Chapter Seventeen #4
By now she was on her fourth shot and wasn’t feeling any pain.
The situation with Logic had been pushed to the back of her mind, and she allowed herself to have a good time, even if it was only for the night.
Adjusting her cover-up, Tyler stepped out of her slides and sashayed over to where Shugg was standing.
When the song started, she popped her hip a couple of times before smoothly adding in the footwork.
She dipped, turned, and effortlessly gyrated to the beat.
Spice stood to the side recording as her sister and Tyler moved in sync.
“Oh, this some bullshit.” Marley folded her arms. “They look like they been practicing.”
“And that’s why I stick to Instagram because I got lost somewhere between the turn and the clap.” Taylor shook her head.
“Do it again.” Marley stood next to Tyler. “I got it this time.”
“I hope you checked on your carrots while you over here dancing,” Czar taunted, pulling her into him by the hips.
“Shut up,” she giggled. “I took them off. I was trying to learn this dance, but Spice over here going all fast.”
“Am I going fast or are you seeing slow?” Spice quizzed.
“Oop,” Shugg, Tyler, and Taylor giggled.
“Oh ok, I see how it is.” Marley nodded her head.
“It’s alright, baby.” Czar wrapped his arms around her waist. “I love your non-dancing ass.”
“Hush,” she giggled as he nuzzled her neck.
“Ok and that’s my cue.” Shugg backed away. “We’re going in the house with Sage. It’s getting a little hot out here.” She fanned herself.
“Go right ahead,” Taylor insisted. “The chef in the kitchen, so if you get hungry she can make you anything you want.”
“I mean if yall want me to move in here, just say that.” Spice fanned herself. “I could get used to having a chef.”
“If you living here comes with free babysitting, you can have the guest house.”
“Lo, go get our bags.” Spice clapped her hands as they headed toward the house.
“Bye.” Logic waved her off, taking a seat on a lounge chair next to Tyler, who was trying her hardest to avoid him. Reaching over, Logic rubbed her thigh, causing her to peer over at him. “You straight?” he asked through red, low eyes.
“Uh-huh.” Tyler nodded.
“Come get in the pool with me.”
“No.” She brushed his hand away. “I don’t like you anymore.”
“So you liked me before?” Logic cocked his head to the side.
“It doesn’t matter because I don’t like you now.”
“Here you go girly.” Taylor handed Tyler another drink, interrupting their stare down. Before she could accept the cup, Logic reached around her and took it. Czar smirked. That’s definitely some shit he would've done.
“Don’t put your mouth on my cup.” Tyler reached for the drink. “I don’t know where your mouth been. You’ve been known to kiss girls with white tongues.”
“Eww,” Marely gagged. “Not you out here making out with thrash mouth hoes.”
“That’s the same thing I said!” Tyler giggled.
“Don’t encourage her,” Logic said with a frown.
“I’m just saying.” Marley held her hands up in defense.
“Sooooo, how did yall meet?” Taylor asked, lying against Rahlo’s chest. “I love a good he swept me off my feet story.”
“Oh hell nah, I’d rather play a game or something,” Czar scowled. “Bring out them big ass lawn games.”
“Hush, I wanna hear it too,” Marley cooed, snuggling up to her husband.
“Make the shit short,” he snorted, making Tyler snicker. She heard he was a piece of work and seeing it firsthand, tickled her.
“Uh, well, it’s short and simple, he’s a stalker.” Tyler shrugged. “He bumped into me, stole my phone, beat up my ex, kidnapped me, and held me hostage.”
“The fuck.” Logic laughed out loud. “Stop lying to these people.”
“You kidnapped her?!” Taylor sat up, ready to swing. “Wait, is she here against her will?”
“It’s not like she’s making it seem. I saved her.” He reached up to stroke her cheek.
“Stop,” Tyler hissed, hating that her body responded to his touch.
“Oop.” Marley covered her mouth. “And the plot thickens.”
“But you’re here.” Taylor arched her eyebrow. “He must’ve done something right.”
“He’s persistent.”
“Ok, I gotta ask.” Taylor clapped her hands together. “One last question.”
“Leave this girl alone.” Rahlo popped his wife on the ass.
“I am,” she giggled. “After I ask this question.”
“You’re fine.” Tyler shifted in her seat.
She prayed Taylor wasn’t about to bring up all the bullshit Oakwood put out about her because she wasn’t sure how she’d respond.
It was easy to dodge questions when they were asked through email and spam phone calls.
Face-to-face was a different story. The anxious feeling invaded her body again and Tyler felt the palms of her hands start to sweat.
“I know you probably have a lot going on right now, but are you going to record again?” Taylor asked, easing her mind and body. Sighing in relief, Tyler sat back in her seat and pulled the corner of her lip into her mouth.
“Umm, I don’t know,” she answered honestly.
“I think I’m adjusting to life without music.
The pressure of always being on is draining, and for the first time since I signed my contract, I feel like I can breathe.
Don’t get me wrong, I love singing, but I want to sing on my own terms, plus Oakwood basically banned me from every studio you could think of, I can’t record if I wanted to. ”
“Not ours!” Taylor’s eyes bloomed. “We have a fully equipped studio and you’re welcome to use it anytime you want. Oakwood ain’t stopping shit this way, tell her.” She nudged her husband.
“You’d offer her my kidney to keep her close, huh?” Rahlo joked.
“Maybe.”
“But she’s right,” he said to Tyler. “My studio is open to you whenever you want to come through and drop something.”
“I appreciate that,” she responded with a warm smile.
“Period,” Marley agreed. “Plus, we love a good comeback album. Every time a nigga piss Keyisha Cole off, she makes some fire music.”
“Swear!” Taylor clapped her hands. “Beyonce, Ciara, and Mary J too. Don’t let them steal your light. I’m sure you were a bad bitch before Oakwood, and you’ll be an even badder bitch without them.”
“I second that!” Marley snapped her fingers.
“Aight, aight.” Rahlo slid from under his wife. “I’m about to bring out the horseshoes.”
“Horseshoes?” Czar frowned. “Nigga you need to go back to making trap music, you turning into an old white man.”
“Fuck you,” Rahlo chuckled, jogging to the other side of the yard.
“I need to smoke before he starts this horseshoe shit,” Czar stated, standing to his feet. “Walk with me, LB.” He reached for his wife.
Following her husband's lead, Marley took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the side of the house. Taylor excused herself to go check on their kids. She trusted the nanny, but it didn’t stop her from popping in on them.
“You straight?” Logic asked, rubbing the side of Tyler’s leg.
“Yea,” she snapped. “Why do you keep asking me that?”
“Because I said I got you and that requires me checking on you, constantly.”
“Well, I’m fine. I didn’t sneak off to pop a pill if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Don’t act like I just listen to you,” she said with a frown.
“I’m not saying all that, but I also know you’re not trying to go down that road with me.”
“Boy bye.” Tyler waved him off. “You’re not my daddy or my man.”
“Obviously because neither of them niggas know what to do with you.”
“And you do?”
“I’ll show you better than I can tell you.” Logic tapped her leg before getting up. “Holler if you need me.”
???
It didn’t take Rahlo long to set up the game, and to make it interesting, he suggested they take a shot for every horseshoe that missed the ring and put one hundred dollars in a hat for every horseshoe made.
At the end of the game the person with the most points would win the hat full of money.
Never one to back down from a challenge, Czar and Logic both agreed to the rules.
An hour into the game, Czar was cheating, Rahlo was passing out shots like bottled water, and Logic was barely hanging on.
He was a smoker, and a smoker couldn’t hang with drinkers no matter how hard they tried.
Logic couldn’t even see the skinny ass rings anymore.
Every time he thought he was doing some shit, Rahlo was handing him a shot glass, and Czar was cracking the fuck up.
“Man, I’m happy you niggas rap better than yall throw,” Rahlo jested, watching Czar’s horseshoe fall short of the ring.
“Oh hell nah,” Czar barked. “Nigga my shoe close as fuck, that’s a point!” he yelled, pointing to the horseshoe that was a couple of inches away from the ring.
“Lo, did you bring your glasses? If so, give them to this nigga because that shit not on the ring,” Rahlo laughed, tapping Logic’s shoulder.
“Fuck you,” Logic chuckled.
It was a running joke that whenever Logic pulled out his glasses, shit was getting serious. There were times he’d go all day without them, but at night, in the booth, he’d slide them on and turn shit up a notch.
“And C, it’s not a point bro, move on.” Logic waved him off.
“Mannnnn, yall niggas cheating. This some straight Eastside shit,” Czar huffed, reaching for the Hennessy bottle they’d been taking shots from.
“Yea, yea,” Rahlo waved him off. “Talk shit after you take that fucking shot.”
“You ain’t shit, you get people over here, hire babysitters for the kids, feed muthafuckas and get folks drunk off their ass,” Czar rambled. “The bottle gone,” he beamed, holding up the empty fifth.
“T-baby,” Rahlo hollered across the yard. “Bring me another bottle, please.”
“Yall fooling,” Logic shook his head. “I’m out.” He backed away with his hands in the air.
“You lost anyway,” Czar called after him. “I’mma make a diss track about yo ass.”
“What you gone say?” Rahlo instigated.
“Uh, the nigga named Lo, and he wear glasses, slow talking ass nigga, look like piss molasses.”
“And you the people’s favorite rapper?” Logic teased. “Take a shot for that lame shit.”
“Nah.” Rah shook his head. “He can take two.”