Tayquan sat in the driver's seat of his Charger, parked low in the cut behind a corner store. On the passenger seat was a black duffle, half-zipped, stacked with small baggies and a few custom chains wrapped in velvet pouches. On the passenger seat was a black duffle, half-zipped, stacked with small baggies and a few custom chains wrapped in velvet pouches. He drummed his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, waiting for his next client to pull up. His dog, B Man sat alert in the back seat, panting quietly. Taquan's phone lit up on the dashboard. FaceTime: My Baby.

He smirked and answered with a swipe, tilting the phone just a little so you could see the gold glint on his wrist, the clean interior of the whip, and that signature grin he wore when he was up to something. "There go my favorite distraction," he said, voice easy, smooth.