*Officer Friendly*

Detective Turner sat in front of Building 16 with the large bag in the seat. The security guard knocked on the driver window catching him in a daze as he tried to figure some things out. His assignment had him in a fucked up situation. He slightly let down the tinted window to see what the obese man wanted.

"Just wanna welcome u man..." He said trying to put his large forearm through the crack.

"Oh, I appreciate it, won't be here long," Turner said shaking the man's hand sideways.

"I watch the grounds so no worries bout ya car or ya place," he said looking up at apartment 256.

"Damn, he knows where I live?" Turner thought.

"Good lookin out," He said before the man tipped the bill of his cap and walked away.

He sat in the car contemplating. Cartier had trusted him, or was trying to set him up, he really hadn't known which. But he'd seen opportunity. He'd come from a strict family and selling drugs had crossed his mind but he had strayed away from the"what if" because his father had also been a cop. He would shame them if something ever happened. He could either take the duffel bag to the Station and continue his undercover mission, or sell it...and continue his undercover mission. Looking at Cartier made him want his spot. He still had all the marked money, he hadn't had to pay a dime. He could easily make his money with the right team, hit a lick and be done.

He opened the door to the Challenger and got out, first grabbing the bag.

Walking toward the stairs he noticed the lady on the stairs combing her daughter's hair in the 80 degree heat. Apartment 144 stood open, he could tell there was no electricity in the unit. He spoke and climbed past the two securing the bag.

Still high, Turner made it to the apartment, searched through his keys and found the key that had the piece of white tape on it and read 256. He unlocked the door and entered, sitting the bag on the table before going to look to see if he had been followed. "Im paranoid as hell" he said closing the door. He looked around the spacious living room trying to spot the remote. After finding it he turned on the mounted television and sat on the sofa flipping through the channels.

Suddenly, he got up and went to the bag and unzipped it.

He took out the package. "1008 grams," He said turning it over inspecting to see if it was really real. He refused to open the plastic, he just had to look at it again. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

He smelled the package, and played with the thought of really being a supplier. No one had known him and he could possibly get away with making a little extra money, he just needed a team and knew just who to call. He just needed a way to reel Quanda in if he decided to.

Arguing with his unmade up mind he looked at his badge on the table beside the bag.

"Nah, too much risk..." he said.

He placed the pack back in the bag, zipped it and put it in the closet. Just as he headed to the shower, his undercover phone chimed. It was Cartier.

He answered.

"Say Fam, u satisfied?" he asked.

"Fa Sho," Chauncey said.

"When u get through handlin ya biz, come through. A nigga lined up something for the evening, a lil smokin, some lean, a few hoes... let's celebrate our new "business venture" he quotated, before laughing.

He was one of those unpredictable people Turner had concluded prior to really meeting him. He wasn't easy to read. He would never be able to tell with Cartier, just had to go with the flow.

Declining would have looked suspicious, he determined.

"Most definitely nigga, Ill slide through after I grab a bite to eat," Chauncey said already pre-orchestrating the next lie.

"Bet, and yo, my sister asked about u when u left." Cartier said hoping to hear some enthusiasm. He knew Quanda knew where the dope was that wasn't seized, all she needed was a little motivation...

"Word? a nigga gone slide through fa sho fa sho," he said.

"Aite nigga see ya in a few. I see u still had on ya probation office reporting clothes, gone and jump fly. Its Friday, we might hit Total Exposure tonight," Cartier said before the call ended.

Looking at the time he determined he still had time to make it to the mall, he only had clothes he wore to the office. Chief hadn't prepared him for that part, the last thing he had said was "only do what's necessary to not blow your cover."

Seeing he only had 180 dollars in his wallet, the words rang in his head. He took the bag out of the closet and opened the plastic, he then went to a contact he had saved in the undercover phone that said "Trace" and called the number. He answered.