He didn’t expect headlights to light up the block, because they lived by the same code—pull up without announcement always—but he heard the hum of the BMW. He recognized it from down the block because it matched his own. That’s how close they had been. Matching cars. Hood niggas, getting money together, buying foreigns together. One girl had come between all that. A girl who was worth it. Ahmeek would have liked to say he would take it all back, but he wouldn’t. What he had experienced with Morgan had been glorious. It didn’t matter to him that it had ended. Even the short time he had spent with her was worth all the discord.

Messiah parked on the curb, another Crew rule: never get blocked into a driveway. Messiah climbed out, and he strolled up the sidewalk and stopped halfway up.

“Any nigga ever surprised me got met with a bullet. Better quit playing hide-and-seek, bitch-ass nigga,” Messiah said.

Ahmeek stood from Bleu’s porch swing. “Only nigga hiding is you,” Ahmeek countered. “I ain’t ever thrown a rock and hid my hand. I paid Beans a visit.”

“Fuck Beans, and fuck you too,” Messiah said, hawking up a wad of spit and watering Bleu’s lawn.

Ahmeek came off the porch. “You want to kill me? You pull the trigger yourself. You breathe on Mo the wrong way and I’ma put you down. She get caught up in some stupid shit again because you in your feels and I’ma look you in your motherfucking face and blow your head off,” he said.

“Fuck is you talking about? Mo always been good with me.”

“That nigga Beans sent the shooters to the studio! The hitters that you paid to take care of me. Me and everybody I love? That’s the order you put down my nigga. I love her! Every nigga in this city know the shit! I done spun Mo through every block in the hood! You came for my head, and they came for hers!”

Meek was shouting. Exasperated. He was boiling, and the spit that flew from his mouth as he barked on Messiah told him he was out of control. Messiah’s face changed, just slightly. A flash of guilt bent his brow as the revelation hit him. He had almost gotten Morgan Atkins, the love of his life, killed.

The porch light illuminated the yard as the front door swung open. Bleu stood there in a long T-shirt and knee-high socks. She pushed opened the screen door and stepped out onto the porch.

“Saviour is in here asleep. Y’all gon’ wake up my whole block!” she hissed.

“My bad, Bleu. You right. It’s late,” Ahmeek said, his eyes never leaving Messiah’s. “You looking real cozy over here, boy. You sure you even worried about Mo?” Ahmeek asked, voice low as he walked past Messiah, disappearing into the night.