CHAPTER THIRTY
2000- Who Do You Love?
And then Cabrón and I were back in the fly Mercedes, heading towards Halsey.
“Listen, ‘Brón,” I started in, leaning forward to lower the volume on the CD player, “If you guys want me to be your designated white girl courier, you’re gonna have to buy me a phat-ass mountain bike. I want a Trek.”
‘Brón let out a genuine laugh, something I don’t think I’d ever heard out of him.
“I mean,” I continued, “If you’re going to have me running up and down from Ft. Greene to Bushwick, I might as well get some exercise out of it. And anyway, I’d hate to spend money on car services like that.”
“You are fucking crazy, girl.” I caught something soft in his voice. “You do know that, right?” And then he switched gears.
“A’ight, check it out,” he told me, back in field marshal mode. “I’mma come upstairs with you and have a little talk with Biz and Lucci. I’m sure their comfortable asses will be there.”
‘Oh, good,’ I thought to myself. ‘Finally, someone’s gonna take care of my shit for me without my having to beg.’
I leaned forward again and turned the music back up. LL Cool J was bumping out of the flawless sound system.
“Who do you love? I do what I gotta do.”
It was time for me to let go of Mundo. But what was gonna be there for me after that?
