Tripp points to me. “This the girl that inspiredStop Playin’,” he says, mentioning one of Native Sons’ last and biggest singles before they moved behind the scenes.
All the girls stop and stare at me then, while I mean mug Tripp. PC just rubs his arm, his cheeks turning pink.
“Daaaaamn, Mace. You really are Miss Niggas,” Brina’s dumb ass giggles in my other ear.
“We just came to say wassup. Grimey’s already at Pilt with Coach. Y’all come through after. You can tell us how you ended up with Shotta.” Tripp winks and swaggers off.
PC lingers a little longer. He grabs my hand, rubbing his thumb over the back. “Real shit, Mace; congrats on your baby girl. Shotta’s a solid nigga, so if it wasn’t me, I’m glad it’s him.”He lifts my hand to kiss my knuckles before following his bro out the section.
“Hold up, hold, up, HOLD. UP!” Wyn screams over the noise.
Thank God everyone in VIP seems like they’re in their own world.
“So you and PC huh? Is it big? I feel like it is,” Autumn asks, sipping her drink.
I shrug, and start pouring us shots. We might as well drink up the free liquor. “A lady never kisses and tells,” I purr, handing out the shots.
“That means she ain’t fuck,” Dal blurts.
I stick out my tongue at her loud ass. “Fine, I didn’t. We talked all night under the stars and he wanted me to join him on tour. I knew if I fucked I would have said yes, so I didn’t… but he did send me a nut video a couple times, and yes, Piccolo isslanging!”
“Okaaay! I’ll drink to that!” Brina cackles as we clink the shots and down them.
We do that two more times, toasting to having good pussy and being kid-free, or kid-less in Wyn’s case, before we started feeling the music and acting a fucking fool.
I needed a night out like this. With my girlies. Not worried about no nigga.
Just free.
Shad
Idon’tknowwhatthey’re talking about. My baby is an angel.
She refuses to leave my lap, but she’s quiet when I record, just staring at me, a big gummy smile on her face.
And when I’m fucking with the knobs, trying to mix and master my shit, I tell her which does what, and I think she’s listening.
If I go by how much she drools on my hands.
The hours fly by as I start recording different elements for these songs that have been stuck in my head for months. Some of them since my first lamaze class with Mace. Sean always tried to push me to sing more. Said I wasn’t blessed with this voice to only hum in the shower and shit.
When I got big, I did start voice lessons to get better. You gotta fine tune any instrument, and my voice was no different. But what I’m doing now, an entire R&B album, I never thought I’d do.
Shit, it’s a bunch of things I never thought I’d do, that I’m doing now. Like changing a blow out diaper on these premium suede couches in my personal studio.
After fully completing two songs and laying down a verse and a bridge for another, I try to switch over to the album I was working on before BirchFest, but I don’t want Sadé hearing that gangsta shit, so I begin teaching her about different sounds as I make some beats for some clients that already paid up.
Jonesy and Wayne are in the studio next to me with some rapper from OT. Cap isn’t in because that nigga’s a weed head and don’t wanna not smoke while Sadé is here, but I’m not tripping. I’m smoking the fattest blunt when we finally make it home.
A knock sounds off on the door before Jonesy ambles in with a pizza. “Meat lovers, extra cheese.”
“You can put it on the table.”
He nods, pushing his glasses up before setting the box on the table and coming to sit next to me at the dashboard. Smells of pepperoni and sausage begin to fill the room, but I need to tweak this one horn just right before I can take a break.
“So you really have a daughter then?” he asks, peering at Sadé in my arms.
Jonesy, Cap, and my nigga Chase went to KSU with me. I met Jonesy in my music theory class, and he introduced me to Cap, another music major, and Chase, his roommate. Cap had a following posting beats on the internet, while Chase was an amateur videographer making skate compilations for his friends. When I told them I wanted to start a label for producers, Cap and Jonesy were all for it, and introduced to me Wayne, this nerdy ass nigga that can make a dying cat sound like Rihanna, and 4W Incorporated was born. Musicians from all over come to get the star treatment from us, and it lets us be able to have ourown projects on the side. Chase’s production company was born out of recording us goof off all the time.
