No one said a word while they drove. Each one of them was alone with their thoughts. They were alone to contemplate their actions. Kat, for one, didn’t feel any remorse whatsoever. She lived by her motto, “If it ain’t rough, it ain’t right.” In her mind she just got even and did Cookie dirtier than they did her. Turn-about was fair play, in Kat’s book.

Tender sat in the passenger seat, unable to concentrate on the Scarface movie on the DVD in the truck. She stared out the tinted window, watching the road. She hoped nothing was seriously wrong with Cookie, for all their sakes. After all, the dispute was pretty petty. It wasn’t worth dying or going to jail over.

Meanwhile Goldie sat in the backseat fretting to herself. This was all Kat’s fault, she thought. She cursed the day she met her.

“What?” Jules barked into his cell phone. “They did what? … I dun told ’em hos ’bout fuckin’ wit mine … Naw, fuck dat! Them bitches violated me for the last time. On e’rything I love, I’ma murda them hos. They got my bottom bitch all laid up in da hospital …”

Jules was furious; he felt like not only did Kat, Goldie and Tender disrespect him, but now they took food out of his mouth. They injured one of his top hos and best moneymakers. They challenged his manhood. What kind of pimp would he be if he let a bunch of renegades run through his stable without any repercussions. He had to set an example.

•   •   •

THE OWNER OF THE CLUB banned Kat, Goldie and Tender from working there again. They really didn’t care though. Strip joints were almost as plentiful as drugs and liquor stores in the hood. There were plenty of other hole-in-the-wall clubs that would gladly hire them.

The girls kept a low profile until they found out Cookie was alright. Then they bounced around from club to club, even journeying outside of Philly to Trenton, New Jersey. They felt pretty confident that Cookie wouldn’t go to the police. Cookie was from the street like they were. She knew the code.

Cookie took her beat down like a champ and didn’t tell, but it wasn’t her who the girls should have been worried about. Jules already put the word out among his people that he wanted to see them.

Tender counted her money “… four hundred, five hundred, six hundred …” as she got dressed to go home.

Tonight was a good night at the Grindstone; it was the weekend.

Kat watched Tender like a hawk from nearby. She had a knot of money of her own, but she had a bad habit of counting other people’s money too. Tender was giving her rent and utilities money but Kat wanted more. She just had to figure out a way to finesse Tender out of it.