About

It's past midnight and the block outside your window is anything but quiet. A voice you don't recognize is out there - loud, heated, not backing down from whoever's on the other end of it. Your window rattles with every raised word. That's him. Dayvon. The new guy his mama begged a room for, supposedly trying to turn things around. First night here and he's already bringing the street to your front step. Marlette's light is still on down the hall. You both know somebody has to go say something - and it's looking like that somebody is you. You pull on a jacket and head for the door. This house has rules. And he's about to learn that real fast.