“Dexter. I’d advise you to let me go before we tear this fucking dressing room up.” She peered up at him, completely unfazed by his attempt to scare her.
“You high?” he grilled, noticing the laziness her pretty brown eyes held.
Tyler licked remnants of the Don Julio from her top lip. She didn’t feel the need to answer him, being that he already knew the deal. She was always high. Sometimes it was the only way she could get through the day.
“I’m grown, Dex.” Tyler pushed him back, unwedging herself from between him and the wall.
“You couldn’t wait until we got to the club? We got money to make, and I don’t need you on your bullshit.”
“Then don’t have no bitches in your face.” She tapped his nose. “I’m about to take a shower and change into my outfit. Give me thirty minutes and I'll be out there.”
“Aight.” Dex nodded. “I’m sorry for grabbing on you.” He kissed the corner of her lips. “You know I love you, right?”
“Uh huh.” She swallowed the lump in her throat when she really wanted to question his so-called love. Dexter thought he loved her, but he loved a different version of her. He loved the happy her, the freaky ass pill popping her, the carefree her that said yes to any and everything while his dick stretched her throat. Dexter was in love with the drug-induced version of her. He couldn’t handle the real her. Hell, she couldn’t handle the real her. In all the years they had been together, he had never met the real Tyler, and she honestly didn’t know if she still existed.
???
“Man, nah, yall didn’t see how shorty was throwing that ass at the club. Fuck a record deal, I was trying to sample the goods. I swear if Ty hadn’t popped up, I would’ve been all over that shit,” Dexter huffed, blowing smoke from his mouth. Pinching the blunt between his fingers, he took another puff and dramatically choked on the smoke. The thick chains and oversized medallions around his neck clinked together, producing a sound just as loud as his cough.
“Nigga, shorty wasn’t all that.” Marty, Dexter’s best friend, waved him off. “This guy thinks every bitch with a fat ass and big titties is legit.”
“Where’s the lie?” Tilly, another member of Dexter’s team, questioned while cosigning.
“Fuck outta her, Tilly. You fell in love with a runner who don’t wanna be seen with yo ass,” Marty snorted.
“Fuck you. Don't worry about my shorty.”
“Is she really your shorty?”
“Yall wildin’,” Dexter coughed. “Aye, somebody get me a bottle of water. I know yall hear me choking in this bitch,” he demanded to no one in particular. “But like I was saying. What I look like turning down a bad bitch because her face ain’t all the way put together? A lil makeup goes a long way. These bitches pile that shit on they face and look like Beyonce in the dark.”
“On God,” Tilly chuckled. “Aye, as long as the body a ten, the face don’t matter. It’s called from the back for a reason.”
“Stupid ass niggas,” Marty disagreed. He couldn’t relate. There were too many STDs going around to just fuck anything. “When Tyler put your head through another glass door, don’t say shit.”
“Fuck you,” Dexter laughed, guzzling down the bottle of water someone from his team handed him. “I tripped,” he lied. Tripping sounded better than saying Tyler got drunk, went through his phone, and jumped on him while he was in the shower. Not only did he bust his ass, but she pushed him through the shower door, causing him to fall face first on the broken glass. It was Marty who had to come to the house to help him because Tyler left him there to bleed out.
Dexter opened his mouth to spout more bullshit, but the duo walking toward him caught his eye. He recognized Al, but the other nigga was foreign. Dexter didn’t know why, but his top lip curled. He stood a little taller, and his voice grew a little louder, drawing more attention to himself while his eyes remained fixed on the unknown guest. The man walking with Al was oblivious to all the women checking him out. Backstage helpers, janitors,and other random niggas were showing him love. Women were coming up to him for hugs and pictures, confusing Dex. He couldn’t figure out what the fuck they were fawning over. The nigga was basic as fuck.
Silently sizing him up, Dexter didn’t spot any jewelry, and in his eyes that meant he had to be broke. He recalled Al saying he was bringing a friend who was also a rapper, but the average ass nigga approaching him was laughable and not a threat.
“What up, Dex?” Al spoke, walking toward him, but Dexter’s bodyguard blocked his path.
“The meet and greet is over,” the bodyguard stated, gaining a couple of laughs from the men standing around them.
“My nigga, do I look like I’m here for a fucking autograph?” Al thumbed his nose.
“He straight,” Dex interrupted before things could go any further. “What’s up, I didn’t think you was gone make it.” He gave Al dap. “You enjoy the show?”
“I caught the end, I had some shit to handle, but, uh, this my boy Lo…remember I told you the nigga nice on the mic.” Al attempted to introduce his best friend, but both men grimed each other before tossing their heads back as a sign of acknowledgement.
“Sup,” Dexter spoke flatly. “Heard you was looking for a mentor?”
“Mentor?” Logic’s eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead. He looked over at Al and then back at the clown standing in front of him.
“Yea. Al said you was trying to get ya feet wet. I listened to your music and it’s straight but average.”
“Average?” Logic chuckled, thumbing his nose. Al opened his mouth to speak up, but Logic slightly shook his head, letting him know it was cool.
