Chapter 41
forty-one
“You good?” Kwan asked, escorting her back to the room.
“Yeah, I’m good. Could you get rid of this?” Kamilla asked, walking into the room and handing him the ring she’d gotten off earlier.
“Anything you want to me do with it?” Kwan asked lowly, watching CiCi walk through the space to make sure housekeeping restocked all the necessary things.
Kamilla caught the look and nodded. “There’s probably some tracking shit in there. I wouldn’t put it past him. After everything wraps up tonight, keep your eyes on her please.”
“Didn’t have to ask. I was already on it,” Kwan stated, turning to the door where a knock sounded off. “You expecting someone?”
“That’s Rowdy. Let him in. He’s been calling me all day. I’ll be fine for the next hour and a half before we go back down. Y’all go get some lunch. Take a break,” Kamilla directed both Kwan and CiCi.
“You sure?” They asked in tandem.
“Very. I have lunch on the way,” she informed. “Let me talk to Rowdy.”
Kwan let RowdyRedd in and exited shortly after CiCi did.
“Damn, you got to screen a nigga before I get to come in?” Rowdy teased.
Kamilla sat at the table and laughed softly. “No, not unless you’re here to knock shit over and make demands.”
“Now let’s be for real. I was around when Lucci came in with a gang of Azuls and took over.
I’m a crazy nigga, but I’m not ever fucking with that nigga.
I saw you with C4. I need him on this last album.
And before you say no, hear me out. I’ve been holding this gang space for a minute.
Rapping about my past life is getting tired.
I’m getting tired. I’m more than a CK. And I know how Azuls feel about niggas like me.
Especially after the whole KP thing,” Rowdy shared.
Kamilla kept her poker face. “So, you’re asking me for a C4 production?”
“And a writer. I’ve been in these writer rooms. No one has it, not no authentic shit.
I came in kicking in doors, holding niggas up.
I want to go out on top forever remembered as Rowdy but proof niggas can expand past this gang shit.
We all are L.O. through and through, but L.O.
is so much more than our blocks. Feel me? ”
“I do,” she sighed. Avoiding Cairo in any space was going to be impossible. “I’ll call Haddon and start making moves.”
“One more ask,” Rowdy spoke, looking at her in the eyes.
“What?”
“I need you to be the exec producer on it. You got an ear like no other. I’m not going out without a KP kiss of approval. I owe your pops that.”
Kamilla sucked in a deep breath and slowly pushed it out. “You’re messed up for using my daddy to get me to say yes.”
“Listen, he gave you his gift. If I can’t tap in with that nigga, I can lock in with his legacy. That golden ear you got, has to be studied,” Rowdy replied. “And plus, I didn’t smack nobody.”
Kamilla cackled. “Rowdy, it’s day two.”
“I didn’t make past day one last time. So, I’d say I’m doing great. We got a deal.”
“Let me talk to Haddon and I’ll text you a blue dot so you know.”
“Alright now, little KP. Don’t make me leave you a flag.”
“I’ll burn it. You wanna go there with me?” she asked.
“Nah, ‘cause you scare me,” Rowdy spoke, standing. “Little pretty thing like you surrounded by killers, can’t tell me you ain’t never caught a body.”
“Get out, Rodrick.”
“Damn, Mila, you not my momma,” he joked, walking out.
Kamilla took a few minutes to do what her grief therapist told her to do when those memories started to flood her— deep breaths and recenter.
Taking Martez’s life wasn’t a proud moment and it would never be something to be used to show her credibility.
It was either him or her. Thinking about how it could’ve turned out would have ruined her.
When her system was calm enough, she picked up her phone and called Haddon. Three rings and he answered.
“Big bad Mila,” Haddon spoke. “What you got for me?”
“I got a producer. I got an artist and I got a grab to get a nod from you,” Kamilla shared.
“Let me hear it.”
“C4. I know two rappers with some weight are hoping to have him on their next project. Both are ours. There is a new emerging rapper out of Port East. I think if we get C4, he’s coming with a package. And Ekho is looking for a label,” Kamilla said.
“Talk me nice, baby,” Haddon spoke, liking what he was hearing. “Talk to me.”
“I want them all. Ekho is coming in with fire. Three Grammy noms off his first album, and he’s going to knock out the sophomore curse. And Rowdy is wanting fire for his last album. Trae Way MB is planning his next album, we need C4.”
“Alright, then. Send legal an email to prep them for contract negotiations.”
“I was thinking we can have him come in as a contractor. The way that’ll work is any artist he works with outside of El Jefe pays the house whether a couple points on an album or a studio fee,” Kamilla added.
“And this is why you my partner. Do it. I love it. Yes to it all. When I get back to the west coast, we’re having a pool party at the ranch house. Bring my nephew,” Haddon directed.
“Got it. Thank you, Don.”
“Girl, you flying to the fuckin’ moon. Keep going. Tap in with me when you get back.”
“Will do.”
The call ended and Kamilla smiled wide and cheered. Then she stopped. “We are stuck with this man. You got to tell him sooner than later.”
She groaned to herself. “Tell him after you get him to sign.”
He could hate her, be a good father, and still get to live out his dream.
That was the point. However this turned out, he had to live his dream.
Her failure to listen already stole five years from him.
Regardless of how he handled the aftermath, everything she’d done from that point to now was for him to live. She was indebted to him in that regard.
After she ate and checked in on Kairo and Fredo, she was back in her cabana-styled section, listening to the producer teams on stage. Cairo eased into her space with a bottle of water and a snack box.
“They just got this shit everywhere, and I know you haven’t been drinking enough water,” he lowly spoke, honoring her request about attention and the cameras.
“Thanks. You having fun?” she asked. “With a side of thrills?”
“I don’t get a thrill out of another nigga in your face,” Cairo stated, his eyes on the stage and not dancing over her. “Especially not one who can’t protect you. Can’t seem to understand why you ever chose him.”
She opened the bottle of water and took a swig. “I wasn’t left with too many options, but you forced my hand. I’m not doing this here. Let’s keep it business.”
“Alright, then keep it business. I want that spot at El Jefe. I’m not signing a 360.”
“I would never ask you to do that. If anything, I’d want to contract you out for a couple years and give you the option to renew. But the artists are mine. You can work with them after your contract if you choose not to renew.”
He grunted. “The ask is what?”
“Points. Any artist not with El Jefe, we will want points and/or a studio fee. Unless, at some point, you branch off and get your own shit. If under contract, we will cover the overhead for a fee.”
“If I don’t want that?”
“Then you handle your studio and we just take points and collaborate. But right now, out the gate, being a contracted producer is going to get your portfolio up. What you did with Ekho—”
“We,” he spoke, cutting her off. “What we did with Ekho.”
“There’s no proof I was there. So like I was saying, what you did with Ekho is amazing. It’s why everyone here knows you. It’s why my artists are beating down my door to work with you. I say contract for two years and if you want, steal your moon. But I’m keeping East.”
“You can have East and I might have Ekho for you. But when it comes to the moon, we’re still locked in to steal it,” he stated. “And you know it.”
A half nod is what she gave him. “You need to get a lawyer to look over the terms legal will send you in a week or two. Once you sign, we’ll have a meeting. Sound good?”
“Sounds like you got all this shit figured out,” he grumbled. “So riddle me this.”
“What?”
“Where do we stand in this?” Cairo asked, finally looking at her. “After last night.”
“I was drunk. I shouldn’t have went there with you. There’s years of separation—forced by the way—and if I’m honest, I’m still really sore about it. So this is where we are. Two professionals,” Kamilla stated.
Cairo scoffed in laughter. “Professional my ass, K. You still fit me like a glove. You’ve been waiting on me.”
“And in your arrogance, you think that I should fall back into your arms like nothing ever happened?” she quietly scolded. “Shit has happened. Shit I can’t even tell you about.”
“Tell me,” he pressed.
She spotted media out the corner of her eye and smiled. “No. You can’t fuck me and bulldoze your way back in. That’s not how this works.”
“Aight. Then I should let you know something, baby,” he spoke through a smile, throwing his arm over her shoulder for a picture.
“Your nigga isn’t making it if he so much as breathes your air.
I’m not going to fuckin’ stop until you’re back where you’re supposed to be.
And that no shit from you turns me into a savage.
Remember what I’ve done to get you. I’ll do it ten times over to keep you. ”
Her phone rang out, drawing his attention from the cameraman to Fredo’s name.
“Fredo is calling. Again.”
She snatched her phone off the cushion before he could and stood. Smiling at the photographer, she said, “He’s free for an interview. Ask him about his next steps in producing.”
Now that Cairo was tied up with a barrage of questions from nosy media members, she scurried off to answer her phone.
“Hey, baby, you okay?”
“He’s fine. I’m calling to tell you he took a little tumble,” Fredo spoke, turning the call into a FaceTime. Kamilla hurried to answer.
“His little tumbles are never little,” she huffed, watching her screen show the knot on Kairo’s head. “What the hell did he run into?”
“I was going fast, mommy!” Kairo cheered while Cherayne pressed the slab of steak on his knot.
“Too damn fast. I told Fredrick about that got damn toy car. Had my baby flying,” Cherayne fussed. “Mila, he’s fine. It just scared your Pop. It’s the guilt that made him call you.”
“Do I need to come home?” Kamilla asked. She was a mother first and if she had to run out of here to hold her son, she would without question.
“No, girl, that’s not necessary. He’s happy, he has ice cream; I’ll float with him in the pool until he’s tired. But he’s fine. Are you having fun?”
Kamilla answered Cherayne with a sigh. “I got what I came for.”
“And you’re leaving with what?” she asked.
“I have to tell him. And I don’t want to do it here so…”
“I understand. You can do anything. You know that. You’ve already done the hardest part. Now it’s time to put your family back together. Don’t be afraid of swimming in the deep,” Cherayne spoke. “I love ya.”
“I know. I love you too. Call me if anything changes,” Kamilla directed.
“Like if Poppa cries again?” Cherayne asked. “I’ll record it. Go have some adult fun. Kairo needs a sister.”
“Oh, bye, woman,” Kamilla huffed, hanging up. “Let me tell Cairo about Kairo first.”