Her Future #3
I walked into the street as Fredo closed the door to hug me.
“So where you really going? ‘Cause I know for a fact Rick wouldn’t have you walking nowhere.”
“It’s a secret.”
I smiled at his scowl and hugged him closer to me. “Not like that, Fredo. I just… I can’t tell. I’ll be indoors though, and tucked away just like Rico likes.”
Fredo stared me down, but I knew I wasn’t on bullshit, so I just stared back, grinning in the morning light.
Then suddenly, Fredo grinned too. “Fine. But I’m taking you wherever you going, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Knowing he wasn’t going to let it go, I let it go instead, getting into the car on the passenger side.
“I texted you the address… this isn’t stolen, right?”
Fredo plugged in the address to his GPS and alternated looking at his phone and the road.
“Nah. This the homie’s whip. But I just got my license in the mail, so Nan said she would put her name on a car for me. I just gotta figure out what kind of car I want. I might get some lame shit so no one asks me to use it. The fuck you going to East Kenton for?”
Part of me wanted to keep it to myself. But then I thought about if that whole “stay in a child’s place” shtick was an act, and no one knew where I was. I took a deep breath, and prayed Rico would wait until we were alone to press me.
“I met this producer yesterday and he invited me to come to the studio. Color me curious.” I shrugged, trying to play it off, but Fredo wasn’t buying it.
“And he not on no bullshit? You know niggas be weird.”
“No. I think it’s cool… it’s Grimey’s producer.”
Fredo did a double take before grinning. “Aw shit. Rick gon’ be pissed you met the Get Money niggas before him. He’ll never admit it, but he rock with Grimey. You know, Peanut knows him.”
“Where the hell Peanut meet Grimey? Jail?” I giggled. When Fredo laughed too, I laughed harder. Figures.
We stopped to get donuts and orange juices before crossing over to East Kenton, and Fredo pulled up in front of the studio since we were earlier than I would have been if I took the bus.
“You sure you straight being here alone? I could stay.” Fredo yawned, wiping crumbs from his mouth.
I simpered at him. “I’m sure you and Turkey have been up all night. I’ll be fine. You know where I am.”
“Aight. Call me if you need a ride later on. I’ll be around.”
I finished my donut and grabbed his trash when I saw Trippy’s car pull up to the parking lot gate on the side of the building.
“How’s Rico?” I asked, biting my lips.
Fredo sighed. “Some days, I don’t even know. But I got him, Wyn, don’t trip.”
My head jerked, but I tucked all my big feelings away, especially when I saw PC and Sheisty pull into the now opened parking lot.
“Stay dangerous, Fredo. I love both of y’all, separately and together.”
He smirked as I hugged him. “Don’t get all sentimental, Ice Princess.”
I was still laughing when I got out of the car and walked up to the tall East Kenton boys.
PC had on another wife beater, with black Ed Hardy shorts. Sheisty was shirtless, tattoos and abs on display, his cut True Religion shorts hanging off his ass in a way only a Kenton nigga could wear them.
His long hair was braided into two cornrows, going down the perimeter of his head. Between the scowl on his face and the crazy ass tribal tattoo swirling over his chin, he looked every bit as insane as the videos of him fighting at Grimey’s shows suggested.
“And she early. Told y’all. I know talent, cuz!” Trippy was entirely too loud for the morning, cheesing hard, showing straight, white teeth. His white tee stretched over his huge arms as he socked his palm.
Sheisty put up his phone and mugged Fredo’s car. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
PC just smirked as he opened the doors, and gestured for me to go in first. I looked back at Fredo, waved, and walked over the threshold.
That day, something that had been kindling inside of me broke free.
That day, Wynter Snow was born.
For five straight weeks that summer, I was in that studio in East Kenton with Trippy.
Thirty-five straight days. PC came most days.
Grimey and Sheisty came a handful of days, but mostly, it was me and Trippy, arranging samples, fine tuning lyrics for other local artists on their label, and even recording part of an interlude for the Native Sons’ next album.
Trippy was a musical genius. I mean, I knew it, but seeing it up close.
Watching him utilize his ear for music, especially at a time where West Coast rap was gaining popularity nationwide again, was crazy.
He broke down step by step how to make a song, things normal people didn’t even think about.
How one sound can get lost in a melody, while another can make or break the entire song.
It was magical.
Which was why one morning, in the middle of August, I sat in an idling car with Rico, Sean, and Shad, at five minutes to eight.
“Rico, I said I was sorry for wearing your Air Maxes to school. You ain’t gotta bring me out here to kill me, man,” Sean muttered, looking around the empty street.
“And you didn’t have to bring me as a witness. I go back to my Nana’s house at the end of the week,” Shad added. Both of their voices were wonky from puberty, which made them sound even more funny.
“Relax. I brought you guys here. Come on.” We took off our seatbelts and I ushered them inside, and all the way down to the last room.
“Bro,” Sean rushed out, grabbing Shad’s shirt when I pushed them inside.
Grimey grinned. “Wyn been gassing y’all lil’ niggas up. She said y’all the next Native Sons.”
“Hell yeah! My brodie got his laptop too!” Sean gassed, dragging Shad to the couch. Shad’s jaw was still dropped, as he gawked at Trippy.
“I’ll be right back.” I ran out of the building, straight into Rico’s car, and kissed him all over his face.
“Thank you for bringing them.”
He smirked before kissing me back. “You know I got you. Fred gon’ get y’all at five, but I’ll be to you around nine-thirty.”
I grinned, throwing my arms around him. “You staying the night?” I whispered.
“The whole weekend. Turkey said Autumn was going with them niggas to his granddad’s cabin since your parents gone.”
I grinned, butterflies erupting in my tummy. We texted, and even video called, but I hadn’t spent that much time with him in a while, and I was almost ready for the day to be over.
“I can’t wait.”
Rico winked, before he smoothed his face and looked behind me. His jaw ticked, and his eyes went flat.
“I guess you’re needed.”
I glanced behind me, and saw PC grilling us while Trippy spoke into the phone. When I turned back around, Rico was grilling him right back.
“Stop. They’ve really taken me under their wing. Your girl is finna be a whole rapper out here.”
“They know you got a nigga?”
I snorted. “Trust me, I’m like their little sister.”
Rico shook his head. “Ain’t none of these niggas in this city think of you as they kin, Snow. But I’ll let you make it. Go on to ya session.”
Feeling dismissed, I grunted and got out of the car.
“Ay.”
I took one step before I rolled my eyes. Trippy got off his phone, snickering at me like the jokester he was.
When I turned around, the passenger window was down. Rico leaned over, his fake smile in place. He hooded his eyes and drunk me in.
“Stay dangerous, Lady Luney.”
He glanced behind me before rolling his window up and pulling off.
“That nigga basically just pissed on you like a damn fire hydrant,” Trippy guffawed.
I flipped him off and went back inside.
The studio was quiet, and the lights were dim.
It was the last weekend before my junior year started. The Native Sons’ album was done, and my interlude was included as a track, with writer’s credit on two more songs.
I’d decided on my rap moniker officially; Wynter Snow, not Ice Princess, like PC suggested.
It had been the best summer of my entire life. I was on cloud nine. Sheisty had me on contract as a songwriter, and we planned for two weekends a month during school. Sean and Shad impressed them enough for them to have an invitation to come back the following summer.
Surprisingly, school was important to G$. Part of the reason the Native Sons were taking a hiatus–besides vocal cord damage on PC’s end–was so that they could go back to school. Sheisty conveniently told them they had three more albums left in their contract, but it was in the plans.
Trippy said it lined up with me finishing high school anyway. We could perfect my sound, and I could have platinum plaques before I hit twenty-one.
For the first time, I felt like I didn’t have to leave the city to make something of myself.
I still had the bulk of that money left.
As soon as I turned eighteen, I could get an apartment in East Kenton with Auty, or at least by the border.
We could live frugally, and I could pay for her to take college classes until I blew up.
Rico and Fredo would be in the Navy or the Marines by then, so it would be good. We would have been good.