I Love Boosters

[Scribz Riley's "Mandy" playing]

[glass breaks, people screaming]

- Ain't your name Amara? - Nah, Corvette.

- Hmm. I swear I know you.

What, you live in Richmond? - Mm-mm. Oakland.

Matter of fact, I got a place right close by here.

Ah. Like, real close?

- Right around the block. - Mm.

- What's your shoe size? -

Damn, you getting rough, rugged, and raw with it.

Baby, I wear size 12.

- For real? - Uh-huh.

'Cause I hate when guys...

- Oh, no, no, no, no, no. Listen.

Me?

I swear, size 12.

- I know exactly what you want.

Yeah, you do.

- Uh, It might be a little tight, but, uh...

I think it'll work. -

Hell, yeah.

- Shit, I thought we took those off.

I told you I got what you need.

Now, most boosters don't have this style and size

because they don't sell that much,

but I like to specialize.

Size motherfucking 12.

Now, all this

goes for one third of what you get it for at the store.

So I see you like suits. I got a bad Tom Ford...

- Wait, wait, wait. So you're a booster.

You stole all this shit.

Yeah, that's right.

- You probably don't even live here,

because if the police bust in, then...

So you ain't planning on fucking tonight, are you?

- I plan on selling some fucking shoes

and getting back to dancing and seeing who else

want to get on these good-ass deals.

Now, I might be fucking tonight,

but I ain't fucking you.

Look, you ain't going to find

no deals like this nowhere else, all right?

So you need to figure out

if you want to keep looking good, Mr. GQ Smooth.

Got anything size 10?

[music playing softly over radio]

Yeah, yeah, Rita! Ha ha!

It's your drive-time DJ with all the news

to keep on that daily grind.

Now, look, the DA's office just put out a press release...

Hey! You can't park there.

- Saying that boosting from department stores

and high-end fashion outlets will be receiving

more aggressive attention from their office.

Hey, boosters, listen up.

They coming for you.

No excuses-- go get some damn jobs

and stop spending money on nonsense.

Don't expect everything to be handed to you.

Y'all are lazy.

- Right. I mean, look, my cousin's a booster.

- For real? - Yeah.

Allergic to work, want to sit around acting

like things are gonna fall into their laps.

I mean...

- Yo, they got these cliques out there

like the Velvet Gang...

The Outlet Ambassadors.

- You ready? - Drive!

Hey! Get back here!

Open the door! Open the door!

- I just need to hit a lick and get up out this shit.

- Can you lift it up? I'm driving.

Shit, what you mean?

[conversation continues indistinctly]

- Get me out of here. Hey, get me out of here!

Hey! Hey!

Get me out of here! Get me out of here!

Get me out of here! - Corvette.

Corvette?

Corvette.

You talking in your sleep again.

Can I take a shower?

- I got towels in the cupboard.

- You got anything to eat besides Happy Rustlers?

'Cause you got me working in the club all night,

working up an appetite.

- Or maybe because I live in Jackie's Chicken.

And I can't get rid of the smell.

I like the smell.

I like it.

You smart for squatting here.

- And now from the East Bay,

retailers say enough is enough.

It's a crackdown on shoplifting

and big-box-store theft.

Retailers and the DA are asking the public for help.

Cops are here today...

- That's why I had all those bad dreams.

You had this on while I was sleeping.

Sorry.

What's wrong? - Girl, they got us on the TV.

- I know, but it doesn't look like you.

And it's in Walnut Creek.

What is it? You've been acting extra sour lately.

Nothing.

- Oh, because your design didn't win?

No.

Mine was too weird to win.

- Okay, well, you're just annoyed at me about something.

- No, I just feel lonely sometimes.

All the time?

- Shit, I'm even lonely when I'm with people.

- I've been terrified to even look out my window.

Ooh!

I mean, when I'm designing,

I feel like I'm touching the world.

I don't know. Loneliness creeps in.

I don't know-- I guess I just feel

like people don't see me for real.

Corvette, I see you, okay?

I see the fuck out of you.

You're a raw-ass, make-it-happen hustler.

That's the image.

It don't matter what I say.

I can tell you what I think about all day.

But the image that people have sometimes is so strong

that even my words can't paint a new picture.

- Look, I don't want to say the wrong thing.

I woke up on the right side of the bed this morning.

You asked.

- Sade is better with the deep shit.

Talk to Sade.

Lonely?

I wish I could get lonely every once in a while.

Try having kids.

I just feel stressed.

I mean, they already know I'm squatting.

When they finally kick me out,

I'm gonna have to go live in my car again.

I can't go back to jail.

I just feel like I'm dealing with so much shit alone.

"Alone"?

You wasn't alone when Brandy tried to jump you

and I stomped her out.

We both out here taking penitentiary chances.

You'll never be homeless if I have a spot.

Oh, a defective one.

It's your color.

We're not here for me.

Get the fuck back!

- Christie, Christie, what are your thoughts

on the Velvet Gang?

- Christie Smith knows we exist.

Low-class urban bitches.

With all due respect to urban bitches.

- Did she just call us "urban bitches"?

That's so-- that's so early 2000s.

- Yeah, fuck her. We got work.

- She lucky Metro Designers is our niche.

We keep her in business.

- Where's your white girl? Everybody else is in place?

Stevie's here.

Stevie's ready.

- Manny and Los are ready, too.

Hey.