Chapter 3
Relic hated wasting time, but for the past half an hour, he’d done just that while observing the chick he hoped to sign as he waited for her turn to sing. His eyes dipped to the watch on his wrist and then swept around the hole in the wall lounge that was more packed than he calculated for a karaoke night. He’d made certain to find a cocktail table in the far corner of the room where his back faced the wall, while his shaded eyes assessed the lively patrons coming and going. Relic despised being in a crowd without his favorite shooter—Pierre.
A car full of his young hitters was parked just outside of the wall-length window beside him, and a few more were intermingled throughout the crowd. Even fully aware of that fact; Relic’s hand remained snug around the gun on his hip since he didn’t trust a soul outside of his folks to protect him. His second mentor in the drug game, his uncle Akon, had schooled him to prepare for every possibility. His first mentor, Bishop, had taught him to take a life before it took his. Bishop had been a casualty of his own lesson by Relic’s smoking gun.
His perusal of the establishment slowed after spotting a newly familiar face for a second time. The worker who’d stood on his doorstep the morning prior maneuvered through the thickening crowd with a fresh cut, a drink in hand, and keen eyes scanning the room before stopping short after landing on him. Relic chucked his chin in greeting, and Drish tucked a plastic cup between his lips while crossing the room to stand a few feet away from the table.
“I got word that you were looking for me, big homie. I ain’t expect your fresh lobster tail and lamb chops at the crib ass to wanna meet here with the pork and bean babies, though. What’s up with this?”
Drish initiated a conversation while keeping his eyes straight ahead to scope out the scene, and Relic shook his head. The lil’ nigga reminded him of Pierre—too mouthy but street savvy enough to tolerate.
Relic’s eyes coasted back to his main concern as she finally stood and traipsed to the tiny, square section of floor that they’d designated as the stage. He addressed Drish as she grabbed the mic and picked out a song.
“Just be lucky we’re meeting here and not at a warehouse with industrial plastic on the floor to wrap your ass in. What do you know about the girl singing?”
“Oh, she’s why we’re here.” Drish connected the dots, bobbing his head to her vocals while overlooking Relic’s threat. He’d had that exact thought when his lieutenant sent word that Relic had requested him. “You’re looking to sign Sojourney to yo label. Ole girl can sing, but be careful and keep yo eyes open around her ass.”
“Careful?” Relic parroted the offensive warning like it tasted disgusting on his tongue.
“I’m just telling you what the word is. You asked for me ‘cause you know my ears are to the street, right?”
“Yea, I asked who talked the fucking most about everyone else’s business, and your name came up.”
Drish laughed the slick diss off. “Hey, my nosiness is helping you out, though. They’re saying that her nigga is known for a string of high-end robberies. He’s lowkey, so I don’t know him like that, but I bet her hands ain’t clean if she’s fucking him.”
“Oh, yea?”
Relic slid from his seat and adjusted his herringbone down coat, unmoved by the intel, although he appreciated it. Savvy had done a social media deep dive for pertinent information to scout the potential artist, but there wasn’t much on her. Sojourney was smart and kept her business offline, so Relic was unaware of her sketchy background.
“And the one with her is her homegirl, Mea.” Drish continued putting him on game. “She dated one of the niggas whose spot got hit. He’s the one that thinks it was her peoples, but he’s scared to touch her ‘cause her brother is crazy. She been yelling free him for a minute, so I guess he just got home from a bid. I can find out who both those niggas are for you.”
“Do that, but first, introduce me to Sojourney.”
“You want me to take you over there right now?”
“Nah, tomorrow. When the fuck else do you think? I’m not trying to be here long, so the faster we get this over with, the quicker I’ll debate letting you live. You know TJ put you in a fucked up position, right?”
Drish scratched at his brow with a groan. “Man, I was just looking out for my boy. He asked me to do him a solid, so I did. How was I ‘pose to know not to wait?”
“Common sense, but you wanted to be seen, and it backfired.”
Drish bit his tongue instead of admitting, he’d gone to Relic’s home with every intention of receiving a warmer interaction for his efforts. Had he known the drive to west bubba fuck would end up a waste of time and gas, he would’ve declined helping TJ, who’d chosen to lay up with a bitch versus handling business.
Instead of further reprimanding his worker for seeking a pat on the back for the bare minimum, Relic observed his potential label investment—raking his eyes over the ink coating her bright skin before stalling on red, glossy eyes that made his mouth ball as she sung with a voice that mesmerized the patrons. His baby mother’s eyes had held the same tinge when she played in her nose candy, and so had Pierre’s whenever zoned off his lean. Relic wondered what else Savvy had missed while vetting Sojourney.
Once she’d finished singing and reclaimed her seat beside her friend, Relic shifted his attention to Drish. He studied his soldier that reeked of sheer desperation and decided to kill two birds with one stone.
“Help me secure this artist and get shit squared away with ya boy, then we can call it even. I’ll have a position lined up for you in TJ’s absence.” His loaded request, followed by an incentive, put a frown on Drish’s face.
Relic stared him dead in the eyes, waiting for a sign of fear or hesitancy to bubble to the surface, but he saw neither. His thumb raised to his nose, flicking across it thrice to confirm the unspoken order to snuff TJ out. His most dependable worker had made a grave mistake that’d cost his life.
Drish tossed back his rum and coke and hoped it settled on his stomach better than the task given to him. A simple nod as he set his cup on the table was his mustered acceptance since he knew he’d end up leaking on the pavement right along with TJ if he declined.
Satisfied with delegating one of his ninety-nine problems, Relic strode toward his future money maker with Drish following his lead as his wingman. The girly chatter at the table ceased when he waltzed up and went straight for the kill—holding out a hand toward Sojourney who recoiled at the intrusion. Her face scrunched up while her glassy eyes gave him and Drish a lazy sweep. Relic lowered his hand, but Drish stepped up with a friendly grin to break the ice.
“How y’all ladies doing tonight? We ain’t mean to interrupt, but my boss man wanted to holler at you, Journey.”
“I’m not interested,” she quipped, making her friend giggle.
Her soft voice, that didn’t match the powerful one she’d sung with, made Relic cock his head before bracing a fist on the table. He recoiled when she jumped before her eyes hardened, while her posture stiffened in defense. Judith used to prepare herself in the same manner whenever she suspected a hit from his father was coming.
“Damn, why you giving us a hard time? I don’t know what you’re thinking, but this ain’t that,” Drish assured her, gaining a lethargic laugh in response. He brushed it off and expounded, “He’s here to offer you a job.”
“As what? A bottle girl or a waitress? Because I’ve done it all before, and like I said, I’m not interested. I make better money with my own hustles.”
“I’m sure you do, Saucy .” Relic spoke up, tossing out her street name to let her know, he’d done his homework. He leaned toward her and stressed, “You need to be more discreet with what you’re selling and your lil’ recreational habit. It ain’t a good look, baby.”
He removed his shades to point two fingers from his eyes to hers, knocking the combativeness out of her by putting her low-level dealing and drug usage on blast. The light remaining in her foggy eyes drained as he watched, knowing he’d hit her where it hurt without resorting to using his fists. He’d tried the cordial way by using Drish as a wingman, but his unconventional methods worked better.
“Let’s try this again,” he suggested. His authoritative tone and direct eye contact made her shrink further into her seat. “I’m Relic, and my assistant came across a video of you singing last week. She figured that you’d be a good addition to my label, and so do I.”
“You own a recording label? A real one that’s not in someone’s spare bedroom and has a budget for its artists.”
“Damn, right! He’s the real deal. Got his own studio and all that,” Drish hyped. “That’s where you need to be and not in this weak ass lounge.”
“I can take you there now if you’re up for it. My folks just touched down today, so I know one of them are there.” Relic roped her in with the offer of meeting his team. His fingers tapped at his screen as he added, “I know you’ve heard of Playa P and Big Tek.”
“Oh, shit! Saucy, do you know who he is?” Her homegirl suddenly gasped with a jump, almost knocking over their drinks as she nudged Sojourney’s shoulder.
“Obviously not, Mea.”
“Relic of Relic Records, right?” Mea confirmed, staring at him with star struck eyes.
She’d heard his name numerous times in videos of Pierre and Tekken—both of whom she followed religiously—but she’d been unsuccessful with finding any social media handles for him. He was even finer than she’d assumed. His clean look, and the authority he exuded, was exactly what she expected from a boss nigga of his caliber.
Of all the days to run into him, it was at the one place where Sojourney stole the spotlight with her vocals, even while looking a damn mess in a sweatsuit, sneakers, and hair that looked as if she’d rolled straight out of bed before arriving. Mea didn’t give a damn if she looked pressed interrupting their conversation.
“My brother was locked up with Playa P before. Ya boy tried to be my jail bae, but big bro wasn’t having that,” she boasted with a proud grin. Relic snorted a chuckle but checked Mea out on the sly.
Her pretty brown features, beat face, and small breasts peeking out of a leather jumpsuit made her the type he’d entertain on a slow day to wet his dick. Since she was his folk’s type too, he didn’t refute her claims about Pierre.
“I’ve heard a few songs from both artists, but I’m not big on social media. Mea knows more about them than I do,” Sojourney admitted, regaining his attention.
“I know Titan, too,” Mea butted in again, hoping to earn brownie points for not being as clueless as her girl. She snapped her fingers and confirmed, “So, you’re related to the one who owns the Haitian restaurant, too?”
“Goddamn! Stalk much,” Drish razzed, and her grin collapsed. “We get it, and if we need somebody to write the nigga’s bio, we’ll hit you up. Let your girl get a word in. You’re talking about bullshit, and this is ‘bout business.”
The sudden dismissal soured Mea’s expression before she glared at her friend, who pretended not to notice. Sojourney refused to fumble the opportunity that’d fallen into her lap because she’d done that once before.
“Y’all aren’t bullshitting me, are you?” She couldn’t hide the skepticism in her tone while brushing a hand up her sloppy top bun. Relic smirked and slipped on his shades.
“One thing I rarely do is play. One thing I never do is play about my money. My folks are at the studio, so what are we doing?”
Her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she weighed her options. Signing to a label, even a starter one, was better than what she’d done for the last four years with her boyfriend. Her talents were going to waste, right along with her life, while she followed behind the person who’d fucked up her world to begin with. Sojourney had nothing to lose.
“I’m down to check it out. I drove, so I’ll follow you there.” She conceded.
“Girl, you know Slim is going to spazz if he finds out you left with some random nigga,” Mea cautioned for personal gain. “You must be trying to get fucked up. I’ll go with you and say it was my idea.”
“Nah, you ain’t coming.”
Relic made that crystal clear while buttoning his coat in preparation of the chill outside. He was pushing it with one shiesty ass female in his presence; he didn’t need two.
Mea jerked back her head before mugging him. “Saucy isn’t going to a studio full of random niggas alone.”
“She is, and as her friend, you should have her back, right? Make up a fucking lie to tell her nigga, so she can handle her business. Saucy, follow me or stay. I’m not losing sleep, either way.”
Relic waltzed off without waiting for a response, certain that she’d follow him, even with her friend attempting to convince her otherwise in vain.
“Tail us to the studio in case that other bitch tries some slick shit,” he directed Drish, who saluted him and then exited first.
Relic’s attention shifted to his dispersed workers in passing before he scratched at his brow, signaling his departure and for them to watch his rear. By the time Relic made it to the lounge’s exit, he felt a presence nearing him that he didn’t acknowledge—he merely pushed open the door and held it for her.
Sojourney tossed him a dubious glance as she ambled outside while hugging herself to combat the frosty night air. Her fingers pinched at the sleeve of her sweatsuit as she dragged her dusty Converse down the lot towards her beat up car that she hoped Relic didn’t get a good look at. The corner of his mouth rose while watching her leave.
Relic was ninety-nine percent certain; he’d procured his newest artist.
“So, what do you think, Saucy?”
Relic glanced at Sojourney, gauging her expression as they stood in front of the soundboard near Calm and Pierre, listening to Tekken create magic in the booth. When they’d initially arrived at the studio, Relic wanted to wring every fucking neck in the room because his folks had ruined his first impression on her.
A cloud of smoke had greeted them when he entered the studio with his guest of honor. Liquor bottles and blunts were in rotation, food was being passed around, and his folks, who’d popped up unbeknownst to him, were in the middle of a damn sing-along. Relic had shut that shit down. He’d poured himself a shot to settle his brewing irritation and then put his artists to work. His youngest on the label spitting like he had a point to prove was redeeming his small but mighty team.
Sojourney bobbed her head before admitting, “I like this track. This one seems more authentic to his style.”
“That’s because he’s spitting off the top of his dome.” Pierre lifted his head from the plate of food he was smashing to point at the glass barrier before divulging, “That ain’t what I wrote for him.”
That revelation made Relic glance over his shoulder at his little cousin, Temilade, on the couch with the girls before he set his sights on Tekken exiting the booth. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize where the young bull’s sudden aptitude for spitting like a vet in the rap game had stemmed from.
“If all it takes is my little cousin getting under yo fucking skin for you to do that, I should let her come up here more often,” he ragged on Tekken, making Calm stifle a laugh. Relic’s cold gaze fixed on his audio engineer and beat maker. “And what the hell are you laughing at, half ass producer? Put on an instrumental. Sojourney, go ‘head and show these slacking ass niggas what real talent looks like.”
“Goddamn! Why we gotta be all that?” Pierre bellowed around a mouthful of food, affronted.
Relic ignored him and kept his eyes trained on Sojourney as she strolled into the booth, settling the headphones over her ears with a calmness that told him, it wasn’t her first time recording.
“You know, you don’t have to tear them down to build her up, right?”
That second complaint came from a woman that made Relic’s mouth twitch. He fiddled with his wristwatch, never tearing his attention away from the star in the booth, even though that voice mere feet away that chided him was a big fucking distraction. It made him want to focus on her instead of his money maker, and that was bad for business.
Kennedy had been dead silent and tucked off in the corner since he’d entered the room. He had hoped that she’d remain there until his departure. Relic had done his best to avoid too many interactions with Tekken’s aunt, but his family made it damn near impossible.
Savvy designating her as his salon manager had put her back on his radar, and the fact that she was tight with both his brothers’ girls made the chances of keeping his distance slim to none. Jahleel’s meddling didn’t help. No matter how hard he tried to ignore her presence, she was right there, invading his goddamn space. His only solace was that she usually didn’t acknowledge him either.
“Don’t tell me what I don’t have to do. Do you want to run this?” He entertained her against his better judgment, and she snorted a laugh.
“Gladly, and I bet I’ll do it better. They’re men, but that doesn’t mean they don’t need validation or reassurance like any woman you add to your roster. Just because they don’t have a pussy you can fuck on doesn’t give you the right to talk to them out the side of your neck.”
Her insinuation made Relic’s mouth stretch into an easy smile before he finally gave her the attention she was seeking. Kennedy had a hand propped on her hip with her half-scarred face balled up, ready to argue her stance, but confusion morphed her features the longer she assessed his beguiled expression. Relic could tell; he’d made her second guess her statement.
“You think, because she has a pussy that makes me treat her better? Yea, you don’t know shit about me, baby, and it shows.”
“I know enough about your ass.”
“Like what?” he challenged, his amused tone vanishing as he faced her.
A crack in her hard demeanor surfaced, but she glued it together before he could blink and matched his gaze with squared shoulders. He almost asked her, who’d taught her that shit. Those chocolate, upturned eyes that he liked better than his own matched his energy until he folded, bending to place his mouth near her ear while clenching a hand at her waist.
“I didn’t take you for the gossiping type, cheri. Don’t bring shit up about me if you can’t repeat it with your chest the next time.”
He squeezed her side harder than necessary and then turned away, dismissing her with that warning. Kennedy gawked because he had her fucked up.
Her glare bore into the side of his sculpted, handsome face while she debated whether to curse his ass out, or to inquire about the name he’d called her for a second time. Cheri .
Before she got the chance to do either, enchanting vocals sent her eyes drifting to the acoustic window where she ogled Sojourney blasting crisp, mind-blowing melodies that quieted the chatty room. Kennedy shuddered when a cool finger tapped her chin, picking it up from where she’d dropped it on the ground.
“That’s why I said what I said. Not because she has a pussy that I could easily get without having to play nice.” Relic made that known before he requested, “Let me talk to you outside for a minute.”
“Is it about business?”
“It’s about what it’s about. Step out for me.”
He walked toward the door with that order, pulling it open before turning to her with bored eyes and a simple toss of his head. Her reluctance was noticeable, but Relic waited with unusual patience just to show her that he always ended up the winner. The teasing murmurs from his folks at her expense proved, they knew the same.
Kennedy folded her arms in defiance but stomped out of the studio as if a simple conversation with Relic pained her. She couldn’t reveal that her curiosity about him had been piqued since their first encounter, but his notorious reputation dissuaded her from entertaining any interests in him.
“What the hell are you looking at?” she snapped, brushing past his solid build and into the small lobby.
Relic ignored her attitude and scrubbed a thumb over his bottom lip, examining her figure as she leaned against the front desk that been deserted since he’d purchased the place. His scrutiny raked across the hoodie hiding most of her burn scars, before it dipped to the biker shorts squeezing her thighs and round ass. The thin material gave him an outlining glimpse of a pussy he’d consider playing nice for.
“I’m looking at you.” His answer came easy as he sauntered to the desk to stand beside her. He rested an arm on the wooden surface before quizzing, “You always cover your scars?”
“See, you’re already worried about the wrong shit, Relic. What do you want?”
“I want to know what’s up with this date situation between us that you put in my son’s head?”
That got Kennedy to spit out a laugh before she finger-combed her tiny, butt-length braids while turning to face him. She leaned on the desk to mimic his stance and angled her head.
“You tell me. Your son initiated it, so it had to be for a reason. Probably because you keep telling the damn boy that I’m your girlfriend when we don’t know each other from a can of paint.”
“I explained to him, I was just fucking around.”
“Oh, you do that? Because if I recall correctly, you told me that you weren’t the type to joke around. Which is it?”
“I do it when I’m comfortable. When I’m with my folks or son and don’t have to worry about watching my back as much.”