The Food Desert
Copyright© 2019 by qhml1
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.”
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