox and came back with the last three rocks. He poured them into J-Bo’s palm for him to inspect.
“Where’d you get these from? They look like some of mine’s.”
“That’s like tellin’, ain’t it?” asked Wink.
“Sho’ is. I was just testin’ to see if you’d tell something. That’s the first rule of the game, No snitchin’.”
Wink nodded at this. He waited for further instructions, anything. As long as it was coming from his idol, it was good as gold.
“Come on and take a ride with me. I’ma take you up under my wing,” said J-Bo.
Wink damn near shouted; he was so excited. To be in J-Bo’s presence was enough, but to ride shotgun in his Porsche was some other shit. Every head on the block turned as J-Bo blew past with Wink shotgun.
“We’ll go downtown and cruise Belle Isle,” said J-Bo.
“That’s cool,” said Wink. He was hoping they’d bump into his crew so they could see him doing it big with J-Bo. Wink told himself that he could get used to this, and he was ready to put in whatever work he had to.
Chapter Two
Wink didn’t sleep the whole night. He stayed up thinking about all the fancy cars he would buy, all the pretty girls who’d throw themselves at his feet, and all the money, fame, and jewelry he’d have. J-Bo rode him around the night before, schooling him to little things, giving up the basics of the game, but nothing too serious. He told Wink he’d have to work, earn, and learn what all he wanted to know. It was called paying dues. He told him that the game was there, you just had to pay attention.
J-Bo had no plans on making things easy for Wink. He wanted to show him that it was more to the game than just fast cars and fast money. To be successful in the game, you had to be a thinker. The ability to think on your toes would be the deciding factor of whether you were going to be a boss or worker. You had to be a people person first and foremost because, you were going to be dealing with people from all walks of life. J-Bo told him just because a person smoked crack didn’t mean they were less of a man or woman. It just meant that they liked the high. You still had to treat them with respect.
He also said you had to be respected. Niggas had to know without a shadow of a doubt that you’d bust they wig if they played with you or your money. J-Bo told him the importance of growth, saving his money, and having lawyers’ fees put to the side. He gave him what he needed to know in order to survive, but Wink would have to earn the tools he needed in order to become the infamous drug lord he dreamed of.
He sat on the living room sofa, watching the hand of the clock mounted on the wall. Time wasn’t moving fast enough, and neither was his crew. He had called Trey, Willie, and Krazy over an hour ago, and still no show. Had he made mention about having some hood rats over, they would have flown their asses over like they did about the picnic.
Fuck it, though, Wink thought as he stood up. He wasn’t about to let nothing or no one stop him from getting what was his. J-Bo said he’d be by to pick him up so they could go check out one of his new crack houses on the Westside. He wanted Wink to help him open it.
“Where are you going this early on a Saturday?” Hope caught Wink on his way out the front door.
“Uh...”
“Don’t you lie to me, Wayne. I know it’s not no damn job interview, which is where you need to be carrying yo’self to.”
“I love you too, Ma,” Wink said, kissing his mom on the cheek. “I’ll be back. I’ma walk around to Trey’s.”
“I need you to help me around the house later, moving this furniture, so don’t stand me up,” said Hope, following Wink out on to the porch. She stood at the landing and watched her son walk down