
“Mistuh Gregarian is the one who’s payin’ me, and he dislike black folk more than he like you. If’n I tells him I ain’t let’cha go into some ghetto traphouse, he gonna give me a raise. You buyin’ drugs from a homeboy? No way.”
“Oh my god!”
“Did you just say homeboy? What decade are you from?! We’re currently now, in the present, okay?”
“Laequan’s no jive turkey, he’s a cool kat, daddy-o.”

“You ain’t buyin’ drugs from a homeboy named Laequan,” Buck said. He put the car in reverse. “You wanna hear somethin’ racist, you tell Mistuh Gregarian ’bout that plan. You’ll hear somethin’ racist fo’ real.” He muttered through a derisive sneer as he backed the Jag out of its parking spot, “Laequan!…”


