All that had happened 6 months prior. Sassy had become Street's girl from that night.

She was a natural hustler. With real business sense. Ambitious as they come. Going to get some money regardless.

Being as attractive as she was, she'd get her work for the low from dealers hoping to date her. She'd flirt enough to keep them interested. But, her heart was with Street. Or so it seemed.

She bought them each cars. An inconspicuous, grey Oldsmobile for her. And a brown Delta 88 for him. They had to be careful not to attract too much attention. There were still people out to get of them. So, they moved under the radar as much as possible.

Sassy loved nice, expensive clothes and started dressing Street to compliment her style.

He had grown use to having her around. Not only was the rent paid on time but Reynold was pressed to make necessary repairs.

Plus, Sassy could cook! They actually ate real food! Not the ramens and wieners Street was used to.

Since her arrival, it looked like a new apartment. A new small apartment. Street wasn't gonna give all that up without a fight. Even though he had no idea who he had to fight. Or, even kill.

He'd developed deep feelings for her. Street didn't know if he was in love with her, but he did know that he wouldn't let anything bad happen to her if he could help it.

And now, with her M.I.A., he didn't know what to do or where to start a search. Endless attempts to call her phone went straight to a voicemail box that was full.

Being stressed made him want to do more drugs. Instead, he put the dope to the side. Drinking water instead of beer. He wanted to keep a clear head and be ready for whatever.

Feeling his demons resurfacing, he looks at the twins and wonders how much longer he'll wait before he hits the streets.

It's 11:15am. and he refuses to call her phone again. It only pisses him off and makes him think the unthinkable: And there were a few unthinkables:

For one, her ex boyfriend/boss had finally gotten her. His goons had done their job and brought her back to him. Would he hurt her once she was safely back in his possession? Probably so.

For two, had she gotten robbed and beaten? Was she laying in a ditch somewhere dead or bleeding to death? Do you know how many ditches there are in the city of Detroit? I don't think you do.

Maybe she simply realized she didn't need Street after all, he only needed her.

Strangely enough, the last scenario would be the hardest pill for him to swallow. His ego wouldn't allow him to consider it fully.

"What's they dude's name again?" Street to Whodini. He sits on the couch breaking down an ounce of weed trying to recall.

Whodini seems to answer with assurance. "Meooow."

If only Street spoke cat.

"Lemme get lifted right quick. I'ma have to kill me a motha fucka! I already know..."

Turning the music up to drown his thoughts, he's prepares himself.

On the other side of town. In a nice and unassuming neighborhood, Rodric McCraig owner of one of the biggest muscle in organized crime. To say he was a drug dealer wouldn't do him justice. He had several successful enterprises that were legit. Well, mainly.

The thing with him and the McCraig family in general. They always got what they wanted to matter what. Success was in their blood. Violence was necessary and sometimes satisfying.

In what looked like a living room in the basement. Rodric makes a drink. Cognac straight. Happy that Lola's back but still furious that she left. He never hit her but wanted to a couple times. She could be a handful.

He invested too much time and money into her to just let her get away. And she was beautiful and he was in love with her.

Rodric hated to admit it to himself but it was true: Being 30 years old himself made him feel strange about his love for her.

"I'll make you your favorite drink?" Tequila with a splash of apple juice?" He's wearing a smile as he looks over at Lola who's sitting the couch.

Lola's despondent. Not giving him the attention he desires. Money and power can't by love even if it can buy people.

"With crushed ice? Isn't that how you like it?" Speaking as if they were having a nice conversation.

He takes his shot, then pours another.

"I don't know what kind of game you think you're playing but your mine forever. Deal with it!" Rodric hands her her drink with a napkin.

Lola looking into his glaring eyes, knocks the drink from his hand and turns away. Some of the drink landed in his pants, most landed on the floor.

All is silent while he looks at her in surprise.

"I'm never gonna be happy here." Lola states flatly. She's not even looking in his direction. Rodric was used to being important so she treated him like a nobody. It had the opposite effect.

He walks to occupy the space she glared off into. Standing over her he seemed slightly threatening. He squats to make himself have to look up to make eye contact with her.

"You were happy with me once weren't you?" Resting his hand gently on her thigh. Looking into her eyes hoping to find anything resembling interest.

Just her cold, emotionless eyes stared through him as if he wasn't there.

Rodric caresses her left cheek while moving bangs from Lola's face.

Surrendering to circumstance, she takes a deep breath with her eyes closed then, blows it out. Like she was making a wish and blowing out the candles on a cake.

"I need to know that you will at least try to be happy with me. Don't I get you everything you want?"

"All I want is freedom and that isn't something you're willing to let me have." No lies detected. She takes his shot and downs it. Handing him back the empty shot glass.

"Maybe if you gave me more freedom I wouldn't have to be running off. You ever think of that?" She adds. Giving him a puzzling look.

"Lola, you left me over six months ago and had to intention of ever coming back to me." His mood darkens.

With Sassy gone, Street has time to realize how meaningless his existence had been before she arrived. What it will be like if she never returns? He lived to do drugs and did drugs to live. How he came to that predicament was another story.

Whodini is pacing around Street. Picking up on his energy. Was it anxiety? Fear? Rage? Maybe a little of each.

Looking around, he realizes that everything around him reminded him of her. His apartment had received an entire makeover. He had received a makeover as well. Not just his outward appearance, but his whole life had been revived.

Seeing a bag of dope sitting on the table was tempting. He stashes it in the cubby hole under a floorboard. He covers it with a throw rug, spending the next half hour rolling blunts.

Keeping his mind calm and clear will help him accomplish the impossible. Or so he thinks.

First, he has to find out where Sassy is. Second, depending on the circumstance, he has to save her from whatever or whoever was keeping her from him. Thirdly, bring her back home safe and sound.

If he could manage to stay alive long enough to accomplish that, he'd consider himself a lucky man; Something he'd never considered himself before. He wasn't even sure if he was worthy of it. But he wanted to believe that he was.

Figuring he'd need help to accomplish his task, he calls his life long friend.

There is a first time for everything. And this is Street's first time having something, someone in his life worth fighting or even killing for. Though he'd killed before, this was the only time he'd consider it to be for a noble reason. Somehow making him more of a human being and less than one at the same time.

Not able to sleep the night before, he was up doing pushups, sit ups and crunches until his body ached. Then, he took an extra cold shower to zone out. Now, he was sore all over.

It made him realize he wasn't as young as he used to be. Still young, but not that young. The thought of his own mortality swept over him like a cold, brisk wind.

Now, he soaked in the tub. Water as hot as he could stand it. Eyes closed. Music blaring. Blunt smoke looming. He stayed there for an hour.

Finally dressed. Street is wearing an all black sweat suit with hoodie and timberland boots. He's strapped with his twins, and his mind is on murder.

Not having an idea where he was going only made matters worse. He only remembered vaguely, the names of people Sassy had spoken of from her past. Places she had been... She was secretive, so he didn't pry too much. Now, with her gone, he wished he had.

He did have the names of some the people she did business with. He knew the main spots she'd go to make her drops. He'd rode with her on occasion as she delivered drugs to her regular customers. He even followed her a couple times just to make sure she was taking care of business as she said she was.

Pop's had turned her on to people he knew were strictly drug addicts needing their next fix. It was up to her to be ready to deal with whatever may happen in the process. A transaction can go wrong quicker than than you can say 'death'.

Sassy stayed ready!

She made Pops clean up his act. "I jus' told his ass, ain't no way you gone be ridin' wit' me stinkin' up my motha fuckin' whip! You got to get it together Pops!" Street laughed as he recalled her telling him that.

With about 20 blunts in a bag, his twins tucked, Street looks around to see if he's forgetting anything. He grabs the bag of dope from the floorboard and stashes it in his pocket. "I got all I need right here. What you think Who'?

Whodini meows in agreement.

Making his way downstairs, Street hops in his whip, a 1999 Delta 88 and skirts out.

He rides down Rosa Parks Blvd, where he knows she made a lot of stops. The music playing loud enough to quiet the demons in his mind. Street makes a left on Burlingame and pulls up at a familiar spot.