“Where in the hell have you been?” Nia asked Tommy.

“Handling some business,” Tommy said, then walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice for himself.
Nia followed him. “Well you damn sure ain’t been with JoJo and Twin, ‘cause they been calling me for the past three days looking for you.”
“I had to take care of something.” Tommy gulped down the small glass of orange juice then refilled it.
“Oh, so we can’t talk now, motherfucker.”
Tommy took a seat at the kitchen table without looking up at Nia.
“Well, Tommy, are you going to talk to me, or are you going to keep playing these silly-ass games?”
He looked at Nia. He could tell she was genuinely upset. Perhaps she’d been worried, or perhaps she was angry because this time he left without telling her where he was going. He took a sip from the orange juice. “Nia, have you ever got a funny feeling that something bad was going to happen … and you just wanted to make preparations for it.”
She sat across the table from him. “Tommy, what are you talking about?”
“I’m just trying to make preparations, just in case I get locked up, so I’ll have something to fall back on.”
“Tommy, don’t talk like that.”
“Well, it’s the truth. I mean, it’s a possibility.”
“So what are you doing?”
“I met with a guy this weekend, and he’s a real estate investor in California.”
“Nigga, you’ve been to California and you couldn’t tell me that you were going?”
“This was a business trip, not a personal trip.”
“Still … you didn’t ask me if I wanted to go. Tommy, are you hiding something?”
Tommy didn’t say anything. His mind drifted back to the hotel room with Alicia.
“Okay, Tommy. You ain’t trying to answer me, huh?”
“I ain’t got nothing to hide. I got the call from Manny’s brother saying he was in trouble, so I had to get out of here to get my thoughts together.”
She thought about his answer. “Legitimate now, huh?”
“That’s the plan.”
Nia walked over and put her arms around him. “That’s good. Real good. I mean, I would hate for something to happen to you; you are such a nice guy. You know what I mean?”
He looked in her eyes. He couldn’t believe she was concerned about him. He and Nia had had their problems in the past, but it was nice to hear that she thought he was a good person. “Nothing is going to happen to me because I am going to make money legitimately.”
Tommy’s cell phone rang. He answered on the second ring. “Hello.”
“What’s up, nigga?” It was Twin.
“Not much. Just got back from Cali.”
“Oh, nigga, you just disappeared without telling nobody shit, huh?”
“I got a lot on my mind. I left so I could think.”
“So are you still going to make this money or what, man? I’m hurting out here.”
“Come over. Let’s talk in person.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

JoJo and Twin sat at the kitchen table. “So what’s the word, Fatboy?”
Tommy’s face was serious. “I’ve been thinking about this real estate thing hard, and I want to pursue it, man, before we all get locked up.”
“Nigga, what makes you think we’re going to get locked up?” Twin said.
“I don’t know if were going to get locked up, but I know the outcome of these situations are usually ugly. I mean, look at Jamal and Dawg. Look at Prince and JB, Cornbread and Rollo ... These niggas are legends in the drug game, and they are all either in jail or dead.”
“So you’re quitting?” JoJo asked.
“No. I can’t quit just yet. I’m going to need to get a million dollars before I can quit. A million dollars will set me straight.”
Twin laughed. “Hell, if I could make a million dollars I would quit, too. Ain’t no goal in the drug game. A million turns into two million, and two million turns into three, and three turns into the pen.”
“Exactly. And that’s what I’m going to avoid.”
“So who is going to school you on the real estate game?” JoJo asked.
“This old cat named Don. This nigga is so rich, the nigga got a Maybach Benz and shit. He’s made it in the game.”
“So let me get this straight … You need to make a million dollars to give to this man to invest,” JoJo said.
“Right.”
“So what are you going to make off the money?”
“Like two hundred thousand dollars in a year, then we’ll do more investments and make more money,” Tommy said enthusiastically.
“That ain’t no fuckin money,” Twin said.
“So, you got two hundred thousand dollars?”
“No, but I look at it like this: Why spend a million to make two hundred thousand dollars?”
“Because it’s legit.”
“Fuck being legit,” Twin said. “I’m going to be a crook for life.”
“So, Tommy, what’s up with Manny?”
“He’s still in jail, but I’m going to call his brother and see what’s going on. If we have to, we’ll buy from his brother.”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about—doing what we do best,” Twin said, smiling.

Twin was in the drive-thru line at Taco Bell when a man walked up to the car and said, “Open the door, nigga.”
Twin looked up and recognized the man. He smiled and opened the door.
J-Black sat on the passenger side of the Range Rover. “Order me a chalupa and a Sprite, nigga.”
When they got to the window to pay, the bill came up to $8.93. Twin glanced at J-Black. He wanted to ask him for his portion of the money, but J-Black’s expression looked as if he had no intention of paying.
Twin pulled away from the window. He handed J-Black the chalupa then the Sprite.
“I’ve been tailing you every since you left that faggot-ass nigga’s house.”
“Tommy?”
“Yeah, that motherfucker.”
“So where’s you car?” Twin asked.
A sudden hardness appeared on J-Black’s face. “Don’t worry about where my car is. That shit don’t concern you.”
Twin steered the car into the middle of the road then stopped at the traffic light. He added some mild sauce on his taco then pulled away from the light. They rode in silence.
Twin wondered what in the hell was on J-Black’s mind.
“So what’s been up with Tommy?” J-Black asked.
“I don’t know,” Twin said.
J-Black pulled out a chrome 9mm then cocked the hammer. “Wrong answer, muthafucka. I know you know what’s up with him because you just left his house.”
Twin pulled the car to the side of the rode. “J-J-J-Black, man, please put the gun away.”
J-Black aimed the gun at Twin’s head, took a bite of his chalupa then squeezed the trigger.

Mark Pratt was at a table all by himself, in the Uptown Carousel, when Jennifer spotted him.
“Greetings, officer,” she teased.
“Don’t say that too loud.”
“So who are you watching tonight?”
“I’m not watching anybody. I just thought I would come by to check you out.”
“So you’re in my fan club, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say all that,” Mark said as he examined Jennifer’s evening gown. The gown was red and it gripped her body firmly. It was cut low at the top, revealing her huge breasts. Mark had never been a breast man; he’d always liked a woman’s ass. Jennifer had breast and ass, and this was a rarity for a white woman. Though her breast were probably on a payment plan, they looked nice.
She sat on his lap. He could feel his erection forming. He thought about the last time he’d had sex.
She grabbed his face. “So, are you going to buy me a drink?”
“Sure, why not?”
Jennifer stopped the waitress and ordered a double shot of Hennessy and Coke. Mark asked for a water. Their drinks arrived less than a minute later.
Jennifer drank her Hennessy in three gulps, and then said, “You know, Pratt, you’re not a bad looking guy.”
“Thanks, Jennifer.”
“How old are you?”
“Guess.”
“Thirty?”
“Would you believe that I’m thirty-five?”
“No. You’re kidding.”
He pulled out his driver’s license and handed it to her.
She stared at the picture for a long time.
“What are you looking at?”
“Scorpio, huh?” She smiled mischievously.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Means you’re a freak, Pratt.”
He took a drink of his water.
When the waitress came, Jennifer ordered another Hennessy and Coke.
“I’m a freak, huh?”
“Scorpio’s are sexual beings. They love sex. I know because I’m a Scorpio.
“Oh, really?”
She licked the side of his face. His penis started bulging.
She grabbed it and winked. “Do you want me, Pratt?”
He was silent. God, he wanted this woman at least for tonight. He didn’t answer her. Instead, he looked into her blue eyes; eyes that a lot of Blacks perceive as evil eyes. Black men had died for lusting after blue eyes and blonde hair, or at least speaking to them. The waitress dropped off a Hennessy refill.
Jennifer licked his face again.
“So, what do you see in Twin?”
“We’re not here to talk about Twin, again, are we? Let’s talk about me and you, Pratt. I know you want me, and I want you.”
“Really? You think I want you?”
She held the glass of Hennessy up to his mouth.
He looked around. The music was amplified. A new Fifty Cent song played in the background. He opened his mouth slightly, and she poured the liquor down his throat. He thought about his dad, the good Reverend. What would he think of his son being in a titty bar with a stripper—a white stripper? He was playing with the devil. He was playing with Eve and he’d partaken of her forbidden fruit.
She kissed his jaw and grabbed his penis again, then she poured more liquor down his throat. “I want you, Agent Pratt, and I know you want me or else you wouldn’t have come to the club tonight.”

J-Black burst out with laughter. “Coward-ass nigga. Don’t you know the difference between a blank gun and a real burner?”
“Quit playing like that, J-Black.”
J-Black dug into his waistband, pulled out a black handgun, and cocked the hammer. “Now this is the real shit, nigga.”
“Quit playing.”
He took the clip out and showed twin the bullets. “Listen, muthafucka, I’m hungry out here, and I need to stick somebody. What about your boy? Do he have anything for me?”
“I don’t think so, man. I mean, his connect is in jail. It’s been kind of fucked up for everybody. What happened to the five bricks you kept?”
J-Black lit a cigarette. “Some muthafucka stole my truck that same day, with my stash in it, and I wasn’t gone but two minutes in a store.”
“J, man, this is my girl’s truck. You can’t smoke in here.”
“I do whatever the fuck I feel like doing.” J-Black blew rings of smoke at Twin’s face. “Hey, I need a loan.”
Twin dug into his wallet and handed him a one-hundred-dollar bill.
He snatched the money. “Don’t fuckin play with me. This ain’t no real money.”
“I don’t have no money, man. Didn’t I tell you times was hard?”
“I know times is hard, muthafucka. Why do you think I’m out here fuckin with your punk ass in the first place?”
“Here is twenty dollars more,” Twin said.
J-Black knocked the wallet out of his hand. “I need two thousand dollars, nigga.”
“I ain’t got that kind of money,” Twin said.
“I guess your life ain’t worth two thousand dollars, huh?”
“You wouldn’t kill me; man, I’m your friend.”
“I ain’t got no friends.”
“I got a thousand.”
“That will do.”
“I have to go home to get it.”
“Let’s go,” J-Black said.
Twin thought long. He didn’t particularly want J-Black to find out where he lived. “J, I can’t take you to my house. My girl be tripping, man.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“I can take you back to your car, if you want me to.”
“Yeah. Take me back to my car. I want you to drive my car to your house; that way, I will know you’re coming back. Understand me?”
Twin hesitated before speaking. “I guess so.”
When they returned to Taco Bell, Twin jumped in J-Black’s Impala.

Twenty-five minutes later, Twin returned and met with J-Black, who was waiting in the car, smoking another Newport.
Twin handed him the money.
“Thanks, man. I appreciate this.”
“No problem, J.”
“Keep in touch. Make sure you let me know when old Tommy gets his hands on something again.” He hopped out of the car and walked by the Impala.
“J, you’re forgetting your keys.”
“Nigga, those ain’t my keys. I took the car from a coward-ass muthafucka in North Charlotte.”