“Suef, listen, I know these muhfuckas. When we get at them, we got to go hard and correct the first time. We can’t give them no time to regroup. Something needs to happen soon, before they figure out you set that lil’ chick up.”

“Trust me, baby, they not gon’ put that shit together.”

Rellie cut him off. “See, you lost already by underestimating them. Now, I don’t know nothing about this chick Arnessa but what you told me. What I do know is that Butta, Sincere, Kisa, and even that slut Eisani are far from dumb. So once you get your foot on their throat, you gotta keep pressing till they’re dead.”

“It carries how many years?” Arnessa questioned to make sure she was hearing the lawyer correct. Maybe it was his deep southern drawl that had her thinking she’d heard him wrong. She, Cenise, and Butta were having a meeting in the office of Barry King, the top narcotics defense attorney in Greenville. Prior to their meeting, Cenise had made her first court appearance. It had been two weeks since her arrest, and she’d been formally indicted for trafficking two hundred to four hundred grams of cocaine.

“The charge generally carries a mandatory twenty-five years,” he repeated. Instantly, Cenise burst into loud sobs and tears. “Now, sweetheart, calm down,” King told her, giving her a Kleenex. “I told you what the charge carries … Cenise has a few things working in her favor. She’s still young enough to be charged as a youthful offender, and she doesn’t have any priors. In a quick chat that I had with the solicitor, he let me know that he just may agree to dropping the charges down to possession and one year in prison, followed by home incarceration for a year. The home incarceration will be contingent upon Cenise establishing a physical residence here in South Carolina.”

“A year in prison?” Arnessa perched forward in her chair. “She can’t do no year in prison. Look at her.” She pointed at Cenise, who was crying out of control, “She’s not built for time. It’s her first offense. Can’t she get some type of intense probation, or just the house arrest?”

“Calm down, Ness,” Butta said, patting her thigh. “Mr. King, what do you feel Cenise’s chances are if she goes to trial?”

“Not good, since the state will more than likely call the confidential informant who tipped the police off about Cenise. And if it—”

Arnessa cut him off. “I thought this was a regular traffic stop?”

“Turns out the police were tipped off. Everything is here in the motion of discovery.” He handed Arnessa the paper so that she could read it. “Like I was saying, if we take it to trial and lose, I can promise you the state of South Carolina will hand down the harshest sentence allowed.”

On a beautiful sunny autumn morning, from a chair across the room, Butta watched Arnessa while she slept. Rays of sunlight crept through the blinds and kissed her skin, giving her an angelic glow. Butta was absolutely gone over Arnessa; he couldn’t recall ever feeling anything close to what he felt for her. It had been three weeks since their meeting in South Carolina with Mr. King. Arnessa had been in a terrible funk since then. Butta knew that the thought of Cenise having to spend one day, let alone one year, in prison was killing Arnessa.