“Well no, but-
“But nothing. I was doing what the fuck I had to do to keep shit afloat until Ty comes back. All you had to do was play your part, but you let your gold-digging ass mama get in your head. You leaking that fucking song messed everything up.”
“You weren’t coming home and my mama said-
“Don’t tell me shit your mama said because she don’t know shit. I’ve been doing this for years. That nigga Darryl not about to roll over and just let this shit slide. Yall are playing a dangerous game.”
“Well, it’s up now and it’s making money.”
“Money?” Dexter snorted. “That lil five seconds of fame ain’t gone carry you forever, and you still gone have to pay taxes on that shit, dummy. You might as well start doing porn.”
“Yea, well, it’s more than what you have right now.” Bobbi rolled her neck, snatching articles of clothing off the hangers and stuffing them into an overnight bag. Tyler’s overnight bag. It wasn’t Dexter’s business, but she had a rainy-day fund and she had a plan B.
“You don’t want to be part of me and my baby's life, cool. I’ll go find a nigga that wants to take care of us...a nigga with money.” Bobbi smacked her lips.
“Bitch, you don’t cook, clean, and as of lately you can’t fuck, so you don’t have shit to offer a nigga but a headache. You’re doing me a fucking favor. Get all yo shit and get the fuck out.”
“Whatever.” Bobbi waved him off. “I don’t wanna be here anyway.” She threw the bag over her shoulder and tried to storm past him.
“This ain’t even yo shit.” He snatched the bag off her shoulder. “Nasty ass wearing your cousin panties like they're yours.”
“I mean I was fucking her nigga like he was mine, so what’s the difference?” Bobbi retorted.
“You a nasty bitch for even saying that shit out loud,” Dexter yelled. “Get the fuck out and tell yo mama she better come get her shit before I take it to Goodwill.”
“You’re so petty.” She shook her head, hating that she hadn’t seen it before.
“Shut the fuck up and leave before I hit yo dumb ass with the air fryer yo non-cooking ass burnt up.” Dexter threw a couch pillow at her. “You hoes be bad ass fuck but can’t boil water. Ole I wear my lil cousin clothes ass bitch. Damn near thirty and wearing another woman's wig. Dumb ass gone fuck around and get lice.”
“Yea, whatever Dex. I’ll let you know when your son is born. It’s a boy, in case you wanted to know,” Bobbi informed him as the elevators opened.
“Man, I don’t give a fuck if you were pregnant with a pit-bull, get the fuck out my shit.”
“Ugh, I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”
“Dollar signs and dick, hoe.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“This is Detroit’s number one radio station, 107.3, and we bring you all the latest hits, gossip, and news around the city,” DJ Rhythm spoke into the microphone. “I’m here with my co-host, Bree.”
“What up doe, Detroit,” Bree greeted the city. “Today we have a couple of special guests and baby, they came into the studio looking like the mob,” she joked. “All black everything, you hear me.”
Logic chuckled, but he could see where she was coming from. Rahlo and Czar sat beside him while Al, Duce, Alicia, and Joe lined the wall. Joe had his camera out, capturing content for Logic’s social media pages as Alicia tapped on her iPad, confirming studio times for the upcoming week.
“Man, we got muthafuckin’ Southwest Rah, Czar, and their prodigy, Logic, in the building.” DJ Rhythm excitedly clapped his hands together. “Shit, I don’t know where to start.”
“I do,” Bree took control. “First off, I’d like to say congratulations on starting your label,” she praised Rahlo and Czar.
“Thank you,” both men humbly replied.
“And you know what?” DJ Rhythm sat up. “It’s more than just starting a label. Yall scouting the city for undiscovered talent and working with a lot of unknown faces. What yall are doing could be considered a movement for the people…our people.”
“We’re always trying to put our people on because I know how hard it is to get your feet wet,” Rahlo agreed. “But we just don’t put anybody on. I need to see the work, you need to be dedicated to your future because I can’t care more than you.”
“Swear,” Czar agreed. “And we not saying you gotta have your shit together right out the gate, but if you’re trying to be a rapper, are you in the studio? You wanna be the best, are you studying the best? Are you putting in work to become who you want to be, or are you just talking shit, hoping someone gives you a chance?”
“And that’s real shit,” Bree replied. “Is that how this happened?” She pointed at Logic. “I’ve heard his name before but not like I’m hearing it now.”
