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let people know yo’ ass ain’t legit.”
    ”I got this, ‘cause soon as my rapper 2Glocks hits big, this drug game is over for me and you.”
    “You been saying that for the last two years.”
    “It only takes one hit,” Deion informed Alex with confidence.
    “And it only takes one drug bust and it’s over.”
    “Don’t put that energy in the air, man. We gonna win at this game.”
    “We can’t win being stupid.”
    “So you want me to take the Lambo back to the rental place?”
    “That would be a good start.”
    “Consider it done, big bruh. No sense in stressin’ the small shit. So what did you want to talk about?” Deion questioned, keeping the conversation moving along. Alex passed Deion the heroin under the table. Deion examined it without being detected, then he said, “Coke?”
    “Nope. Heroin.”
    “So you tell me to leave coke alone and you’re fuckin’ with heroin?”
    “Look man, Isabella brought this from California.”
    “Who?”
    “Joaquin’s wife.”
    “The gorgeous bitch with the nice ass?”
    “Yep. See if you can get rid of it.”
    “I can get rid of this with one phone call.”
    “Really?”
    “Dude, I been telling you we needed to get into this.” Alex took a swig of his water. He knew if anybody could get rid of heroin, it was Deion. “Can you get anymore is the question.”
    “Yeah, what do we need?”
    “As much as you can get. Just bring me back however much you can and we’ll split the profit 50/50.”
    “Cool, and don’t forget…get rid of that Lambo,” Alex said, before opening up his menu to figure out what he planned on eating.
    *  *  *
    A cloud of smoke hovered in the studio in Southwest Atlanta. A dark-skinned rapper with ashy lips and gold teeth named G-5 sucked the blunt like a vacuum cleaner.  He routinely did this every time they smoked in the studio, thus earning him the nickname Hoover. Reggie and Deion looked on as 2Glocks waited for his turn to smoke.
    “Hoover, can you pass me the fuckin’ blunt? After all, I did pay for this shit and it’s expensive as hell,” 2Glocks spit.
    “You need to get your motherfuckin’ money back, homie, cuz this shit ain’t even all that good,” G-5 retorted, passing him the blunt.
    “Just like a greedy nigga after he’s done smoked almost the entire blunt, then he want to complain,” 2Glocks laughed.
    “Seriously, it ain’t all that.”
    “Yo ass probably burnt out,” Deion said, adding his two cents.
    “I guess so,” G-5 said.
    “Amigo texted me, said he got some low coke prices,” 2Glocks said, changing the subject.
    “What’s his price?”
    “Why would you even risk dealing with somebody else? Besides, you know how Alex feels about fuckin’ wit’ people outside the circle,” Reggie nudged Deion and said.
    “Ask him when can we get with him,” Deion said, ignoring Reggie. 2Glocks shot him a text back and seconds later his phone was buzzing.
    “He wants to see us tonight, says he has ten,” 2Glocks informed him.
    “The price?” Deion asked again.
    “They probably gonna say twenty-five stacks or some high-ass number,” G-5 said, after inhaling the haze.
    “This ain’t good,” Reggie said, shaking his head.
    “I don’t see why not,” Deion remarked, wanting Reggie to shut the fuck up.
    “You don’t know these people,” Reggie said, not getting a good feeling about the situation.
    “First of all, Alex ain’t my daddy. Plus, I need to look out for my dudes. They gotta eat, man,” Deion countered.
    2Glocks’ phone buzzed, “Amigo said ten apiece.”
    “Those are Texas prices. How the fuck can he do that?” Reggie asked, as he shook his head in disbelief. “From past experience when things seem a little too good to be true they usually are.”
    “These are Mexicans, nigga. They control the prices,” Deion rationalized.
    “Yeah and this dude has a warehouse off Old National. I’ve seen the shit myself,” 2Glocks said, vouching for his man.
    “So why won’t they