5 Minutes and 42 Seconds Read Free Page B

what?” asked the boy.
    Smokey ignored him, but the boy’s words annoyed him. He wondered how anyone could be so nonchalant about something so serious. He pushed the boy forward, and the boy stopped with the questions. They walked a little farther and finally got to the restroom. “Take off your clothes,” said Smokey.
    â€œDon’t you want to know my name first?” said the boy seductively.
    â€œNigga, I ain’t with that gay shit,” yelled Smokey, almost ready to fight.
    â€œIt was just a joke.”
    â€œTake your motherfuckin’ clothes off and shut the fuck up.”
    The boy began to take off his clothes, then stopped. He looked at Smokey as if he were thinking about something, then went behind a stall.
    â€œWhat? Now you trying to say I’m gay or something?” asked Smokey.
    The boy didn’t answer.
    When they were both naked Smokey sloppily threw his clothes over the stall, and the boy slid his neatly folded shirt and pants underneath. The two switched clothing and left the restroom, reentering the empty car-repair shop.
    â€œIf this is a body shop, where are all the cars?” asked the boy.
    â€œWho said this was a body shop?” asked Smokey.
    â€œI don’t know. The commercials on TV…the commercials on the radio…shit, the signs. ”
    â€œYou can’t believe everything you see. You for damn sure can’t believe nothing you hear. And if you think this is a body shop you must not be looking at the signs that areworth looking at,” said Smokey, feeling grown, and less annoyed, because he was teaching someone something.
    â€œOh, so that commercial with all them bells…”
    â€œThey ain’t bells, they’re trumpets,” Smokey corrected.
    â€œYou know what I mean…that’s fake?”
    â€œThe commercials are real. They just aren’t what they seem.”
    â€œWhat’s the difference.”
    â€œYou know what a commercial is. You see a man pop up talking about Fashad knows quality in the middle of the ball game, that’s a commercial. That makes it a real commercial. The fact that that man is Fashad makes the commercial not what it seems. Nothing with Fashad is ever the way it seems. You should know that by now.”
    â€œWhat you mean? Because he sell drugs? Shit, everybody know that.”
    â€œI ain’t talkin’ ’bout drug dealing.”
    â€œWhat you talking about?”
    â€œYou don’t know?” asked Smokey, incredulous.
    â€œNo!”
    â€œYou know!”
    â€œNo I don’t!”
    â€œYou don’t know,” said Smokey. No matter how much Smokey didn’t want to admit it, the fact that the boy was in the dark and he was in the light, no matter how dark that light was, gave him a special feeling. In that instant it felt like nothing else mattered, like he belonged somewhere, and knew exactly where. Like he was something more than just a pawn in Fashad’s game.
    â€œYou sample that shit or something?” asked the boy.
    â€œNigga, just give me the keys,” said Smokey.
    â€œWhere are yours?” the boy said and handed Smokey the keys to his red Mazda.
    â€œThey’re in the pocket, dumbass,” Smokey responded.
    The boy felt his pockets like he was afraid he’d lost them. Smokey could tell the kid was trying to pace himself, but nevertheless he ended up practically running to the car, then speeding away.
    Smokey shook his head. “Pathetic,” he sighed as he opened the door of the boy’s car. He heard a rattling in the back as he slammed the door shut, but figured the car was just in need of a tune-up. He looked back as he put the car in reverse, and saw a man in the backseat.
    â€œWhat the fuck!” yelled Smokey.
    â€œThe name’s Bill,” said the middle-aged, round-faced white man. “Don’t get out.”

CAMEISHA
    A fter Dream got done cuttin’ today she roll her eyes like