disc: boondocks is not mine

He slammed the breaks abruptly, jolting his little sister forward.

"Gin-" She screamed, knocking her legs over the glove compartment. Her arms struggled to keep her torso from following, to no avail. She bumped her head on the dashboard promptly.

"You see what happens when dumb bitches get on the road?" He derided, eyeing her rub the fresh injuries. "Thinkin' they could multitask they with idiot-ass nigga technology and operating a motor vehicle."

The other lady behind the wheel gave an apologetic smile and wave before making her turn. He grimaced at the blue Nissan's retreating form.

Cindy got back into her seat grudgingly and resumed tying her shoe. "Chill aight? It ain't my fault she was textin' n' drivin'."

"But it is your fault you almost flew out the windshield." He said, vexed with her stubborn disregard for safety.

She let a second of silence pass before crossing her arms.

"Whatever." She grumbled out the window.

At fourteen, his sister was just beginning with what he knew was gonna be a hectic adolescence.

And he let an entire minute of traffic linger until she finally asked, "You deaf or somethin'? Why ain't we moving yet?" She alluded to the honks behind them, they had stopped smack in the middle of an intersection.

He didn't budge. Instead, he shifted into park.

"We're gonna be late." She cried, pointing to the digital clock on the stereo. "It starts at seven and I gotta be there before."

His mouth set into a thin frown as he glanced at his own watch, quarter till.

Still, he remained immobile. "You ain't goin' nowhere 'til you put that goddamn seatbelt on."

"Gin," she whined, until ultimately relenting and clipping the belt. He smiled as she pouted about hating it.

"Thank you." Now that his baby sister was securely fastened he could speed all he wanted. Gin put it back in gear and flew through the streets, burning quality rubber on the grimy asphalt.

He groaned inwardly, he hated this part of town. How did she have a game all the way down here? There was no way this school could be even remotely in their district. These were the kinds of schools with high profiles and county-funded security.

They arrived in record timing with four minutes to spare. He reluctantly hid his pistol in the glove compartment, knowing it probably wasn't necessary. They got out of the car and into the cold evening. He grabbed her duffle bag and hand before locking the car and entering the shabby highschool gym swiftly.

They were welcomed with metal detectors, and he was suddenly glad he left his gun in the Cadi. They were ushered through briskly and ready to part when they arrived at the court.

"C'mon McPhearson, you're already late." He heard her coach scold.

"Wait, Cin." He called, looking her over, assessing the damage of the near-collision. He had her dressed in a black thermal and matching compression tights that hit below the knee under her green jersey and shorts. She looked fine, her shins might get a little bruising but it wasn't anything she couldn't take.

"Good luck babygirl, I know you don't need it. Ima be cheering for you by the doors, don't start shit if they foul on you okay?" He warned, kissing her still-red forehead.

"Okay." She smiled up at him in a nod.

Gin gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before gently pushing her towards her team. "Aight good, now go get 'em."

And she was off, breaking ankles and getting buckets after buckets. Around the middle of the first quarter, people were starting to get annoyed by her success, her own team included. It was true, his sister could be a bit of a ball hog, but she was undoubtedly the best shooter and people needed to stop hating on her talent. Booing during a kid's free throws was not only immature, but also pathetic

The game couldn't end fast enough, he was getting real tired of hearing Billy Mathews' dad talk shit behind him along with the home team's single mothers.

While all the kids were reuniting with their families, he waited for her at the exit. She was chugging down the last of the Gatorade he'd bought her during halftime before dunking it in the trashcan.

"You see that?" She beamed, throwing her arms up victoriously.

"Yeah," he smiled wearily, ignoring the parents' dirty looks and whispers. He cursed himself for being empty-handed, had he been a few years younger he'd have emptied his clip on them by now.

It got dark out. He really should've kept his gun on him. He hustled her out of the gym and hastily into the car waiting fervently for it to warm up.

"Aren't you glad I made you wear all that Under Armour?" He sneered, listening to her teeth chatter.

"Sh-shut up." She mumbled indignantly, sitting on her hands.

They stayed in the parking lot for a minute, talking about the game and the other team. Specifically the girl who had tried to style on her.

"That bitch thought." Cindy scoffed, "I juked her ass."

He let out a small chuckle, she did.

"The ref wouldn't call any of her fouls either." She complained, reclining back into her warm seat. " 's all good though, I ain't mad."

"But," She cut herself off, "I am hungry."

That snapped him back into the conversation, he backed up and out the lot. "Word. Cha feelin' tonight?"

She looked up at her big brother with a big smile, "There a KFC 'round here?"

He winced at her suggestion. He really didn't want to risk running into anyone from the game in there.

"Uh, how 'bout we eat local tonight?" He said, leaving no room for dispute as he pulled into an open, albeit near empty, diner.

She shrugged and reached for her hoody inside her bag.

They were out of the car and outside for only a few frigid second before the diner engulfed them in its toasty heat.

She sat herself down at a booth, wasting no time to look through the menu directly printed on the tabletop. He followed her abjectly, sitting down on the other side.

He was trying to read off her menu, a difficult task when she's crouched over and it's upside down. He was about to ask her to move when a paper copy was handed to him.

Gin followed the manicured hand up to its owner; a very pretty waitress.

She smiled down at him politely, "How y'all doin' tonight?"

He sat inarticulate in his own reverie, completely enchanted.

"Good." Cindy answered for both of them.

She gave her a smile too, "Do you guys need a minute or-"

"Lemme get some fried chicken and mashed potatoes and gravy and biscuits with uhh," she drawled, "chocolate shake."

Gin watched the waitress scribble furiously in her little notepad and realized he was staring.

"Add somethin' green." He said, opening his own menu.

"I'm good."

"Cindy."

She sighed, "Fine. And a pickle."

He gave her an unamused look.

"What? That's green." She quipped.

He shakes his head and goes back to reading. "She means string beans."

The waitress giggled softly as Cindy groaned.

After jotting down the new order she turns her attention to him. He looks up at her accordingly, his mind going blank accordingly.

She had dirty blonde hair, sun kissed skin, and dimples from what he saw when she smiled. When his traitorous eyes roamed from her pretty face to her big chest, he caught glimpse of her embroidered name.

Christy.

His eyes darted back down at his menu, he cleared his throat. "How's the meatloaf?"

"It's alright." Christy shrugged, "Not as good as the Shepherd's pie though."

"In that case, could I have the Shepherd's pie?"

"Course." She noted, "Anything to drink?"

"I'll have a cherry coke."

Christy knit her brow meekly. "Dr. Pepper okay?"

"Dr. Pepper's just fine." He assured, closing and returning the menu.

She took it cordially and read their order back. They nodded their affirmative.

"Alrighty then," She clicked her pen, "that'll be out in a few."

When she left, Cindy took to complaining about the veggies he ordered for her.

He was trying to be a good brother and listen but he really couldn't help getting distracted by Christy waiting on other tables. She seemed to be the only one on the clock tonight, not that she looked distressed. It was hard to hear Cindy over the clicks and clacks of her heels. At one point, he could've sworn he saw her wink at him from behind the counter.

She gave them their drinks and promised their food momentarily.

Cindy immediately swung the damp cherry in her mouth.

"Say thank you, Cindy." He frowned, taking a sip from his soda after thanking their waitress.

She plucked out the ruby stem, "Thank you, Cindy."

He gave Christy a sheepish smile, she just laughed and sauntered off.

He watched her go back and forth through doors, bringing back empty plates and taking out ready ones.

It wasn't long before she brought their own meals out.

Cindy, again, dug in as soon as her dish was placed on the table. He thanked her again, for the both of them.

"Mhmm, hope y'all enjoy it." This time she had definitely winked. His eyes were fixed on the sway of her hips.

He tried to go back to his meal but another blonde interrupted him.

His sister's poor table manners were intolerable.

"Cindy. Close ya mouf when you chew, girl." He scolded, taking a bite of his own food.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn't bad.

They ate peacefully, disrupted only by Christy routinely checking up on them.

Towards the end of the meal, Cindy was begging him to let her spend the night.

"Ion think so." He muttered, scraping the last of his pie.

"Why not?" She demanded, dropping her fork on the table.

He wasn't paying much attention to her outburst though, Christy had bent down to pick up a fallen napkin and he was getting lost.

"-It's a Friday, Mom's working late tonight, I don't wanna be home alone, and you live closer anyway." Cindy was too busy counting off her reasons to notice his inattentiveness.

He's barely listening now, he's currently engaged in deciphering the looks she keeps giving him. The diner was empty now save for an elderly couple and she was cleaning up. His sister stayed asking. It was getting annoying.

"No, Cindy." He said firmly, now looking at her. "Ima take you home, you gon' take a shower and go straight to bed."

There was no real reason behind his decision. But he couldn't tell her that she would've jeopardized his chances of getting lucky tonight. Christy's signs were so blatantly obvious he'd have to be blind and dumb not to see them; two things which he was not.

"But Gin-"

"Listen, I'll see you on Sunday aight? We could go to the mall and look at those blue Roshes you want."

She stayed quiet for a while, pensive about the offer.

"Sound like a plan?"

"No." She smirked. "I want Nike Juvenates now and I want 'em in red."

"Okay fine," He said before adding, "-but only if you clean the house and do the rest of your chores tomorrow."

"Deal." They shook on it.

Truth was he was going to buy her the shoes anyway. He was a dotting older brother that was especially soft on his baby sister. And since her dad left a couple years ago, Gin was the one who helped keep her, and their mom, supported.

Christy brings the tab and Gin pulls a single hundred out of his wallet and slams it down without as much as glancing at the price.

She looks down at the bill dumbfounded. "We don't accept-"

"Keep the tip." He insisted.

They held eye contact for a while, trying to read each other's faces.

"Well, thank you." She said finally. "You guys done?"

"I am." He said, handing her his clean plate.

She took it and reached out for Cindy's. "Okay, and-"

"She's not done yet."

Cindy and Christy gave him the same confused look. "Cha talkin' 'bout? I finished ma food."

"You ain't touch them string beans yet."

"Ugh," She gagged, "C'mon-"

"Just try 'em." He urged.

"But I'm full."

He raised a brow, "Should've thought twice 'fore scarfin' down dem biscuits, girl."

Cindy took a deep breath when she realized there was no getting out of this one. She picked at a single piece and took a tiny bite. Both adults watched her face twist into itself. She ran off to the bathroom.

"Drama queen." He sighed, passing the small bowl towards Christy.

She gave an empathetic smile, "I was like that when I was younger."

Gin watched her go to the back and wondered how she would've looked when she was younger. If she had braces because her smile was flawless. And whether or not she used to be fat because that ass still was.

He snaps out of his fantasy and looks around to see the diner completely vacant. He spots her behind the bar, drying mugs leisurely.

Gin puffed his chest out as he rises from the booth, he's pretty sure she's at least interested in him so there's no harm in chatting her up.

She notices him before he leans down on the island, giving him a sly smile.

"So," He grins, "Christy, right?"

"Christel, actually." She corrected, stressing the last syllable of her name.

"Christel." He nods, getting an affirmative nod back. Rhymed with pistol.

"How long you work 'til?" He asks, checking his analog watch. It was half past ten.

"…'s gettin' late."

"It's not that late," She replied, "My shift doesn't end until closing."

"Which is?" He prodded.

"Midnight." She noticed his face fall slightly and added, "But it's been a slow night so maybe they'll let me off a little earlier."

"Why?" She added.

"Just wonderin'" He said. "Hate to let a pretty girl walk home alone."

"I'll be fine."

"You already fine."

She giggled. "Stop."

"What?" He chuckled back, "I'm just sayin'. You got me worried about you for real, how far you live?"

"Yo?" They hear Cindy call behind them.

"Cute kid." Christel mentions.

"Oh, Cindy?" Gin raises his eyebrows, "Nah, 's ma li'l sister."

"Gin."

"Coming baby." He calls over his shoulder, getting closer to murmur. "Anyway, hit me up if you need anything, especially tonight."

He whispered while sliding her a napkin with his phone number on it. She took it like she was wiping the table with it and slipped it in her apron.

"Will do." They exchanged knowing grins before turning back to Cindy.

"Ready to go?"

She gives them a wary look before nodding slowly. "Yeah, les'go."

"Now y'all have a goodnight, take care okay?" Christel waved.

"Thanks." Cindy muttered when he opened the door for her.

"Thank you very much, you too." Gin responded, giving her one more look and a wave back.

He drops his sister off and was left feeling lonely for only a second. As if on cue, his phone buzzed.

Four years ago, if one would've dared hit Gin Rummy with a text he'd have probably shot his phone and went after the sender's head. But at twenty-seven he'd never been happier to see one.

He doesn't feel a bit of shame as his thumbs start typing away, nigga-technology being the last thing on his mind.

this wasnt supposed to be this long

i dont really know what im doing so reviews would be very helpful and appreciative, any feedback really