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“Yeah, a’ight, soldier, that’s what got your ass in that position you in now, being a soldier. Soldiers can die too, nigga.” Dante smiled.
Trey laughed. “But I’m one of the real soldiers.”
“Yeah, OK, you keep thinking that.”
They both sat there in awkward silence.
“But seriously,” Dante said, “me and Malik got us a little job down at the Extra Supermarket.”
“Doing what?”
“We bagging groceries and sweeping.”
“Baggin’ groceries?” Trey frowned. “Yo, that ain’t no real job.”
“Whatchu mean, that ain’t no real job? We get paid with real cash, nigga.”
“Yo, for real.” Trey laughed. “I need to make some real paper.”
D
ante looked at Trey in disbelief. After all that had happened, Trey still wanted to hustle.
“Are you shitting me, man?” a shocked Dante asked. “Are you gonna lie there and tell me you still wanna bang, and niggas just got finished putting a bullet in your shoulder?”
Trey never said a word. He simply looked at Dante without blinking.
Dante took that as his answer, and the wheels in his brain began to turn. He was already trying to figure out a way to keep his friend off the corner.
“What about what we said, Trey?”
Trey switched his eyes to the television.
“You remember, right?” Dante persisted.
“Yeah, I remember, man. Stop sweatin’ me.”
Trey was quickly becoming irritated. Ever since he’d been home, he’d had to listen to his mother bitch about how getting shot was his fault, and now he couldn’t help her with his younger siblings. Now he was lying there in his bed and his best friend was bending his ear back, bitching and complaining about him selling drugs.
Trey needed to do something—anything—to get out of the hellhole his mother called home. He wanted nothing more in the world than to make his own way and get his own place away from her. Also, unbeknownst to Dante, Trey wanted revenge. As soon as he got well, he was gonna try to find the cats who’d shot him.
The two boys sat in silence in front of the TV, not really watching it. They seemed to be off somewhere else in their own minds.
The bedroom door burst open and hit the wall behind it with force, jerking Trey and Dante from their trances. In came Trey’s six-year-old brother, Evan, who shared the room with him. He slammed the door.
“What the fuck, man! Why you busting up in here like that?” Trey screamed.
“Shut up!” Evan said as he sat on the bottom bunk of his bed.
“Yo, man, get the fuck out!” Trey yelled.
“No! This is my room too!” Evan yelled back. “You get out!”
Trey grabbed one of the many pillows surrounding him and hurled it at Evan.
“Ha-yah!” Evan yelled as he jumped to his feet and blocked it with a karate kick and stood in a karate stance.
Trey yelled, “Get the fuck outta the room!” and reached for another pillow to throw at his little brother, but pain shot through his shoulder. He grimaced and held it, rocking back and forth.
