He watched Samari as she moved closer to the shore. It was far enough away that if a storm or high tide hit, his investment was safe, but still within reach to bring the benefit of owning a beachfront property. The air was cooler and light thanks to the breeze that carried from the water dropping the temperature. Asao was always appreciative of how being out here felt like being wrapped in peace which was rare but appreciated, even by his thug ass.
When Samari bent at the waist and hiked the spandex material that covered her calves high enough to avoid contact with the ocean, he grinned and shook his head.
“Yo ass better be able to swim because I’m not saving you if that tide takes you down.”
He felt Samari’s laugh even though the breeze caught it before it reached him. He could see the action from the way her body shifted and vibrated before she blessed him with that pretty face of hers over a shoulder.
“If you can’t swim, just say that,” she taunted.
“I can swim, but ain’t shit nice about diving in the ocean to save a hardheaded ass woman. No matter how pretty she is.”
Samari laughed but turned back to the water, stepping close enough to experience the coolness when the current covered her feet and moved up her ankles. Her shoulders dropped and her head tilted back and the visual brought clarity as to why he’d brought her out here in the first place. He wanted to give her the peace he’d found the first time he stood in the exact spot she occupied.
He gave her time to enjoy the moment alone and moved back into the house, locating a towel which he placed onto one of the lounges before he occupied the other. His lengthy body rested lazily across the canvas material, allowing Asao to release the tension he’d carried prior to them pulling up. With one foot placed on the deck and one arm folded behind his head, he scrolled through his phone and opened an email from Niles providing a date, followed by a breakdown of the venue costs for the festival they’d discussed.
After running the numbers in his head, Asao swiped out of the email and pulled up their text thread.
Asao: Send the deposit.
Niles: Bet.
His next text was to a friend who had connections he needed and also owed him a favor.
Asao: Ay, you still fucking ol’ girl from Cobra?
B-Syde: Occasionally, what you need.
Asao: Information about one of his artists.
B-Syde: I see the streets don’t fuckin lie.
Asao: Fuck is that supposed to mean?
B-Syde: Cap ’bout to sell you his shit.
Asao’s body locked in annoyance because the last thing he needed was word spreading before he locked the purchase down. His fingers were moving but a follow up came through.
B-Syde: And relax, muthafucker. I feel murder pushing through your veins. I’m connected, so I know shit. Nobody relevant is on your ass. I hope you take his full roster. Who you looking into?
B-Syde had been signed to Cobra but his contract was null and void after the first payout didn’t garner the numbers he felt were owed. The conversation for reversion of his rights as an artist took place at a missed boardroom meeting due in part to an empty clip.
What followed was a hefty repair bill to restore Cobra’s Lamborghini after B-Syde and his boys shot that bitch up as a negotiation tool for what was to come if he wasn’t let out of his contract. Paperwork arrived at B-Syde’s door that same night, officially making him an indie artist.
Asao: Samari Janaé,
B-Syde: That’s you?
With a frown Asao considered his response then sent the words with no reservations.
Asao: Yeah, that’s me.
B-Syde: Bet, I’ll make it a priority. Give me a couple hours and I’ll have something for you.
With that handled, he locked his phone and closed his eyes, mentally running through a list of things that had to be in place in order for things to work like he wanted.
There were plenty of local artists he planned to put on stage. He wasn’t a selfish man and always paid it forward anytime the opportunity arose. Asao was also very business minded, so the festival would be an introduction to the handful of artists they were signing to their label.
A label I don’t have a fucking name for.
