She went to the best schools in Atlanta and excelled academically and athletically. She graduated high school as salutatorian and was offered scholarships from a number of schools. She'd applied to and been accepted into Emory University but there wasn't a scholarship offer so her father had paid her tuition in full.

  He was still tugging at her shirt and she screamed, "Get off me! Get off me!"

  His breath smelled of Grand Marnier. He stepped back. "You think he's going to do for you what I've been doing for you?"

  "You mean what you been doing to me? Is that what you mean?"

  "Look, I never thought I'd see the day—"

  "That I'd resist your advances."

  He inched toward her and she backpedaled.

  "You don't love me." he said.

  Their eyes met for a brief moment. "I never have."

  "You loved me and I loved you. It`s been that way since you were a little girl. We've always been there for each other. Just me and you. We've never let anybody get in between us." Tears welled in his eyes. "Don't turn your back on me. I need you. I really need you," he pleaded.

  She dashed into the bedroom. He removed another mini bottle of Grand Marnier from his pocket and downed it with one drink before following her. She knew there was a snub-nosed .38 on the nightstand. She opened the drawer and removed it then pointed it at him.

  He halted and said, "What is this about?"

  "Look, you don't have to worry 'bout me saying shit about your dealings. I just want you out of my life."

  "If you think that you're going to have a happy ever after with your boyfriend, you're wrong. The Feds are on his ass and it's just a matter of time before they get him."

  "Get the fuck out of my house!" she shouted.

  "What about my money?"

  "What money?"

  "Oh, don't play stupid, bitch."

  "What money are you talking about?"

  "I'm talking about the money that I had you put in the Panama accounts. I need that money if you ever want me out of your life."

  "I'll give you the money."

  He took a step toward her and she was shaking like hell. She knew that if she pulled that trigger, it would end all of her worries. She contemplated it but before she could decide what to do, he knocked the gun out of her hand and it fell on the floor.

  He approached her and placed his hand around her neck. "You're a dumb little bitch and you always will be a dumb bitch. Look, I need my money. So you best hop a plane over to Panama City to get my money."

  "If I don't?"

  "My people are coming for you and I don't have to tell you who they are, do I? Play with me, bitch, and you will die. I promise you."

  He made his way through the bedroom door. Then, he removed yet another bottle of Grand Marnier from his pocket and downed it before slinging the bottle against the wall and shattering it into pieces.

  Chapter 17

  TeTe had hired a driver for the night because she knew there would be lots of fun and drinks. This was the first night that she'd been out with Black on a date since he got out of jail. She and Black sat in the back of the stretch Rolls Royce. She was wearing a royal blue dress that shellacked her body and looked incredible against her skin. It made her look curvier than she actually was and the fragrance of the night was Bvlgari Rose Essentielle. And just as she suspected, Black couldn't keep his hands off her. He yanked her panties down in the backseat and she slid them into her purse. He jammed his fingers into her VJ and she moaned. Black was sure that the driver heard as he noticed the driver glancing in the mirror. TeTe's moaning was deafening. Black tried to cover her mouth with his free hand and she lashed out at him.

  "What the fuck are you doing?"

  "He's going to hear us."

  "I do whatever the fuck I wanna do. He works for me. He seen all kinds of shit, I'm sure."

  There was a wet bar in the back of the ride and she poured herself a shot of Patron, sipped it and then freed Black's manhood from his pants. She dropped down and stuck it in her mouth.

  Black was hesitant, as he saw the driver glance in the mirror. This time, the man smiled, embarrassed that he had been so goddamned nosey.

  "Do you want to listen to some music?" the driver asked.

  "Yeah. Trap music."

  Fuck Up Some Commas by Future blasted through the speakers. Black downed a shot of Patron then he relaxed. Her fingers were gripping his balls and she was slurping the tip of his penis. He was hypersensitive because he hadn't had sex in two weeks and although he didn't usually get this hard from head, right now, his dick was hard enough to knock a dent in a car door. Every time she was about to bring him to an orgasm, he would grab her hair and she would look up at him, saliva cascading down the side of her right jaw. She smiled because she knew that he was aroused and that she had done her job. She continued performing and he stopped her again.

  "What's wrong?" she asked.

  "Nothing," he lied but the truth was that he couldn't get relaxed. He hadn't heard from Cato and he was wondering what had happened with Avant.

  She rose from his lap and she kissed him. "Something is bothering you."

  "Is it that obvious?"

  "Yes."

  He zipped up his pants and asked the driver to lower the volume on the radio. He sighed and said, "The dude from my basement?"

  "What about him?"

  "How the fuck did he get out?"

  "Is that what has you worried?"

  "Yeah."

  "I would have killed him."

  He laughed and said, "I believe you."

  "You think I'm a joke?"

  "No."

  The car stopped and they were at Halo. The driver lowered the volume of the music and said, "We're at the Biltmore. There seems to be a nice crowd at Halo."

  "Hey, just ride around the city." TeTe ordered."

  "Joy riding?" the driver said.

  "Well, joy riding would be if we stole the car."

  The man laughed and said, "Poor word choice."

  "We are just wandering aimlessly. We don't have no destination. The night is young and we're young. We are having fun," TeTe said. Although she wasn't exactly young, Black made her feel young and they were having fun.

  The driver obliged and when they were exiting on to I-75 Black said, "I almost forgot to tell you."

  Her face became serious. "You forgot to tell me what?"

  "I heard in the streets that Todd is out to get me and you for what happened to his cousin. He actually met up with Shakur's brothers and told them that you masterminded the murder."

  She unzipped his pants and said, "I don't care about Todd. I'm not worrying about him." She stroked his penis until it sprang to life and was pointing to the roof of the limo. She hopped up on top of him and straddled him as the limo darted across the overpass on I-75. The bright Atlanta skyline was in the background as music played on the radio.

  Chapter 18

  After Q had received a shipment from Gordo, he drove over to Fresh's new home. Today was the first time he had seen Fresh's new place. He was impressed right away as Fresh gave him a tour.

  Q said, "I love this place. How did you find it?"

  "I love it too. A realtor found it."

  As they settled down in the living room, Fresh offered Q a drink.

  "Do you mind if I smoke?" Fresh asked.

  "I thought you stopped?"

  "Got a lot of shit on my mind."

  "Light up."

  Fresh rolled a swisher.

  "What's on ya mind, big bro?" Fresh said as he inhaled the weed. He coughed and fanned the weed. The scent of the Bubba Kush annoyed the hell out of Q but he dealt with it.

  "Chanel's a winner, right?" Fresh said.

  "I like her a lot."

  Fresh coughed, laughed and said, "I told you."

  "You did."

  "She told Brianna that she liked you, but she wasn't going to open up to you too much because you were still in love with Starr."

  Q turned from Fresh's gaze. "I do still love her."

  "Look, man, don't miss out on something good chasing something temporary," Fresh said.

  "Chanel is the one that might be temporary."

  "Starr got you whipped."

  "I am."

  "Enough of the talk about the women. What's on your mind?"

  "Big shipment from Gordo."

  Fresh took a toke on the swisher and blew a smoke ring before coughing. Q wondered why in the fuck did he care so much about something that made him cough that much.

  "I already got work."

  "From who?"

  "Diego."

  "You did?"

  "Yeah, bruh. You don't remember?" He paused before inhaling and blowing another smoke ring. "I'm the smoker and you're the one with the bad memory."

  Q was fanning the smoke as if it bothered him and when Fresh noticed it, he stubbed it out and reached for a bottle of Effen that was on the table and drank it straight.

  "I told you I was going to deal with him and you said we shouldn't, but then I said I was going to get back what he owed us. I'm going to get him, man. I told you all of that."

  Q remembered, but he didn't actually believe Fresh would deal with him and though he was going to get back at Diego, he wanted it to be planned out—not some bullshit plan that Fresh drew in the dirt with a stick.

  "Look, man, I met some people through my cousin and they are willing to help us out in any way."

  "What cousin?"

  "I have a cousin named Tommy. He lives here. He left Houston when he was nine and has been here ever since."

  "Tommy deals? Funny I've never heard about him before."

  "Tommy doesn't deal. He's into that music bullshit but all his friends are trappers, bruh."

  Q was listening intently.

  "Look, after I make enough money, I'm going to handle this dude for Rico and that's on everything I love. On my mama. I'm going to make that motherfucker pay."

  "I don't want you to fuck with the dude. I want you to deal with me. We can get him later."

  "You're my brother, Q, and I love you. I'm always down with you, but this is something I gotta do. I can't let this ride. I wanna handle this."

  "There is a right way to do shit and this ain't it. We can't bring Rico back."

  "I'm going to handle it right now." Fresh was annoyed at Q's rationalization and he lit another swisher. "You don't understand, Q. I'm going to bait him until he gives me a big load and I'm not going to pay him. Not only that, the dumb motherfucker showed me where he lives."

  "Where he lives?"

  "Yeah, he has a house in Atlanta."

  "Really?"

  "He's here, Q, and I'm going to take his shit and then kill him. I'm going to do it and I don't give a fuck what you say."

  "Not a good idea."

  "Tell me why?" Fresh said, the swisher dangling from his mouth.

  Seconds later, a girl came from the bedroom—a woman that Q had never seen before. The woman was very curvaceous with natural hair and just a hint of eye shadow. She pranced around the house in a pair of pink booty shorts.

  Fresh said, "Meet my new lady."

  Q nodded to the woman. He was clearly pissed off that the woman was present. Fresh turned to her and said, "Look, baby, can you let me and my brother talk?"

  She gave Fresh a peck on the jaw and said, "I'll be waiting."

  Q and Fresh were quiet until after she had disappeared, Q said, "Okay, is this how we're doing business now? We come to Atlanta and lose our fucking minds?"

  "Look, I don't know what you thinking, but I'm not your son." He stubbed the cigar out again and said, "You want out, remember?"

  "Yes, I remember and you talked me back in. You begged me."

  "Because they had Rico and you didn't give a fuck if he lived or died."

  "I did everything they asked me to do and what did it get us? Rico was still murdered."

  "And I'm going to make it right."

  "You got bitches over while we're talking business."

  "I didn't know you were going to show up at my house."

  "You should have told me she was here."

  "I wasn't thinking."

  "You know why you wasn't thinking? Cuz you're a weed head."

  Fresh took hold of Q's arm and attempted to lead him to the door when Q broke free from his grip and said, "Get the fuck off me, man! Don't touch me!"

  "Get out of my house, man! Who the fuck are you to call me a weed head!"

  Fresh marched right over and yanked the door open and Q walked right by him. Neither uttered a word.

  Chapter 19

  Inside a rundown Super 8 motel in room one-oh-six, Fy-head introduced Craig Matthews to J-Will. J-Will was a bulky guy with a broad forehead and hair in a kinky twist. He was wearing a tiny red superman shirt that struggled to contain his big-ass stomach.

  They exchanged handshakes and J-Will said to Craig, "Befo' I discuss any motherfuckin' thang, I need you to strip."

  Craig's nostrils flared. He was clearly mad but J-Will just stood there with his hands on his waist waiting.

  Fy-Head faked a smiled and said, "Jay don't mean no harm. I mean he's just nervous. He did ten years in the pen and he ain't trying to go back."

  "I did fit-teen years and been in and out all my goddamned life and I ain't trying to go back fuckin' with some bullshit-ass cracka."

  Craig laughed a little before peeling his clothes off and kicking them in a corner. Soon, he stood butt-naked in the room.

  There was a six-pack of Bud light on the table and J-Will offered Craig one when he saw he wasn't wearing a wire and realized that it was okay to talk.

  "No, thank you."

  "Fy-Head said you needed a job done."

  "Who?"

  Cassandra laughed and said, "Fy-head a nickname of mine."

  Craig laughed and said, "Yeah, I need a job done."

  "Okay, tell me about it."

  Craig said, "Now, wait a minute. You had me strip-searched to make sure I wasn't wired up. How do I know it's okay to talk around you?"

  J-Will met Fy-Head's eyes and then he turned back to Craig and said, "Because it is, motherfucker. Either you play by my rules or you can get the fuck out of here. You need me. I don't need you." His nostrils flared.

  "Have you done this sort of thing before?"

  "Done what? You haven't told me what the fuck you want done."

  "I need my wife dead."

  "Okay, now we're talking."

  "Can you do it?"

  "I can kill anybody if you pay me the right amount of money."

  "I don't like no sloppy jobs. Are you a professional?"

  "What does a professional look like?"

  "Not like you." Craig's eyes darted around the small hotel room. Then he turned to Fy- head who was sitting on the edge of the bed filing her nails. "How long have you known him?"

  "We met on the inside."

  "I thought you said you were a professional?"

  "I ain't say a motherfucking thang. I asked you what does a professional look like."

  Fy-head stood from the bed and said, "Can you cut all the questions out? You are making us nervous. I don't want to go to prison dealing with your scared ass."

  J-Will opened his beer, downed it and burped.

  Craig said, "Listen, I'm sorry for all the questions. I just wanna be safe."

  J-Will grabbed a second can of beer and sat in a chair that was behind the desk. "I'm going to need to know her schedule. The alarm code to the house. Is there cameras? What kind of security system do you have? Do you have a key or can you tell me where I can catch her? Does she work out at a gym? What are her hobbies? Who lives in her home? Are there kids there? If so, what do you want me to do with them?"

  "Kids are there. I don't have the alarm code but I can call. The alarm is still in my name."

  "Okay. I'm going to need a map of the house. Need to know what room is hers."

  "I can get you a layout of the home."

  "Good." He swallowed the beer in one drink and said, "Okay, how much you paying?"

  "Fifteen grand."

  "Where is the money?"

  "I don't have it all."

  Craig turned to Fy-head who was fixing her hair in the tiny cramped bathroom. Craig said, "I told Cassandra that I was going to give you half upfront and half after the job is done."

  "Look, bruh, this is murder for hire. You ain't paying on a gold chain in the pawnshop. I don't do layaway plans."

  "I don't understand."

  "If you ain't got fifteen upfront and you want to pay half, then my price goes up to twenty thousand. Take it or leave it."

  Craig turned to Fy-head. "I've got the money, but that's not the deal I discussed with you."

  "She ain't the one doing the job. I'm doing the job. So you need to deal with me."

  Craig had no choice. He had to take the deal. He'd just plotted a murder with a stranger. This would be one more person knowing about his plans.

  Fy-head came back from the bathroom and Craig said to her, "I told you that we were going to do half upfront."

  "Look, I told him. It's up to him. I'm not doing the job."

  "The free surgery is off the table then."

  J-Will said, "What's going on?"

  Fy- head said," Our friend here is a plastic surgeon. He told me that if I found someone who would do the job, he would give me free ass implants. Now he's reneging since you want all your money."

  "I do want all my money and he's going to perform the procedure or I'm not doing the goddamned job. You brought us two together and you deserve to be compensated."

  Craig frowned. He couldn't believe that he'd just been bitched but there was nothing he could do about it. He removed the money and passed the money to J-Will who counted it and gave him a tiny flip phone.