Asao felt that shit like the bullets had entered his chest and not hers.
Her heart was no longer beating but neither was his and the ones who’d taken her from him were going to suffer the same fate…
1
Ten YearsLater
Divine Intervention…
When Asao released the grip on his mic and stepped back, a cocky smile teased at the left corner of his lips. His posture angled into a slight bow, causing the crowd—already a sea of chaos—to erupt into a deafening explosion of gratitude. The high pitched screams and his name being called paired with the flashing lights were euphoric.
To most, it was an adrenaline rush, but for Asao, the chaos produced a calming effect. Two fingers tented the right cornerof his forehead as his body turned right to leave the stage. He locked eyes with his boy Dom whose chin dipped a little while he held two fingers to his forehead for a salute. Asao repeated the motion just before he was greeted with a hand towel and surrounded by security.
Completely fucking disrespectful!
The hired muscle was in place to escort him to his dressing room, just in case. As they moved, the long strides were slow and steady. Asao’s body eased into a relaxed state after having been amped up for the past hour and a half. Performances had a way of creating a tension in him greater than any he had ever experienced and he'd experienced some shit! Now that the show was over, he literally felt his muscles unwinding as he moved. It felt good to slowly come down from the physical and mental high.
Last leg complete!
Touring meant large lump sums to offset the trickle flow that built from streams. As an indie artist Asao’s numbers were good, better than most, but the performances kept him eating, his bills paid, and his family taken care of. He didn't necessarily hate performing but could certainly do without it.
Performing meant giving fans a part of him he wasn't thrilled about sharing. With the exception of a handful, he didn't let people in. Asao was a recluse and not one to hand over the one thing he cherished the most—the art, the music, the process. That was his shit. When he was in the studio, engulfed in the creative vibe, he felt free.
His true self was exposed during those candid moments of freedom, and performing, in his opinion, was a false sense of that serenity. Not many were allowed to experience that side of him because it was sacred, almost intimate. Dangerously close to the ultimate high drugs provided. The studio was his safe haven,comparable to a mother's womb or a woman's unconditional love.
Once he reached his door, the group of men surrounding him stepped to the side. Well, all but one. The hired muscle reached for the door but Asao shook his head to stop him.
"I'm good," was all he offered. It was their job to make sure his dressing room was clear and free of any threats. However, he wasn't concerned.
There wasn't a damn person on this earth who could get to him, even if they infiltrated an opportunity to be in his personal space. Not only was there no fear in him, his team—which included his boys Dom and Niles—were killers. Actual killers.
The streets had raised the three of them. Turned their souls dark and placed coal where hearts should be. It had been years since any of them had gotten their hands dirty but he was sure traces of their sins still lingered on their fingers, possibly visible under the most expensive blue lights. That was how much sin was etched on their souls. He was a different man now. A changed man, but his past was still a part of him. His sins and he were soul-tied.
"We'll be waiting to walk you out." The leader of his detail's voice was even, not expressing his mood one way or another. The subtle attempt at asserting his authority caused Asao's left brow to hike slightly and his temple to pulse. He didn't do well with people not respecting his wishes.
These fake ass cops were aware he didn't want them there but equally aware they had been put in place by their employer to do a job. Either way, they had reached as far as he would allow them. With a look he communicated unspoken thoughts, which had the four of them stepping to the side just as he heard Dom's voice.
"How many times I gotta tell y’all he doesn’t need a damn escort? I know this shit is paid for by the arena but I told youwe don't need it." His annoyance was just as loud as Asao's, regardless of how level his voice sounded as he stepped past him into his dressing room. Asao chuckled, walking in behind Dom, not concerned about what security was going to say.
"That shit was dope. We sliding up in something tonight, Sao. No matter what. Don't give me no bullshit about you chillin'." Dom greeted him with a cocky grin, sending a hand in his direction. Asao met Dom’s closed fist with his own before he fell into the leather chair in the corner, drying the remaining sweat from his face with the towel. Asao’s body was on empty but his mind was always wired, so his thoughts were on what was next.
"I am chillin'; y’all can do whatever. I have a few lyrics I want to run across those beats you sent me last night."
"Fam, that shit can wait. This was the last performance for the next six months. You have plenty of time to work on new music. Tonight, we need a few bottles of something expensive and to find women who appreciate our good looks and good dick." While Dom's hand moved to his crotch, the door opened once more.
"Ay, what club we hitting up tonight?" As if he was already connected to the conversation happening, Niles stepped into the room, slamming the door so hard Asao glanced to ensure it was still securely on the hinges while Niles handed over Asao’s phone. This was their routine, so it flowed with ease. "And why the hell them rent-a-cops still out there? I know you told ’em we don't need that shit."
"Arena rules. They have to do their job so they don't get sued. You already know how that goes." Asao spoke up after he unlocked his phone. It was what he checked first if he had to separate from the world for any reason.
His fingers went to work swiping messages and notifications before he lifted his eyes to Dom and Niles. Dom was grinningwhile Niles appeared to be ready to pull up. His face remained in a permanent scowl, so neither of them were concerned. He didn't smile for shit but Asao was so used to it that it felt normal.
"Fuck their rules, Sao. Them rent-a-cops couldn't protect a toilet from my piss."
Dom's expression exposed a hint of amusement. "This fool says the dumbest shit, but it always makes sense. Tell Sao we're hanging tonight, Niles. He's talking about running lyrics."
The deciding vote laid with him most days. If Dom and Asao couldn't agree, which was damn near all the time, Niles had the responsibility of making the call. Tonight it wouldn't work. He was tired as hell and his mind was already made up.
"You know how he is. He's on the high right now. The fans kissed his ass enough to make him want to be ready for the next hit. Pussy doesn't compete where music is concerned. Why are you even trying to sway him?"
