“You really want to do it?” Tariq asked.

“Yeah,” I said simply.

“All right. I’ll take you Monday. You’ll be my client.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said, licking my ice cream.

Tariq and I were sitting on a bench in Fairmount Park along Kelly Drive, spending some quality time together. He was the romantic type who liked to chill in intimate places.

“What type of house are you looking for?”

“I want a thorough-ass crib,” I said, staring into the sunny sky.

Tariq laughed. “You’re so hood,” he said.

Monday came and I went to Jersey to Tariq’s office. He treated me like a client instead of his girl. He showed me a few available houses in Jersey, implying that he wanted me to move out there with him. But that wasn’t happenin’. He showed me a few houses around Philly. They were all right but not exactly what I was looking for. It took seven weeks, but I finally found one in Haverford Township right outside of Philly. It was a three-bedroom town house with two and a half baths and a full finished basement. The main floor was newly renovated with recessed lighting throughout, hardwood floors in the living and dining rooms, and a gourmet kitchen with all stainless-steel appliances, granite countertops, and a flat-top stove. It was hot, especially for me, a single twenty-year-old unemployed girl from Master Street.

By that summer I was the shit. I had my own place and I was seen in a variety of hot cars. One week I would pull up to the Julius Irving games on Parkside in Tariq’s milky white Jaguar XK8. Tina was in the passenger seat. The next week Tina would be driving Khalil’s M3 and I was in the passenger seat. We were the flyest girls out there. Bitches were hatin’ like crazy, especially because we were young bucks. And the niggas was on us the minute we showed up at any of the games. Tina was pimpin’ hard on dudes, but I was cool with the three I had so I wasn’t doin’ nothin’.