- from my plate.)

“Come get what you want, lil’ mama. The forks and stuff are right there.”

| NO High Times |

- vegetables, and side of honey walnut prawns and tear off the top to give to shorty as a plate. Hope she don’t mind thugging it. Not about to be washing dishes out here. I jut my chin over to shorty to come get what she wants -

- way as they hit me up for their plates. Setting it all on the glass outside table, I start pulling out everybody’s orders and handing them over before remembering these niggas is grown. Stepping out the way, I grab my orange chicken, shrimp chow mein, beef and broccoli, sweet and sour mixed -

- splattered around, smoking and drinking while girls danced around to the trap music blaring.)

“I got the food, she got the weed.”

(I raise the bags and point to shorty following me. The cheers were loud cause we ain’t ate all day, and the rolling line of hi’s and what’s up’s come barreling her -

- my father would be disgusted by. Lowkey why I liked it.

As we stepped through the kitchen the size of most people’s apartments, we stepped out back to the wrap around porch that was surrounded by flowers and greenery framing the window like white pillars and mahogany wooden railing. Homies were -

- down the long hallway of white and ceilings that seem to reach the sky. Every room was decked out in that old nouveau riche, mildly gothic decor of New Orleans. Each room, unlike the hallways, were painted some bold color, like teal or gray or black or green. Deep vibrancy and a show of money -

“Um, in the fucking house? Do you not know how to people???”

(That’s the weirdest fucking question I think I’ve heard so far as we walk into a whole ass mansion.

I close the door behind me, and hear the voices in the distance. Sounds like every one migrated outside. I take the lead, heading -

- jut my chin towards the door. Mostly, I’m teasing.) “I might even share some of my orange chicken with you.”

| NO High Times |

(I lock up the gate and meet shorty at the house. I see her hop out and I can’t lie, I’m looking a little at aunty. She pretty as fuck, even if she is a little weird.)

“Yo’, just say you’re trying to smoke with ya’ boy. I won’t tell nobody. I’m a good listener I promise.” (I laugh a little and -

- wasn’t expecting to see me, but it’s good. I tipped her well and grabbed my bags.)

“Alright.” (I hit the gate’s code so shorty can drive up the way.) “Go head, I meet you up there. Have my shit ready cause you ain’t getting in the door without it.”

| NO High Times |

- here. Hold on.”

(I head over to the truck pulling up and another shorty popped out with my food who didn’t match the picture in my cell. By now, I was used to that mix match but I still double-checked she had my name anyway. It was a polite exchange and I appreciated it. The little snowbunny -

- smoke more than me, shorty. Probably why you still haven’t actually delivered my ish. Call it what you want but I’m not asking no questions. Whatever you like is cool with me.” (My cell vibes and it's my eats alerting me that the driver’s pulling up. Perfect. My appetite’s crazy.) “My food’s -

(It was hard not to laugh, so I stopped trying. Her over explanations were proof shorty ain’t too used to being around…people? Or maybe just young people. I don’t know. Something about her seemed cool enough though. At least enough to chill.)

“I ain’t gon’ hold you, you sound like you need a -

- a friend for a lil’ bit, I can be that but I don’t give a damn about nothing you talking about right now. Not gonna lie to you. But what I will say is, ugly ass jeep and weed lecture aside, you badder than I remember. You trying to kick it and eat something? Smoke something?”

| NO High Times |

“You really think I give a fuck about how Micky D’s fixes my food? Why are you telling me all this, shorty?”

(Slow blinking; I’m wondering why I’m catching a whole lecture on packing weed instead of just giving me my shit and disappearing like a good D boy would.) “I mean if you’re looking for -