Later that night Arnessa awoke to the laughter and music that were coming from downstairs. Butta was no longer next to her. Arnessa slipped on a white tank top and a pair of gray sweats and went downstairs to see what was going on. She found everyone sitting around the massive dining table. Eisani had also joined the group. In the center of the table were the remnants of what Kisa had prepared: king crab legs, jumbo shrimp, rice, and seafood salad, along with a few top-shelf liquor bottles.

Butta rose from his chair when he saw Arnessa; she waved him back down and sat on his lap. “You feeling better,” he asked her.

“A little. Has Kennedy or Cenise called?”

“They’ll be here soon. You ready to eat? Kane fixed you a plate. It’s in the kitchen.”

“Maybe later. I don’t have an appetite right now.”

Butta’s phone rang. “Let me up, Ness.” He walked through the kitchen and out to the garage. When he came back in, Kennedy, Chaz, and Cenise were with him. Cenise stood off at a distance while everyone else exchanged greetings.

“Thanks for getting her out,” Arnessa told Kennedy as they embraced.

“You don’t have to thank me. It was no problem. Baby girl is shook up, though, especially since she can’t get in touch with ole dude.”

Cenise walked over to Arnessa, expecting to receive compassion and comfort from her big sister. Unfortunately, when Arnessa looked at Cenise, all she felt was anger and rage. Neither sister said a word. They just stared at each other. Unable to match Arnessa’s gaze, Cenise looked away first. Suddenly, Arnessa slapped Cenise, knocking her to the floor. As Arnessa advanced toward her to hit her again, Butta grabbed her from behind. “Nessa, what’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” She tried unsuccessfully to free herself from his grasp, “Ain’t shit wrong with me! What’s wrong with this little ignorant bitch?” she demanded, pointing at Cenise, who was being helped up by Kisa. Everyone else looked surprised at how Arnessa was handling her sister.

No one was more shocked than Cenise, though. “Why’d you hit me, Nessa?” she cried. “Why?”

“Why? Why? Why were you on the highway with that nigga’s coke.”

“’Cause I love him,” Cenise sobbed.

“You can’t be serious. You don’t even know his name, stupid.”

“And he paid me.”

“Paid you what?”

“Two Gs a trip.”

“What the fuck is two G’s to you, Cenise? That was your monthly allowance in high school. You not talking to no dummy, aight? All this is about trying to impress a bumass nigga.”

“You don’t even know him,” Cenise countered

“Apparently, you don’t either, and if he gave half a fuck about you, he wouldn’t have left you for dead. You can’t tell when a muthafucka is using you?”

Already embarrassed, Cenise was now pissed at Arnessa for going at her in front of everyone. Mustering up some nerves and twisting her neck, she told Arnessa, “I don’t know why you all in my shit. Just six months ago you was moving more coke and dope than Jeezy rap about.”