“Nigga, I’m about to hang up on your emotional ass.”
“Gone, finish the story.”
“Long story short, Rah pulls up and says he wants to sign me and invited me to a party tonight.”
“Say word!” Al jumped off the couch.
“Word!” Logic grinned.
“What you say?”
“Come on now, you know I can’t make decisions without my manager.”
“Bro.”
“You bout to cry?”
“Yea.”
“Cry after we look over this deal. The party is black tie so pull out your best shit, nigga.”
“Now this is how you make up.”
“Bye bro.” Logic ended the call.
Chapter Eight
Tyler, Dexter, and Bobbi were seated in the back of a rented black SUV. Tyler wanted to drive her own car, but Dex was still all up her ass and she was choosing her battles wisely.
“Here, baby.” He held his hand out.
Tyler stared down at the white pill in his hand and rolled her eyes. She told him earlier that day she was trying to slow down, but the words must’ve gone in one ear and out the other because there he was handing her the very thing she was struggling to give up. The small voice in her head urged her to slap it out of his hand, but the familiar chill that slipped up her spine encouraged her to reach out and take it from him. Popping the pill in her mouth, Tyler washed it down with a sip of water and turned her attention back to the window.
“Oh, we about to be lit!” Bobbi danced in her seat. “I’m trying to leave with a baller tonight.”
“Chill out. You’re on the clock,” Dex warned her.
“It’s a social event.”
“And you’re my assistant. You can’t be throwing yourself on niggas. You never know what I might need.”
Tyler thought it was a joke that Dexter hired Bobbi to be his assistant at Carla’s request, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Dexter didn’t need an assistant, and if he did, Bobbi wasn’t the person for the job. She wasn’t organized, she partied hard, and she couldn’t follow simple directions.
“Whatever, Dex. Shit, I might as well take one too,” Bobbi pouted. She tagged along to party, not work.
“Are you not listening? I said you’re on the clock.”
“Ugh,” she scoffed. “Cousin, I don’t see how you deal with him. I only been working with him for a week and I’m over it.”
Tyler didn’t answer. In fact, she didn’t even hear them bickering. Her mind was floating between writing lyrics for the beat she heard earlier that morning and Detroit’s skyline. The full moon and specs of stars prompted her to close her eyes and make a wish.
“The fuck. Are you nodding off?” Dex slapped her leg.
“Ouch nigga!” Tyler’s eyes popped open. “Don’t fucking hit me.”
“Trying to make sure you weren’t on no crackhead shit.”
“Heroin addicts nod off, dummy,” she corrected him. “And I wouldn’t be doing anything if you hadn’t given me a pill after I told you I needed a break to clear my mind, but I guess you like me high?”
