He tipped back his Dixie Cup, draining the last of his Hennessy and Coke and then went upstairs.
G was in a room crammed with people sucking on pipes or sprawled out enjoying their high.
Garry James was doing just that. He was reclining in a lounger with his new girl. His baby's mama had kicked him out which surprisingly didn't bother him much. The move meant that he wouldn't have to deal with her constant complaints about the amount of time he spent getting high.
His new girl was a little older, white or Hispanic—he was unsure of which, but as long as he shared with her, she never complained about the amount of crack he smoked.
"Yo, G. Your boy's here."
G's eyes moved to Donald Miller who was standing in front of him. G was surprised that he hadn't even seen the young man before he'd called out his name.
"My boy?" G frowned.
"Scotty."
G's scowl was replaced by confusion.
"Scotty's here?"
"Yeah. With his girl, Vanessa."