Crown Heart
crown heart
. . .
“Run that back,” I told Taylo, the producer. I bobbed my head to the beat.
I’ve been in the studio for hours, knocking down song after song. When I was in my zone, I was in it. With my cup of lean and a blunt, I poured my heart into my music. It was just me, Taylo, and my manager, Trae. One thing I passed on was a studio full of bitches. I didn’t care for that shit. Anything that would distract me, I didn’t need while working on my craft.
Peering down at my notebook, I rapped the words I’d written from the dome to the hard beat. Hard as in that shit was some fire. Anything Taylo put together for any musician he worked with went viral and did well number-wise. He was the only producer I fucked with.
Trae’s ass was dancing to the beat, rolling his arms in a circle with a blunt dangling between his lips. He was feeling this song. I met Traevious Hamilton a few years ago in the hood. He heard me playfully rapping- a time when I didn’t take the shit seriously- and he told me that he was going to take me far. I didn’t believe it when he said that. In fact, I cackled and waved him off. He wasn’t from Dreamville. Trae was visiting his cousin, Anthony Drake, who we call AD, and just happened to be outside shooting the breeze with a female when he heard me rapping my own lyrics to an old Future song. AD was now my security; he was a big nigga who took his role seriously. As he should, since I paid him handsomely to keep me from getting attacked by the female fans every time I stepped out anywhere, like restaurants and the mall.
I was a celebrity out of the grittiest city who hadn’t forgotten where I came from, but once I had the bread, I moved to Heartville. If I had remained in Dreamville, who knows if I would’ve made it out. A lot of niggas didn’t. They were either in prison or dead. I made it out for my family. I retired my parents, who lived their best lives on my dime. They deserved it. Both had worked two jobs to get by. I was the only child. They miscarried a few years after I was born and never tried again, so it was all on me when it came to those two.
“That’s some fire!” Trae hollered, waving his arms in the air. “Wait till the radio get a hold of this shit!”
A few more hours in the studio, and I was done. I’d wrapped my third album up, and Trae wanted to celebrate at the strip club. As my manager, you would think he was against that, but Trae was the turn-up king. It was two in the morning, and I wasn’t tired. Therefore, I was down for a lil’ celebration that consisted of ass and titties.
“I’ll meet you niggas there,” Taylo said, dapping me up.
AD was waiting outside, smoking a cigarette.
“We headed to the booty club,” Trae told him, rubbing his hands together.
None of us were married, but Trae and AD had girlfriends. Trae met his lady in the strip club. AD had a kid on the way. The way these niggas moved, you would think they were single. I remained single because I was cautious about their real motives. Some wanted to be with me for the limelight. They wanted me, but they also wanted to be seen. I preferred a lowkey woman who didn’t know who I was, but that was impossible. Everybody knew .
“We have in the building!” the DJ hollered when my entourage and I entered the large building. “You know he loves the thick bitches! Only the best for the hottest rapper on the charts right now! Let’s spin his hit single, All for Love!”
The beat dropped, and I rapped along while trekking to our section. Bottles were already sitting on ice, ready to be popped. Once I sat down, strippers flocked over with dollar signs in their eyes. When the song ended, another one of my joints began to play. I popped open a bottle of Ace of Spades and drank directly from the bottle. Usually, I didn’t get fucked up, but tonight I deserved that shit. I was out here doing what the fuck I was destined to do in life, set my family up real nice, and I stayed out of the way. When it was rap beef in the industry, it was always one-sided with me ‘cause I never entertained bullshit. Muthafuckas lived to get clout off my name when they shit wasn’t hittin’. I just never fed into it. It made a nigga go harder in the booth, though. It made a nigga feel like he was on top of the fuckin’ world. If a nigga wasn’t hatin’ on you, that meant you weren’t on your shit. I was on my shit.
A pretty thick black boned dancer approached me. I could see her ass from the front, and the shit was sitting up perfectly. She wore a hot pink see-through bodysuit that left nothing to the imagination. Given the scenery, I was here for it. I took another swig from the bottle and then placed it on the floor, and spread my legs some so the beauty could straddle me and do what she came over to do. Her sleek, high ponytail swung as she climbed on my lap to give me a dance.
The DJ slowed it down on some Pretty Ricky shit, and the stripper gyrated in my lap, causing my dick to brick up underneath her. She bit down on her bottom lip and looked me in my eyes when she felt the shit. Too bad I wasn’t in the business of taking strippers home to fuck ‘em.
She stood and then sat back down on my lap, now with her back facing me. Leaning forward until her hands were on the floor, the stripper began twerking her ass. Her shaved pussy was peeking through the thin material.
“That ass fat!” Trae yelled over the music as he approached. He slapped the dancer on her ass and jiggled it.
I removed some hundreds from a rubber band. Slipping them under her bodysuit while she continued to shake her ass, I made the blue faces rain down on her. A few more strippers entered the section to entertain me and the guys. Despite being in relationships, Trae and AD couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. Trae left to head to the back with one girl, and we all know what happens in the back when the bread is right. Anything goes.
All of this was fun and all when single, but at twenty-eight, I wanted that one woman to come home to after a long night in the studio, after a show, and take her on vacations. I had yet to encounter a woman I could see myself with in the long run. I didn’t care for the females in the industry. I could do with a regular ass chick who worked a nine-to-five if she had a good head on her shoulders and wasn’t with me for the fame and money. That was hard to come across these days. I wasn’t knocking a stripper’s hustle, but I wasn’t gon’ find her here.
After a few hours and drained a couple of thousands, it was time to get the fuck out of there. With the album completed, I just wanted to take a few days to myself to rest. Always being on the go takes a toll on me. I was rarely home and lived out of a suitcase going from hotel to hotel, city to city. The shit was draining, but doing what I loved and making money to be financially stable and not in the streets made it all worth it.
AD was having fun, but he stayed near just in case some shit popped off. I clarified that I wanted him to keep it professional but enjoy himself in this type of scenery. There were hating ass niggas everywhere. Niggas mad ‘cause I’m where they wanna be. AD wasn’t drinking, but he was enjoying lap dances. That didn’t stop him from keeping his head on a swivel.
After smoking a blunt, eating some wings, and enjoying a few more dances from different dancers, it was time for me to head back to the crib. I had a day to myself before flying to Cali for a sweet sixteen party. Trae knew I didn’t like doing those, but he claimed the kid’s father was a millionaire who was paying double just for to put on a mini-concert.
Trae finally emerged from the back with a massive grin on his face as he walked up the few steps to our section. Shaking my head, I tapped the dancer occupying my lap to signal her to move. The cute woman caught an attitude, scoffing as she bent down to scoop up the money I had made rain down on her. Ungrateful ass. The old me would have snatched the cash back from her.
Standing, I fixed my starched Amiri jeans. AD swiftly removed the dancer from his lap and joined me.
“Ready to go, boss?” he asked.
Rubbing my hands together, I nodded while looking around. The club was crowded. It was going on four in the morning and was still lit. I never stayed around when a club closed. No parking lot was pimpin’ for me. That’s when fights started, and guns popped off. All that was bad for my image. I tried never to give the blogs a reason to speak about me. They’ve already tried putting me with women in the industry all because they’ve caught me speaking to them on red carpets. Mothafuckas even made allegations that I was a down low ass nigga ‘cause they ain’t seen me wit’ a female in the industry. They thought, as a rapper, I should be knocking all these bitches down. What they didn’t understand was females in this industry were thirsty as fuck too. Worse than the fans sometimes. They wanted to be seen with the hottest rapper on the charts. They wanted to be chosen. They were some pick-me mothafuckas too. I’m not saying I ain’t fucked one or two before because I have. I ain’t see a long-term relationship with them.
With Trae in front and AD behind, we moved toward the club’s exit as discreetly as possible. It was hard not to be seen since AD was a tall, burly, scary-looking nigga. Nigga had on a wife beater exposing his big ass-tatted muscular arms. AD would knock a nigga to sleep with one hit. He also kept a gat on him just in case.
Once in the car, I slouched down some and closed my eyes. I couldn’t wait to shower, smoke again, eat, and sleep. I was turning my phone off so no distractions would wake me up. It never failed. Either notifications were going off, or my team was hitting me up for something. They didn’t believe in having days off, but tomorrow, I was goin’ to show them.
It was after six in the evening when I finally got up from my bed. The blackout curtains did their job, making my room completely dark. No TV, no sounds except for the gentle whooshing of the fan in my face. Yawning and stretching, I made my way to the bathroom to relieve myself and take care of my hygiene. Before I stepped into the shower, I ordered food from IHOP. I hadn’t even touched my phone yet. When I said today was for me to get some rest and not to stress about anything, I meant it. I couldn’t keep going and going without my body crashing out.
My phone chimed just as I emerged from the steamed bathroom, notifying me that my food had arrived. I dried off, pulled up my boxer briefs, and wrapped my black Versace robe around my body. After sliding my feet into my matching Versace slides, I made my way downstairs to grab my food before it got cold. My stomach grumbled the moment I picked the bag up from my steps.
I debated retrieving my phone to skim through social media. That could make my day go from good to bad in seconds; right now, I was at peace. So I thought. As soon as I began to cut up my French toast, there were knocks on my front door. Ignoring them, I opened the salt and pepper shakers and sprinkled them on my eggs. The knocks continued. Now aggravated, I tossed my fork down and pushed back from the table. I lived in a predominantly Black gated community. The only person who had access to come to my place was my parents, Nisha and Trae. My parents would have contacted me before just popping up, so it had to be Trae disrupting my day.
Unlocking the door, I swung it open and stood there, annoyed at his goofy ass.
“Fuck you want, Trae? I’m resting, nigga.”
Trae entered, sniffing the air. “You buy me some food, too?”
Shutting my door, I decided not to lock it because he wasn’t staying long anyway. Soon as I heard bullshit come out of his mouth, he had to go. I side-eyed Trae while strolling back to my food.
“Fuck you want?” I questioned, sitting down at the table.
Trae held his hands up. “I know you don’t want to talk business today…”
“Then don’t. Save it for another day,” I snorted through an annoyed laugh, tossing my head back. “I’m already knowing whateva you ‘bout to say could have been sent via text.”
“We need to work on your social media. It’s dry. It’s boring, Crown.”
I pointed at Trae with my fork. “See, you could have sent that shit through an email.”
“And that’s another thing. Your emails are backed up. We need to hire someone to handle all of that for you. I can’t do it all, Crown.” Trae sighed.
I shrugged. “Hire someone then, but I want to meet them. I want to meet whoever will be behind my social media and reading my emails.”
Trae nodded and then slapped the table as he stood up.
“That was easy.” He laughed nervously. “I thought you’d fight me on this.”
I swallowed my French Toast and eggs, then tossed the rest of the bacon in my mouth. I chewed while eyeing Trae and then took a gulp of orange juice to wash it down.
“You know what’s best, right? You have my best interest at heart, right?” I quizzed Trae.
“You know it, Crown. I’ll handle it and see you early tomorrow for the flight to Cali.”
Groaning, I replied, “I need a vacation, Trae. At least a week. Don’t book shit else without my say-so. I’m a fuckin’ human, not a robot.”
He laughed, but I was dead ass.