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.”
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He’s got your number. You’re probably paying more attention than the cops.