We all just chuckled.

“We gotta go get something to eat. If a skinny nigga like me starvin’, I know you must be damn near dead, Tina,” James slid in.

“Watch ya mouth, nigga. You play ball, you don’t box,” Khalil said in Tina’s defense.

“Don’t worry ’bout it, babe, I can handle his scrawny ass,” Tina said.

“Let’s go to Friday’s,” Khalil suggested. “On me,” he added.

We walked across the street to the parking lot and played eenie meenie minie mo to determine whether we were going to drive James’s Suburban or Khalil’s convertible BMW M3. The BMW won, so we did ninety the whole way to T.G.I. Friday’s, damn near sliding off of our seats every time we came to a stop.

We all filled a booth at the restaurant. We drank Long Island iced teas, ate Jack Daniel’s entrées, and bugged out.

“Tina, you might wanna get you a doggy bag,” James came out and said.

“For what? I’m gonna knock this off right here,” Tina replied.

“Yeah, but you know you gonna want some more when you get home, you know, for ya midnight snack,” James joked.

“I can just take yours ’cause ya bony ass ain’t gonna eat it all.”

Tina and James was always goin’ back and forth bustin’ on each other’s weight. It was fun chillin’ with James and Khalil. They always had me and Tina crackin’ up.

Spending time with Tariq was much simpler. He appreciated it when I would show up at his office during the week and treat him to lunch or something. I chose weekdays to be with him because that was when James had classes and basketball practice and O was usually making his runs. Sometimes I would go with Tariq to show people properties. Not a bad job at all if you like sales. And the commission was heavy. It would be newlyweds buying their first home together or businesspeople relocating from other states or couples with too many kids for the two-bedroom apartment they called home. It was interesting. I learned a lot. I started thinking about buying my own place.