“Fucking phenomenal.” He leaned in, lips brushing the side of my cheek. “You see I already circled yes, right?”
I glanced down at the note again and smiled. He had indeed already circled yes.
“I don’t get a choice?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “Check the envelope.”
I did as he instructed and pulled a little gold charm necklace from the envelope. A diamond gold sun dangled from the chain.
“Quade?” I gasped.
“So you never forget how bright you shine, how real this is for me. You’re my sunshine, and I’ma be yours.”
My hand flew to my chest, and butterflies fluttered in my stomach. If I wasn’t recovering, I’d already have a mouthful of dick by now.
“Put it on me, please.” I held up the necklace. He slipped it around my neck, his fingers brushing my skin just a little as he fastened it.
“Just so we clear, Noa Green, you’re mine now. Officially.”
“Guess I am.”
He closed the space between us and placed a kiss on my lips before standing.
“Unfortunately, beautiful, I gotta head out. Need to check in at the office.”
“Okay.” I nodded, a little sad he was leaving. “You coming back tonight?”
“That’s what you want?” He paused at the door.
“I asked, didn’t I?”
“Then I’ll be here.” He smiled. “Teagan still here in case you need anything.” He walked out of the room, and I watched him leave before moving the tray over to the nightstand and letting my head fall back against the pillow. My hand was still wrapped tight around the pendant, still floating on cloud nine.
“Quae Lo!Is it true you’re working construction now?” a guy who I assumed was a reporter yelled across the parking lot. I’d barely gotten both of my feet out of my whip.
“What the fuck?” My eyes zeroed in on the small crowd of people with cameras and mics standing at the entrance. I knew some shit was off the moment I pulled up and saw all the extra cars in Northside’s parking lot. We never had extra people up in here. Shit, I could barely find a place to park. I had half the mind to hop back in my car and drive off, but I needed to know what the hell was going on. I’d been out for almost six months now, and nobody besides my family had given a damn. What had changed now?
“Yo, Quae Lo, how does it feel to be working a regular nine-to-five?”
The cameras flashed in my face as I made my way into the job.
“Are you done with music for good?”
I didn’t say shit, just kept my head down and walked inside the front door. This was crazy. I beelined past the front desk, past two of the young niggas giggling like they just saw a meme, and didn’t stop until I stepped into Ron’s office. I didn’t even bother to knock. He looked up like he was expecting me.
“What the fuck going on?” I asked, slamming the door. “You called them?”
“You know damn well I ain’t call no damn press,” he said, standing from his desk. “They were here when I pulled up.”
“Then why the fuck PMZ outside?”
Ron stepped around his desk and tapped the screen of his phone. “Guess you ain’t seen this yet.” He held it up so I could see.
“See what—” My words stopped as my eyes scanned over the blog post from The Hollywood Tea Room.
@hollywoodtearoom: Attendees, STL club promoter and podcast host, Shawn G, had a few words for former Savage Row artist Quae Lo, and he didn’t hold back. In a now-viral post, Shawn G name-dropped the formerly incarcerated rapper and shared a few flicks of him on a construction site, captioning:
“Washed up Rappers. Apparently, one hit wonders don’t eat forever! Quae Lo, this you?”
