Prologue

Whiskee

A volcanoof giggles erupted from Whiskee's belly. She was spending the evening with her best friend, which was one of her favorite things to do. Mahogany was Whiskee's favorite person, and she didn't think that would ever change. As often was the case, what they were laughing at didn't warrant the extreme mirth, but when they started laughing it was hard for them to stop.

Mahogany clutched Whiskee's arm as she begged, "Girl, please, stop. If you snort one more time, I'm going to pee on myself."

"Then stop talking about that man! I can't take another second of it."

"It's not my fault! I swear to God when he took his boxers off it smelled like bologna."

"So what excuse did you give to leave?" Whiskee asked, wiping a tear that had fallen.

"Excuse? I didn't give him one. He knew what was up. I don't even know why he played with my time like that. As soon I smelled it, I gagged. I got the hell up out of there expeditiously!"

"That's what you get for thinking because he was fine the sex would be good. I bet you won't go to a hotel with a stranger from the bar again."

Another surge of laughter escaped the pair.

"I learned my lesson for sure. I could have handled a small lil thang thang, but a stinky one? Nuh unh!"

"Mahogany, shut up!"

As Whiskee rolled onto her side, her brother, Carlos, charged into her room. Her first instinct was to yell at him for not only invading her private time with Mahogany, but for doing so without knocking. However, the distraught look on his face caused her to sit up.

"What's wrong, Los?"

"It's Pops. He collapsed at the meeting. We need to go to the hospital now!"

Ghosts of their laughter followed them out of the room as Whiskee and Mahogany hurried behind Carlos. For every question Whiskee asked, Carlos had no answer.

"Why weren't you at the meeting with him?" Whiskee asked. "Now he's heading to the hospital alone."

"We'll be there soon," Mahogany assured her, grabbing her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"He gon' be aight, Whis. It was probably just…" Carlos's head shook as he tried to comfort his sister, but his disbelief of his own assurance was shining through.

Silence found them as they hopped into Carlos's Maybach truck. Whiskee whispered silent prayers as they headed toward the hospital.

Those prayers were seemingly unanswered.

By the time they arrived, Robert had died from a heart attack.

No amount of comfort from her brother or best friend soothed Whiskee. She'd already lost her mother years ago because of a murderous robber who'd killed Renee in front of her. Now, she didn't have a father either. Twenty-nine years old seemed too old to feel like an orphan, but that was exactly how Whiskee felt as she cursed God for taking the only parent she had left.