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police. Each knowing not to include the fact they knew Black and his friends were some of the shooters in the shoot out. They watched while the paramedics put Rick and Tamara in body bags, and onto the stretcher, then they were off to the morgue.
    They rode home in silence wondering who would tell Tamara's parents. Gwen said she would, knowing that the other girls weren't strong enough to handle it.
    Back in the safety of her apartment, Meesa cried and cried asking God why. Hearing a noise outside in her hallway, Meesa became scared. Then she heard loud footsteps coming faster and faster. She thought she had been followed and that whoever killed Tamara was after her. So she raced to the kitchen and got a butcher knife, armed and ready to strike. Grabbing his keys, Black unlocked the door. Walking into the pitch black apartment memories came flooding back.
    “Meesa, are you here?” He called out. Switching on the hall light she sighed a sense of relief. Black saw the knife in her hand and saw that she was frightened. Realizing Black still had keys to her house, Meesa sighed with relief.
    “Baby give me the knife.” He asked, slowly approaching her. “Everything is going to be okay.”
    Trembling she stood frozen stiff. Black placed his hand on hers and pried the knife from her hands. Throwing the knife across the room, he then turned and hugged Meesa with all of his might. Thinking all the way over to her apartment, what if it had been her.
    Knowing he would gladly die right beside her if anything like that was to ever happen, Meesa cried the whole night. Black held her all night, not saying a word. His presence let his feelings be known.
    Visualizing Daryl's face made Black sick. He knew a war was about to begin, and that nigga Daryl was his target.
    By morning, Meesa had finally cried herself to sleep. Black had dozed off too. The startling sound of the alarm clock woke them both up. Knocking the alarm clock on the floor and breaking it, Meesa laid back down. The thoughts of the night before came back, haunting her again.
    Tears streamed down her face. Her dog was dead. No more of the sweet, beautiful, thoughtful Tamara. Black lay remembering Rick, one of his true blue friends. The only nigga he totally trusted. His death had to be avenged, and would be, if that wasthe last thing he did. Black turned and faced Meesa, looking at her beautiful face looking so sad. He hadn't seen her look this hurt since the day they had broken up. He hated she was in pain yet again, on the strength of him.
    “Baby, I don't know what to say.”
    Meesa looked right into Black eyes and said, “I know you don't Black, because I don't even know myself. Both of our friends are dead.”
    The only thing he could say was, “I love you.”
    Unsure of what to think she replied, “I love you too, Black. But Black, do you really love me?”
    Thinking about how he felt when he thought she could have been hurt made him even surer. “I really do love you Meesa. If anything would have happened to you last night, I would've killed myself just to be with you.” He answered honestly. And Meesa knew that he was telling the truth. He did love her and he would die for her.

Toxic
    Black and Meesa got through both funerals feeling like they both needed a change. They stood by each other's side, this time taking care of each other. Both decided they wanted a fresh start with each other.
    Black moved her out of her apartment and sold his house, not wanting anyone to know where they stayed. They found themselves a three story $300,000 house in Ladue, Missouri. Black intended to pay for it himself but, once again, Meesa shocked him. The day of the closing on the house, Meesa presented Black with a check for $50,000. Dumbfounded, Black laughed with amazement.
    “Where did you get this kind of dough Shorty?”
    “I have my own dough Black. I want to help you on the payment for the house, I don't have to, but I want to.”
    “Thank you Shorty, but I can't take