Chapter 6
The next morning, Juelz had left home early so that he could meet up with Trig over on the east side. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, casting a soft, golden light across the city.
As he pulled up to the corner store, Trig was walking out, eating a bag of chips, and talking shit with the corner boys who were posted at the icebox. Juelz got out and approached him, his grip firm and confident.
“Juelz,” Trig acknowledged, his voice low and steady. “Let’s step over here in the car real quick. Handle this li’l business.”
“A’ight, so whatchu peep out?”
Trig shook his head, looking out the window. “Shit, that joint was clean. Wasn’t shit going on over that way. I sat on it day and night. Not one undercover in sight, so I think you good to put a lil nigga over that way.”
Juelz nodded, taking in everything Trig was saying. “That’s a bet. Good lookin’ out. I’ma holla at ya, nigga.”
Juelz hopped back in the charger, checking the rearview before hitting the road.
He had other places he had to visit. Thirty minutes later, he was parked in the driveway of Tasha’s sister's house. He’d been sitting there for five minutes, just watching the door, while he finished his blunt.
The front door flew open, and Ant came running to the car.
He was only ten years old, but he looked up to Juelz as if he were his own father.
Juelz put out his blunt and unlocked the door.
“Whaddup, li’l Ant? I see you ready to break my pockets today, ain’t cha?”
Ant’s eyes were wide with anticipation. “Yea, Unc, I’m ready. I've been waiting for you all day.”
Juelz smiled at him, rubbing a hand through Ant's waves. “I bet you have. And why you got them busted ass shoes on, man. Lookin’ like you been walkin’ on your toes.”
Ant looked down at his sneakers, his face scrunching up. “These my favorite one’s, Unc.”
“They was your favorite,” Juelz corrected as he backed the car out of the driveway. “You puttin’ them bad boys in the trash today.”
Ant shook his head. He knew his uncle wasn’t going to have it any other way.
By the time they made it to the mall, Ant was showing all thirty-two teeth in his mouth.
They walked into the first sneaker spot, and the place was a sensory overload.
Walls covered in every color imaginable, screens playing highlights, and the smell of new rubber and leather hanging thick in the air. Ant’s jaw was on the floor.
“Damn,” Juelz muttered, mostly to himself. The mall was crowded, and it was only Tuesday. People bumping into people, stepping on other people’s shoes. Juelz was ready to go, but he knew Ant wasn’t.
“Whoa,” Ant breathed, pointing at a wall of neon-green Nikes. “Those boys fye!”
Juelz steered him toward them. “A’ight. You see somethin’ else you like?”
Ant’s eyes darted from one pair to the next, overwhelmed by the options. He finally pointed to a pair of black-and-red Jordans, the ones he’d seen on his friend's phone at school.
“You sure? Shit, Jordan ‘gon put out some more in two weeks. Just watch,” Juelz said. “You wanna try ‘em on?”
Ant nodded, his eyes wide.
Juelz flagged down a kid who worked there, who looked like he was about to piss himself when Juelz approached. “Yo, my man. We need these in size five.”
While the kid scurried to the back, Juelz knelt down again. “Listen. Pick out two pairs. A’ight? One for now, one for later. And getchu some socks, too. None of them li’l mixed matched shit you be wearin’ either.”
“For real?” Ant asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“Yeah, go ‘head, man,” Juelz confirmed. “You hold it down for your aunt, you take care of your grades. This what you get. This how we move.”
The kid came back with the box, and Ant sat down on the bench, his hands trembling slightly as he untied his old, busted sneakers.
He slipped his foot into the new Jordan, and it fit perfectly.
He stood up, walking a few steps, a new bounce in his step.
He looked down at his feet like he’d just been given superpowers.
Juelz watched him, a strange feeling bubbling up in his chest. It wasn’t the rush of a good drop or the satisfaction of closing a deal.
It was quieter. Softer. Seeing the pure, uncut joy on the kid’s face was worth more than any stack of cash on his table.
He couldn’t wait for the day where he would be shopping with his own son.
“They straight?” Juelz asked, bending down and pressing his thumb to the top of the shoe.
Ant nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir. They fit.”
“Good,” Juelz said, standing up. “A’ight, let’s go to the front and pick up the rest of your shoes.”
An hour later, they walked out of the mall with three boxes of shoes, two packs of socks, and a new fitted cap that Ant was wearing with the brim straight. Juelz carried the bags as they made their way back to the car.
Ant was clutching his shoeboxes as if they were made of gold. He looked over at Juelz, his eyes shining.
“Thanks, Unc.”
Juelz just nodded, pulling away from the curb. “Don’t thank me. Just be good for your mama, man. And stay in those books. You do that, we can do this again.”