Chapter 5
Threat made his way across Florence Avenue smoking a cigarette. He wore a tan bucket hat pulled down over his brows and cheap liquor store shades over his eyes. His T-shirt was dingy and his cargo pants were a size too small, so he sagged to make them look like they fitted. The homies had blessed him with some paper to get him some new digs since he’d just came home, but he decided to hold that change to get him through the next couple of months until he came upon a lick.
He’d lost a considerable amount of weight since he’d been out these pastfew weeks, which wasn’t surprising since he’d been eating like he was still on lock. Every day he’d eat what jail niggas called a spread, which consisted of noodles, clams, sardines, and mayonnaise. The dish was the bomb when he was locked
