Day CLV

Mi Sweet Shorty

     Every morning during those two months he rode the D train into the garment district. He loaded up on the dresses, and hauled them back to the Bronx on the subway. He did so well that after the season, he signed a two year lease, and fixed up the place: "Mi Sweet Shorty," slang for my hot chick. He did well because he kept doing the same thing over, and over. Eventually he bought some of my tops, and we stayed in touch, I used to pass by every two weeks. Just about when his lease was up, he found a really cool shop in the city, on Broadway in the nineties. It was really hip, and he pretty much kept doing the same thing.

    Sam was a young landlord, I think he inherited the place, but he and Rich became tight because they were about the same age. Rich told me that Sam, would sometimes bring him coffee in the mornings, when he opened up, and they would shoot the breeze till customers started showing up. But, methinks Sam was hanging around shopping for babes because the place was full of them.

     As time went by his customers asked him, suggested he improved his line, sell better stuff. So he did, and business got a lot better. He went from denim to silk, and from polyester to cotton, wool, and gabardine. The cash started to flow, and he started to make real dough. So he went to the Small Business Administration, and based on his success and experience, they lent him thirty thousand spendoodits.

     I stopped by his shop one day, “Mi Sweet Shorty II,” and he was nervously puffing away outside again.

     “Damn man, you must be smoking cartons, uh.”

     “Ya don’t na wat it feels like bwader…it’s diz biz mon!”