18 /JAHLIL
Like a superfananxiously awaiting the arrival of his favorite artist, Jahlil subtly swayed from side to side. The opening act on stage was a local rapper from the Crimson Kings side of the neighborhood, by the name of Cutty. His lyrics were nice but Jahlil couldn’t focus on it because everything in his body was ready to see Emani perform for the first time. He swayed somewhere between regret and excitement. Seven years of only witnessing her stardom from a phone screen or TV.
The time of only rooting for her from thousands of miles away was over. He vowed to himself that now he was going to be up close and personal with everything – his kids, his career, his personal life. Being great in one area and lacking in another wasn’t what he wanted. Jahlil wanted to be the greatest of all time. So when the time came and he stood on a stage or someone got up to speak about him, they’d say Jahlil Savage was an amazing player, business man, father and husband – he did not lack.
He turned slightly to pull himself out of his deep thoughts. The VIP section held a handful of Emani’s sorority sisters, Noble and his wife, Savanhi, Tyris and Gino from the Hawks, and of course, their crew. Gino and Noble were still reeling about winning the pick-up game the night before and Tyris – quieter than usual.
Jahlil nudged him. “You good?”
A small nod was given in return. Tyris had kept his relationship woes to himself but Jahlil knew that look. Considering he’d had that look for the last seven years himself – love lost.
“Yeah, I’m straight,” Tyris spoke as he turned away from the stage. He hadn’t so much as listened to music since being put out of Normani’s apartment weeks ago. Every song playing on the radio, he knew she was in the room when it was recorded, or her pen was the magic behind the lyrics. She was everywhere.
Jahlil hummed. “You got the blues on you, nigga. I can see it. Question is what you doing about it?”
“What you doing about it?” Tyris replied back. “Going after your teammate’s girl?”
Jahlil chuckled, and Tyris gave him a knowing smirk. “I’m going after what’s mine. That’s mine. I just fucked up. Let me be a lesson, don’t let seven years go by. However long you been like that is long enough.”
“I hear you.”
Cutty wrapped his set and thanked the crowd before roaming off. No DJ to announce Emani’s entrance but the sounds of Oceania State’s Marching Band leading the way. The drumline starting off the count before the horns kicked in. Emani’s first hit out of the gate after being signed. It played everywhere and there was no escaping it.
Jahlil smiled to himself. “She’s about to kill this shit.”
“Ladies,” Emani’s sultry voice echoed through the speakers hoisted throughout the area. “When that nigga gets to acting like you ain’t her, what you do?”
The group of students and alumni went crazy, rushing to the stage expecting her to show up in front of the screens that played images of her through the years. College life, business woman life, and being her. The evolution of Emani Rose and how she’d fought for everything she deserved should have been a college course.
Screams and cheers echoed as the screen flipped from the video to Emani perched in the back of an old school chevy Chevelle, metallic blue paint and white leather seats. The platinum rims gleamed under the sun. The driver, Big K, from her old neighborhood who had all the custom cars.
The car rolled past the VIP area and to a slow stop.
Emani stopped on the rubber protecter, her bedazzled mic in her hand. “You tell that nigga you big mama.”
The band faded into the DJ now on stage mixing the live band with the recorded track as Emani started rapping.
“Walk in the function you know who I am. No ring on my finger, I don’t need a man. Been paid, not giving a damn. I’ll out hustle, out walk and talk any nigga thinkin’ they can. I’m big mama, your man just my fan. Been poppin’ and I always stand. On my business. Don’t act like I need you when you the one beggin’. I’m big mama, baby, yeah you know what it is. What it is, big mama. Emani been big, been it, been up. Fuck you and that nigga, I’m running it up.” By the end of her first verse, she was on stage captivating the crowd. In front of Jahlil, Ashton was rapping like he was big mama too.
Carson grabbed Jahlil’s shoulders and cheered. “This what you been missin’, nigga. Wait on it, just wait!”
“OSU, y’all fuckin’ with me?” Emani asked. The crowd roared. “It feels real good to be home. I missed the hell out of y’all. I was actually shocked that the alumni even wanted me. Y’all know E.Rose a certified what?”
“CRASH OUT!” Ashton was the loudest shout.
“What was that? I didn’t hear you,” Emani buzzed, placing her fresh acrylic set by her diamond-studded ear.
Ashton shouted again, this time alongside of Kyrie, Carson, and Jahlil. “CRASH OUT!”
“I knew that was your shit,” Tyris joked, joining in. “Your girl got some bars.”
“And she means that shit too,” Jahlil stated, excitement flooding through his body as he watched her live her wildest dreams.
“Crash out, crash out, crash out. Watch me. Crash out, crash out, crash out. Watch me. I ain’t never above slappin’ a bitch. Trick ya momma out. Make ya daddy my bitch. Call me step momma, boo. You should think before you do the shit that you do. Fuckin’ with me gon’ leave you bent up boo. I’m a certified. Crash out, crash out, crash out. Watch me. Crash out, crash out, crash out. I’ll put ‘em all on notice. Put all your bullshit on focus. I ain’t as graceful as Lotus. I’m from Husten, you ain’t know it? I don’t play. I don’t care. I’ll pull up. Fuck it up. Black trucks. You see us. Baby, I’m a fucking crash out.”
From Crash Out to Jahlil’s favorite form of Emani’s petty.
“Let ya baby mother know it’s always gon’ be fuck her. She can’t take a nigga that was never even for her. Yeah, she can fuck ya, she can suck ya but she can’t never make you love her. Tell ‘er how I cuffed you, how I raised ya status,” Emani rapped, locking eyes with Jahlil. This was the Emani that he knew and loved. The one who spoke her mind and never backed down or tried to cage herself in. “Tell ‘er how it’ll always be me. Big three and I ain’t never been the little P. Big E, big pressure, tell her you still dream of me. I’m on ya head, even when I’m not in ya bed. Let them whack hoes know it’s fuck ‘em. I duck ‘em don’t want nothing from ‘em. Money makin’ E straight off the block to the top.”
