Page 3 of Sugar Baby
When he didn’t respond, I realized he was considering what I said, so I continued. “The dispensary I buy from is owned by Beethoven Smith. He has someone that comes up with their strains, but they are hiring because both of them are moving back to Memphis. If you’re interested in a legit way to make money and be creative, I can put in the good word for you and try to get you an interview. Seeing as I’m one of their best customers, he’ll listen to me.”
“Can I think about it and let you know?”
“Sure, but until then, don’t be in the streets trying to sell that shit. And since I’m paying for it, I want it all.”
Tyreek groaned and turned in his seat to face me. “But, cuz . . .”
“Nope. I want it all. You ain’t getting out of this that easily.”
As he grumbled under his breath, I smiled. He’d better be glad this was all I was doing instead of telling his parents. A part of me wanted to tell them but I didn’t wantto make his situation worse. If he agreed to work a legit job, I’d keep this between us. They were already going to give him hell when they heard he didn’t want to go to college or stay in Rose Valley Hills.
Did they really need to know about this too?
Chapter
Two
CASSIUS “CASH” CLAY WILLIAMS
As the food drive wrapped up, pride consumed me. There was nothing better than helping those in need and giving back to my community. When I was a youngin, my pops made sure we thrived—not just survived. Even with us living in the hood, Pops made sure we had everything we wanted and needed. In fact, he stayed in the hood for the cheaper rent so he could spoil his family with the things that really mattered.
After he died, that put me and Mama in survival mode. She’d never had to work a day in her life until his ended, so she had to get a job waitressing that didn’t really pay too much. At first, the hood showed up for her and made sure she made good money in tips, but like always, that effort and care died down with time. There was always someone else losing a family member, and when they did, that was who the care shifted to.
Watching Mama go without so I could eat made me get in the streets early at thirteen. I felt like it was my responsibilityto be the man of the house and help pay the bills. As much as Mama hated the thought of me selling drugs, she knew there was nothing she could do or say to make me stop, so she ignored it. When I would drop off stacks of cash to help pay the bills, she asked no questions—just told me to be safe. To be smart.
Seventeen years later, I wasn’t just a young hoodlum selling nickel and dime bags. I was a supplier making more money than I could spend. Mama was taken care of better than she ever had been before, and for Pops, I planned to take care of her for the rest of our lives. She was the sweetest and most solid woman in the world, and she deserved this and more.
She was the reason I had a food distribution company and did food drives for the hood. Seeing your mama lose weight to keep you fed was traumatizing for a nigga like me. We went from eating sugar sandwiches and spaghetti for weeks straight to me being able to fly her to whatever country she wanted to have dinner. I knew there were other parents and guardians struggling to feed their families, and it was an honor for me to help provide.
Mrs. Patty’s eyes misted over as her bony hand covered mine. She was a seventy year old firecracker who lived alone since her husband died a decade ago. Every quarter when I did these food drives, she came through and made sure she stocked up and showed her appreciation.
“Your daddy would be so proud of you, Cassius.”
Cassius.
Only the elders called me by my government name. Everyone else called me Cash. Pops was a big fan of boxing, and he named me after the incomparable Muhammad Ali. That love for boxing had been imbedded within me too. For a while, I thought I’d try to become a professional boxerafter having so much success in the underground fighting world. But eventually, the discipline of it made me retire. Now, I only fought when I needed to punish or teach a nigga a lesson.
“I ’preciate that, Mrs. Patty.”
“Now you keep up the good work, and don’t let nothing distract you from your purpose. I saw the way them girls were all up on you. A woman can be a man’s greatest influence or distraction. You’re single and in your prime. Stay focused, and don’t attach yourself to the wrong woman. You hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am. I won’t.”
I didn’t feel the need to share it with her, but Pops had already put me up on game. I might not have had him long, but Pops had filled me with enough wisdom and anecdotes to carry me for the rest of my life. I’d never been the kind of man who lacked discipline and self-respect, so pussy would never be my downfall.
I talked to a few more people as my crew shut everything down. I knew there was a chance a few last minute stragglers would come through, so we always kept a few boxes and baskets out to be safe.
“Ayo, Cash.”
At the sound of Rhakeem’s voice, I headed toward the last table that was set up. Rhakeem was my right hand man and best friend since the sandbox. Our fathers were best friends, and we were too. When Pops died, Rhakeem’s father was the only one that checked in and made sure we were straight consistently, but he had his own household to provide for, so there was only so much he could do. Mama wouldn’t always take his money, but she always sent me down to their house to eat when she didn’t have the money or time to make food.
“Wassup?” I replied.
“Dre called and said they’re about to pull up. You want us to break this last table down?”
“Yeah, that’s cool,” I agreed, already starting to pull a couple of baskets off the table.
As much as I enjoyed having the food drives, they were draining, especially in the summertime. Most times it always turned into a block party. A few men would bring their grills, and I paid them to give out plates piled with grilled meats and vegetables. We always had a DJ and a little play area set up for the kids too.
