4. Drix #2
“Good. I think it’s almost done.” She took a sip from her cup. “What about you? Are you thinking of putting anything new out?”
“Rapping?”
“Yeah.”
“Nah.”
“Why not?”
I took another bite of my burger, dropped it onto my plate, and washed it down with Coke.
“I still write and record and shit. I just don’t release it.
I make good money producing and can do it from almost anywhere.
I don’t have to tour and I’m behind the scenes.
So even though I get a little bit of publicity, it’s nothing like how it was when I was actively putting out music. ” I popped more fries into my mouth.
I glanced down when my phone vibrated and saw it was Niecy.
I’d spoken to her once since the shit outside of Trapp’s party, mostly to make sure her emotional ass didn’t try to press charges on Myome.
Of course she thought that meant we were in love or some other delusional ass shit.
I wasn’t dealing with that. I declined her call and blocked her number immediately after.
I did a double take when I saw I was getting another call from Trapp. I adjusted how I was sitting and picked up.
“What?”
“I’ve got shit in my head I need to lay down. Can we get in the studio?” he asked.
“Nah. I’m cool.”
“Come on, Drix. Don’t act like that, man! You know you’re the only one who can get this shit out the way I want it.”
“Ain’t you try to check me like a week ago, bitch? Now you want a favor?”
“Nigga, you had my blood sister hemmed up.”
“Have her produce your bullshit ass song then, bitch.” I hung up and took another bite of my burger.
“Is everything okay?” Myome asked.
“Yeah. Lame ass Trapp wants me to lay a track with him.”
“And you’re not fucking with it?”
“Nah. I’ll do it. I’m just going to double charge his ass.” I took another drink.
Myome giggled.
“Y’all were just fighting a week ago.”
“Yeah, but I’m not letting dumb ass Niecy get between me and my bag. I’ll keep knocking Trapp out and taking his money if the need arises.” I ate more fries. “You coming to the studio?”
“I’m invited?” Myome asked as she lifted her straw to her mouth.
“I wouldn’t have asked if you weren’t,” I deadpanned.
“Okay.”
“What does okay mean, Myome? Use your big girl words.”
She cut her eyes at me.
“You have a smart ass mouth,” she snipped.
“Trying to get like you.” I watched her mouth fall slightly open before a smile took over and lifted a hand to get our waiter’s attention. “Get us a box and a check, lil nigga.”
I picked my burger up and killed it in three solid bites. Then I took a quick drink of my Coke and crushed my fries. By the time we got a box for Myome’s food, I was done with mine.
I shot Trapp a text, letting him know to meet me at the studio in ten minutes or to not show up. Ever.
Myome boxed her onion rings and half of the burger she had left. I covered the check and tipped. We headed out.
“Drix,” Myome said quietly halfway through the ride.
“What’s up?”
“How’d you come up with the stage name Drix?”
“My pops. His name is Hendrix. He was going to make me his junior but ma dukes fell in love with the name Berlin. Then, they just started naming us after where we were made.” I shook my head at how wild that shit was.
“That’s cool that it’s an homage to your dad.”
“Where’d y’all get Radiant Reverie from?”
“I’m not sure, really. I mean reverie is just kind of like daydreaming and being lost in a nice, dreamy way. That’s the kind of emotion we want to bring forward with our music.” Myome unlocked her phone and I saw her deflate in her seat.
“What’s your problem?”
“BB,” she said simply.
I scoffed. “You read that shit for real?”
There was a blogger who went by nothing but “BB”.
She ran a page called “BB Be Knowing” and consistently slandered people.
One of her most recent posts was actually of the two of us at the coffeeshop.
The picture was blurry but you could very obviously see Myome leaning over me to order.
I had to admit it looked compromising the way it was photographed, but it was like I’d said.
I wasn’t mad about the promo. She’d also posted our apparent wedding announcement and the fact that Myome and I had fought Niecy and Trapp.
“It’s hard not to,” Myome confessed. “Being good in the eyes of the public is important. The more people that like you, the more they want to buy your shit.”
“People say I’m mean and my shit stay selling so that’s bullshit, Myome.”
“Yeah, well I’m still being tagged in the post and being called the wildest shit because they’re saying we tag-teamed the siblings. Shit. They’re even saying we square up alike.” I chuckled.
“We square up alike?” I repeated. “Shit. Alright then, Twin.”
“Twin?” Myome snickered. “For real?”
“Beating mothafuckas up and taking names together. That’s what’s up. It’s giving real hood ass love story. I fuck with it.” I shrugged and Myome laughed more.
I liked the sound.
When we got to the studio, Trapp was already there in a room so we just headed straight there. I pushed the door open without knocking. It was already smoked out and enough mothafuckas in the room to make me click the safety off my gun.
“What’s up, Drix?” Trapp hopped up and walked over.
“What’s up?” I didn’t dap him but watched him look around me.
I could tell from the look on his face he was annoyed, but he knew better than to comment on what the fuck I had going on, especially after the last time we had issues.
I looked at the couch nearest the soundboard and pointed at all three of the men there one at a time.
“Get the fuck up.”
“What?”
“Trapp?” I glanced at him because he knew I wasn’t the type to repeat myself.
“Y’all get up, man. For real,” Trapp said.
All three people on the couch mumbled under their breath and sucked their teeth but climbed up. I nudged my head toward the couch.
“You can sit right there, Myome.”
“Okay.”
I watched her walk over and plop down on the side of the couch nearest the soundboard before I walked toward it. I sat in my usual seat.
“Alright. Let me hear what you’ve got,” I said.
Trapp immediately started tapping on his phone. Then, he handed it to me to read the lyrics.
I read it over and over while I tried to mentally drop it in different flows before I started working on the instrumental. I was two blunts in and feeling good by the time I was ready to throw Trapp’s ass in the booth.
I let him rap a verse before I adjusted the beat and had him start over.
The women in the studio were all loud and obnoxious and Trapp’s lil homeboys had started a dice game in the middle of the room but Myome looked like she was cool.
I glanced at her every few minutes or so. She was always focused on me, watching my hands in a way that told me she wanted to take my job one day.
“Ay, nah. That first verse was solid but that second one could use work. Come out.” I cut the speaker and watched Trapp set the headset down and head out of the booth.
“What’s wrong with my shit now, Drix?”
“All of it. Bring me that weak ass shit.” I snatched his phone when it was close enough and looked over the current lyrics.
“I’m good. Thanks.”
I heard Myome’s little voice and my head turned in her direction. She was still in the same spot but a dude leaned against the arm of the couch smiling all in her face. She leaned away from him slightly, a forced smile on her face.
“Trust me, baby. If you want to get to Trapp, the best way is through me. I’ve got you.”
“For the second time, I’m good,” Myome repeated more firmly.
The whole city was messy as fuck so this bitch had at least heard rumors of me and Myome being married if he hadn’t seen the video himself.
This hoe was trying to be funny.
I pulled my gun.
“Look—”
I cut him off. “Ay, bitch,” I said as I climbed to my feet. “If my mothafuckin’ wife say she good, she good. The fuck you still in her face for?” I closed the space between us.
Everyone was looking at us now and it had gotten strangely quiet while people waited to see what ol’ dude’s next move would be.
“Man, stop fucking playing, Drix.”
“Do I look like the kind of nigga who would joke with your stupid ass?” I asked as I put my gun to his head. “Apologize to my fucking wife for breathing that shitty breath in her face and disturbing her peace while she trying to chill.”
“My bad,” he said quickly, his hands raised in mock surrender.
“Nah. Say you’re sorry.” I nudged his head with the gun.
“I’m sorry.”
I dropped my gun from his head and briefly looked around the room. Then I clocked his ass upside the head and watched him sink to the ground.
I didn’t usually play about my respect so I couldn’t let someone play with my marriage, fake or not. It was a bad look.
“If y’all mothafuckas don’t have internet and ain’t see I was married, let this be the formal announcement.
This is my wife and the next time I feel like y’all trying to be funny I’m gon’ be hilarious and y’all bad wig wearing ass mamas gon’ be selling fish plates in less than twenty-four hours to bury whatever little pieces of y’all asses they can find.
” I tucked my gun back in my pants, walked back over to the soundboard and collapsed into my seat.
The rest of the session was cool. Myome fell asleep around two in the morning. By the time we were wrapping up, it was damn near four. I tapped Myome awake and nudged my head toward the exit.
She didn’t utter a word. She wiped her eyes as she got up and we made a quiet walk to my truck.
“You want to stay the night at my place?” I asked as I pulled out of the parking lot. “I’m not trying to cross the city for real.”
“That’s fine.” Myome yawned. “I’m cool with that.”
“Alright. Bet.”
I made the thirty minute drive home in silence after Myome fell asleep seven minutes into the drive.
When I got home, I got her settled in the guest room, took a shower, and hopped into bed right as the sun was threatening to come up.