“What up … ah … this is Jah. Um … listen, I was just calling to see what was up. ‘Bye.” Jah hung up abruptly. He immediately wished that he’d just hung up and not said anything. He must’ve sounded like a complete ass. The damage was already done, so there was no sense worrying about it. All he could do now was wait and see if Yoshi would call back. In the meantime, he had a grand old idea to occupy his time.

“Yo, it’s so many hos in here I don’t know what to do with myself,” Groovy said, leaning against the bar sipping his drink.

“You ain’t never lied, my dude,” Rel agreed.

“I’m glad we came out instead of kicking it in the crib with Slick.”

“Yeah.” Rel downed his glass of cognac. “We supposed to be one of the livest crews in Harlem, and we’re playing commando with a kid that’s barely old enough to drink. That nigga Slick is on some other shit that I can’t get with.”

“True.” Groovy nodded. “You think we’ll get another crack at Jah?”

“More than likely. See, let me run down to you what I learned in this game, youngster.” Rel put his arm around Groovy. “People like Jah are creatures of habit. They get comfortable with a certain geographical area or routine and that’s what they stick to. When he think the heat has died down, he’ll be right back up to his old tricks, and I’m gonna put a bullet in his head.”

“Rel, you stay talking some movie shit,” Groovy teased him.

“Nigga, my life is a movie. You know how much dirt I’ve done and gotten away with?” Rel boasted. “I done laid down way harder niggaz than Jah. Slick is my nigga, but he ain’t got no spine for war. That’s why I should be in charge.”

Groovy raised an eyebrow. “You?”

“Muthafucking right, me. I got twenty years invested in this game, son. I ain’t supposed to be no lieutenant, I’m a fucking general.”

“All that shit sounds good, Rel, but this ain’t the eighties. These cats play by a different set of rules than you’re used to.”

“That’s why the game is fucked up now. The art of drug trafficking is supposed to be a gentleman’s craft, but you got little know-nothing muthafuckas changing the rules and making shit harder on everyone else. I’m telling you, my dude, I’m gonna bring the game back to what it was.”

“Whatever, nigga.” Groovy waved him off and went back to watching the girls move about the floor. Seated at a table in the back, he noticed a familiar face. “Yo,” he said and tapped Rel, “ain’t that Jay and them from Bad Blood?”

Rel squinted in the direction his friend was looking. “Yeah, that’s them niggaz. Fake-ass rappers.”