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“Aye, man. You going to pay for that?”
“Rule number four, stop checking my pockets. Consider this payment for the game I just gave you.”
By the time Trent made his way back to the whip, I was working on opening the Jolly Rancher wrappers. When he slid in, I scooted my stockpile over to give him room.
“Really, nigga?”
Shrugging, I reversed out of the parking lot, bobbing my head to the beat that 21 Savage was spitting on. I gripped the wheel, popping a piece of candy into my mouth. With my brain buzzing with thoughts, I zoned out and increased my speed to get Trent to his destination.
“Aye,” Trent interrupted after a few minutes.
“What, nigga?”
“You good? You quiet as shit over there.”
“Yeah. I’m good. Just high as fuck right now.”
“Is that why you went on a shopping spree in the store back there?” He laughed.
“That and this long ass flight.”
“Flight? You headed out?”
“Yeah.”
“Since when, nigga?”
“Since about fifteen minutes ago.”
“With ya people?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah? Is that all you can say?”
Tossing my head back in laughter, I shrugged. “I told you I’m high. Fuck you want to hold hands and have a conversation for right now?”
“I don’t. Just trying to see what’s going on in that big ass head of yours. You be shutting down suddenly and shit. I’m trying to make sure you’re good.”
I appreciated Trent. The nigga kept my head above water many days. However, this wasn’t one of those days.
“I’m good. I promise, dog.”
“All right. You better be.”
“You check on me, then threaten me? Trent, I’ll shoot the shit out of you, then drop your ass off at the hospital.”
“Damn, you not gon’ stay?”
“Nah. I hate seeing niggas in them little gowns with they ass out. Shit trifling.”
“Nigga, is that all you think about when niggas in there hurting?”
“Yeah. That’s why you won’t catch me visiting niggas in the hospital.”
“They should’ve never let you leave the building as a baby. You have some missing screws.”
“Get out of my shit,” I instructed as I pulled up beside his car.
