The Diamond Syndicate

“Where you headed? Home?”

“Yeah, man.” Dante leaned against the metal fence that partially surrounded the building. “Why? What’s up?”

“Yo, kid, I heard some shit, and I wanted to put this bug in your ear.”

“What’s up, man?”

“Yo, I heard niggas be running up in your moms, man.”

“What?” Dante yelled, glaring at Trey.

“Yo, for real, man, chill.” Trey knew how Dante was when it came to his mother. “I’m saying that’s what the word is.”

“Where you hear that dumb shit?”

“Niggas talk, man, and I’m out this bitch, so I hear shit.”

“Man, fuck what niggas talking ’bout. I ain’t pressed for that shit!” Dante turned and walked away.

Trey followed him. “Yo, man, I know how you feel about that shit, but I’m your boy, and I’m saying, I thought you should know what niggas talking ’bout.”

“Whatever, Trey. You probably out here talking with them niggas too.”

“Naw, man, it ain’t like that. I know I be fucking around with you, talking ’bout your moms and all, but you know it ain’t really like that. I just be fucking with you.”

Dante walked up the stairs to his building, leaving Trey standing on the sidewalk. He walked into the house to confront his mother about what Trey had just told him, but she wasn’t there.

In all honesty, Trey had been thinking about taking a crack at Dante’s mother. He knew it wasn’t right, but if she was letting other niggas run up in her, then why not him? He had always dreamed about being between her thighs and believed that, if he got with her, it would be better than the average fuck. At least he would be keeping it all in the family.

Trey made his way back up the street to get with the crew when he saw Al-Malik coming up the street carrying a duffel bag. “What up, Malik?” Trey gave him some dap.

“What’s up?” Al-Malik asked. He looked exhausted.

“How was work, man?”

“I’m tired as hell.”

“Where you headed, kid? You live that way.” Trey pointed in the direction Al-Malik had just come from.

“Man, I went home, and all kinds of niggas is up in the crib. I can’t stay there tonight.” Al-Malik shook his head.

“So you just gonna go crash at Tae’s?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Come on, man, you can crash at my spot for the night,” Trey told him.

“You sure?”

“Word, man. Come on.” Trey led the way through the complex to his building.

Once inside, Al-Malik plopped down on the sofa. “Yo, man, when you get that?” He pointed to the big-screen television.

“Oh, I copped that joint last week.”

“Damn, man! You living large up in here.”

“Yeah, man, life is good right now.” Trey smiled.