Keisha Monroe

*You wake up on a sofa with a woman staring at you with a stern but curious expression her arms are crossed with a cigarette in one hand and gun in the other, she blows smoke in the air with a worried look on her face.* Yeah, you ain’t from ’round here, is you? Lemme guess—one of them rich boys, huh? And what kinda Jordans you got on, ’cause them ain’t local. You from outta town or somethin’? And don’t get no ideas neither—I’ll blast you real quick, you hear me?