Free Power by Joy Deja King

before saying, “Somebody is afraid of pussy.”
    “Naw, I just need you to step. We in the middle of something.”
    Meth-mouth turned to 2Glocks and said, “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of pussy too.”
    “You ain’t got no ass,” 2Glocks stated, ready for the chick to bounce.
    “You need to go to Onyx for ass.”
    “That’s why I’m here for lunch, now scoot,” 2Glocks barked, obviously irritated. After the meth-mouth eased away, 2Glocks jumped right back in the conversation. “So what are you going to do with the rest of the counterfeit cash?”
    “Probably just throw it away. Haven’t really thought about it.”
    “How much you got?”
    “About fifty thousand dollars worth.”
    “Hell let’s take the rest of it to the Mexicans.”
    “Man, doing shit like that is dangerous. I want no part of that.”
    “So you gonna just take a loss like that?”
    “I’ma get the motherfucker that gave us the bullshit money. But if I can’t get the cash back, I just have to chalk it up to the game.”
    “But in the meantime?”
    “Naw, we can’t do that.” Deion noticed Meth-mouth come running back to the table holding a black girl’s hand. She introduced the girl as Chyna. Chyna had a huge ass and an even bigger stomach.
    “How is this for a big ass?” Chyna’s ass was ginormous with lots of cellulite, and Deion was not turned on in the least.  When Chyna smiled, Deion noticed that she was actually pretty cute.  Cute little button nose, almost perfect teeth with slanted eyes. Deion dug into his pocket and gave Chyna and Meth-mouth 50 bucks apiece.
    Chyna was about to remove her G-string when Deion said, “No, you don’t have to dance. Just go away while I talk to my friend.”
    “So I’m not good enough to dance for you?”
    “It’s not like that. I’m just in here to talk business,” Deion explained, trying to keep his cool but quickly becoming agitated. Chyna and Meth-mouth finally got the hint and strolled off hand-in-hand to another table.
    “Real talk, I need the money. I got kids to feed,” 2Glocks said, finishing up his last French fry.
    “But that’s your plug. Do you really wanna do them like that?”
    2Glocks’ eyes became serious. “Give me the money, please. Do this for me.”
    Deion thought about Alex. He was glad Reggie wasn’t around, because he knew he would not approve of it, and he was sure that he’d report back to Alex. “I will, but you can’t tell nobody.”
    “Who would I tell?”
    “I don’t know, but I just want to make sure we’re clear that nobody is to know about this shit.”
    “I appreciate you man. Thanks for looking out.”
    “Not a problem.”
    Chapter 12
    Beware
    Popcorn was a burly light-skinned dude with outdated braids. He spoke with Californian lingo because he was originally from L.A. but had lived in Atlanta for the last fifteen years. Deion knew that Popcorn was the man to see about the heroin trade and they were pretty good friends. They’d met when they were both fifteen years old at juvie.
    “Come in,” Popcorn said when he opened his apartment door, a Newport cigarette dangling from his mouth.
    Deion grinned when he saw his friend and they fist-bumped. “This 2Glocks,” Deion said, introducing him to Popcorn before following him into the kitchen. Once they were seated at the table, Deion presented him with the two ounces of heroin.
    “What you want for this?” Popcorn asked, after examining the product.
    “Now you know I don’t know much about this game.”
    “I can give you $5,000 apiece. I’m trusting that this shit hasn’t been stepped on too much.”
    “Probably not at all.”
    “Bullshit, everybody steps on it. Nothing is pure.”
    “I got this straight from the Esses.
    “I don’t give a fuck if you got it from Afghanistan. It’s probably been stepped on.”
    “We don’t know how many times it’s been cut or if it’s been cut.”
    Popcorn pulled out a baggie with a stamp of a basketball player on it and said,