Symere, a young girl recruited as a holder at just 11 years old, uses her innocent appearance to outsmart everyone in the dangerous world of drugs and guns. When the talented Artist enters the fray, he becomes both a rival and a potential love inter...
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In the weeks that followed, Artist and Morgan continued their charade, their every interaction fraught with unspoken tension. Artist watched Morgan closely, observing her every move, searching for any hint of a chink in her armor. Meanwhile, Morgan remained oblivious to Artist's newfound knowledge, continuing to feed him carefully doctored information and lead him down a path of false leads.
As the stakes continued to rise, Artist's patience and resolve were tested to the limit. He knew that one wrong move could spell disaster, yet he refused to give in to despair. With each passing day, he grew more determined to expose the truth and bring down those who sought to destroy him.
The air hung heavy with the scent of sweat and cheap cologne in the cramped back room of the Dallas club. Artist, dressed head-to-toe in designer threads that felt like an armor against the world. Symere and Mizzy, his closest confidantes, a seasoned hustler and a sharp tongued streetwise queen respectively sat across from him, their faces etched with a mixture of anger and concern.
"I... I was wrong." Artist managed, his voice a low rasp. He felt the burn of shame, hot and heavy in his chest. He had dismissed their warnings about Morgan.
"We told you, Artist!" Symere grumbled, her fingers drumming a rhythm against the table.
"Didn't I say she was trouble? She's got her claws in you already, Tizz."
Artist knew they were right. He'd found her phone and stumbled over a series of text messages. They were messages she sent to someone named 'Glock.' He figured that had to be one of her cousins they warned him about.
"Listen," he sighed, his words clipped and determined. "I'm not going to fight her. I'm going to play along."
Mizzy's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "What do you mean, play along?"
Artist explained his strategy, his voice a tight whisper. He would pretend to be completely smitten with Morgan, to fall head over heels for her. He would allow her to believe she was in control, to think she was winning. He would use this to his advantage, to become closer to her, to gather evidence of her crimes. He would use her own affection against her, feed her ego while he uncovered the truth.
"You're saying you're going to use her own game against her?" Mizzy asked, a flicker of admiration in his eyes.
"Ain't that what I just said?" Artist mugged him.
"We need to find out who this Glock is, what he's running, and how to put a stop to it." Symere suggested.
The three spent the next couple of hours hashing out the details. Mizzy would keep an ear to the ground, gather information from the grapevine. Symere, with her connections in the underworld, would explore potential avenues for exposing Morgan's illicit dealings. Artist, with his newfound understanding of Morgan's weakness, would become her biggest fan, her devoted admirer.
