The Fix 2 by K'wan Page B

he didn’t see him, but from the looks of things, Monk was about to make a mess that Li’l Monk would no doubt have to clean up.
    â€œI’ll be right back.” Li’l Monk excused himself from the girls and headed toward his father and the brewing disturbance.
    â€œShorty, I don’t know what you thought but I ain’t used to no young snots talking to me sideways. You taking this job too serious and if I were you, I’d tone it down a taste,” Li’l Monk heard his father telling the young man he was exchanging words with when he walked up. As usual, Monk was dressed in all black: black jeans, black hoodie, and a black jacket. It was hardly cold enough to have on a hoodie and a jacket, so Li’l Monk already knew what time it was with his father.
    The young man Monk was arguing with glared at Monk defiantly. The hockey jersey he was wearing nearly swallowed his small frame, and his jeans were a size too big. He was a small dude, with light skin and puffy cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. People would often tease him saying that he looked like the cartoon character Droopy Dog. “I hear you talking, but that ain’t gonna change nothing. Take a walk, old head, before one of the big homies comes and runs you off the block,” he spat, adjusting the crotch of his oversized jeans.
    Monk’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I see you one of them little fuckers who gotta get burned before they realize that the stove is hot, huh?” His hand dropped to his side and eased into the pocket of his hoodie. Before the hand could reappear, Li’l Monk was standing between Monk and the young man.
    â€œWhat’s going on here?” Li’l Monk looked from the young man to Monk.
    â€œNot too much, just about to get acquainted with my new little friend here,” Monk said slyly.
    Li’l Monk ignored his father and turned to the young man. “Is there a problem, Droopy?”
    â€œNah, I ain’t the one with the problem, he is. I been telling muthafuckas all day that we ain’t taking no short, and he is short. Best come back when your money is correct, old timer.”
    Monk laughed. “I swear, you young boys get bolder and stupider by the day. How about instead of me coming with straight money, I take all your shit and don’t give you a dime?”
    Droopy produced a box cutter from his pocket, and banged it against his leg to expel the blade. “Crackhead-ass nigga, you put your hands on me and I’m gonna open you the fuck up!”
    â€œPut that away, Droopy, and watch your fucking mouth,” Li’l Monk told him. “Now give him what he needs.”
    â€œBut Omega said—”
    â€œI don’t give a fuck what Omega said, I’m telling you to hit him off,” Li’l Monk said, this time in a sterner tone.
    Droopy mumbled something slick under his breath, while fishing around in his underwear for his stash. He produced two small vials of crack and grudgingly handed them to Monk.
    â€œSee, now was that so hard?” Monk taunted him. Droopy didn’t reply; he just glared at Monk like he was thinking about doing something. “Whenever you’re ready, you know where to find me.” Monk read his face.
    â€œDon’t antagonize him,” Li’l Monk told his father. “Droopy, go wait for me over there.” He motioned toward the corner. “After I finish here, I need to holla at you real quick.”
    â€œA’ight,” Droopy said and diddy bopped toward the corner. His baggy jeans hung so far off his ass, it was a wonder that he could walk without them falling down.
    â€œY’all putting them on these corners younger and younger,” Monk said after Droopy was out of earshot.
    â€œI didn’t put Droopy out here,” Li’l Monk replied.
    â€œYou know I was about to teach that boy a lesson in manners, don’t you?” Monk pulled his hand partially from the