“Good. They all dead to me.”

“I hear you, girl. But, damn…that’s kinda harsh.”

“Harsh my ass. It is what it is.”

“Kat, you know I usually keep my mouth shut, but this craziness between ya’ll has been goin’ on for too long. That’s still ya family, girl. Don’t you think it’s time ya’ll try ’n peace shit up?”

“Yeah, when that bitch’s in a box and I spit on her grave. Then it’s peace. Until then, that bitch is invisible to me.”

“Well, alrighty then. Movin’ right along. The reeeeal reason I was callin’ ya ass is to find out when you bringin’ ya dusty-ass back to the East Coast. There’s this bangin’-ass party comin’ up the end of next month and you need to have ya ass here for it.”

“Umm, Sweetie, you know I ain’t beat to be ’round a buncha played-out, dick-thirsty Wal-mart bitches.”

“Trick, don’t clown me. You know I wouldn’t be callin’ ya ass for no low-budget showdowns. This is all top-of-da-line dick and dollas, boo.”

“Hmmph. Who’s givin’ it?” I ask, tryna decide if I wanna blaze. I glance at the clock. 8:45 A.M. I get outta bed and walk over to my armoire and open it. I pull out a bag of purple haze. Open it, then take a deep whiff, closin’ my eyes. Yeah, this that good shit right here, but I ain’t feelin’ it. I reseal the bag, then toss it back in the drawer, pullin’ out the chocolate thai. Yeah, this is what’a bitch needs to jumpstart the mornin’.

“Remember that baller nigga Thug Gee from Newark who gave that party at Studio 9 before the shit shut down?”

“Yeah,” I state, pullin’ out my Dutches. I lay my stash and cigars on the nightstand, then go into the bathroom. I sit on the toilet. How could I ever forget that party? That’s the night I met Grant. The night I dropped down low, popped my hips, and pressed my juicy ass up against his cock and grinded into him ’til his shit bricked up. The night I knew I’d end up fuckin’ him. It’s the same night e’ery bitch on the floor wished they coulda been me.