Chapter 6

I was more than a little surprised to see a small crowd gathered that afternoon, glad I had hit my buddies up for any excess they might have, just in case. I think I may have overloaded my phone, and I was sold out by four. As I was packing up to leave a cop car rolled in, and two cops, a huge Hispanic guy and a shorter black guy getting out.

Grandma Greely was still there, waiting for her promised trip home, and she greeted them by name.

“Officer Jose, Officer Dan, how ya’ll today?”

“We’re fine,” answered the black one. “What you got here?”

She motioned me over and introduced us. “Officers, this young man is Steve Moore. He’s a farmer, got him some mighty fine stuff here. God dumped him in my lap, and I ain’t letting go. He’s got good stuff, fresher than anything you can get at the store, cheaper, too, and I ain’t got to go half-way across town to get it. You boys be nice to him.”

We shook hands and talked for a minute. They seemed like nice guys. Grandma was talking to some latecomers, telling them I was out but I’d be back next week, and they got me off to the side.

“Don’t take this wrong, it does us good to see you here, to see these folks this happy. If you could keep coming back, it would mean a lot to these people. But this is a bad neighborhood, son. Crime, drug use, shootings, all sky-high. You’ll be a mighty tempting target, a white boy doing a cash business. We’ll do our best to keep an eye on you, but watch your back. And remember, if you’re faced with it, it’s just money. Give it up and live.”

I thanked them for their concern and showed them my conceal carry permit, telling them about the Bond Arms four-ten two shot pistol and the Smith and Wesson .40 caliber, both within arm’s reach when I worked. They frowned a little, and told me if I had to use it, make sure no one else got hurt, and reminded me again that it was just money.

Officer Jose told me as he got into their squad car that I also needed a special business license, as my farmers market credentials didn’t cover me here.

“Relax, it’s only fifteen bucks. I’ll tell my buddy in permits you’re coming, so it should be a breeze. My mother bought from you today, it’s how we found out you were here. I’ll find out how good your stuff is come Sunday. Remember, be careful.”

I had noticed a few young black guys checking me out, but they hadn’t approached me, so I let sleeping dogs lie.

The next day I was telling my customers about my new location. Ms. Chen, a tiny oriental woman who was also a lawyer, gave me her card. “You keep going there, sooner or later you’re going to need me. Give me my produce this week free, and we’ll consider it a retainer.”