CHAPTER SEVEN
1999- Wiggle Room
It became quickly apparent to me that the one mile separating my crib from the spot on Pacific offered just enough wiggle room to find time to get out from under that heavy, grimy, male dominant atmosphere that permeated the trap. I loved spending time at HQ, it made me feel alive- but after a certain point I’d need to get back to my own space- a place where not worry about stepping in dog poop, could sleep in a clean bed, hear the sound of my own thoughts…
On the flip side, the proximity was close enough to allow our inner circle crew to use my spot as a combo safehouse/pseudo corporate headquarters. I think to them, it seemed like that 1-mile distance between Halsey & Throop and Classon & Pacific was a substantial separation between church and state. As if people on that side of Fulton Street would never, ever be able to figure out where I lived. Where we all lived, really. By that point Doe, Biz and his nephew, Lucci, were very frequent visitors. But I didn’t mind- I was just happy to have people around me. Especially people who could help feed my habit safely.
Weeks passed and it felt like years. I found it was easy to slip into a steady rhythm of the day-to-day hustle. It felt fun. And I think I filled a role the guys didn’t even know they needed- designated white girl. For the time being, that role was undefined, but I knew I’d excel at it, whatever it morphed into.
It all came so naturally to me. I was only 21 but felt like an old pro.
Meanwhile, the sexual tension between me and Mundo was off the charts, but we kept our cool.
Until we didn’t.
