What's Really Hood! by Wahida Clark Page A

playing, but she didn’t detect any game. “Depends on the store.”
    Wiz stood up. “Come on, then, I’ll show you.”
    Since the IHOP was in Elizabeth, they rode the few blocks to downtown. The streets were semi-packed with early-morning shoppers,
     stragglers and commuters. He led her to a clothing store called Mannings. They specialized in sports apparel, but they carried
     name-brand jeans as well. Wiz looked around the store at the clothes until he found the Levi’s section. He picked out a pair
     of red Levi’s jeans that were twenty-six in the waist. He handed them to Crystal, and she arched her eyebrow. “These can’t
     be for you. I know you wear at least a thirty-six,” she joked.
    Wiz shrugged. “Birthday gift. Help me find a top.”
    “Who’s it for?”
    “This chick,” was his only reply.
    For some reason she didn’t understand, she felt a little salty. He was having her help him pick out some skeezer’s outfit,
     but business was business. “Get that.” She pointed to the matching Levi’s jean jacket and a white spandex top.
    “Cool. Handle your business, yo.”
    Crystal grabbed two sets of each article of clothing and disappeared into the dressing room. While she was gone, Wiz bought
     a pair of white-on-white K-Swiss. She returned moments later with only one set, returned it to the rack, like,
It doesn’t fit
, and headed for the door. Wiz took the shoe bag and followed her out. When they reached the car, Crystal pulled out the outfit
     and handed it to Wiz and said, “I hope she likes it,” with just a hint of female attitude.
    Wiz smirked, enjoying her jealousy. “She better,” he replied, then started the car. “So what do I owe you?”
    Crystal propped her elbow on the door handle and ran her hand over her ponytail, hesitant to ask Wiz for what she really wanted.
     How could she, after spending the last few hours in such normal things in male-female relations, like laughter, good conversation
     and companionship? She stuttered mentally to have to come back to reality. Wiz asked again, “Whut up? Fifty, a yard, what?”
    “No, I, umm, you holdin’?”
    “Huh?”
    Crystal sighed. “You got work?”
    Wiz just looked at her, hating his own reality check. “Yeah, yo.”
    Crystal looked out the window while Wiz looked at the back of her head for a minute, then put the Jetta in drive, turning
     up the system.
    Boogie Down productions-uctions-uctions.
    Will always get paid-aid-aid…
    “Could you turn that down?” Crystal asked. The monkey was on her back, and she was getting irritable.
    “Whut?” Wiz asked, irritable because she had a monkey.
    Crystal sucked her teeth. “Never mind.”
    Wiz turned it down.
    “If you heard me, why you say what?” Crystal quipped.
    “I was turnin’ it down so I could hear you,” Wiz lied.
    Moments later, he pulled into the Newark Airport motel. The same place he had had Veronica in. He still had the key from last
     night. Crystal narrowed her eyes on him, feeling her blood pressure rising like mercury.
    Wiz pulled up in front of 202 and cut off the car. “Come on,” was all he told her, one foot out the door.
    “No. For what?” she wanted to know.
    “Just come on, damn. I wanna talk to you.”
    “We can talk right here.”
    “You want the shit or what?”
    “Go get it. I’ll wait out here,” Crystal declared, then added, “Why did you bring me here?” she asked, insulted because she
     hadn’t expected this from Wiz.
    “You comin’ or what?”
    Silence.
    “Look,” Wiz began, “I ain’t tryin’ to trick with you, aiight. I get pussy like most muhfuckas get problems. I’m tryin’ to
     put you up on a trick.”
    She turned her attention.
    “What kind of trick?” she wanted to know.
    “You boost, right? I was thinkin’ we could do business. Budget Rent A Car right next door. So I could rent you a car by the
     week so you can go out, load up, and sell it to me half price, you dig? Then I sell it and make a