“You’re cool with Cap?” she finally asked when he retrieved a key that let them through a side entrance.
“Yeah, we’re straight.”
“Oh, I figured, because you have a key.”
Asao’s long legs carried him through the room while Samari waited near the door, allowing him time to turn on the lights. She blinked a few times, needing her eyes to adjust before they moved around the space.
Gone were the old, worn wooden tables and metal folding chairs. They had been replaced by two lounge areas and multiple tall boy tables and high chairs. The dingy yellow walls were now painted dark gray to match the furniture and there was a graffiti painted sign on the rear wall above the stage that read Track Killaz.
“This isn’t Cap’s place anymore.”
“I was about to say this isn’t how I remember it.”
“You been here before?” Asao wasn’t surprised considering anyone serious about gaining support from the city had been either on their stage or in Cap’s booths.
“A few times. I recorded my first single here.” The cute smile on her face let Asao know she had good memories. “Somebody bought it from him?”
“Yeah, me and my people,” he said coolly, gauging her for a reaction.
“It’s nice in here. A lot nicer than it used to be for sure.” She moved around the room, doing a deeper inspection of the changes.
“You fuck with it?” he asked, watching her do her thing.
“My opinion doesn’t matter. Does the hood fuck with it? This is theirs. I’m sure you already know how many careers started in here.”
He smirked and nodded, walking toward her with the sexiest stride. One of the things Samari loved most about Asao was the cocky, hood persona he balanced with a smooth ass demeanor that kept her panties soaked. “Yeah, I do. They fuck with me, so they’re gonna rock with it. Come on. Let me get you in the studio.”
Like a woman under a spell, she followed him to the back and once again was impressed. What she’d remembered as homemade booths were replaced with customized ones that rivaled the five-star studios where she’d recorded her album. After the lights were adjusted to provide a soothing atmosphere, Asao leaned over the soundboard, flipping switches and turning dials. When he had everything to his liking, he turned to Samari.
“What track we starting with?”
“’Challenge’,” she said with her brows pinched when she delivered her answer. She’d run through the three tracks he’d sent her the night before. She already had lyrics for each one but “Challenge” was her favorite. She felt that one the most, possibly because of what inspired the words that flowed through her the first time she played it.
Asao’s sexy smile surfaced when he nodded. “You need anything?”
“No, I’m good.” She lifted the strap of her crossbody and pulled it over her head. She placed it on the shelf next to the entrance to the booth after removing her phone and stepped inside, moving right to the microphone.
“You good in there?” When Asao’s voice flowed through the speaker ,she grinned and nodded, lifting a set of headphones. She removed her hat, gathered her hair ,and situated it in a messy bun on top of her head.
“Can you let it play for me? I want to run through it in my head first.”
When she lifted her chin to look through the glass, Asao tossed his and cued the track, allowing it to play.
He leaned back watching as her chin lowered. She bobbed her head as she focused on her phone and he was occasionally blessed with the sultry rasp of her alto while she moved through the lyrics. She barely sang loud enough for him to catch the words because she used the moment as a test run.
Regardless, he couldn’t help but lock in. Since she’d sang for him that first night, Asao had been addicted. The melodic flow of her voice relaxed his body and caused his dick to ache. He had the nastiest thoughts attached to that sultry voice and wanted to hear her moaning his name with praise for how skillfully he fucked her. Wasn’t shit nice about how badly he wanted to explore her body to leave his mark so that not a damn soul who valued their life would consider her fair game.
“I’m ready.” She spoke, prompting Asao to nod and run the track back. This time, when the heavy bass hit followed by the blend of horns, her voice followed. First with a riff that moved slowly before the smooth, melodic tenor that had him ready to make promises about shit he had no guarantee of delivering just to keep her in his presence. It didn’t fucking matter because he would beg, borrow, and kill, not just steal, if doing so meant keeping a smile on her pretty face and her voice in his ear.
I want your hands on me
Make me feel, touch the untouchable
Let me know this is real
I want your lips on me
Make me quiver, kiss the secret places
