Being that the group hung around the same blocks Rhonda did, she knew them all, but she and True had a history. Back when Rhonda only had two kids and True was still hugging the block, they used to mess around. It was never that serious, just a situation where they would occasionally see each other at a spot and slide off afterward. When Rhonda became pregnant with P.J., True fell back, but they kept in contact. When they would see each other, it was always love, but had never gone beyond a friendship until recently.

One day while at Rucker Park, Rhonda had bumped into True. Being that he and the group had been on tour for most of the winter and spring, no one had really seen him, so when he popped up on the scene he had to make a grand entrance. His smoke gray Roadster crept up Eighth Avenue, looking like a remote-control toy. He just nodded and smiled, looking every bit the triple-platinum rapper that Don B. was pushing him to be.

Rhonda and Reese just happened to be standing on the corner that True pulled up on. They immediately greeted each other with hugs. They stood there kicking it for a minute, but the wayward groupies that kept popping up were putting a serious cramp in Rhonda’s game. The two of them exchanged two-way info and agreed to hook up. Rhonda waited for almost a month before hitting him up. It just so happened that True was in New York at the time. She enticed him into coming over with the promise of a home-cooked meal. Being on the road didn’t allow too much of that, and he eagerly agreed. The fact that she’d reminded him of how tight her head game was didn’t hurt. Now, three days later, she sat in her spotless home waiting for the arrival of her guest.

When the phone rang, Rhonda almost killed herself trying to get it. Breathlessly, she answered it, only to be disappointed that it was a kid named Von and not True. Von was Rhonda’s latest victim. He was originally from Yonkers, but currently resided in Virginia, where he slung birds. She had fucked him one night after leaving the club, but after sampling her fruit, he found himself turned out.

Von came to New York at least twice a month and always came bearing gifts. He had laced her and her kids with all kinds of fly shit. His dick game was whack, but the way he threw his money around made up for it. Rhonda didn’t mind letting him hit it from time to time in exchange for paper, but that day she wasn’t feeling him. Her pussy had True written all over it.

“What’s good, ma?” he asked in his heavy voice.

“Hey, daddy, I was just thinking about you,” she replied, faking excitement.

“Did the people deliver your shit?”