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an agenda, including me.
    When I stepped out the tub I heard knocking at my bedroom door. I grabbed my robe to see who it was. "Precious, it's me, Nathan, I have your car keys." After the shoot out in Harlem, instead of going back to get my Range, I took a taxi home. Hell I didn't know if them niggas knew what type of whip I was in. They could've been on a stake out. When I arrived home, I sent Nathan to go pick up my car.
    "Thanks so much," I said, taking my keys from him.
    "No problem. But, Precious what happened today? You came home looking distraught. Why was you over in Harlem anyway?"
    "Damn, you asking a lot of questions."
    "I'm just concerned. Supreme would want me to look out for you and my gut is telling me you involved in some heavy shit."
    "I appreciate your concern, Nathan, but I'm good. If I need you I will let you know." I shut the door and sat on my bed. Supreme had a lot of love for Nathan, but I didn't trust him with my personal business. He had never done anything to me, but it was a known code of the street not to trust anyone, especially people who claimed to care about your well being.
    The next day, I didn't wake up until two o'clock in the afternoon. My body needed the rest. It had been non-stop action since I was discharged from the hospital. I honestly wanted to get away from everything. Recouping on some faraway island was what I craved, but Nico is what I hungered. I wouldn't be able to enjoy anything until that nigga was dead. As crazy as it might sound, I wasn't even mad at Nico for trying to kill me. I knew after I got him locked up, it would never be safe for both of us to walk the same streets. But I underestimated Nico. I thought he would be spending the rest of his life behind bars. Now that he was free, taking me out was a given, and I wouldn't expect anything less from him. But killing Supreme was unforgivable. This was between me and Nico. He took away the only man who ever truly loved me. When Supreme died, so did all my dreams.
    After getting dressed, I went downstairs, starving for something to eat. "Hi Anna. I know it's the middle of the afternoon, but can you make me some breakfast?"
    "Of course, Mrs. Mills."
    "Where are today's papers?"
    "I'll get it for you. You also have a message from a Mr. Jamal Crawford." I had been meaning to call Jamal, but of course there has been nothing but drama the last few weeks. I'm going to call him the minute I finish eating breakfast, I thought to myself.
    First thing I did when I got the New York Post in my hands was to turn to the crime section. Sure enough, the newspaper had a small article about my incident the day before. Titled, "A Bloody Massacre in Harlem." Of course the police had no witnesses; even if someone did see something, no one was talking. The streets always be watching, but rarely ever talk unless there are young children involved. No one in the hood wanted the blood of innocent little ones on their hands.
    I wanted to make sure Smokey had a proper burial and that his immediate family was financially straight, but I didn't know any of his people. He mentioned he had a daughter, but that's all I knew. I didn't want to go around asking too many questions, because no one could know I was dead in the center of The "Bloody Massacre." Three of those bodies were mine. I would figure something out.
    After devouring the French toast and home fries Anna cooked, I took my glass of mimosa and went outside to call Jamal.
    "Jamal Crawford's office, how may I help you?" his receptionist said. A smile crept across my face when I heard that. Jamal had done real good for himself. I never doubted he wouldn't, but to actually see it come to fruition was amazing.
    "Yes, this is, Precious Mills returning his call."
    "Hi, Mrs. Mills. He was expecting your call. Let me put you through." There was a slight pause, and then Jamal picked up.
    "Hi, Precious, thanks for getting back to me."
    "I meant to call you a while ago, but with everything that's been