“Yeah I know … but do you know you’re the first and only man that I love?”

“I do now,” he responded, with a little sarcasm.

“Now that you know, don’t hurt me.”

The next day, Arnessa had lunch with Kisa and Mrs. Spencer, a client from the spa. Along with her husband, Mrs. Spencer owned a successful contracting firm that had locations in six states on the East Coast. Arnessa observed while Kisa did most of the talking on her behalf. Using her most proper voice, Kisa effortlessly negotiated a deal to use only Mrs. Spencer’s company for all of Arnessa’s real estate investment projects in exchange for a modest discount. Watching Kisa spew out numbers without blinking or stumbling only reassured Arnessa that she’d made the right decision by going into business with Kisa.

Arnessa glanced down at her vibrating cell phone, which rested in her lap. It was the fourth phone call from an unfamiliar Atlanta number. This can only be Cenise or Nomie, she thought; she knew no one else in Atlanta. But where were their cell phones? Excusing herself from the table, she answered the phone as she entered the bathroom, “Hello?”

“Arnessa,” a tearful voice spoke.

“Nomie?”

“Yes.”

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“It’s Cenise …” Nomie paused.

Arnessa’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach, “What happened to my sister, Nomie?”

“She got knocked.”

Breathing a little easier, Arnessa asked, “For what, fighting? I told y’all not to go down there with that rowdy shit.”

“Nah, Nessa, they got her for trafficking.”

“Trafficking what?”

“Cocaine,” replied Nomie.

Pain shot through Arnessa’s head. “What you mean cocaine? What the hell y’all into down there?”

“I’m not into nothin’, Nessa, I swear. It’s that dude, Black, that Cenise be messing wit’. I told her after she made the first couple of runs not to do it no more.”

“What run?”

“From back home to down here.”

This was a lot for Arnessa to process, and too much was being said over the phone, “That’s enough talking on this line; where they holding them at?”

“Cenise is the only one that’s locked up, and she’s in Greenville, South Carolina.”

“So where this Black nigga at? He better be on his way to fucking bond her out, I know that.”

“I tried calling him, but every number Cenise gave for him is disconnected.”

Arnessa was becoming more pissed with each answer. “What’s his real name?”

“We don’t know,” Nomie answered truthfully. “Everybody down here call him New York Black.”

“That’s every dark-skinned New York nigga name when they outta town. How come Cenise didn’t call me?”

“She said she been calling the house, but she couldn’t get you. I had her on three-way the first few times I called you. I think she had to get off the phone.”

“The next time she call, hit me if for any reason I don’t answer. Make sure you tell her to keep her mouth closed.”

“Are you okay, dear?” Mrs. Spencer asked, upon Arnessa’s return to the table. She noticed the sweat stains on the younger woman’s beige silk blouse and her smeared mascara.