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“Why you ask?”
Black Justice asked, “How you know him?”
“From the fuckin’ streets! What the fuck is all these questions for, my dude?”
Black Justice cocked a half smile, and then he asked Jasmine and Jimmy if they wanted anything to eat.
Jimmy said, “Nah, let’s just talk business,”
“Jimmy about that bread! My muthafuckin’ man.” Black Justice stood up, took the remaining scraps of food on his plate over to the dogs, and spilled it into their food bowls. “So what kind of whip Joey pushing now?”
Jasmine was feeling very uncomfortable. She finished the weed and dropped the last of the blunt on the basement floor and stepped on it.
“Joey always switching up cars. The last thing I think he was pushing was a white Range Rover.”
Black Justice nodded. “And what about you? I see you got the seven sixty parked outside. What else you got?”
Jimmy and Jasmine both were surprised that Black Justice knew what kind of car they had pulled up in because they hadn’t even parked directly in front of the restaurant, and it wasn’t like Black Justice or anyone else for that matter had ever seen Jimmy driving around New York.
Jimmy was starting to wonder if Joey Six-Pack and Black Justice had spoken. And with Jimmy not fully knowing Joey Six-Pack’s credibility, he wasn’t sure what to make of Black Justice’s questions.
“I got the NSX. But my main toy is my muthafuckin’ sixty-foot Viking Sport Cruiser. Y’all New York niggas ain’t up on that shit.”
Jasmine had no idea what the hell Jimmy was talking about.
Black Justice looked at Poppy, and he got no response from him.
“The fuck is that?”
“That’s my yacht. You need to come down to North Carolina, and we can party on that shit. Bring some New York bitches wit’chu, and trust me when I tell you them bitches will be taking off their panties as soon as they step on that muthafucka.”
“Ahhhh shit! Okay. Fuckin’ yachts and shit. That’s what’s up. What that cost you?”
“Seven figures brand-new.”
Black Justice sat back down at his desk. He went into the top drawer and pulled out what looked like a pound of weed and sat it down on top of the desk.
“A’ight, so Jasmine said you lookin’ for nine kilos.”
Jimmy nodded his head. “Nine, maybe more, depends on what price we talking.”
“Thirty-five.”
“Thirty-five? I got niggas that can beat that.”
“The fuck outta here. Ain’t nobody beating that price for fish scale.”
Jimmy ran his hand across his face. “Do it for thirty.”
“You saying you got muthafuckas that’ll sell you a kilo for thirty? You full of shit.”
Jasmine was getting nervous because she had no idea where Jimmy was going with everything. She couldn’t understand why he was haggling like he was at a fucking flea market or something.
“So you got the cash?”
“I wouldn’t waste your time.”
Black Justice went inside his top drawer once again and this time he pulled out a vanilla Dutch Masters cigar in a plastic clear wrapper and tossed it to Jimmy. He then pushed the bag of weed across the desk toward Jimmy.
