Every generation of Victory Park Street Kids had a leader.
When I was living there, Quin ruled.
Now, it was Devin.
The decision of who led was not settled by an election. It was a simple matter of who could feed everybody and keep them safe, who could slice a psycho’s neck and not lose sleep, who could take the pain of the streets and wake up to survive another day.
Devin stood tall at 6ft. He kept telling us he was eighteen, but I guessed he was fifteen at the most.
His blonde hair was spiked up in a messy style. His blue eyes ran deadly and cold.
Tonight, he wore a brown jacket with no shirt and black jogging pants. Ink covered his stomach, chest, and neck. The main tattoo decorated his chest—a third eye centered between huge black wings.
“Nice car.” Devin held his hand out to Quin. “Let me get a smoke.”
“Save those young lungs.” Quin sniffed the air. “Plus you already smell like marijuana. Get your head in the game.”
He strolled over to me and curved his lips into a smile. “Hey, sweet lady.”
Smirking, I handed him the plastic bags of money. “It’s Phoenix to you.”
“Miss Phoenix, actually.” Quin shook her head. “These kids today have no respect for elders.”
“Respect has nothing to do with age.” Devin took the plastic bags from me and opened one. “Respect goes to those who deserve it. Not to those who demand it.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” Quin blew out smoke. “I bet you’ll say Miss Phoenix or catch a bullet in your skull.”
Without looking up, Devin rummaged through the bills as if doing a quick count. “When are you going to let me take you out, Miss Phoenix?”
“Take me out?” I laughed. “You do know that I would break your young ass? Right?”
Devin stuffed the bags into his jacket. “There’s nothing young about me.”
Quin chuckled. “Just your age and dick.”
“Young dick lasts longer than old dick.” He frowned.
“If you have to explain that, then you’ve already lost the argument.” I headed off to the other side of the bathroom where Quin liked to park her bike. “Get rid of the car before the sun hits the sky.”
“But it’s a Benz,” he called back. “Can’t we joyride it for a few days?”
“Joyride these nuts!” Quin followed me.
“You don’t have any,” he mumbled.
“Shit.” Quin laughed. “I bet my nonexistent nuts are bigger than your teen ones.”
I sighed. “Get rid of the car, Devin.”
We continued forward.
“Quin, you should be nicer to him.” I nudged her arm and got to her bike.
“I could, but I won’t.” She pulled out her keys and hopped on. “You can’t be too soft with Devin. The world won’t be. And he’ll have to survive in this world. That’s why I stay tough with all of them.”
I rolled my eyes and got on behind her. “Yeah. Yeah. You’re so tough. Meanwhile, you’re always over here bringing them blankets and food—”
“And you’re right here doing it with me.” Quin started the bike and sped us off.
I held onto her waist tight.
I swore I heard the roar of engines behind us, but didn’t look back. It was hard enough to keep the black bag on me, while Quin zipped and swerved through trees, cars, and buildings.
I held on and closed my eyes.
She is going to kill my ass one day.
Quin had no concept of the rules of the road. She drove on any flat surface and whipped through any space. There’d been times when she took shortcuts through the front of a supermarket and zipped out the back.
And most of the time, she did it just because she was bored.
God, please get me there safely.
Minutes later, we arrived at my hotel room.
Thank you, God.
She gazed at the raggedy hotel in disgust. “I can’t wait till you get a new spot.”
“I just needed the room because of how close it was to the park.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Stop slumming.”
“I’m saving up, Quin.”
“What’s the point of stealing and saving up if you’re going to live like you’re poor as fuck?” She touched the side of her head. “Nix, currently your head is floating in poverty. It’s all about scarcity. You have to change it to an abundance mindset.”
“Abundance these nuts.” I left the bike with the bag and headed to my room.
Quin yelled, “That doesn’t make any sense!”
I waved goodbye. “See you in four days with my cash in my Louie Vuitton briefcase.”
“What about a money order in a small Prada wallet?”
I headed for the stairs. “Bitch, don’t play with me.”
Laughing, she sped off.
Chapter 2
Self-Made
Phoenix
A
s soon as I was behind the closed door of my shitty motel room, I locked the locks and turned on the lights.
A huge grin spread across my face.
I fucking did it.
Not even the mouse nibbling on a chip by the bed could blow my natural high.
Self-made millionaire. One money bag at a time.