The ride was short, and as we pulled up to the familiar, slightly weathered curb of her building, the contrast between my new life and our old reality was jarring.

​"Thanks, Druski," she whispered, lingering for a second as if she wanted to say more. She hopped out, and I watched her disappear into the lobby before I turned my gaze toward the windows of my old unit.

​"Give me ten minutes, Two-bit," I muttered. "There's someone I need to pick up."

I followed into the building.

The hallway was dim, the flickering fluorescent light overhead buzzing like a dying insect. The air smelled of stale cooking and cheap floor wax—a sharp, grounding reminder of the life I was currently outgrowing.

​Sasha was still standing outside her door, her keys clutched in her hand, looking small against the peeling wallpaper. She seemed lost in thought, her gaze fixed on the scuffed linoleum until I spoke.

​"Everything alright?" I asked.

​She jumped, her shoulders snapping up as she found my eyes. After a beat, she gave a slow, hesitant nod. We stood there for a few seconds, the silence heavy with the things we weren't saying. I was the guy who just conquered a soundstage; she was the girl who had been there since the beginning.

​"Alright then," I said, turning to walk away. "I'll be on my way."

​"Druski..." she called out, her voice echoing slightly in the narrow corridor.

​I stopped and looked back over my shoulder. "Yeah?"

​"You and Chloe..." She paused, biting her lip. "Is it... is it anything serious? Between you two?"

​There it was.It was clear in the way she wouldn't meet my gaze. Sasha was in love with me—maybe she always had been. To me, she was important, a woman who held a permanent piece of my history since she was the one who'd helped me lose my virginity. But right now business was business.

​I gave her a small, reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me, Sasha. I told you before—I'm not letting her break my heart this time. I'm the one in control now."

​I turned to leave again, but her voice stopped me once more, sharper this time. "And what about Abigail?"

​I felt a ghost of a grimace touch my lips. Abigail.

​The memory flashed vividly in my mind: the night I'd walked into Sasha's place and found them together, their bodies tangled and scissoring in the heat of the moment. I knew Sasha wasn't in love with Abigail. To Sasha, Abigail was just power—a ladder to climb. But now, Abigail was her competition for my attention.

​"Good night, Sasha," I said firmly, cutting off the conversation before it could spiral.

​I turned the corner and headed toward my old door, leaving her standing in the dark hallway with her questions. I had a different fire to put out now.

I pushed the door open, the hinges groaning in a way that sounded like a weary welcome.

​The apartment was a graveyard of our old life. It smelled of Chloe's heavy floral perfume and the sour scent of cold takeout left on the counter. But the silence was absolute. I looked around the cramped room; the bed was unmade, and a few of her things were missing from the dresser. She'd finally snapped, fed up with the radio silence and the ghosting.

​I pulled out my phone, the screen's glow harsh in the dim room.

​[Druski: Where tf are you?]

​The reply was instantaneous, the three dots dancing for barely thirty seconds before my phone chimed.

​[Chloe: At my Mama's place. Come and pick me up.]

​I didn't have the time or the patience for a scavenger hunt. I shot back a one-word demand for her location. When the pin dropped, I looked at the map and felt my brow furrow.

​Jamaica, Queens.

​I had been in New York for a while now and I had visited a few dozen places. Queens was a different beast entirely. I didn't know the streets, the shortcuts, or the politics of that neighborhood. But I had someone downstairs who lived for that kind of thing.

​I walked back out to the Escalade, the night air feeling cooler now. I climbed into the back and leaned forward, showing the screen to Two-bit.

​"New destination," I said. "Jamaica, Queens."

​Two-bit shifted the gears, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror as he pulled the massive SUV away from the curb. "Queens? That's a long haul from the studio, Boss. What kind of business we got out in the deep end?"

​"Just picking up a girl," I replied, leaning back into the leather. "Chloe. She went running back to her mother."

​Two-bit chuckled, a low, gravelly sound that vibrated through the car. "Man, you're taking a Cadillac into Jamaica to pick up a girl? You better keep your head on a swivel. Queens ain't like the city, and it definitely ain't like the suburbs."

​He navigated onto the bridge, the city lights reflecting off the black hood. "You got layers out there. You got the working-class families on one block, and the next block over, you got the 'set' boys. In Jamaica, you got guys who have been holding down corners since before you were born. It's a grid, but it's a trap if you don't know who claims what."

​"Gangs?" I asked.

​"Heavy," Two-bit said, his tone turning serious. "You got the old-school crews and the new-school cliques. They see a truck like this, they don't see a 'Main Man.' They see a moving payday or a threat. We aren't just driving into a neighborhood, Hart; we're driving into territory. You make sure your girl is ready to move the second we pull up. I don't want to be idling on a side street in Queens for longer than two minutes."

​I looked out the window as the skyline of Manhattan began to shrink behind us. The stakes were rising again. I had conquered the studio, but now I was heading into the real world—the world where "magic" didn't happen behind a camera, it happened in the shadows of the street.

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