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“Hey, just checking in to see if you are good. Y’all need anything from me?”

“Nah, I’m leaving Ghalen’s place now. Bay’s going to help with the funeral planning because Pam isn’t capable of doing any of this shit right now.”

“That’s fucked up. I can’t imagine what she’s going through.”

“Yeah, she and the kids are going through hell right now.”

“I’ma roll through there later. I’m about to make a run right now. Just finished up over on Clayton and Reeves Street. I’m heading to Adam’s now.”

“A’ight.”

“I’m only five minutes out.”

Adam is Adam Vietti, an Italian tailor here in town. He makes all my suits, as well as the suits of several other wealthy patrons. He also has some suits he’s designed but didn’t create himself for patrons who can’t afford the custom-made ones.

We run drugs through his place, Adam’s Closet, a high-end fashion store that offers custom suits and casual attire. We have a pickup and drop-off at the store on the first of every month.

“Holler at me when you finish, and I’ll let you know if we got some other shit shaking.

My source inside the police station says they’re still chasing down leads on Ghalen’s murder, but that shit ain’t going anywhere.

You and I will have to put our heads together and shake some niggas down for information. ”

“That’s what’s up, Boss. Been telling you we need to hit the streets and find out what these niggas know.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking you’re right. Gon’ and handle that business and get back at me later.”

“A’ight.”

We end the call, and I turn to Jamal in the seat beside me.

“He’s heading over to Adam’s now.”

“Let’s roll,” Jamal states, pulling out of Ghalen’s driveway.

It takes us ten minutes to get to Adam’s Closet.

Jamal and I both climb out of the car and head into the store. It’s not that busy for a Wednesday afternoon, which works in our favor.

The bell over the door tinkles as we walk in, and a little cutie behind the counter calls out, “Welcome to Adam’s Closet.”

“Wassup, Liyah!” I greet.

“Hey, girl,” Jamal greets.

“Hey, Z! Hey, J!” Aaliyah, Jamal’s little sister, greets eagerly. She runs from behind the counter, wearing an Adam’s Closet uniform of black slacks and a black shirt with a white collar. The words Adam’s Closet and her name are stitched in gold over the pocket.

“Why did he get greeted first? I’m your brother,” Jamal complains, patting his chest.

“He spoke first,” she says, sticking her tongue out at her older brother before she throws her arms around me.

“Hey, girl.” I hug her and kiss the top of her head.

If Bayleigh had it her way, this is who our son Zayn would be dating, but the two are just good friends and nothing more.

Aaliyah moves from my arms to Jamal’s and hugs him.

“Must be payday,” Aaliyah declares, pulling away from his hug.

“Why did you say that?” I ask.

“You came through, my brother came through, and Uncle Parker’s back there with Adam,” she explains, pulling her phone from her back pocket.

I chuckle and send her five hundred on Cash App, and Jamal moves to send her some money, also.

Whenever we come through this store, we hook her up. She’s Jamal’s little sister, but I consider her the daughter I never had.

“Thank you, Uncle Z. You need to learn from your bossman, J. You reap what you sow. When you sow little seeds, you get flowers. When you sow big seeds, you get trees,” she teases, sticking her tongue out at him again.

“Gon’ with that corny ass shit. Besides, I happen to like flowers.”

“How much is he short, Liyah?” I roll my eyes at Jamal.

“Two-fifty.”

I turn around and glare at Jamal before he sucks his teeth and pulls out his phone. Her face lights up when he sends her another two-fifty.

I head to the back office where Adam and Parker are while Jamal continues shooting the shit with his sister.

I walk up to Adam’s office just as I hear Parker say, “I run this muthafuckin’ town!”

“Nah, nigga. I run this mutha’ fuckin town,” I proclaim in a quietly controlled voice.

“Aye, yo, Z! Wassup?” Parker asks, laughing and turning around with surprise written all over his face.

“Zaire! I didn’t expect to see the top man today. What’s up?” Adam asks, standing and walking from behind his desk.

“Nothing but inflation, cat,” I reply, dapping the Italian man up and giving him a one-armed side hug.

“Is everything okay?” Adam asks.

“We’re heading through on our way somewhere else. J wanted to see Liyah, and I came to holler at my right hand,” I explain, nodding at Parker. “Everything good, G?”

“We cool,” Parker confirms.

“Take care, Adam.” I turn to walk back down the hall.

“It’s always a pleasure doing business with you, Zaire,” Adam expresses, following us to the front of the store.

“Deuces, Adam,” Parker calls out, holding up two fingers and heading for the door.

“A’ight, Liyah. You be good, girl. I’ll see you around,” I comment.

“Okay, Uncle Z.”

I hear her mumbling something to her brother as I follow Parker out of the store.

“What’s up?”

“After I got off the phone with you, I got word about some nigga who was beefin’ with Ghalen. Malik hemmed his ass up, and I’m ‘bout to roll over there. Come on, roll with me.”

“Cool! I wanna see who this li’l nigga is running around bodying a Knight,” he remarks.

“I’on know, but his future seeds gon’ wish he’d never crossed me up.”

Jamal steps out of the store and asks, “You ready, Bossman?”

“Yeah, let’s roll.”

“Where are we heading?” Parker asks.

“To the Hovel.”

“Damn. Wish we had our shit built back up,” Parker mutters.

“I’on need that shit. We good,” I assert, lowering myself into Jamal’s car.

“A’ight, meet you there,” he replies.