James somehow scraped together some money and took me to Jamaica for a week. It was like a double date. Khalil took Tina. We had a ball. James and Khalil were straight-up hood niggas, which meant you could go anywhere in the world with them and have fun. They knew how to make the best of any situation. Being in the islands helped too, but they made the trip. When they weren’t busting on people, they were taking us on crazy shit. We did everything from Jet Skied to scuba dived. We even panhandled just to fuck with people. We would have skydived if it weren’t for Khalil being afraid of heights. It was a week well spent, and even though it didn’t cost nowhere near my other gifts, it was the most memorable. I couldn’t imagine spending a week in Jamaica with Tariq or O, anyway. Tariq would have probably spent the whole time buying time-share and O probably would have wound up finding a weed connect and setting up shop. So, even though the trip exposed how broke James was compared to O and Tariq, I was glad he was the one I spent it with.

I was on cloud nine. Nothing made me happier than great sex and money, and that’s what O, James, and Tariq were good for. With the three of them, I was having shit my way, and playing the game was giving me more and more of a rush. I couldn’t wait to see what the new year had in store for me. Or maybe I could.

January

In 2002, Tina and me brought the New Year in together like always. But instead of club and barhoppin’ in Philly, we went to Vegas to hook up with these white guys named Terry and Derrek from L.A. They were some rich-ass investors who Tina met at a Sixers game last season. Khalil got locked up for drug trafficking right around Christmas, shortly after we got back from Jamaica, so she was interested in broadening her horizons. She came to the realization that the type of guys she was used to dealing with would only end up where Khalil was, or dead, and she needed stability.