He smoothed his tailored suit and red tie. "Boy, does it look like I ain't rich now? My pockets are already full of paper! Why the fuck would I want to risk doing business with some pasty cracker? For all I know, you a cop!"2008, John Lacombe, Winter Games, page 184:
“So, snow bunny, what should black women do? How do we...oh, how do I say this... cure our brothas of this widespread, pasty disease?” I didn't reply. Again, I tried to step away. Again, she grabbed my arm.2010, James W. Lewis, Sellout, page 107: