4. Drix
DRIX
Isnatched India up and flipped her upside down, making her immediately start giggling.
“Berlin, if she throws up you’re cleaning it,” Chandler said simply.
“I hear you.”
I flipped my niece upright and set her on her feet.
“Ay, your mama said you can’t be flipping right now after you just ate, Indy.” I watched her stick her lip out and cut my eyes at her. “I’ll flip you in a little while but you have to go sit down and color or something so your food can settle, alright?”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” I nodded once. “Chill for a lil while then I’ll flip you again.”
“Okay.” She nodded once.
We high fived with both hands then she darted off.
“She has you wrapped around her finger. You know that, right?” Chandler asked as she pulled her meatloaf out of the oven and set it on the stove.
“She gets it from her mama.” I shrugged as I checked my phone.
Despite Chandler being the oldest between me, her, and Rome, she was still spoiled and knew she could get almost whatever she wanted from either of us.
After how she’d looked out for us when we were younger it was the least we could do. She paid for my first studio session and told me to put the song out. I’d used the profit to get our family caught up on rent.
Then, as soon as I’d come up with real cash, I gave her the money she needed to go to college, something she hadn’t even dreamed she would accomplish with a baby on her hip and no man to speak of.
She’d gotten a degree in marketing and I fired my social media manager and put her on my payroll instead.
Eventually social media turned into media training then being my publicist.
I didn’t have a manager on paper. I didn’t think I needed one. I made my own choices. Our dad handled my accounts and finances. Shit was cool how it was and I liked keeping my money within the family.
I did a double take when I saw Myome had followed me on Skroll but I followed her back without bothering to check her page out.
“How are things with Myome?” she asked.
“What?” I looked at her.
“Your wife,” she reiterated as she tossed butter into homemade mashed potatoes.
“Cool, I guess.”
“You guess?” she repeated.
“We ain’t exactly hanging out and shit, Chan.”
“Well, you probably should be. Don’t you think?”
“Shit. Probably.” I shrugged and sank into a chair at the table. “I haven’t even spoken to that woman since that meeting,” I confessed.
“Berlin!” Chandler scoffed. “It’s been a fucking week.”
“And the press is already spinning their own narratives so we don’t even need to fan them.”
Chandler stopped what she was doing and stared at me. I met her gaze. She put her hands on her hips and glared at me. Fuck, she looked like the spitting image of our mother.
“You told me you’d see this through at least for a little while, Berlin.”
“And I will,” I countered. “I got you. I ain’t make no waves in the last week either, right?”
“I guess so.” She exhaled. “I just…” She paused while she thought of her next statement. “I just need you to do a little more than just survive and endure this marriage.”
“A’ight, well you tell me what I need to do and I’ll do that shit. I told you that.”
“I didn’t know you meant I literally needed to walk you through it.”
“Ain’t that the point of a publicist? To tell me what to do in public? If you want this reference and shit as much as you say you do, act like it.”
Chandler nodded once. I saw when she got in her head. She went back to cooking but I could tell she was actually formulating a plan for me and my fake ass marriage.
Chandler was amazing at what she did, but ultimately she only did it for me and Rome because we were family.
She wanted to branch out and find another client.
She wanted to work with someone who wasn’t us, and I understood her wanting to feel more independent, but unfortunately for her, me and Rome were both liabilities.
It was a bad look for her to only have two clients and for both to consistently be all over media outlets for doing crazy or fucked up shit.
She’d asked us both to reel it in when she started seeking a third client and we agreed but I hadn’t lasted long before the altercation outside of Trapp’s little listening party and my impromptu marriage.
That was how I’d ended up stuck in the fucking marriage, at least until Chandler was able to get contracts signed.
I loved her. So if I had to fucking smile and wave and stop knocking mothafuckas out for a few weeks, that was the least I could do.
“I think today seems like a great day for you to hang out with your wife,” Chandler said after a while.
“I’ll narrow down public appearances for you two but radio silence on both sides for an entire week isn’t a good sign and we don’t want you to pop out together for the first time and seem awkward or uncomfortable.
You’re supposed to look happy and in love. ”
“Yeah, alright.”
I sent my email then went back to Skroll and slid into Myome’s messages.
RealDrix: Lunch?
She read it and responded almost immediately.
Myyomee: Sure.
RealDrix: #?
I watched her number appear and added it to my phone to shoot her a text to set something up.
“We’re getting lunch,” I announced.
“Thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I waved her off.
I whipped into Myome’s driveway and looked up at her crib. It was cool. She stayed in a nice middle class neighborhood. I opted to pick her up for the optics and she agreed since it made sense to her too.
She came out a few minutes after I parked, in jeans hugging her thick body just right and a cropped plain black shirt showing parts of her stomach as she moved.
She had curly deep brown hair that looked redish when the sun hit it and freckles littered her nose and cheeks.
I let my eyes drift over her while I hopped out to open the door for her. She stood there blinking at me for a moment before she actually climbed in. I did another onceover of her spot before hopping into the car.
“You in the mood for anything specific?” I asked.
“Nope. Surprise me.”
“Alright.”
I knew where I wanted to go as soon as she said she didn’t care, so I put music on and headed out to the old hood where I grew up.
There was a lil diner out there with the best food I’d ever had and I’d tried enough five-star restaurants with people trying to dick ride me to know what I was talking about.
I hopped out first but Myome climbed her ass out before I could get to her side.
“Ay. You don’t open doors when we together, alright?” I said simply. “Not the whip and not a building. Stand or sit till I get there.”
She scoffed but nodded. “My bad.”
I gestured for her to lead and followed her to the doorway. Instead of opening the door, she slid to the side and let me open it from behind her.
When we walked in, I was greeted almost immediately and dapped a few of the workers while I led Myome to a little booth in the corner.
I always sat in the same spot where I could see the door and my whip at the same time.
Someone quickly came to get our orders. I got my usual and Myome just copied my order. Then we sat in silence for a beat.
“So are Chandler and Rome your only siblings?” Myome asked.
“Yeah.” I locked my phone and flipped it face down.
“Who’s the oldest?”
“Chandler. I’m in the middle and stupid ass Rome is the baby.”
Myome smiled.
“Rome is funny.”
“Rome needs to get his shit together,” I countered.
“Who doesn’t?”
I shrugged. “What about you? Do you have siblings?”
“Yeah. I have two brothers and they’re both older than me.”
“You close to them?”
“Not as close as you seem to be with yours,” she admitted.
“Why not?”
I had issues with my siblings and we all had fucked up attitudes sometimes, but I couldn’t see myself not talking to them every day honestly.
“Sibling rivalry.” She shrugged. “My parents are your typical middle class people but they raised me and my siblings to compete over everything. They really played into the whole having a favorite thing and drilled it into us that if we didn’t make a whole lot of money we were basically pointless.”
“Damn.” I shook my head. “That’s fucked up.”
“Yeah.” Myome shifted in her seat. “Uhm, Major is a doctor and Zamir is a lawyer, so they’re doing amazing and I’m…
chasing a failing music career.” She forced a small smile and scoffed.
“My parents hate my dream and I don’t like to deal with the negativity or the shit they feed my siblings who then repeat it to me like it’s their original thoughts. ”
“Damn,” I repeated and shook my head. “Well, ay, when you get that top fifty album, your family gon’ have to take that shit and eat it.”
“We can only hope.” Myome exhaled. “What about you? What’s your family story?”
I shrugged. “Not much really. We grew up poor. Eventually I dropped some shit good enough to get us out the hood. I plugged Rome and he took off. We hired Chandler for our PR, made our dad our accountant, and retired my mom so she can take care of her grandbabies. So the whole family is on the payroll.”
“That’s commendable, Drix.”
“Thank you.”
We looked at our waiter as he walked over and set our food on the table.
“Thank you,” Myome said softly.
I grabbed two fries and popped them into my mouth.
Then, I took my knife and stabbed it right through the middle of my burger.
It was made up of a patty, lettuce, tomato, onion, a special sauce made in-house, bacon, and an over-easy egg.
I nodded as the yolk ran down the sides then plucked it up and took a bite.
I nodded as I chewed.
“This shit ain’t never gon’ stop hitting.”
Myome took a bite and damn near moaned.
She nodded in agreement as she chewed then wiped her mouth once she swallowed.
“I may have to steal your spot,” she said.
“That’s cool but don’t post it nowhere. If I can’t get a booth in here because of you, we gon’ have mothafuckin’ problems, Myome.”
She giggled.
“Alright. I’ve got you.”
“Good.” I took another bite. “How’s the album going?”