14. Drix
DRIX
Itook a drag from my blunt and shook my head at the bullshit coming out of Alan’s mouth.
I cut the speaker and looked over at Dashawn.
The only reason I was wasting my time was because we were boys and part of me felt like Alan was somewhat my little brother too since we’d all come up together, but damn.
I was positive my beats wouldn’t even be able to save the stupid shit coming out of his mouth.
I handed my blunt to Myome who set it in my ashtray without taking a hit.
“Yo ass needs a ghostwriter,” I told him plainly.
Dashawn laughed immediately while Alan’s face twisted.
“Man, this shit is hot!”
“Hot garbage,” I corrected, making the other people in the studio laugh. “Your voice is cool. It’s those weak ass lines that are the problem.” I looked back at Dashawn. “Your brother is a real rapper and he ain’t offer you no lyrics?”
Dashawn shrugged.
“He didn’t ask for my help.”
“Well, it sounds like you should have helped him anyway.” I glanced at Rome. “You want to help him write some shit?”
“Yeah. I can do that.” He sat up in his seat and I nodded.
“Come out and Rome gon’ help you clean that bullshit up.” I stated. “Anybody else want to waste my time?” I looked around the room. “Nah? Alright. Merch, get in the booth.” I nudged my head toward it and he hopped up quickly and headed inside. “Which track do you want to start with?”
“Can we do that third one? It’s the one with the blank bridge. I want to lay my verse again.”
“A’ight. I’ll drop you in about four bars before your verse kicks.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I pulled up the song he was talking about and found the section to start his recording.
I leaned back in my seat and rested a hand on my wife’s knee while I closed my eyes and listened to the music.
Rome and Merch both had great voices and were more R&B heavy than anything else.
Did they rap every once in a while? Yeah, but this album wasn’t that and I was excited about it.
I didn’t dip my toe into too much shit that wasn’t rap typically, but when I did, I always walked away feeling like I’d made magic.
I briefly glanced over at Myome. She was staring at her phone, her hand placed on top of mine while she mindlessly ran her thumb up and down the outside of my pinky. I leaned over and kissed her head. She smiled as she looked at me and I kissed her mouth too then faced forward.
“Ay, you a lil flat on that last stretch. Let’s punch it again,” I suggested.
Merch nodded and I ran it back for him, nodding as he hit the note right the second time. I made a few quick adjustments to the background track then let him flow.
I had him and Rome both done recording in a few hours then sent Alan back into the booth to get his bullshit recorded.
Afterwards, I let Rome cut a solo track for his vault just because it was on his mind and we wrapped up for the day.
“You still gon’ make that drive with me?” Dashawn asked as we picked up our shit and threw our trash away.
I’d honestly forgotten we were supposed to make a run together but I nodded anyway.
“Yeah. I’ve got you. Let me just get Twin home to her car and you can pick me up from her spot in about…” I looked at my watch. “Two hours?”
“A’ight. Bet.”
I dapped him and we all headed our separate ways.
I took Myome to my favorite spot where we put in matching orders and I was proud of her for eating half of her food. I packaged the rest to-go and we made the drive out to her crib with my hand on her knee.
Honestly, I needed a hand on her at all times. It was calming. After seeing her laid out on the floor of that bar, I just wanted to constantly make sure she was okay. The entire experience had shaken me to my core. I hated the image and the thought of anything bad happening to her.
I twined my fingers through hers, lifted her hand and kissed right beneath her wedding ring.
“Thanks for chilling with me today,” I stated.
“Awwh. You’re welcome.” She grinned and I kissed her hand again.
“I’ve got to make a move with Dashawn out of town but I’ll be back sometime tonight. You want me to come back to your place?”
“Yes, please.”
I nodded. “A’ight.”
I turned onto her street and my eyebrows knitted together at a badly parked car taking up most of her driveway and a couple trying to peek through her front window.
I threw my car in park and rolled the window down.
“Ay!” I barked. “What the fuck you doing?” I reached between my seat and middle console for my gun and clicked the safety off as I pushed my door open.
The couple looked back at me.
“Fuck.” Myome cursed and sank in her seat.
“You know them?” I asked without taking my eyes off their weird asses.
“Yeah. They’re my parents.”
I clicked my safety back on but kept my gun in hand.
“You want to see them or you want me to get rid of them?”
She lifted a little to peek over my dash. They were almost at my car now.
“I’ll just talk to them.” She sighed and unclipped her seatbelt.
I thought about asking if she needed backup but decided against it because she didn’t really have a choice. I hopped out and walked around to open her door while her parents remained at the edge of her driveway, both staring at me and judging.
I expected them to walk toward Myome when they saw her but they remained where they were, whispering back and forth.
I didn’t know how their dynamic worked so I followed Myome’s lead.
Her hand shook as she walked toward them and I laced our fingers together to stop it and let her know I was here and paying attention.
“Hey,” she said awkwardly.
“Myome,” her mother snipped and looked from her to me.
“Hey 'Yome.” Her dad gave her an awkward half hug since I wasn’t coming up off her hand then glanced at me.
“Uhm, what are you guys doing here?”
“We’re here to see you,” her father said simply.
“But why?”
“Can you let us inside please?” Her mother fanned herself. “It’s hot as hell out here.”
“Right. Sure.”
Myome led everyone to her front door and nervously fumbled with her keys.
Their entire interaction was weird to me. I expected more from parents who apparently didn’t see their child often.
When we walked inside, Myome's mom pushed past me and walked straight to the kitchen. Myome’s nails dug into my hand. I gave her a little squeeze back. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and followed her mom, dragging me along with her.
That shoulder checking me shit was strike one for Mama’s ass.
“So what are y’all here for?” Myome asked.
“Well your father has been going on and on about seeing you.” Her mom waved a dismissive hand as she peered into the fridge.
“And then all the tabloids started. We were off in Asia enjoying our retirement, and every time we spoke to your brothers, they told us about this PR nightmare you were a part of—from a drunk marriage thing, to being cheated on and headed to divorce in that sham marriage within a few months, to that fall you took at the bar.” She whistled.
“We decided we’d drop in, get eyes on you, and make sure you were functioning somewhat properly. ”
The fact they spoke to her brothers frequently to get updates on Myome but not Myome herself?
Strike two. The fact that she called Myome’s health scare just a fall.
Strike three. The fact they knew she’d taken that fucking “fall” and were just now checking on her? Strike, strike, and fucking strike.
Both of her parents had me fucked up.
My entire body language must have shifted because Myome looked up at me while I clenched my jaw.
I knew how I felt about my family so I wasn’t going to immediately snap on her people, but I wasn’t against it.
Shit. I’d started off not liking them from what Myome had told me about her childhood but meeting them in person reaffirmed that shit for me.
“I’m functioning just fine,” Myome said tightly and looked toward her mom. “And my marriage isn’t a sham. It was a misunderstanding and this”—she gestured to me—“is said husband.”
Her mother stood, closed the fridge, and looked at me. Her eyes trailed up and down my body.
“Oh. So you decided against divorce?”
“We never said we were divorcing”—Myome forced a smile—“But his name is Drix. Drix, these are my parents, Joyce and Ralph.”
I didn’t make a move to shake anyone’s hand until Ralph offered his. I shook it and nodded once.
“Nice to meet you,” he offered.
“Nice to meet you,” I echoed.
“So, you stayed married and what about the fall? How are you healing from that? Are you going to be able to tour if your little group gets the opportunity?”
Little group?
“I was dehydrated. I’m fine. I go back to practice tomorrow for our tour that’s already planned.”
“Mm.” Joyce looked between us. “So, how is the album coming along?”
“All the songs are done. We’re just deciding which ones to put out and we’ve already started doing interviews and locking in promo.”
“Good. Anything good?”
“All of it is good,” I interjected.
“Mm.” Her mom lifted an eyebrow. “You would think that.” She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “When you love someone, you think everything they put out is amazing.” She rolled her eyes.
“Then you should think it’s all good too then, right?”
Joyce’s fake smile fell. “Can we have a moment with our daughter?”
“Nah.”
“Excuse me?”
I stepped to the side, taking Myome with me and gesturing toward the entrance.
“You’re excused.”
“Son—”
I cut Ralph off. “I’m not your son.”
“Drix.” Myome set her free hand on my chest and I placed my hand atop hers.
“Ralph and I want to talk to our daughter and—”
“The ideal time to check on her was when you found out she was in the hospital. Don’t come in this bitch acting concerned now.”
“And you’re going to let him speak to me that way?” Joyce glared at Myome.
“He’s a grown man, Mom.” She shrugged.
“And we’re having a family conversation.”
“The divorce didn’t go through, remember? I’m her mothafuckin’ family,” I reminded her.
“Drix.” Myome looked up at me and pleaded with her eyes.