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Right when my lunchbox dinged.

Perfect fucking timing.

The driver’s door opened first.

Tyler stepped out.

Then the passenger side opened.

Levin.

Of fucking course.

My brother had on a black wool coat over a dark sweater, black pants and black leather boots. Dark shades covered his eyes even though it was cold as shit and the sun barely knew if it wanted to be out.

Tyler had on a heavy charcoal jacket, hoodie underneath it and jeans.

Both of them started walking toward me.

I looked down at my lunch.

“Damn.”

Couldn’t even get one fucking pork chop.

I stood up.

Levin didn’t waste any time.

“Yo.”

“What’s good?”

“You got my bread?”

I laughed.

“Damn, nigga. No hey, how you doing? How work going? Nothing?”

“Nigga, you got my bread or not?”

A couple niggas around us looked over.

I chuckled and shoved my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie.

“Nigga, I got seven.”

Levin stopped.

Looked at Tyler.

Then back at me.

“Nigga, that don’t sound like twenty.”

My smile disappeared.

“Twenty?”