Rel looked from Groovy to Slick, who just shrugged. He hadn’t expected Groovy to call him out like that, but the glove had been thrown. If he didn’t respond properly, any hope he ever had about regaining his G status would go permanently out the window.

“Fuck it,” Rel said, walking out the front door, followed by Groovy.

Slick just sat on the chair and shook his head. It seemed as if Groovy and Rel were always out trying to prove who had the biggest dick, when all he wanted to do was make money. Still, they were his team, and he had to ride out. Removing his P89 from the dresser drawer, Slick followed his boys onto the battlefield.

About an hour after Rhonda hung up with Billy, there was a knock on her door. She tied the strings of her bathrobe but left enough slack to show her entire thigh. If you looked close enough, you could see that she wasn’t wearing any panties. With a larcenous smirk and a Newport balanced between her lips, Rhonda opened the door for her baby’s daddy.

Paul stood in the hallway wearing a white T-shirt and denim shorts that stopped just above the line of his ankle socks. Though he tried to maintain his straight-edge composure, she could see the hungover sway in his stance. He nodded in greeting and stepped into the apartment. When he passed her she could still smell faint traces of alcohol seeping from his pores, partially masked by a sweet fragrance that she didn’t recognize. Probably something his bitch bought him, she thought to herself.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Rhonda said, locking the door.

“‘Sup, Rhonda,” he said, helping himself to a seat on the couch. His eyes were red from the night before, but Paul’s face was slack and serious.

“Look, don’t be coming through here with no attitude.” Rhonda walked into the living room and stood directly in front of him.

“Rhonda, regardless of how you spend your time, my every waking thought isn’t based around making your life difficult.”

“Whatever, nigga,” she said, dipping her hand into the pocket of her robe and handing Paul an envelope. “This came for you a few days ago.”

“Shit, I don’t know why people still send me shit here,” Paul said, reading the return address.

“Must be a sign,” she said, sitting next to him on the couch.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, chuckling.

“Paul, you need to stop fronting. Don’t act like you miss hitting this,” she said, slapping her thigh, causing it to jiggle.

“Rhonda, that shit is yesterday’s news,” he said, looking away from her.

“Yesterday’s news can be tomorrow’s headlines, you better act like you remember what it is.”

“Rhonda, all I remember is two people who couldn’t sit horses. I ain’t fucking with you.”