It’s been months since I saw anyone on Dealer’s corner. Today some of his boys are leaning on the bodega dumpster, aimless and slack.
So, I try something new. I talk to them. “Haven’t seen your boss in a while, he ok?”
The fattest one steps forward and squints at me. “What boss?”
“That guy who’s usually around. Older than you. Always says hello.”
He shakes his head. It’s like a teacher does, you’ll get it someday honey, I know you will. “Lady, I know you ain’t police,” he says, and points his finger at his chest. “But to me, you might as well be.”
He’s got your number. You’re probably paying more attention than the cops.