Free Dear Summer by K. Elliott

much. Will you pay for me and Passion’s food?”
Q tossed her a hundred. “Wait for me in the parking lot. I want to hang out with you tonight.”
She smiled. “Okay.”
Q slapped Passion on the ass too. “I want you to hang out with us.”
Passion didn’t respond. She just followed Diamond.
Q leaned across the table. “Tommy, how did you come home so fast from the feds?”
“I did my time.”
“Nigga, you were a kingpin.”
“Yeah, and what is that supposed to mean?”
“You should have got thirty.”
Tommy’s face became hard. “Q, what the fuck are you trying to say?”
Q looked away. The waitress dropped two plates of walnut waffles on the table.
“Q, what the fuck are you trying to say?”
“I’m just asking, Tommy. No need to get uptight.”
Tommy poured some syrup on his waffles. He knew that there were some people on the streets that thought he was an informant because he’d had so much money and he had gotten out of prison early. He really didn’t care what they thought, as long as he knew he had done the right thing, and the right thing to him was sticking to his morals and never snitching on his boys. Now that he was out of prison he didn’t know if he could go back on a drug case. That’s why he chose to stay away from drugs.
“Listen, Tommy, man, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Q, I’m really offended man. I mean, my case was publicized. Yeah, I testified on a DEAofficer—the bitch that sat me up. That’s how I got out of jail. Never did I tell on anybody that did anything with me.”
Q drank his orange juice slowly. “I know. I remember hearing about the case.”
“Well, why in the fuck did you ask me did I have your boy fucked up, Q?”
“All I know is my man is in jail and he said it was because of your car.”
“He said my car caused him to go to jail?”
“Yeah. Said the paperwork wasn’t right.”
“I have nothing to do with the paperwork.”
“You sold us the car. Right?”
Tommy put his hand over his mouth. “Shh. Quiet.”
“You sold us the car.”
“Listen, nigga, I don’t even know your boy’s name, so how in the fuck am I gonna set him up?”
Q was quiet. Tommy had brought up a good point. Diamond tapped on the window. When Q looked up, Diamond licked her lips. He held up his hand indicating he wanted her to hold on for five minutes.
“Q, man, you gotta believe me. I didn’t have nothing to do with this.”
“I hope not, Tommy. I like you. I like you a lot, but if I find out that you did, I’ma have to put in work.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
Q stood, tossed $100 on the table and said, “Tommy, I hope this shit is not what I think.”
Tommy stood. He’d made up his mind he had to be ready for war, because nobody was going to threaten him; nobody was going to make him out to be a snitch. He wasn’t scared of Q, or anybody else for that matter.

Chapter 12
D
    EAagent Mark Pratt walked into the interrogation room. He waited ten minutes in the cold room, with only his legal pad in his hand. He looked at the suspect’s jacket. Jerome Miller was a 22-year-old black man. He’d had two prior drug cases—nothing substantial. Pratt figured he was a petty criminal and he knew that Miller might want to save his own ass once he knew the case was going federal. Cooperating with the feds in this case might save the young man seven years. Miller walked in a tad shorter than the 5'6" height indicated on his arrest record. The Mecklenburg County jumpsuit swallowed his thin frame. Pratt offered his hand.
    Miller didn’t shake it. He sat down across from Pratt. “Yeah, who are you?”
Pratt pulled out his DEA badge. “I’m with the DEA.”
“Okay. What do you want with me?”
“Your case is going federal.”
Squirt looked surprised. “Nine ounces is going federal? What, are you crazy?”
“You had a gun and the ATF will be seeking an indictment.”
“Come on, man. Are you serious?”
Squirt cracked his knuckles. He was nervous,