Her Future #2
He opened the door and gestured for me to leave first, so I did.
“This way.”
I followed him deeper into the building. When I heard a noise behind me, I glanced back to see the twins, eyes wide, feet glued to the ground.
“Help me,” I mouthed, but they just stood there.
“Watch out.” I turned as his hands grabbed my shoulders. I almost ran right into him.
He kissed his teeth, before snatching a door to my right open, and pushed me inside.
This suite was done in muted grays and royal blues, with a long leather couch taking up an entire wall, and a dashboard with different knobs and buttons taking up the opposite wall.
The recording booth was huge, big enough to fit a band, but it was only a stool and microphone then.
This must have been where the real artists recorded. The other rooms were for play.
This was real.
And seated in the far corner was the Native Sons. In the flesh.
A noise I wasn’t proud of filtered out, as I grabbed my phone to take a picture.
It was snatched out of my hand before I could even unlock it, making me growl and their heads to snap toward us.
Grimey smirked, and gestured for me to keep walking. “Yo’ young ass shouldn’t even be here. You definitely not recording shit.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not young.”
A snicker came from in front of me, and when I turned, Trippy, the producer of the duo, was smiling. “You young as fuck, cuz. Younger than Cochise fasho.”
Doing the mental math from that vlog featuring the elusive First Nations Prince, I realized he was right on the money and gulped.
PC, the rapper and the reason I know I’m straight, peered at me. Taking him in, all thoughts of my boyfriend evaporated.
He was even finer in person.
Baby face. Seasick waves. Green eyes that made him seem like a hot alien. And though they were sitting, all of them, even Sheisty, his brother and the head of Get Money Records, were tall as hell, over six feet.
Trippy was wearing a pastel blue sweatsuit from some skating company, while PC was in a freaking wife beater and basketball shorts, like he rolled out of bed five minutes before.
“She prolly came with the twins, but Fave’s thirsty ass had his arm around her.”
“I don’t know that nigga,” I spat, feeling the need to set the record straight. It was plenty of girls in the other room, trying to be seen and being overeager. “I live next door to Rain and Rian. Those are the homegirls.”
“Them hoes old enough to be yo mama, cuz. And they can’t be yo homegirls if they letting Fave’s weird ass push up on you.”
“Well, I was about to leave until he dragged me in here.” I shucked my thumb at Grimey, who went to sit on the couch near us.
“Get this, Freckles says she can rap better than me.”
PC’s lips twitched, and I waited on a bated breath as they opened and moved.
“Is that right?” his raspy, perfect voice caressed my ears.
He sounded like he needed a cough drop.
God, I wished I was eighteen.
“Spit something,” he continued, turning around so that he was facing me fully.
“Off the dome?” I squeaked.
“You heard ‘em, unless Freckles cuz is scary,” Trippy grinned. “Here, I’ll even give you a beat.”
He pushed a couple buttons, and a mid-tempo beat began to play on the surrounding speakers.
I’d never in my life rapped in front of anyone. Sure, I made them up in my head, and even performed in my mirror, but not even Rico knew the other side to my obsession with music.
Not even little Shad and Sean had heard me, though I had heard plenty of their raps they emailed me.
I closed my eyes as I let the beat fill the room. Suddenly, I was in my room again, and not in front of my idol.
And I let the words flow out of my mouth.
Sixteen bars feels like a lifetime instead of less than a minute. But I did it, and even stayed on beat.
As the last word left my mouth, I opened my eyes and showed all of my metal covered teeth. I did that.
The way Trippy grinned back at me, I was inclined to think he agreed.
“I guess Freckles cuz got a lil’ something,” Grimey said. I turned and he was nodding his head to the beat as he resumed rolling up a swisher.
“Told you.”
“And yet you being fast instead of honing yo’ craft. So you still gotta leave.” Grimey nodded to Trippy, who stood and stretched.
I looked to PC for help, but he just shrugged, before relighting his own blunt.
Embarrassment began to fill me. My age had never been a problem before, ever.
I had been hanging with Rain and Rian since I was twelve, though this was the first time they brought me to East Kenton.
But even if I wasn’t with them, I had no curfew.
Me and whoever I was cool with at the time got into the hottest parties, and even spots you definitely needed an ID to enter.
Niggas didn’t care. I was cute and different looking, and known.
I didn’t know how to handle being put into a child’s place. So I just went with what felt natural.
I folded my arms and stomped out of the studio.
“This way, Freckles!”
I turned and scowled at Trippy snickering as he walked toward some fancy SUV. “Do I have to sit in the back, too? Since I’m a kid?”
“If you keep having a temper tantrum, then yeah. Worse than my brother on crip.”
I growled as I slid into the front seat. As soon as he turned on the car, Grimey’s latest album began blasting, and he kept the volume high the whole ride.
It took him no time to get to Turkey’s house. Only then did he turn off his music and pull a gun into his lap, since the whole block was outside.
“Um… how did you know where I lived?”
Trippy looked at me like I was slow. “You said you lived next door to the twins, right? I done dropped they asses off more than a few times back in the day.”
“You fucked with them?”
“Nah,” he chuckled. “And foreal, you shouldn’t either. Can’t nothing good happen from tryna grow up too fast.”
I looked out of his tinted windshield, toward my house. “Trust me, I know. But it’s a little too late for that.”
The car was quiet after that. Not even the hum of a running engine was heard. When it got uncomfortable, I looked over and found Trippy staring at me with an emotion I’d only seen from Rico, but I knew it well.
Pity.
“How serious are you about rapping?”
My brows furrowed, caught completely off guard. “Why?”
“You got bars, Freckles.”
“Then why did you take me home?” I heard the whine in my voice, but I didn’t care.
Trippy grinned. “Yo homegirls prolly gonna fuck Grime in the bathroom tonight, together. PC and I gon’ prolly be into some other shit too. Ain’t nothing good for you there, especially if Fave was really all on you.”
I rolled my eyes and went for the door, but Trippy locked it.
“But,” he continued when I glared at him, “If you serious about rapping foreal, and that wasn’t no fluke, be at the stu at eight sharp tomorrow morning. Won’t be no groupie bitches or thirsty niggas, and then you can see what it takes, if you ever get serious.”
My eyes expanded entirely too big for my face.
Being in the studio with the Native Sons?!?! Never mind I would be up entirely too early for a summer day; that was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.
“You serious?”
“On crip. Eight AM sharp though, Freckles. If you’re late I’m not opening the door for you. You got a ride?”
“I-I can take the bus. I know the Garvey Boulevard bus goes all the way to East Kenton.”
“Good,” he nodded. “Get off on Freedom Court and then walk two blocks west, and it’s the corner building.”
I committed the directions to memory as I cut my lips to keep a smile off my face. “Okay. See you tomorrow Trippy.”
He saluted me and unlocked the doors. I climbed out, and ran inside my house when I realized he wasn’t going to leave until I was indoors.
I didn’t scream until I locked the door behind me.
Sleeping was impossible. I was too wired up, and too afraid to oversleep to dip into my whiskey reserve.
So after I showered, I spent the entire night writing verses.
I couldn’t find my old composition book, so I grabbed a new one and began filling the pages as I listened to all my favorite mix CDs.
The sun had gone down. Auty’s room had quieted. The block quieted. But even through hours of writing and switching sitting positions, I couldn’t calm down until after three in the morning.
And still woke up rested at quarter to six.
Slicking my weave into a ponytail, I pulled on some acid washed leggings and a Stüssy shirt.
It was still a heatwave, but it was a little cold in the studio, so I grabbed my jean jacket from the back of my desk chair, pulled on my Coach crossbody, and locked my room door before climbing out the window.
I wouldn’t have gotten in trouble if my parents were home, but I didn’t want to tell anyone where I was going. I had felt like it should have been a secret, even though Trippy didn’t say so.
East Kenton was mysterious. I never in a million years thought I would have actually met G$, and wasn’t surprised that the twins had history with them and didn’t say anything. They were notoriously exclusive, and even him inviting me back shows I killed the freestyle.
Besides, Dad’s gambling addiction was back with a vengeance, and I doubt he was above trying to leverage any more money he could use to piss off at the casino.
The sun was just coming up when I rounded my house and stepped onto the sidewalk. It was in my face, but not enough for me not to see the car pulling up to Turkey’s house.
“Shit,” I mumbled, as the car parked on the curb and Turkey bounced out.
“Where you going, Wyn?” he asked as the driver door opened. I glanced over, and exhaled when I saw a ponytail instead of fuzzy plaits.
“I can’t be going on a morning stroll?”
Turkey smirked and rolled his eyes. “You gon’ be around today? G-Pops wanna take us driving and you the one who need it the most.”
My stomach dropped just thinking about driving. If I could, I’d never get my license, but Pops was adamant about us being self-sufficient.
Turkey chuckled, knowing full well I hated our lessons. He nodded to Fredo before going inside the house.