24. Cut at the stem
CUT AT THE STEM
S pring waited until the house settled. If her father had taught her anything, it was to make sure cooler heads prevailed. The Preston she remembered had a temper – nothing like the news had described, but a temper nonetheless.
Mack was on a call somewhere upstairs, voice carrying just enough to sound important. Talia had retreated to the kitchen, clanking dishes that didn’t need cleaning. The air felt staged, like everyone was each performing a different show.
Spring touched Preston’s arm lightly. “Can we talk? Just us.”
He nodded immediately. No questions. That was still there – how fast he trusted her when it mattered.
They stepped outside, the Houston evening wrapping around them – cicadas, warm concrete, the low hum of a city that never quite slept.
She didn’t sit. Neither did he.
“So, I talked to Rae,” she began, then stopped. She exhaled slowly, choosing care over speed. “What she found… it’s not what I thought. And it’s worse than I’d hoped.”
Preston leaned against the railing, mouth tightened. “Just say it.”
“There’s no dirt on the contracts,” she said. “Not on paper. Everything’s legal and clean. Which I gotta admit, I didn’t see that in my bingo card.”
He let out a breath that almost sounded like relief.
“But,” she added gently, “the operation is… bleeding.”
His head snapped up. “Bleeding? That’s insane. Merch alone brings in two million a year. How are we bleeding?”
She pulled a document up on her phone and pointed to it as he stepped in closer.
“From what I can tell, it looks like your burn rate took a significant spike about two years ago, some bigger loans after refinancing… Eight now, it’s through the roof.
With everything combined, even your profits, you’re in pretty deep. ”
He stepped back. “How deep?”
She met his eyes. “Ten million.”
The number sat between them, heavy.
He laughed once, sharp and disbelieving. “That’s… that’s not possible.”
She didn’t laugh, nor did she look away. Her eyes kept hold of his until he accepted her words as truth.
“How? How in the mother fuck could this happen?”
Spring raised her hands in between them, attempting to regain his composure. “That’s what we have to ask Mack about, but I need you to be calm.”
“Calm? Fuck calm. I’m ten million dollars in the hole and nobody said shit until?—”
“Preston Elijah Cole, you’re going to stay calm because one, your neighbors probably got the cops on speed dial. And two, if you don’t, my next call is going to be to Mrs. Avery, and I know you don’t want that smoke, ’cause I was right there when she told you to always keep eyes on your own money.”
He took a moment and put his hands behind his head. Lifting his head to the air, he let out a giant sigh. “You right… damn. I mean, this shit ain’t easy. Rehearsal, interviews, sound check, press runs. Notice I ain’t said nothing about singing.”
“I know the feeling. It’s hard, believe me. I took my eye off the ball a few times, but we learn, sometimes the hard way.”
He stared out at the street. “I knew something was off, damn it. Cards don’t just start declining for no reason.”
Spring stepped closer, careful. “If this were me, I know you’d let me know.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I would. Thanks.”
Silence filled the air again. Not awkward, just processing the moment.
Finally, Preston asked, “What do you want to do?”
She hesitated, just a second. “I want to confront him, but when we do, I want to put a camera on him.”
He turned to her. “On Mack?”
“Just to catch any microaggressions I might miss in the moment. But he can’t know he’s being filmed,” she said.
“He’s never going to fall for that.”
“I know, which is why I’m going to bait him to go on camera.”
Preston raised his hand in the air. “I’m broke and you’re crazy.” He chuckled to himself and shook his head. “What’s your plan?”
“It’s simple. I’ll setup my camera in the game room.”
“What if he catches you?”
“Maybe we’re taking shots of you, or it’s something for your socials. Anyway, we won’t get that far, because Mack ain’t ever seen a camera he ain’t like.”
“Facts.”
“Meanwhile, you’ll take my mini camera, hide it in one of those pictures on the bar. Once I give you the cue, just step out the way.”
“Is the cue still when you say ‘off the record’?”
An incredulous look came over Spring’s face. “Wait, how did you?—”
“Before you had Rae, you had me.”
Spring paused to examine him, then gathered herself.
“Right… off the record. I’ll ask the questions, you just set up the camera and wait for my cue.
No pressure. No ambush. I want to see how he talks when he thinks he’s in control, and if he’s lying, I’ll be able to go back to the video and break it down. ”
Preston frowned. “You think he’ll slip.”
“I think,” she said carefully, “that men like him can’t resist an audience. Especially when they believe the story is theirs to tell.”
He studied her, then huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re really about to go full?—”
“Don’t say it,” she warned.
“—Sherlock Homegirl,” he finished anyway, hands up in surrender.
She smirked, despite herself. “Too late. I’m already there. Nia Noir is back.”
He sobered. “If you do this, you’re kicking the hornet’s nest.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“And if the hornets come out to fight?”
“I’ll deal with that, if or when it comes,” she said. “Same way I always do.”
He studied her face and found only steadiness and resolve that never flinched once she committed to something.
“Okay,” he said finally. “I’m in.”
She blinked. “Just like that?”
“I’m not a fan of Sherlock Homegirl, because being your Watson never ends well for me, but Justice League always,” he replied.
She smiled at his reference. “And if anyone’s gonna see through him, it’s you.”
Preston sighed. “And,” he added quietly, “if this turns out to be bad… I’d rather know with you than find out alone.”
That landed for both of them.
Spring nodded once. “I’ll set it up. Low stakes. Conversational. No traps.”
He smiled faintly. “You say that like traps aren’t your love language.”
She rolled her eyes. “I prefer clarity .”
He stepped back toward the door, resolve settling in. “Just don’t forget what else Momma Avery said: once the cameras come out, nothing stays private.”
She followed. “So, you were paying attention in class.”
“Only when it mattered,” he quipped.
She handed him her pocket camera and showed him how to operate it. As she reached for the handle, she added softly, “This could get messy. That’s why I wanted to tell you all of this first.”
He looked at her then, this person who mattered so much to him. “Thank you,” he said.
Walking back into the house, they ensured Mack and Talia were still in their respective rooms before beginning their surveillance in the lounge room.
Preston watched her familiar movements, remembering her always being this precise.
He knew where to set his camera; they’d done this so many times as children.
The muscle memory kicked in once he positioned it and looked to her for confirmation.
She nudged her head to the right. Wordlessly, he moved it, and she nodded in approval, right as Mack could be heard making his way downstairs.
Spring set her handheld camera on the coffee table but didn’t turn it on. Mack walked in the room and spotted it immediately. “Aw, hell now, what do you two got going on?”
“Just testing some new equipment. I got this 8K camera I’m trying to figure out. Wanted to take some shots of Preston” she replied, her eyes meeting Mack’s, who had been examining the camera.
“8K? That thing shoot video?”
“The highest quality. I love it because it makes melanated skin look almost flawless. You want to see how you show up on camera? We could do a mock interview?”
“Oh, hold on, Nairobi, that don’t sound like nothing that a playa would agree to?—”
“A dry run then, off the record. But I’m going to ask real questions. Hard ones. If at any point you want to stop, we stop. Unless you think being interviewed by the Spring Greene is too much pressure…”
Mack scoffed, then sat down and leaned back in the chair like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life. “Baby,” he said easily, “I grew up in South Park. Houston, Texas. Pressure don’t scare me. You just make sure that camera gets my good side.”
The way he said it – Soupah-park – was slick, proud, city-boy smooth. Like the neighborhood was a credential.
Spring nodded. “So you’ve said.”
He smiled wider. “That’s because it matters.”
She clicked her pen. “Alright then, let’s start there. South Park. What does a kid from there learn early?”
Mack didn’t hesitate. “That everything has a price. And if you don’t pay attention, you pay double.”
Preston shifted slightly to give view to the real camera that was recording.
Spring let that last comment breathe. “So, when you came into Preston’s life?—”
“Careful,” Mack cut in gently, still smiling. “I didn’t come into anything. I was invited.”
She smiled back. “Fair. When you were invited, what was the plan?”
“To protect the asset,” Mack said smoothly. “And before you get offended, I’m talking about the catalog. Talent fades. Paperwork lasts.”
Spring nodded slowly. “That’s actually a pretty common industry philosophy.”
“Because it’s true,” he said. “Y’all creatives hate that part.”
She leaned forward. “Do you?”
Mack laughed. “Hell no. I love the money. See, I don’t step on toes. I buy the motherfuckin’ floor, then decided who can stand where. You feel me?”
There it was. Honest. Disarming.
She glanced at her notes. “So, let’s talk about that.”
The air shifted.
Mack’s smile didn’t disappear, but it tightened. “For a dry run on a camera that ain’t on yet, you’re moving fast.”
“I warned you,” she said calmly. “Hard questions. And would it bother you if the camera were on?”
He studied her now, assessing.