Chapter 11
“What’s good, family?” Asao was greeted by his boy as soon as he entered The Spot.
He took a seat across from B-Syde who occupied one of the four horseshoe booths in the main area near the DJ.
The visual made Asao laugh because the booth seated up to ten people and his boy was the only body present.
“Ain’t shit. You being selfish or expecting company?”
B-Syde grinned lazily at the comment. His mind was hazy from the new strain he’d picked up from Kush Krazy earlier that day. One blunt in and B-Syde was sitting nice.
“I’m chillin. Vibin’ and shit. You know how I do.”
With a nod, Asao got to the point. Time was a commodity and he had very little to waste.
“What you got for me?”
“Your girl is on ice with Cobra. They shelved all her shit. His focus is on the new bitch he’s fucking.”
New bitch could be misconstrued. Samari said she’d never opened her legs to Cobra but that didn’t mean she hadn’t lied to save face.
“New?”
“Yeah, the little young chick he put on to replace your girl. Took all her songs too. Samari had like twenty songs she wrote which she isn’t getting a dime from. Shit is fucked up.”
“So he fucked her and moved on…” Asao said casually, but his thoughts were loud as hell and easily read because his boy called him on it.
“Be cool, killer. Cobra never hit that, which is part of the problem. Your girl got an ultimatum. Pussy or no second album. She shot him down on the humble and walked away. He fucked her over with the contract though. Made a mint on that tour. Pocketed half and dumped the rest into that young chick. She can’t sing for shit though so he had to pay to play with airtime for her. ”
The tension in Asao’s shoulders relaxed after receiving confirmation Samari hadn’t compromised her morals for fame. Now that he was on the job, she would never have to.
“All this came from ol’ girl?”
“Kolby, yeah. She was too fucking eager to talk too because shit is bad over there right now.”
Asao was interested to know how bad. Anything he could use to his advantage was gold.
“What do you mean?”
“The label is broke. Too many bad investments with artists and Cobra is greedy as fuck. What he should have been putting back into the label he threw away on bitches and blow. Which was why I said you’ve got a situation.”
Asao frowned. “I’m not tied to him. His money problems don’t have shit to do with me.”
“They do if that’s really your girl. He’s been hitting it bad for a lil minute, and to keep up appearances, he’s been selling shit off. First thing to go was your girl’s masters. You say that’s you right?”
“Who bought ’em?” While he waited for the answer, Asao was already plotting how he was gonna touch each and every person who played a role in fucking Samari over with the label.
At the top of that list was the muthafucker who’d sold her life source.
Right under him was the muthafucker who’d purchased it.
Because make no doubt about it, Samari’s music was indeed the life source that kept her alive.
“He isn’t in the industry. A ballplayer, Mase somebody. Shit, I’m high as fuck and can’t remember his last name.”
Asao didn’t need his boy to remember because he already had it committed to memory, Samari’s ex.
“How much?”
“You don’t have to buy them shits back, fam. We can pull up and handle that our way.” B-Syde’s lazy grin surfaced, exposing what he was blazing, and Asao shot down the thought.
He wouldn’t allow another man to be her savior.
That responsibility was his and his alone.
Aside from his ego, Asao owed a debt to the universe, and until it was paid in full, his soul wouldn’t rest or be at ease.
He selfishly placed Samari in the position to be his redemption.
As unhealthy as his need was, there wasn’t shit he could do about it.
The need had already taken on a life of its own.
“I’m not paying a muthafucking thing. I’m just trying to see what type of L he’s going to suffer.”
B-Syde nodded in understanding. “Quarter mil, but it was worth ten times that. She’s talented as fuck, but like I said earlier, I feel the murder pushing through your veins; so I don’t have to tell you that.”
Asao brushed a hand over his waves, dropping his head for a brief minute to temper the smile that surfaced at how easily he was being read. Samari had him showing his hand.
“Nah, you don’t have to tell me shit. That all?”
B-Syde chuckled, lifted the bottle of Black Ops from the table, and filled the glass next to it. “Fuck you mean, isn’t that enough?”
He extended it to Asao who shook his head to decline.
He needed to stay level. The killer was already pushing to the surface and alcohol would only feed his hunger.
“I’m straight on that. I need to head out.
’Preciate you getting that for me. Whenever whatever,” Asao delivered with assurance that he was now the one who owed a favor.
One he would pay up on without hesitation. He was a man of his word.
With a nod, B-Syde decided to cash in. “Whatever you have your hands on, I want in.”
“What makes you think I have my hands on something?”
“Because I know you. I’m trying to get in on the ground level of what you’re doing with Cap’s place before that shit blows up. I’m willing to invest. Money, talent, shit, whatever the fuck I need to do to get my name on it.”
Asao stood, tossing his chin. His boy was solid. He had skills lyrically and having B-Syde onboard could work in Asao’s favor when it came to time management. B-Syde was also respected, even if he kept his music off mainstream and preferred to be underground and local.
“Aight, you can get that. I’ll tell Niles to hit you up when we figure out what this shit looks like.”
“Bet.”
Two hours after leaving The Spot, Asao’s mind was still heavy.
He wanted to fuck shit up, empty clips and drop bodies behind a woman who wasn’t even officially his.
He smoked as he drove around the city, not having a gotdamn clue where he was heading until he ended up parked in the same spot he’d vacated hours prior.
This time he pulled up to his place in Crescent Cove alone and the shit left him feeling unsettled as he moved through the quiet darkness heading to the deck.
Asao stopped beside the lounge he’d shared with Samari, staring at the spot where she’d stood allowing the tide to move over her feet.
It was too dark for him to verify whether or not the footprints she’d left in the sand were still there, but logically he knew they weren’t.
The tide had moved deeper into the shore, erasing her presence.
Problem was, water couldn’t do shit with the presence she’d left in his home or on his spirit. His eyes dropped to the lounge before he lowered his body and stretched out the same as he had been earlier but his mind wouldn’t slow down and his body wouldn’t relax.
“Ain’t this some shit,” he mumbled, knowing exactly what the problem was.
His peace had been stolen by the pretty little thing who had him waging war in his mind. This house was no longer his serenity in her absence. It was now a reminder that she was imprinted in spaces she had no business being.
With a laugh of irritation, Asao closed his eyes and fought through the urge to leave because there was only one place he could process being at the moment.
Wherever the fuck she was. He was relentless with an insatiable need to turn her inside out.
He wanted to fuck her senseless and make her an addict of his deep strokes but he also wanted to know all her secrets paired with the simple shit nobody thought about or considered important.
Why the fuck I need to know what side of the bed she prefers and whether or not she needs to sleep with the TV on?
Didn’t fucking matter how irrelevant the detail was, he wanted all of them to lock away for safe keeping. He wanted her and wanting a woman for anything other than pussy broke the promise he’d made to himself years ago.
The fuck am I doing…
Falling, Sao…you’re muthafuckin' fallin'.
Asao removed his phone and pulled up Vid Share and moved to the only channel he had saved on his private account.
Fifty-six videos filled the page, each ranging anywhere from three to four minutes long.
He had already watched every single one, which meant a little under four hours of his time had been devoted to an obsession that shouldn’t fucking exist. He moved straight to his favorite and tapped the screen to let it play.
Falling hard, falling fast
Descending to you, devastating crash
The touch, the feel
Lets me know it’s real
Never enough, but never too much.
The air in my lungs, the rhythm of my heart
Should have never let you in, should have known from the start
I’m yours to love, yours to love, yours to love
When it ended, he moved to the comments and added one.
You write this shit about him?
Asao locked his phone and was about to return it to his pocket but a call came through. The minute her voice flowed through the line, the restlessness he’d felt moments prior no longer existed.
“That video is three years old.”
“The hell that got to do with you answering my question?” he said smoothly with a seriousness that shouldn’t have existed.
“It doesn’t have anything to do with me answering the question but it does speak to what level of stalker shit you’re currently on.” The smile in her voice brought one to his face.
“Stalking is unwanted attention. You want to be my focus, so what I’m doing doesn’t qualify. Now answer the question.”
“No, I didn’t write it about him,” Samari responded truthfully without needing clarity on the him Asao had referenced in his comment on her video.
“Then who?”
“Nobody and everybody who’s ever loved someone right.”