“First of all, I said I was sorry. It was that damn ‘69 Cognac. No wonder you kept pouring it down Emani’s throat, no one can remember shit off that,” Ashton defended as he spotted Emani and hurried to her. “Are you okay? Are you a victim of the liquor too?”
Ashton placed his hand on her forehead, face, neck and chest.
“That’s enough, nigga,” Jahlil rumbled, grabbing Ashton by the back of the collar from his seated position and pulled him back like a rag doll.
Emani was in the process of swatting his hand away from her before Jahlil stepped in. “I’ve heard about where your hands were, please don’t put them on me.”
“Told him about that shit,” Jahlil grumbled, as Emani swiped the back of his head.
“And you, relax,” she shot back, taking her seat back by Carson. “I love y’all deeply but all y’all aren’t staying here.”
“We got a hotel,” Donnée spoke up. “I can be loud.”
The group groaned and huffed.
“I can make you louder,” Ashton played, earning a launched pillow from Kyrie. “I’m playing! I’m playing!”
“You play too damn much,” Carson shot over his shoulder. “Donnée, what’s the schedule?”
“Pick up game at noon. Please stretch, I will not be rubbing any knots out of asses. Emani has one last sound check before the concert tomorrow. Outside of that, we chilling.”
True to their program, they ate, joked, and then went their separate ways to get ready. Emani was perched in the makeup chair as Derrick put another wig on and Donnée sat nearby, scrolling through emails.
“The label is asking about the album,” she spoke over Derrick’s humming. “What do you want me to tell them?”
“Same thing I’ve been telling them. The sound isn’t right. When the sound is right, they’ll have it. I’m not understanding what’s the rush?” Emani buzzed.
“The rush is your man went on live late last night talking about how he was going to sit you down after the wedding. There may or may not have been a burner account predicting that there wouldn’t be a wedding,” Derrick chimed. “I’ve been blocked but no worries, I have a few back up pages. Does he have a nephew or something? Like around three?”
Emani slightly squinted. “No, his nieces and nephews are five, six, and seven. Why?”
Donnée’s brows furrowed as she did a deep dive into Malik’s social media to find the live. It’d been erased from his page but that didn’t mean his fans or one of the blogs didn’t have it. Without uttering another word, she stood and roamed out of the room.
Derrick continued, wanting to tell Emani that something wasn’t right but didn’t want to send her into a spiral. He’d witnessed the hiccups between the two over the years and he knew how Malik’s ranting could pick away at her mood. “There was a little boy somewhere in the background. He ended it abruptly. I just figured he took the whole family out there with him. Like normal. Leaving you behind for whatever reason.”
“Oddly enough, this is the first year I’m okay with being left behind.”
Derrick smirked as he wrapped a curl around his finger to pin it. “That’s because you got big daddy here. This pick-up game is the first time you’ve seen him play since college?”
“Actually, yeah. Outside of that one gamehe who shall not be namedtook me to. Put me up in the box in the corner,” Emani said, recalling that night completely. A busted lip and a black eye were gracefully given to her before the car pulled into the parking garage. Tyriq Styles was a monster, and she could only pray someone would give him the same energy he’d given so many women.
“Mm,” Derrick buzzed. “Let me make sure you look just like the courtside baddie you are. I’m thinking that pleated skirt, tube top, college cardigan with your 1’s.”
“That’ll work,” Emani replied, reaching for her phone to find what Donnée was in the hallway looking for too. A text to Carson would handle it.
E: can you find out whose with Malik in Eastover?
Carson: I could. If it’s some fuck shit, are you staying or leaving?
E: if it’s some fuck shit, I’m out
Carson: aight just making sure. I’d rather give you away once to a nigga that actually deserves you. If not, I’m keeping you for myself
E: you’re not going to do nothing with me. Just feed me and talk shit
Carson: you’ll be the only woman in history who’d let her husband do what he wants. But you’ll look good on my taxes though
E: get off my line man
