8. Legacy
CHAPTER 8
LEGACY
H ours after leaving my parents' house, I went to secure the private birthday celebration for Victor "Vibe" Stone. Vibe, a towering figure in the music industry whose achievements rivaled those of icons like Kanye West and Dr. Dre, had hand-selected a curated guest list of a hundred individuals for the exclusive party.
Victor "Vibe" Stone was more than just the owner of a successful record label; he was a tastemaker, a trendsetter, and a visionary whose influence shaped the fabric of Chicago’s music industry. With an uncanny ability to spot talent and transform artists into global sensations, Vibe had earned a reputation as a kingmaker whose mere nod could launch careers and ignite trends. I was shocked when I received an unexpected call from his executive assistant while chilling with my father in my parents' living room a few hours prior. Her excitement was humbling as she expressed Vibe's interest in hiring me. Apparently, his previous team had recently proved to be inconsistent and he had heard glowing reviews about the professionalism of my company from other executives who had attended Stylz's album-release party.
I’d kept it cool when I first met Vibe after he finally arrived at the party. Luckily, because of my business, I was experienced with meeting celebrities of all types. So, I wasn’t swayed by being around a celebrity of his caliber. But I felt truly blessed that my business had reached the heights of securing clients with such status as Vibe.
Legacy Protection Solutions was officially on the map.
As I moved through the venue, adrenaline fed my footsteps. I was proud of Legacy Protection Solutions for being a part of such a historic event. This wasn’t just an ordinary assignment; it was an opportunity to showcase my company’s expertise and finesse at an event that promised to be nothing short of legendary. This was an opportunity to connect the Chicago branch with some very famous people. I was focused on ensuring that every corner of the venue was meticulously secured, every detail flawlessly executed.
The venue was bougie as hell, filled with sleek cars and even sleeker people. It gleamed with opulence drenched in a warm, inviting glow that caressed the walls adorned with gold accents and luxurious velvet drapery. The air was full of rich scents of high-end colognes and designer perfumes. The rich and powerful were out in full force, partying hard, laughter and loud conversations filling the air. It was clear that the partying wasn't limited to just alcohol. I watched as people casually indulged in lines of coke and popped pills like they were candy.
The familiar itch crept up my spine. The craving whispered in my ear. This was the worst kind of torture, being surrounded by the very thing I was trying to avoid. I had to keep my cool, had to stay focused on why I was there. I was there to secure a bag, not ruin my future.
As I strolled through the crowd, securing the premises, I walked up on Trey, one of Vibe’s homies, sitting in his personal VIP section. Trey was surrounded by women who clung to him. They were of all sizes and nationalities. On the table in front of them was an assortment of drugs that was like a candy factory to anyone ready to indulge. Uppers and downers, pills, and powder—anything anyone could want was inches away from me.
“Legacy, you’ve been working hard all night!” Trey shouted over the music with a diabolical grin. Then he motioned to the table in front of him. “It’s time to relax.”
I shook my head, forcing a casual laugh. “Nah, man, I’m good. Gotta keep my head on a swivel.”
He shrugged, taking a rolled up bill from the Latino woman with the biggest, fake breasts I’d ever seen sitting next to him. “Your loss, bro.”
I watched as he bent down and snorted a line, coming up with a satisfied grin. I felt a pang of jealousy. Uppers had never been my thing, but I saw the opioids that surrounded them in pill form that I was sure many would crush up so that they could snort as well. My hands itched. My mind raced. I could almost feel the numbness that would follow.
I moved away, needing some space. I found a quiet corner and leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths. The urge was so strong. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the reasons I needed to stay clean. My kids… Bless… I had made a promise to myself and everyone who believed in me.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through pictures of the kids, needing a quick distraction. Seeing their faces helped ground me a bit. They were my anchor, my reason for pushing through the cravings. I had to be strong for them, had to show them that their dad wasn’t going to fall back into old habits.
As I pocketed my phone, a familiar voice called my name from mere inches away. I looked up to see Aesop standing there. The last time I’d seen him, I was newly sober, and our history wasn’t friendly. At my lowest point of addiction, I’d lost so much money that I’d resorted to stealing from Aesop right before I hit rock bottom and left Chicago. Making amends was a crucial part of my recovery, and one of the first things I did once I got sober was repay him. Smoke, our crew leader, had made sure that once I paid Aesop back, he wouldn’t seek revenge.
Still, seeing him now, I was on guard. I had cut off all of my old crew because they were enabling my addiction. But Aesop was the one person in the streets who I had violated. But to my surprise, Aesop slightly grinned and extended his hand. We shook up, a gesture that was both unexpected and relieving.
“What’s good?”
He eyed my security uniform, a smirk playing on his lips. “What you doing here?”
I nodded, relaxing a bit. “Back in Chicago for good. Starting a Chicago branch of my security firm.”
Aesop raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I heard you was outta the game and had gone legit down there in Houston. That’s what’s up.” He looked around the party, shaking his head. “I’m here ’cause a chick I’m fucking invited me, but this ain’t my speed. Shits too uppity. You know me. I like to keep it chill. Only drugs I mess with is weed.”
I chuckled, the tension easing off of my shoulders. “I hear you. This scene’s a bit much, but it’s good for business.”
He laughed, nodding. “Respect. You always were a hustler. Glad to see you turned it around.” He paused. Then his tone shifted. “Look, man, I know we had our shit, but I respect what you did, paying me back and shit. It takes a real man to own up to his fuck ups.”
“I owed you that and more.”
Aesop clapped me on the shoulder, nodding. “You did what you had to do. We all got our demons. But you’re good with me, Big Dawg,” he declared as he stepped back. “I’m gonna bounce, though. This ain’t my scene.”
I chuckled. “I feel that.”
We shook up before he walked away.
Before doing another lap through the party, I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket. I took it out and hurriedly answered when I saw Zara's name on the screen.
"Hey, sweetheart," I said, putting a finger in my other ear to block out the noise. "What are you doing up? You were supposed to be in bed an hour ago."
"I just wanted to tell you goodnight," she whispered.
I grinned, knowing that she was sneaking to make this call. "That’s sweet. Goodnight, baby girl. I love you."
"I love you too, Daddy."
As I hung up, the grin remained on my face. It felt like God knew I’d needed to hear Zara's voice at that moment, giving me the strength to be in this environment without slipping up. It was a reminder of what mattered most and why I couldn’t listen to the demons.
As I scanned the crowd, ensuring everything was under control and my team was executing flawlessly, Vibe's voice boomed across the room, calling out my name. Spotting him in the VIP section, he eagerly waved me over. Navigating through the sea of dancing guests, I attracted a few admiring looks from some of the women along the way.
When I finally reached Vibe, he greeted me with a firm handshake and a grin that showcased veneers decorated with iced-out grills. "Legacy, my dude, relax and let your team do their thing. You're among trusted company tonight," he reassured me while extending a glass full of a clear substance my way. Eyeing the bottles surrounding the table, I guessed that it was tequila.
“Nah,” I told him, shaking my head. “I’m on duty.”
Vibe shrugged and sat the glass down on the table between us. He then introduced me to the notable people in the section who were music producers, singers, rappers, and even professional athletes. I exchanged nods and greetings with influential figures that I had only previously seen on social media. With each introduction, Vibe hyped up Legacy Protection Solutions.
"Legacy, meet the faces that shape the industry," he told me proudly. "Tank couldn't stop singing your praises after Stylz's album-release party."
Tank was the big brother of Stylz, who had hired me for his album-release party.
I tried to grin coolly, but my chest ballooned underneath my bullet-proof vest.
“Aye,” Vibe called out, nudging me slightly with his elbow. “I got another event this weekend that I’ll need a private detail for. You available?”
I gave him a confident nod. “Fa sho. I got you.”
“Cool.” He eyed my stiff demeanor with a chuckle. “Relax, my nigga. The party is almost over. This ain’t no young crowd. These people have too much to lose to get outta pocket.”
I relaxed, discreetly allowing my body to unwind. Satisfied that I was visibly loosening up, Vibe handed me a bottle of a brand of tequila that cost more than he had paid to hire my company. “You’ve done your job,” he said as I took it from him. “Enjoy the fruits of your labor.”
Grateful for the recognition, I took a cup from him that he handed me as well. As I poured myself a shot, I exchanged nods and greetings with the influential figures surrounding us, feeling a very rare moment of validation.