Messiah saw the thick crowd of people turn to look, as a Range Rover entered the parking lot. Messiah knew who it was, before the window ever rolled down. Only a few men had made it to foreign status in the city, and only one could cause such a frenzy when he pulled up. Ethic’s street resume was extensive, but he moved like a ghost, rarely coming into the city limits and choosing to enjoy his wealth silently, as he masked as a successful businessman. Retirement hadn’t subtracted from his legend, however, and as he pulled onto the scene it was like a celebrity had arrived. Ethic pulled, directly, in front of Messiah’s car, blocking him in. He rolled down the window, revealing his stern face. Messiah turned down the music.

“Let me rap with you for a minute,” Ethic’s baritone announced, as Messiah stuck his head out.

Messiah knew it was an inevitable conversation. He knew Morgan was like a daughter to Ethic. He also knew that he didn’t make the cut as acceptable to fit into Morgan’s life.

“Yo, I’ll be right back,” he said to his squad, as he exited and walked around to the passenger side of Ethic’s whip. He climbed inside, and Ethic pulled away. Messiah wasn’t fearful of anyone, but Ethic’s presence was heavy, as silence filled the small space between them.

“Do I even need to say it?” Ethic asked. The authority behind his question was clear.

“Nah, I got it,” Messiah replied. “There is a line. She’s on the other side of it. I ain’t a bad nigga…”

“You’re not good enough for her,” Ethic replied, with a stern tone that told Messiah that he was truly talking to a man about his daughter. There was nothing contrived or forced about Ethic’s love for Morgan. Blood couldn’t make them any closer.

“That’s all facts, OG,” Messiah responded. “She’s a special girl.” Messiah looked out the window, as they spun the block. “I have nothing but respect. You’ve taught me a lot. You’ve probably kept me alive over the years. You’ve given me game, when you could have left me to learn it the hard way. I’ll keep my distance.”