“Not Big Demi in the middle of the hood all by himself. He better remember where he at. Nobody cares about them big names in the city. The way y’all walk around with the jewels, pushing big boy wheels in the foreigns, y’all stand out like sore thumbs.”
“Yeah, a warning ain’t necessary. Niggas know the land and the rules to the land,” Day stated arrogantly. They may have been CEOs of a music label, but they were CEOs on the block, too.
“My bad, just saying,” she shrugged.
“Look, Da’vi, there’s no easy way for me to cut this, but I’m releasing you from the label.”
“Wait, what?” He saw her temper go from zero to one hundred. “My brother started this fucking label.”
“It’s not gon’ work out, Da’vi,” Day said sternly, cutting her off before she could get on her soap box. “I can’t give you what you looking for here. The music is good, but it can’t sustain itself. You need a story. I can’t be that story no more. I ain’t feeling it.”
“Since when are you not feeling it? Because I literally have physical video proof that you were feeling it,” Kiara snapped. “Been feeling it, nigga. What about the brunch? You promised me, Day!”
“I can talk to your management team, help them develop a plan that will give you longevity in the game. Don’t you want that? Like, how long you think you gon’ be relevant just from affiliation with made niggas? You’re talented, Da’vi…”
“Miss me with the ‘you’re better than that’ speech,” Kiara spat.
“That wasn’t quite where I was headed, but since you said it, you could be better than a social media gimmick,” Day said.
“And you could be better than a washed-up rapper buying pussy, but here we are.”
He was certain she had lost her mind. Everybody knew Day wasn’t tolerant when it came to disrespect and her anger had her straddling a fine line.
“This is where we part ways, Da’vi. Good luck.” His voice was calm, but he was expressionless. The blank stare he hit her with almost made her feel like she didn’t even exist, and it was because he had disconnected. Any guilt he had felt had exited stage left. This only pissed her off more.
“I promise you, I’ma have the last laugh. You’re ruining my career, and for what? Cuz your dick a little tender over a nobody-ass bitch. Fuck you, Day.” She was animated and way too loud for Day’s taste. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a blunt. He kept one rolled for stresses just like this.
“You can see yourself out. Consider that advance check we cut you severance, my baby.”
He was being more than fair. Most companies would have asked for it back.
She stormed out, and Day watched a three-million-dollar investment walk out of his life. It wasn’t the smartest play he had ever made, but he was trying to change. He was trying to win over a girl that could possibly be ‘the girl,’ and he realized that would take some sacrifice. Kiara Da’vi was one of many he was sure to make in his attempt to win favor with Anastassia. Day hit the lights in the office and shrugged into his Amiri jacket before pulling a skull cap over his head. He hit the code to his office safe and then headed out into the night.
When he made it to the parking garage, he immediately saw red. His beautiful foreign car was sitting on two rims, and the paint was scratched from the etch of a key. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that Kiara Da’vi had lost hers. She was in her feelings, so she was making him go in his pockets. He pulled out his phone and hit Demi.
Day
I’ma be a minute. That bitch, Da’vi, don’ put a nigga tires on flat. I’ma call the tow and then Uber there. DON’T DRIVE, NIGGA!
Day sent a picture showing the damage, and Demi sent back crying and laughing emojis.
Day chuckled, too. This was young girl shit. “Fucking with her crazy ass. That’s what the fuck I get.”
Demi
I’m about to make my way to one of my rentals, my nigga. I’ll tap in with you tomorrow.
Demi was sick. His body was physically disrupted, and he couldn’t decipher if it was grief or anger. He was overloaded with an energy that had him in a foul mood, and as he sat at the bar, he nursed a glass of aged cognac, hoping to take the edge off.
He had never felt this unnerved in his life. He felt exposed and vulnerable, like if anyone even spoke to him, he might break down and cry. The shit hurt. Bad. He had never quite felt anything even remotely close to this before. He wondered what this was. This crippling effect that was taking over his body, and his stomach ached almost like he hadn’t eaten in days. Had he? He couldn’t even remember. He took a sip ofthe poison in his hand instead. If he drank enough of it, he knew it would numb him. He didn’t have to check the time to know it was late. The dwindling crowd let him know that it was closing time.
“You look like you’ve had a rough night,” the bartender said as she wiped down the bar top. Her voice was sweet, and light, and he glanced up at her pretty face. Her smile was the first smile he’d seen all day. It reminded him that there was happiness somewhere out there in the world.
“You could say that,” Demi replied as he spun the tumbler in his hand.
“Well, this one is on me. Last call before the lights go out.” The girl was pretty, petite like Charlie, even the same complexion, or maybe it was the liquor telling him that she resembled the woman he had lost. Demi didn’t respond, but he allowed her to top him off.
“He’s a temperamental one,” she teased. “Whatever it is, I promise you, it’s not that bad.”
