"PR?"

"That’s right, nigga, PR. They’ll think it’s some Puerto Rican mutha fucka or some shit like that. They won’t even know if it’s a man or a woman."

"This can’t come back on me in any way, Rain."

"Trust me, nigga, it won’t," Rain assured him.

"It better not, because if you fuck up my business with Black, I’ll-"

Rain leaned forward. "What you gonna do, nigga?"

Stark leaned forward and zipped up the bag. He got up and took the bag with him. Rain sat quietly and watched as Stark handed the bag to one of his men.

"See Moon on your way out, he’ll take care of you. From here on, you deal with him. You and I don’t talk anymore. And one more thing-"

"What’s that?" Rain frowned.

"You have no credit here. No money, no product," Stark said and went in another room and closed the door behind him.

Rain stood up. "Nice doin’ business with you." Bitch nigga, she said to herself and went on with Moon that night.

For a while things went smoothly. Money was flowing and she was able to keep any knowledge of her involvement in the game from Nick.

That ended the week before when somebody robbed two of her spots. She had lost five of her people. Murdered; execution style. They were killed on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs. Then the killers shot them twice in the head. Rain knew that she would have to deal with that, but not that night.

That night she had smoked a blunt, had a couple of shots of Patron and was waiting on Nick to come knock her back out. She wasn’t in the mood for any shit from Blue.

"Why don’t you worry about runnin’ these spots and makin’ this money and let me do what I do. Unless you tired of makin’ this money," Rain said.

"You don’t get it, do you, Rain?" Blue said and dropped his head. "You never did." Blue finished his drink and stood up. "It ain’t always about the money."