Chapter 15
Realistically, my man had been putting his freedom on the line to take care of us.
Still, if I was being honest, he’d been a small-time hustler, at best. Too Low had never pushed kilos.
Just ounces. He flipped his work just enough to have steady income.
And when he was busted at the trap house, he barely had twelve ounces, but that that was more than enough to get sentenced to five years in the penitentiary, apparently.
When he went to jail, he had twenty thousand stashed at the apartment with me.
And after fighting his case, and getting out on bond, that money was soon gone.
So, Too Low had no choice but to hustle all the way up til the day that he had to turn himself in, after getting sentenced.
By then, he’d managed to scrape together ten racks.
One might think that he’d done a little something to ensure that I was straight, but I knew better. With his expectations