Rap stared at her usual attire as she headed for the door. “When you gonna start dressing like a lady?”

“When these niggas get off my dick and let me act like one.”

Super Dave’s body shook and shivered as he crept through blocks in search of a hit. All of the crack that Arnessa had given him was long gone—he’d sold it that same day. Over the course of two days he’d used the profits to shoot up as much heroin as he could. Dave knew that Arnessa was out and more than likely looking for him, but at the moment he didn’t care, ’cause his need for a hit outweighed his fear. Little did Dave know he’d already been spotted.

Look at his silly ass, Arnessa thought while watching Dave from a short distance. She knew that he was in search of a hit; she could even tell by looking at him his body was aching. Arnessa turned to one of her two workers. “TJ, you got any boy on you?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Go over there to Super Dave and act like you wanna serve him, take him around the corner between the buildings where Bizzy be at. Marty, you come with me, but hang back in case he try to run.”

Thirsty for a hit of the almighty heroin, Dave fell into the trap without a second thought. He watched TJ’s hand lustfully as he sorted through the tiny folded cellophane bags. Arnessa crept up on him, holding a metal pipe. With extreme force she slammed it into the side of his knee, and his body crumpled to the ground.

“Where da fuck is my paper?” Arnessa demanded as she continued to attack his body with the pipe. Dave curled into a fetal position. It was a terrible shame to see what the long-term use of heroin had reduced the one-time athletic star to. His body was ravaged, leaving him weak and unable to fight off a woman who was less than half his height. Dave simply cried out in pain, “I got robbed.”

“Do I look stupid, Dave,” she yelled, striking his shoulder. “I told you not to play me!” Arnessa stomped him in the side with her boot. She made sure that she was brutal in her attack. Since Eugie was gone, she wanted to send a firm message to her workers so they’d think twice before crossing her.

“Ay, ma, cut that shit out,” an unfamiliar male voice said from behind, capturing everyone’s attention. Arnessa stopped wielding the pipe and turned around.

“Don’t worry ’bout what she doing.” Marty pulled up his shirt, displaying the gun tucked in the waistband of his pants. “Keep it moving, b.”

The guy saw the gun and nearly laughed in Marty’s face. “Cover that starter pistol up, lil’ dude. Aren’t you Arnessa?” he asked, focusing in on her.

Showing her annoyance, she replied. “And who are you?”

“I’m Butta, Rap’s people.”

“Oh yeah,” she said, remembering her conversation with Rap a day earlier. “Give me a minute.”