Title Page

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Epigraph

I dedicate this book to Ebonee “with the two e’s” Abby. May you fly high and rest in eternal love and peace. You didn’t get to smell your flowers while you were here, but so many people adored you. You touched a community of people by giving energy that you didn’t always have to give. You fought Lupus with grace, with a smile, putting a face to a silent killer of women. Your passing reminded so many people to appreciate each moment. Rest now love. You are forever engraved in the hearts of the people who love you and on these pages for the people who had not been blessed to meet you. Now they know your name. May your legacy live on through your three beautiful children. They know how to fight against all odds because of you. An entire industry of black creatives honor your name. You did good sis.

-xoxo-

Ashley Antoinette

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1

“I don’t give a fuck who in that bitch. Air that mu’fucka out.”

Isa leaned against the grille of his BMW as he looked at the house in front of him. He gripped the black 9 mm in his hand, resting it at his side as he looked at the gang of shooters who trailed him. Eight motorcycles lined the block, and the sound of engines roaring filled the air as a custom Slingshot came speeding down the street. It pulled recklessly in front of Isa’s car.

“Lil’ Henny, my nigga, I ain’t hit yo’ line,” Isa said.

“You know I ain’t missing no action. When it’s time to put in work, I punch that clock, big homie,” Hendrix said.

“You got the heater on you?” Isa asked.

“Come on now,” Hendrix answered, lifting his shirt slightly, revealing he was strapped.

Hendrix was bred by the best. He had been running product and packs for the Crew since he was a little boy, but Isa was his big homie. Isa had groomed him. Isa had made him a killer. He may have been the youngest on the team, but he wasn’t last place. Hendrix had more heart than grown men … more respect than most too.