The stairwell is dirty and stinky. The smell of pee, alcohol and marijuana smoke all but choke her as she climbs the creaky staircase. Stepping over beer cans and wine bottles, she makes her way to the 3rd floor.

Arriving at his apartment, she takes a deep breath before knocking. Lola gathers her game. She puts on her 'grown ass' persona (she's only 16) and gives the door 3 quick knocks.

Street ignores her. Finishing his beer, he grabs another from the refrigerator. He instinctively grabs one of his Glock 30s and puts it at the small of his back and tucks it in his pants.

She knocks again, louder this time.

"Ok, ok I'm coming. Calm yo' ass down!" He says while opening the door.

They're both pleasantly surprised. There's a brief silence as they take in each other's form.

She's 5'7", 160 lbs. of lovely perfection. Thick, light brown skinned. Mixed with maybe Black and Mexican. Curly brown hair in a ponytail. Penetrating brown eyes that could probably possess souls. Lola had a heart tattooed on her lower left jaw. Or was it a birthmark? It was hard to tell. Whatever it was, it was perfect too!

He's 6', 200 lbs. of solid muscle. His slender frame made him appear much lighter than he was. Black as night with hazel eyes. Long, unkept locs. Even in his goatee. Plenty of esoteric-looking tattoos cover his entire person. Giving him the appearance of a living, breathing hieroglyph.

Feeling a bit self conscious as she gets lost in his eyes, she looks away and toward the ceiling. "Well damn, can I come in already?"

Street gathers his composure. "Yeah, yeah. Come on in. Make yourself at home."

He sizes her up realizing she looks younger up close than she did from a distance. She lets him soak in her beauty while she gives his place a glancing over. Nothing to write home about. A real dump.

There's another awkward silence. Then, they both speak at once:

Him: "You young as fuck!"

Her: "Damn yo' crib is small!"

Both in unison: "What?"

Neither of them repeat their observation. Instead they just exchange weird glances.

Whodini sits in the corner licking himself. He shows minimal interest in either of them.

Lola breaks the silence again. "So, where's your bathroom?" She knows he's undressing her with his eyes but ignores it. Trying not to blush.

"Back there, behind the curtain." He points behind him without looking away.

"You mean behind that dingy ass sheet you got hangin' up?"

He gives her a look she doesn't like.

"Ok, behind the curtain. Gotchu." She gives him a thumbs up and makes her way past him.

Street observes her thickness as she walks by. He takes a huge chug of beer, then sits and waits for her to return. While he waits, he turns on some music. Rapper Lil Gangsta is screaming about a killing spree he's been on. All cap, but it sounds good.

Lola emerges looking more composed. Her previous distress seemingly gone.

"Thanks for letting me freshen up, Street. I appreciate it." She says. Her tone much softer than before.

Street nods, still feeling a bit uneasy about the whole situation. Never one to trust easily, especially considering his own precarious lifestyle. But she was fine as hell.

As they sit in the cramped living room, a slight awkwardness fills the air. Street fiddles with his playlist, portraying disinterest as he catches her vibe.

Lola seems lost in her own thoughts, occasionally stealing glances at him. She thinks he's super cute. He appears to be in his late twenties, maybe thirty.

Whatever his age, she can tell he's had a hard life; What appeared to be bullet wounds were on his neck and left arm. Maybe that's why he's got all those tattoos she reasons.

After what seems like an eternity, Street finally speaks. "So, what's the deal with you Lola? Why were those people after you?"

Lola hesitates for a moment, weighing her options. She knows she can't reveal too much about her past, especially to a stranger. But there was something about Street that makes her want to trust him, despite his rough exterior.

"I... I got involved in something I shouldn't have. Those people... they're dangerous," Lola began. Her voice barely above a whisper.

Street can see the fear in her eyes. He leans in, intrigued by Lola's cryptic words. He turns down the music, and lights another blunt. He takes a hit, then passes it to her.

"What kind of trouble are you in? And why did you come running down this alley of all places?"

Lola takes a hard hit of the weed, steels herself before continuing.

"I work for... I used to work for a very powerful man, doing things I'm not proud of. But I wanted out, and they didn't like that. That's why I was running."

"And?" Street not satisfied with her response.

"And, those people you saw work for him too. They were supposed to be keeping close tabs on me. When they stopped at a red light, I took the opportunity to jump out. I hit the first cut I saw; Yo' stinky ass alley!"

Street's eyes widened in surprise. "And cut you did! Lookin' like Sha'Carri Richardson. You is fast as fuck!" He laughs.

Lola doesn't think it's funny. She's despondent sitting in her thoughts. Hits the blunt again and passes it back to Street.

They're interrupted by a knock on the door. Lola jumps.

Street, with the shh motion once again as he cuts the music off. He grabs his gun and listens. There's silence. Then, another strange knock...

"Oh, it's only Pops." Street seems relieved and answers the door.

Pops is a crackhead, drunk. He's obnoxious and smells bad. But, somehow, he keeps money.

"What took you so long Young Blood? I got stuff to do and hoes to see. Quit playin' wit' my time. If you don't want my business I -

Street cuts him off.

"I know, I know, you'll take it elsewhere. Look, let's make it quick Pops I'm kinda busy right now.

Pops is checking Lola out.

She gives him the what you lookin' at? look.

"Oh, I see you busy. How you doin' young lady? I'm Pops.

Pops offers her a handshake which she declines. She waves instead.

"Nice to meet you uh, Mr. Pops."

Street interrupts.

"She is not tryna make your acquaintance! Now, whatchu need?"

"Well, you neva know. Ha, ha. Gimme a 30. And make it fat this time. The last one was short as fuck!" Pops pretends his dirty trench coat is an expensive mink instead. Looking at Lola with creepy, widened eyes, he licks his lips and winks. He was a pimp back in the day. Or, so he says.

"They all short to here you tell it." Street grabs a bag of crack from his crouch and pulls out 3 pieces.

He hands them to Pops who puts them in his mouth. Pops hands Street 25 dollars and says he'll bring him the rest later.

Street - not wanting to argue, shakes his head. "I'ma need my 5 Pops."

"You know I'm good for it Young Blood." Pops responds, looking back at Lola and winks again before leaving.

"Nice meeting you young lady. And if you ever want a real man-

Street slams the door before Pops can finish.

"He's harmless. Always talkin' shit though. My bad." Street refocuses on Lola and her story.

"Want something to drink? Water? Juice? He wasn't about to offer any of his beer. They weren't that cool yet.

"I'll take a water, thanks." She seems to be warming up to him.

Street gives her a bottle of water then tries to regain his train of thought. His high was at a new level as he'd been drinking and smoking since before Lola arrived.

He didn't expect someone so young to have such a dark past. And there was no way she was 20 years old. The oldest she could be was 17 he figured. But despite her troubles, he felt a strange sense of camaraderie with her.

They were both outsiders in their own way, seeking refuge from a world that had dealt each of them a bad hand.

Street put both of his Glock 30s (he called them the twins) on the table while looking intently at Lola who didn't seem phased in the least.

"You know how to use a gun Lola?" he asked curiously.

"I learned how to shoot when I was 10. It was a must where I come from." She said flatly.

"Damn! So, I better watch myself around you huh?" He says with an air of suspicion.

"Nah, you good. Long as you don't try no shit wit' me." She gives him a smile he doesn't trust. "Plus, you cute. So, you should be straight." She adds.

"Oh, I'm cute am I? Not fine, or handsome, jus' cute huh? He attempts to act as if he's offended.

"Look nigga, don't press yo' luck! You really ugly for real. I was jus' tryna be nice." She laughs as she gets more comfortable in his presence.

"Ok, I'll settle wit' that. I'm jus' some cute motha fucka, ok." He shakes his head and they both laugh together.

As the afternoon turned to evening, Street and Lola find themselves sharing stories of their past, forming an unlikely bond forged out of desperation and survival.

Street opened up about his own struggles with addiction and the demons that haunted him, while Lola revealed glimpses of her life before everything went sideways.

In the dimly lit apartment, a sense of understanding blossomed between them, creating an unspoken alliance. Their worlds weren't so different. And in that moment, they were kindred spirits, bound by the need for companionship in a harsh and unforgiving city.

As the night stretched on, Lola and Street realized that their encounter was no mere coincidence. Fate had brought them together for a reason, and they were destined to find out what that was.

Little did they know, that darker forces were already at play, lurking in the shadows, waiting to test the strength of their newly found bond.

The night was almost over, but the true test of their loyalty and courage was soon to come.

By the end of the night, Lola was asking if she could stay.

Street's thoughtful response, "I hope you don't snore."

She laughs and replies, "I do, and I'm loud as fuck too. Deal wit' it nigga! Now, roll another blunt already!"

Street is stunned and speechless.

She then heads to the refrigerator to get him another beer. Opens it, takes a sip, then sits it on the table in front of him.

"Oh, I see you gonna be a problem. You a sassy motha fucka huh? Matter of fact, I'ma call you Sassy. Yep, that's your new name; Sassy." Street says thoughtfully. Then he promptly begins to roll a blunt.