*Cartier*

Chauncey Brown opened the door to the fully furnished apartment courtesy of Chief Fuller. It was decorated with pictures of a random family on the wall with acute spaced accuracy. He had completed his first day on the new job, and had finally met Cartier Briggs in person after investigating him for so long. He had driven out to the lakehouse and the housekeeper had let him in, he was expected. Cartier had saw him at the gates entrance.

Cocaine dusted the tables, visibly seen as the glare shined through the balcony windows and dust mites danced in the sunlight.

He greeted him with the hood greeting he had rehearsed for months.

"We finally meet", he said dapping Cartier open handedly pulling him close and patting his shoulder. Slightly larger than his own frame, he summed up his size. Cartier embraced the gesture and offered him a seat, commanding the gray boxer puppy to jump on his lap as he sat down.

The photos the detective had seen of him had only been mugshots, the man that sat before him had the same characteristics but the photos had shown his taste in fashion no justice. The young kid was spruce and his tastes required the finest threads. Not threads he preferred but overly expensive for a 23 year old.

The dog sniffed the tray of weed he had sitting beside him on the sofa. He picked up a blunt with an already lit end and fired it up, passing it to Chauncey; he smoked.

Cartier had an entourage but had been only at home with the housekeeper and another unknown individual that could be heard in the neighboring room. The housekeeper entered with tea in glasses on a tray as Cartier gestured the offer to Chaucey.

Chauncey had only hit the blunt twice, each time without inhaling, Cartier noticed and asked if he was really a smoker, he had said he was, but on probation.

He bought it.

Cartier showed excitement when he'd said it. "Man, that Harris bitch aint no joke. She stay tryna lock a nigga up, who yo P.O?" he asked.

He hadn't known but only one and that was Brenner, he had transferred to Conner and hadn't worked for The Probation and Parole office in Highland anymore.

"Brenner," he said after hitting the blunt hard to inhale needing the reaction to bail him out. He coughed.

"Yeah, thats some fye huh," Cartier said picking up his phone.

He managed to say "yea" between coughs and passed it back.

"I gotta take this," Cartier said referring to the vibrating phone he was about to answer. He got up and walked to the balcony.

Chauncey felt the weed and was becoming inebriated. He had smoked in college 4 years ago but had quit because it had affected his focus. His girlfriend at the time hadn't smoked so he quit also to impress her.

A lady walked from the next room into the elegant living room holding a conversation on her own phone. She walked past the sofa without acknowledging Chauncey's presence as he adjusted his slumped composure. She looked at him finally and returned to the neighboring room after she had gotten a juice from the refrigerator.

He hadn't known his girlfriend would be there he thought. He tried to look without looking as she passed by and he'd thought Cartier had made a good choice, he too loved plus sized women.

Returning from the balcony Cartier looked at his new client, he was glad he had made himself comfortable. He ended his call, picked up the puppy who had whimpered when he saw him return, and sat back on the sofa after passing the blunt to Chauncey again.

Looking at the stream of upward smoke wishing he could decline, he accepted it. He was near vomiting.

He picked up his tea, while still holding the burning blunt.

"So, who was the old supplier? I didn't know it was somebody round here movin' weight like u buyin," Cartier asked.

"Shit some fools up in Hillside," he said mimicking a hood dialect. "Mufucka got popped."

"Aw nigga, that's why I stay low-key," he said shaking his head. "Man, I heard about that shit last week, Feds hit them niggas and froze all the money, them niggas cant move! Never know when i done been indicted before them mufuckas hit ya spots, shit wicked out here."

"Fuck yea, never know who watching," Chauncey responded.

Cartier looked at Chauncey analyzing his attire. He had worn a New Marine button down and some khakis and loafers. He hadn't had the hood attire he needed.

As the lady walked back in the room Cartier said, "That's my sister Quanda, rude ass..."

"Whats up," she said to Chauncey and kept walking toward the balcony. He spoke after she'd quickly looked away not giving a damn if he had even responded.

"U gotta excuse her, she can be a bitch sometimes. Her baby daddy was in that raid in Hillside, Manny."

After he looked puzzled Cartier said, "U know, the big nigga?"

"Damn! Thats her baby daddy?" he said not even knowing the nigga.

"Yea fool, he outta there. My sister sick behind that shit," he said.

But on some business shit, u tryna get the whole thang? Or nah? Cartier asked rubbing the puppy in his lap.

The diamonds around the chains on his neck danced rainbows distracting the detective. He began to think, it's a privilege to have that shit. He had grown up poor and made a career in the police force but lacked luxury. His wife had left him early in the marriage, he'd realized she just wanted him to support her materialistic wants and not his genuine love and he hadn't grossed enough to satisfy her conditional companionship.

"Yea, the whole thang fam", Chauncey said. "How much?"

"Nigga what ticket u been payin?" Cartier asked.

Thinking back to his training he said, "twenty-seven".

"Damn, them niggas was taxin," he said. "Ima do ya for the twenty-two."

"Ok," he said. "I'm goin to my stash, I'll be back later when I let my hoes count it," trying to sound trendy.

"Or nigga u can just take it witcha...I trust ya."