Drillmington: Their Missions.

Once they had got off the stage, TSL and his team walked into a Goulding parked right outside.

“Hell of a show,” TSL said.

“Hell of a show,” Fitness said as he dapped his friend. Fitness was, as his name suggested, in great shape after serving time for mistaken identity. He was wrongfully convicted, had his case overturned, and received two million dollars from the state of Delaware. He had gotten shredded while serving his time, however and maintained his dignity through the entire stint behind the wall.

It made sense for TSL to keep his nucleus small. In all of the ways he had experienced the power of the stage, it was the rush of being a rat on people who killed grandparents and infants that drove him. Julisia looked nonplussed.

“Hell of a show, yeah, but we need to get this money out here. Shows and selling clothes are cool but our snitchery is the recipe for wealth creation,” she said.

TSL puffed on a marijuana vaporizer.

Julisia used her own. Fitness just laid back in the seat.

“If we’re going to do this, you stretch out your career as follows,” Julisia said. “You do four more albums and just release singles that will go platinum or diamond. You’ll be able to eat off of those efforts. Then, we will completely transition into being full fledged and full-time snitches.”

“Alright.”

“Once we do that, we’ll be able to decipher whether we want to keep going as musicians or if we’re even ready to be part of the informant lifestyle. As you know, it’s extremely dangerous but the rewards are plenty and provide for a way to a life of our own.” Julisia stroked TSL’s braids.

“I understand everything you’re saying but I want ten more albums,” he refrained.

“No, that’s not going to work. We’ve got to work out a plan for just four more albums. Fit let him know.”

Fitness put his hands behind his head. “I’m not in this.”

“You’ve got to understand, Top. We only have a short window—”

“For what? For telling on people? Old ladies have been doing that for decades. I only have so much time as a factor in this industry. They only give you so much time to develop as an artist. I want my time.”

Julisia sat back and rolled her eyes. “If you can’t see that this is going to be way more lucrative than the music business, then I will clarify things for you. Every time we snitch, we get to have the recipe. Right now, you’re just getting crumbs from the pie. Your publishing, master recordings, and mechanical royalties, and merchandise and other shows that you do, won't come close to the billions we could make as snitches.”

Fitness sat up. “Billions?”

Fitness had been a lookout for the couple on a few of their missions. He now was like a lieutenant in their unit. He shook off some cool and announced, “I’m all about it.”

Julisia opened her hand and it looked like she was directing traffic.

Top Shelf stewed. His mind turned into a race track with vehicles zooming at thousands of miles an hour. He considered everything that the two had said. Billions he thought.

“There are private companies willing to put nine figures up for our know-how. At least three of them are ready right now to put the cash up, up front,” she said.

“Alright. I can still just go into the studio and bang out tracks and it will be like we’re meant to be here doing this snitching stuff. I love my music but the snitching is such a rush. I can drill all day, but that won’t mean I’m going to lace my lyrics with killings. All I talk about is gun safety and my girl.”

Julisia smiled.