“Soon, Devon. Not until things cool down.”
“If shit get any cooler, I’m gonna have frostbite. Ya feel me? Shit, my pockets is low, Kip. I need to eat again.”
“And we will, D. I’m ’bout to look into something.”
“Like what?”
“Something. You know how this goes—We don’t rush into anything if it doesn’t feel right. We stay cool and alert, and most important, we stay patient. We get antsy, we get stupid and sloppy, then we get caught or worse. And you already know what that worse is.”
“Yo, we already know where there’s enough money and shit around to set us up for a lifetime, my nigga. We just need the balls to go take that shit, yo.” Devon clapped his hands together gleefully to make his point.
Kip already knew who he was implying. He was absolutely against it. Maserati Meek was too powerful for them to try and rob. He had an army behind him with guns that the streets had never seen before. And he was smart, crazy, and eccentric. Trying to rob him was like trying to rob Fort Knox; it was damn near impossible.
“It ain’t happening, D,” Kip said.
Devon frowned. He wanted to make it happen, with or without Kip.
“That’s suicide, nigga. We don’t shit where we eat. We stay smart wit’ our shit.”
Kip knew that Devon was right about one thing—they needed to get back to work. His bills were starting to come in, and the rent needed to be paid, his and Nana’s.
Devon took one last pull from the cigarette in his mouth and flicked it away. He was displeased with the conversation, but Kip was the boss and knew best. Devon pivoted from his friend and walked off, refusing to rejoin the party happening inside the lobby.
Kip kept his eyes on Devon until he could no longer see him. Lately, he had been worried about his friend. Though Kip wanted Devon to stay in Queens longer with his cousin, Devon couldn’t take the quietness and the boredom of the borough any longer. He had packed his things and returned to Harlem against Kip’s wishes.
Kip stepped into the lobby. The music was loud, louder than before. The dice game near the stairway was in full effect, and the ladies were flirting with the men, drinking alcohol from red cups, and everyone was having a good time all around. Kip looked around for Eshon and spotted her talking with Brandy.
He went toward them, looked at Eshon, and said, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
She grinned. Of course, he could. She nodded. She stepped away from Brandy and followed Kip down the hallway, where they could chat in private. Any time alone with Kip was a good time for her.
“What’s up? What you wanted to talk about?” she asked, feeling slightly giddy from the alcohol she’d consumed.
“We need to get back to work,” he said.
“Huh?” Now she was confused. She thought he meant he wanted to talk about them—their relationship. Last week was fun. She wanted to repeat it with him.
“Look, money is gettin’ tight, and we need another score,” he said.
“Oh,” she murmured dejectedly.
“Find your girl, Jessica, and y’all start keepin’ ya eyes and ears open for drug dealers. Find out where they keep their stash houses, get close to a nigga. You know the routine, Eshon.”
“I do,” she said.
“I wanna get us paid again.”
“I’m on it, Kip.”
“Good.”
He was ready to leave, but Eshon stopped him. “You wanna go up to your place and chill? I mean, fuck? I missed you.”
No other man would pass up the chance to lie down with Eshon and spread her legs, but Kip had other things on his mind.
“Next time,” he said aloofly and walked away.
Eshon stood there feeling disappointed. She really wanted some dick tonight, but Kip put her and her needs second. It was a crushing feeling. She no longer wanted to stay at the party, so she left suddenly with Brandy following behind her.