“I’m not fucking with you, bro.”
“Yea, you are. We stuck like Chuck.” Al exited the car just as the Amazon driver lifted the back hatch.
Quietly, the duo slipped from the car with 9mm’s clutched to their side. Logic did a quick survey of their surroundings before slowly approaching the back of the truck. Al posted up outside, keeping his eye on the empty streets.
“You know I'm going to take yo fine ass to dinner. Where you wanna go?” The driver cooed into the phone, unaware of the figure moving behind him. “Fuck yea, we can go to the Sugar Factory but leave your kids at the crib. We can bring them back a Hot n Ready.”
“Aye, hang up the phone cheap ass nigga,” Logic barked.
“Nig-” the driver started but stopped when the tip of the 9 made his eyes cross. Dropping the phone, he held his hands in the air. “Come on man, don’t kill me.”
“I’m not about to kill you. Gimme the keys and dislocate the GPS tracker.”
“Come on bro, I need this job.”
“And I need this truck,” Logic gritted, popping him in the face with the butt of the gun. “I’m not a patient nigga and I don’t repeat myself.”
“Aye, what the fuck taking so long?” Al hollered from the front of the truck. “Slump this nigga so we can get the fuck outta here.”
“Nah, nah, don’t slump me. Look,” the driver reasoned. “They don’t pay me enough to lose my life. The keys are still in the ignition and the tracker is under the driver's seat. Just let me go and yall can have this shit.”
“We was taking this shit anyway.” Logic popped him again with the gun before tossing him out of the truck. The sun was starting to rise and the last thing they needed was to be caught robbing Amazon trucks in the suburbs. Putting a little pep in his step, Logic locked the hatch and ran around to the passenger side.
“Good shit.” Al slowly pulled off, not wanting to alarm anyone. He wasn’t worried about the car they left behind. It was stolen and couldn’t be traced back to them. If anything, the police would be looking for a middle-aged white man named Gray who lived in Rochester Hills. “Another day, another fucking dollar.” Al grinned, riding off into the sunrise.
Chapter Two
On Tuesday morning, Tyler, Aria, and Bobbi walked out of the 12thprecinct into a sea of paparazzi with cameras and crazed fans. She wasn’t surprised they caught wind of her recent run-in with the cops, nor was she surprised that they were waiting for her to be released. According to one of the guards who loved her music, #freeTyler was in full effect. Fans had been camped outside of the precinct all weekend, singing her songs as if they were Christmas carols.
With her head held high and Chanel frames covering her eyes, Tyler walked through the crowd, sandwiched between a couple of officers. A smile was plastered on her face, and she was almost sure her picture would be a meme by morning, or a sticker in someone’s group chat. Tyler looked as crazy as Left Eye when she burned down a certain someone's mansion. Only her partner didn’t bail her out, he sent her aunt. She didn’t regret jumping on Dexter. Hell, Tyler wished she could have tagged the bitch he was with because Bobbi's slow swinging ass didn’t connect not one punch.
Instead of looking like she felt, Tyler was on point, as always. The guards gave her a comb, edge control, and Vaseline. Her fresh face gave off the impression that she was innocent, but anybody who knew her knew there wasn’t shit innocent about her hands. Tyler was the poster child for ‘swing on that nigga,’ and she did it with a smile on her face.
As if she were on a red carpet instead of stained concrete, Tyler waved as her fans cheered, hooted, and hollered her name. She hugged a few people, took a couple of pictures with others, promising to make it up to them for missing her Sunday night concert. The label tried to lie about her absence, claiming she was under the weather, but Amber had other plans. Not only did she post pictures of herself and Dex in the studio, but she also made it her business to go live and tell the world that she dragged the Princess of Detroit. Amber didn’t care if it was a lie, clout didn’t care who claimed it, and she wanted her piece of the pie. Dexter promised her he’d make her a star, and she was going to be one no matter the route.
“Tyler, why were you arrested?”
“Tyler, did you beat up Amber because of her affair with Dexter?”
“Tyler, were you in a cell by yourself?”
“Tyler, you look great. What skin care did you use?”
“We don’t have a comment at this time,” Tyler’s manager/Aunt Carla replied, guiding the girls to a black, heavily tinted SUV. She allowed her niece and daughter to get in before blocking Aria’s path. “You’re done for the day, and you better hope I don’t fire your ass.”
“First of all, you can’t fire me because I don’t work for you.” Aria rolled her eyes. “And second, I have my own ride. Thankyou very much. Ty, I’ll call you later so we can go over your schedule.”
“K, love you,” Tyler replied.
“I love you back.” Aria blew her a kiss before turning to face Carla. “And instead of trying to fire me, you need to teach yo daughter how to fight. Ain’t no way she should be a shit starter and can’t back it up. If anything, you need to be giving me a bonus for saving your non-fighting ass daughter.”
“Girl, fuck you,” Bobbi mumbled.
“Shut up and Zelle me for my nails. You have two hours and then I’m going to tax your ass for my pain and suffering because all of this is your fault in the first place,” Aria snapped.
Carla waited for Aria to switch away before she climbed into the truck. Once the door was shut, she started tapping away on her phone. The CEO of the label, Darryl, was down her throat about Tyler missing the last show on her tour and he wanted answers. Tyler was the most profitable artist signed to his company, and her missing a show cost the label big money. Not only did his team have to deal with refund requests, but he had to rebook the venue and still pay the other artists who were supposed to go on before her.
“Everybody don’t talk at once.” Carla peered up from her phone. “I need someone to make this clear for me because ain’t no way I just picked yall up from jail! Freaking jail, Tyler, you never cease to amaze me! What would possess you to pull up at a studio and assault that girl? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
