sorry for any mistakes.
Reina Armani Jackson
Raj.. | July 24– later that night.
—
"You from around here?" Bam looked at me, while he ate the rest of his food.
"Yeah, I be out the way most of the time." I told him, opening my honey mustard.
"Fasho," He nodded, and started rolling us a wood, "tell me a lil more about yourself."
"What you wanna know?" I glanced at him, eating my spicy nuggets.
"Whatever you're comfortable with letting me know at the moment." He shrugged, licking the wood.
"Well you know my name is Reina, I'll be 20 next month. I sell weed, work at Foot Locker—"
"You sell weed?" He adjusted his seat back, and looked at me surprised.
"Yes, I sell them Zazas," I chuckled, "exotics only."
"Why weed tho?" He looked at me curiously.
"Why not?" I shrugged, "I love weed. My associates love the shit too, I'm a hustler. I'an gone say I'on have much, cause don't get me wrong the people around me make shit happen for me."
"I get it." He gave me an understanding head nod.
"I just don't like depending on people for shit, you feel me? I'd rather get shit done myself, that way I won't have any disappointments." I said, looking down.
"I respect that fasho," He said, grabbing his lighter, "I'm the same way, I hate being let down, so I'on set myself up to expect much from people. My mama died when I was younger and my pops in jail. My granny raised me and my two brothers, but she's getting older now."
"Sorry to hear that. I know the feeling," I stared at him, "Both my parents died in a house fire when I was seven. My granny raised me up until I was ten, and then she passed. Luckily my sister's mama was kind enough to take me in."
It went quiet for a minute, and all you heard was the low music playing, as we smoked. It wasn't an awkward silence or anything, but more so a comfortable one.
"What's your real name?" I asked him, passing him back the wood.
"What you fed?" He chuckled, with his low eyes.
"You know what." I laughed.
"Khalan," He chuckled, "and I just turned 23 too. I knew that was gone be your next question."
"You gotta pretty ass name. How you spell it?" I chuckled, "And since you know so much, when your birthday?"
"K-h-a-l-a-n," He said, passing me back the blunt, "My birthday the fourth of July."
"Aw, thats cute." I chuckled, starting to feel the weed hitting me, "But you a damn cancer?"
"You believe in that shit?" He laughed.
"What horoscopes? Yes, I do." I chuckled, "And every damn cancer I know is crybabies with their mean asses."
"I'an no crybaby," He waved me off, "Whats your sign?"
"Virgo, the best sign of them all." I did a lil dance, and passed him the blunt, "I won't say I research them heavily, but a lot of what I see makes sense."
