THE SCHOLARSHIP. » D. SWING

• ✧- chapter three

JACOBY

"WHY YOU AIN'T JUST ask any of the other guys? I got a lot of shit on my plate man." I stated as we remained seated in the booth. His eyes remained focused on mine, making me a grow a bit nervous causing me to advert my eyes anywhere else.

"Shit, cause I'm asking you kid. On the real though I just don't think I could trust any of them with the shit I'm packing you get me?" He pleaded as he finally put his money away.

"Why you don't just ask Chris or Darius or Kareem? They real smart- you know that. What's my young ass gonna do for you?" I went on, trying to get the heat off of me as I attempted to persuade him to not even consider me for the job.

"Chris? Nah. He always on some school shit. Kareem? Hell nah. He too quiet and that shit just don't rub me the right way. And Lil D? Fuck outta here! That nigga is straight pussy and you know that- shit we all do. He not ready for no big boy shit." He chuckled lightly as I could tell he wondered why in the hell would I even bring Darius' name into this. "Coby, I don't go around offering this shit to everyone you understand? I ain't tryna be no bad influence or nothing but... you the only nigga that I think could help me on this shit. And I know you don't like getting clowned on about your clothes and shoes and shit."

"You right. You right. But it's not worth it... I don't wanna go to jail man. My pops put me on about that shit already."

"Look I'm not tryna hear about your pops right now okay? I'm just tryna help you while you help me. You scratch my back, I scratch your back you feel me?" He continued slightly lowering his voice as more individuals proceeded into the pizza shop. "Check it, remember when Darnell was a bum ass nigga? Now he getting all fresh and shit and I bet y'all was wondering how. Now if I were you I would follow suit."

Best believe Darnell wasn't really popping when it came to dressing last year...but this year? That nigga was big shit and so was Montell which brings me to asking, "Montell be pulling weight too?"

"Nah kid, Boogie be holding shit down for him but I told him to keep his mouth shut about where he get his money. Niggas really believe he work at some whack ass recreational center down in Harlem." He joked lightly as he slightly pulled up the sleeve of his large black and red starter jacket that obviously repped the Chicago Bulls, to check the time on his watch that just so happened to be gold. I couldn't help but acknowledge the diamonds that subtly shined under the dim lighting above us. Now I knew that was something my father couldn't buy- as if he could afford anything else of that sort.

"You see that? This that shit that get the ladies on your dick. They see you got money...all of a sudden they love you, kid. You gonna be the only fifteen year old touching paper out here...how that shit make you feel?" He stated just above a whisper in such a persuasive tone that made it seem as if he could sell liquor to a priest just as easy as stealing candy from a baby.

"Look uh. I gotta go." I stammered as I quickly attempted to leave the premises just before Khalif grabbed a hold of my wrist.

"Think about it Jacoby." He whispered as he placed one of his many hundred dollar bills into my hand which I reluctantly balled up as I grasped it. I've never had a whole hundred dollar bill that wasn't intended to be broke into two fifties for me and Bari to share and it made me feel better for the most part but I couldn't just deliberately accept his money once again and I knew that. As if it were cued- the pride my father instilled into me finally found its way back to my boyish body causing me to attempt to hand the bill back...which he declined. "Nah, you take that shit son, it'll help your thinking process. Go buy yourself some shit...probably them new air Jordan's that dropped Saturday. But do yourself a favor and get back at me sooner or later."