Joseph Collin Street or Street as he was known, was into his morning ritual of coffee, codeine and crack. A tradition which began several years prior and had simply progressed into the activities of his every day life.

Ok, he was a drug addict.

"Where in the hell are you?" he yells at no one in particular.

His girlfriend Lola, who he nicknamed Sassy, for reasons that will soon become obvious, had been missing since last evening. It's now after 9 am.

The only one who heard the outburst was Whodini, who scurried away due to the tone of Street's voice.

Whodini was a cat who made his home in Street's raggedy, one bedroom apartment. There was a huge hole under the kitchen sink where the stray was able to come and go as he pleased.

Street was late with the rent so often that he didn't feel right asking Reynold (the slumlord) to fix it. Or, anything else in the run down dump. So, Whodini was a reluctantly received guest.

Street's meeting with Sassy was of a similar fashion:

One day, he was sitting in front of the window overlooking the alleys around his apartment building. He spotted her running up the alley with the form and speed of an Olympian. Street knew she had to be running from someone.

As she approached, he yelled out "The dumpster!"

The girl quickly disappeared inside.

Seconds later, a white Mercedes Benz screeches into the alley.

It was impressive seeing this girl go from a full speed sprint to a perfectly calculated jump with all the grace of a gymnast.

She glances around to see where the command came from.

Their eyes meet as Street puts his index finger to his mouth. He's got a slight smirk on his face. He had been drinking and doing drugs all day so the whole ordeal was semi comical to him.

The girl remained silent.

Street draws his attention to the other side of the alley. He watches closely as the passengers emerge from their vehicle.

It's a white couple. Both early thirties.

The man appears with a pistol in his hand. The woman is yelling absurdities and looking around perplexed.

"What did this chick do?" Street wonders.

He looks down at the dumpster below. The girl's eyes are on him but her hands are in a praying position and her lips are moving a mile a minute. "Please God don't let them catch me." He can almost read her mind.

The humor of the situation gets the better of him and he gives her a smile that all but breaks into laughter. It attempts to break her concentration. So, she closes her eyes and continues her talk with the Lord.

"Fuck it Jim, she's gone! We'll catch up with the thievin' whore eventually. We always do. Let's go!" says the lady.

Jim mumbles something inaudible, slamming his fist against the hood of the car. He seems to be slightly drunk as he uses the vehicle for balance and gets back inside.

They sit for a moment in animated conversation before driving off.

After a couple cautious seconds, Street pours beer from his freshly opened bottle down toward the dumpster below his window. It makes contact with the girl as she jumps out of the stinky trash bin.

"Boy is you stupid? This is Versace! I jus' got this outfit!"

She's not happy.

"Bitch, you jus' hopped out of a dumpster!" He laughs as he takes a swig of his beer, then hits a blunt.

"Are you always so rude to people you don't even know?" She's brushing herself off and full of attitude.

"Are you always so ungrateful to people who save your ass from gettin' shot?" He studies her with a raised eyebrow.

"Look, I appreciate your help, but pouring beer on me was totally uncalled for!" Her piercing brown eyes focussed on his. She's trying to determine how much of an asshole he really is.

Street, being 90% asshole, decides to show her his kinder side. "My bad, I'm lifted right now. I didn't mean no harm. Will you forgive me?" Fake, innocent looking smile on his face.

"Forgive you? Sir, I don't even know you! All I know is-

He cuts her off abruptly.

"First of all, I ain't old enough to be nobody's 'Sir'. Call me Street ok? And what's your name?"

She figures he can't be as bad as he lets on. She looks around to make sure white Benz hasn't decided to circle back.

Hoping to lay low for a minute, she composes herself.

"My name is Lola." She fixes her hair and puts a cordial look on her face. "Can I come up there and clean up a little bit. I'd hate to walk around the rest of the day smelling like beer."

She gives him an annoying stare with her lips twisted to one side.

He studies her for a second, wondering if he should let her in. Street could tell she wasn't one to be trusted, but she was cute. She also looked super young, so he was hesitant.

"How old is you first? I'm a grown ass man, and I don't allow no kids in my establishment." He waited on her response.

"Establishment? Kid? Boy, stop playin' wit' me! I am 20 years old! Can I come up or not?"

She acts as if she's losing patience. Hands on her hips. Inwardly she's praying that he says yes.

"Ok, but don't come up here blowin' my high wit' no shenanagans. Ring apartment 17. Hurry up before I change my mind!"

Street shuts his window and closes his blinds before she can respond.

He'd gone against his better judgement. Had he been sober, he wouldn't have let her in. But Street was rarely sober.

She rings the buzzer which barely works. Seconds later, she finds that the elevator is out of order. Now, climbing the stairs to the 3rd floor.

"This dude better not be on no bullshit I swear!" Lola says half under her breath while searching her pocket for a switch blade. She kept it to deal with creeps she'd encounter on the cold streets of Detroit. Lola could slice this dude up into little pieces and wouldn't hesitate if the need arose.