Avon listens to a morning radio show as he regards himself in the mirror, making sure he looks fresh for the day ahead. (I assure you: he does.) The phone rings, and we hear a woman pick it up. We follow Avon as he walks into the bedroom in time to see his squeeze, still under the covers, throw the cordless phone to the foot of the bed. He asks who it was, and she reports, "They hung up without saying." Avon repeats that, and then picks up the phone, presses a few buttons (checking the caller ID, I assume), and then tosses it back, peering through the blinds to the street. Avon's girlfriend -- let's call her Mary Kay -- mumbles that she doesn't know why he cares: "You never use the damn phone here no how." Avon looks down at a black SUV, and then up and around the surrounding parking lots at...something; I can't tell what. He backs away from the window and trots downstairs as Mary Kay rolls her eyes and flops back down on the pillow. It's hard out here for a pimp's part-time girlfriend, I guess.
Downstairs, Avon collects his wallet and keys from a table in the front hall and peers through the blinds in the window next to the door. He opens the door, and points meaningfully to Wee-Bey, who's at the wheel of the car. Up the street, we see a couple of dudes messing around with a leaf blower or something, not looking too dangerous; nevertheless, apparently that's foreboding enough to cause Wee-Bey to take his gun out (his actual gun, perverts) and cock it (still talking about a firearm, people). Avon opens the door. Wee-Bey rolls the car backwards so he's in line with the dudes -- we now see they're kids, with what appears to be hockey equipment -- who, seeing him, make themselves scarce pretty quickly. As Wee-Bey rolls forward again, Avon emerges from the apartment and hurries to the car, checking his pager as he goes. Wee-Bey offers a friendly morning greeting, but Avon's in no mood: he orders Wee-Bey to remove the phone lines in the apartment. Wee-Bey thinks Mary Kay will have a problem with the lack of a phone line in her home, though I tend to think that if someone else is paying her bills, she'll figure out a way to cope with the inconvenience, and based on his silent glare at Wee-Bey, Avon apparently agrees with me. "All right, got you," says Wee-Bey, rolling out. But he can't leave it alone, asking if Avon's had a problem, and saying that he thinks they're going overboard with all the security measures they've taken: "You know, like we paranoid and shit." He pulls over at a coffee shop with a pay phone out front; as if to prove Wee-Bey's point, Avon stares at it for a moment and then says he doesn't want to use that phone, because he used it the day before. Wee-Bey decides to express his frustration with a pointed "pssssssh," but he duly pulls away, Avon asking him, "You, what you blowing out your mouth for, man?" He says that Wee-Bey's acting like Avon doesn't have enemies. Wee-Bey: "Naw, man. We all right." Oh, Wee-Bey. Months from now, you will regret that your overconfidence put your beloved tropical fish in jeopardy.