Isa pulled the blunt, holding the smoke before blowing it out. Ahmeek sauntered down the steps and fell right into rotation as Isa passed the weed. It dangled from his lips as he sat, then he reached for another stack of bills.

“You on with it with Mo? Thought you was falling back,” Isa said.

“Mo for the games. A nigga ain’t got time,” Ahmeek answered. “She’ll drive a nigga crazy, man. If she got to go back and forth with it, it ain’t mine.”

“Real shit,” Isa said.

“Back to this money, nigga,” Ahmeek choked out with his weed smoke as he passed the blunt.

“We on track to pay this month’s tab to the nigga Hak?” Isa asked.

“We on track. Ya man almost fucked shit up, but I covered it. No lie, bruh, I’m this close to blowing that nigga head off,” Ahmeek stated, pinching his fingers together to measure his lack of restraint.

“Shit’s out of hand, G. You and him,” Isa stated, pausing to toke the blunt. “Fighting over Mo. The shit put a nigga in a real bad spot. You my mans. He my mans. Fuck I’m supposed to do with a war between y’all?”

“Stay out of it,” Ahmeek answered.

8

Bleu sat on her sofa, flipping through case files in front of her. The highlighter in her hands slid over the pages. It was late, too late to be up, but she couldn’t sleep. A candle flickered, causing shadows to dance against her ceiling as crickets chirped outside. The breeze that snuck through her window caused goose bumps to form on her arms. She heard the sound of his engine before the headlights that turned into her driveway illuminated her living room. She didn’t even rise from her seat. She kept working as the sound of the car door slamming filled the air, then heavy thuds against the wood of her porch as he ascended the steps.

“What you doing up?” he asked.

“Working,” she said without looking at him. “I have to help a lady get her kid back tomorrow. Be a character witness in court on her behalf. I’m just making sure I have everything together.”

He came into view, and Bleu rolled tired eyes up to him. He took the papers from her hands.

“Messiah, I don’t feel like hearing anybody’s problems but my own right now,” she sighed.

He sat on the edge of the ottoman directly in front of her and then tossed the papers to the floor. “Nigga, this shit ain’t no one-sided shit where I just dump my shit on you but you can’t give me some of yours. Start talking,” Messiah barked. “What problems?”

Bleu sighed and let her head fall back against the couch cushions. “Iman wants me and Saviour to move to LA.” The room grew so silent you could hear a pin drop.