CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
2000- Shopping
I’ve always loved watching Brooklyn men drive. They’re so strategic about their routes.
When I saw ‘Brón take a left onto Nostrand from Fulton, I thought maybe we were going back to PanStar, but he blew right by it. And I was totally lost when he made a right onto Eastern Parkway. Imagine my surprise when we pulled up in front of a bike shop on Union Street, in Park Slope, the land that birthed my beloved mother and home of the upscale Chinese delivery experience.
“Dixon’s Bike Shop?” I asked.
Cabrón shrugged. “You said you needed a mountain bike. Let’s get you one.”
Once inside, Brón dapped up a skinny kid with dreads.
“What’s up, Chris? My girl needs a mountain bike.” He turned to me and asked, “What did you say you wanted? A Trek?” I nodded.
Chris walked us over to the Treks. There were a lot to select from, but I instantly fell in love with a highlighter yellow 8000. ‘Brón shut that down with a quickness.
“Highlighter yellow, Eula? You’re gonna be riding around Bed Stuy on a bike that screams rob me?”
I agreed to take the same model, but in silver. It was so beautiful. Sleek and lightweight.
‘Brón paid Chris in cash and we put the bike in the back of the SUV.
“Let’s pick up some burritos at La Taqueria then head back to your crib to wait for Biz,” ‘Brón suggested.
It had been a surprisingly lovely day, so far. Hopefully Biz wouldn’t fuck up the vibe.
