She lit a cigarette and took a drag that was so long it steamed the tip. “I ain’t sayin shit, Juicy. I know better than to fuck with G. Especially up in his Spot. But let me ask you this: He ever tell you about his wife? The fine Puerto Rican girl from over on Saint Nick he had his son by? The boy who goes to college out in Cali?”

“No, but I saw her picture on his desk.”

Dicey nodded and took another drag, then signaled Moonie again. “Uh, huh. I bet G ain’t tell you she been missing for over ten years, did he? I heard they got to scrappin’ one night and she disappeared just like that. Cops never even bothered to look for her neither. Some say she went to Puerto Rico, and one time I heard she was living downtown in Brooklyn, but don’t nobody know what really happened to her except G. And he ain’t telling.”

I liked Dicey, but she was messing with my head. I knew G was dangerous, but damn. She was really scaring me. My doubts must have shown on my face.

“Okay, okay, lemme ask you something.”

I sighed and rested my elbows on the bar. “What?”

“You got any money?”

“What?”

She sucked her teeth. “Money! Duckets! Dollars! Ends! Do G give you any goddamn cheddar?”

“What do I need money for, Dicey? G takes damn good care of me, and trust me, I got everything I need.”

“He ever put any cash in your hand, or do he just go out and buy what you ask for?”

I thought for a minute. Whatever me and Jimmy said we wanted, G made sure it showed up at the crib. He shopped for all of my clothes and even ordered in the groceries.

“Juicy,” Dicey pressured me, “how do you get your goddamn tampons every month? Do you go to the store and pull the money out your bra to pay for them yourself?”

Hell no. Like I said, G ordered in the groceries, and that included my tampons and pads, too. “You tripping.” I gave her the hand. “I get my cotton sticks the same way you get yours. I march my little ass into the store and pick them up.”

“Uh-huh. I thought so. Your black ass is broke. So what if G decides to cut you loose? What if he tell you to let the doorknob hit you where the good Lord split you. Then what? You and Jimmy are just ass-out with nowhere to go, right?”

I didn’t answer. What could I say?

Dicey stood up and mashed her cigarette out in an ashtray on the bar. Her eyes got soft, almost sad, and she spoke quietly before turning to walk away. “Go home and listen to you a Millie Jackson CD, Juicy. That old girl know what the fuck she be singing about. Get you your own money, little sister. Don’t count on G to see you through, cause when a motherfucker like him decides he don’t want you no more you better start digging toward China or have enough cab fare to jet your ass to the other side of the world. Be smart, honey. Go get you some shit in your own name. Collect your pennies and save your spare change so you can open you up a secret bank account. Get you your own money, Juicy-Mo. Even if you gotta steal it.”

Chapter Six

Dicey’s warnings wouldn’t get out of my head. Her words were steady ringing in my ears, worrying me almost as bad as my nightmare had. She was right though. I needed my own cash. G could act the fool at any moment and I needed to be prepared to take care of me and Jimmy. Plus, I wanted to know more about the other women who had been in G’s life. I wanted to know what had happened to them, especially his wife. Dicey made it sound like G had a closet full of skeleton bones and part of me believed her, but I was also scared to find out if she was right.

I cut school on Thursday, ditching Pacho when he dropped me off outside of the Rowland Building where I took my finance class. I waited in the foyer and watched him drive off, then I stood outside of the classroom and waited for Brittany to show up.

“Hey Juicy girl.” She was chewing gum and wearing a pair of jeans that fit her like skin. “You do your homework? I didn’t get problem four. Couldn’t understand it no matter how I looked at it. Did you get the answer?”

I shook my head and grabbed her arm. “I need a favor,” I told her, pulling her to the side. I set my backpack on the floor at my feet. “Something came up and I gotta go see about a sick friend. I left my purse in the back of the limo and Pacho must have turned off his cell phone because his ass ain’t answering. Can you let me hold five dollars so I can jump on the train? I promise I’ll pay you back.”

“Uhm, yeah.” Brittany shrugged and dug into her front pocket. Her jeans were so tight she could barely get her fingers in. “You good for five dollars, Juicy. With the setup your man got, you probably good for five thousand. You ain’t gotta pay me back. Just hook me up at the G-Spot again and I’ll be happy.”

I smiled and took the ten-dollar bill she was offering me. “Thanks, Brit. I won’t forget this.”

I was off campus in five minutes, and heading back to Harlem by train. I was so anxious to get with Dicey that I didn’t even pay the men on the train no mind. For the first time in a long time I was riding the subway and there was no fantasizing and no looking at men. My mind was racing, but my coochie was silent.

Dicey lived in a tenement off of 125th Street. I knew because I used to run numbers for her mother when I was little, and Dicey had taken over the apartment when Ms. Jones passed away a few months back. I figured she’d be at home because it was too early for her to be at the Spot, and besides, she was on her period and couldn’t work there until it went off anyway. I rang the downstairs bell and waited. A minute passed and I jabbed the bell again, this time leaning on it.

“Who the fuck is it?” Dicey had her face pressed to the window and her red hair was spiked up all over her head.

“It’s me, Dice. Juicy. Can I come up?”

She buzzed me in and I walked up the two pissy flights to her apartment holding my breath all the way. Dicey was wearing a white nightgown and walking in her bare feet. She didn’t have on a stitch of underwear and her nipples were sticking straight up under her gown. The inside of Dicey’s apartment had changed since her mother died, and it was nothing like the rest of the run-down building. Since Dicey had quit doing drugs a few years ago, her new addiction must have been shopping because her joint was laid out with butter-soft leather furniture, a phat stereo, and wall-to-wall carpeting.

“It’s nice up in here, girl.”

She waved her hand. “Homeboy shopping network. You know how much shit can fall off the back of a truck. What you doin slumming over here this time of morning? G put you out already?”

I dropped my book bag and sank down into the cushions on the chocolate brown sofa. “Nah. I’m playing hooky. Just didn’t feel like going to school today.” I wanted to tell her that I was craving more of what she had to say, but instead I stared at the collection of ceramic elephants she had on a shelf. Dicey was real quiet, and when I looked up she was staring at me with a funny look on her face.

“Look, Juicy. Don’t let that shit I was talking the other day get you down. You fine as hell so G probably planning on keeping you around till he old and gray.”

I gave her a look.

“You eat yet?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Come on in the kitchen.”

I followed her into the tiny kitchen that was decorated in purple and black from the curtains to the rug. I sat at the table while she fried turkey sausage and scrambled us some eggs.

“You like fried onions in your eggs?”

Hell yeah. Grandmother used to make them that way. “Yep. Cheese too.”

Dicey fixed our plates while I made us some toast, then she gave me a fork and a napkin and we carried our food into the living room and ate sitting side by side on the floor. I loved her place. It was peaceful and happy and had the same kind of vibe that Dicey had.