“That’s what’s up. Y’all be easy.” The man tossed his chin and Asao moved downstairs with Samari still tucked at his side into the basement of the building. The bass from whatever track was playing thumped heavy and Samari went with the flow until they entered a massive room full of bodies positioned around a raised platform that appeared to be a makeshift boxing ring.
The music was loud, the smoke was thick, and energy pushed through the room in a way that only something like what they were witnessing could.
“What is this?”
“Pass The Mic,” he said casually, dropping his eyes to her.
“Wait, so that’s real?” she asked, looking around the open space before her eyes were on him again.
“Yeah. You heard of it?”
“Once but when I asked questions, I was shut down like this is a big secret.” She frowned slightly, watching as two people entered the ring, ducking under the ropes. A third entered and held up a mic before he announced the two competitors.
“Because it is. This is some underground shit. This right here is raw and unfiltered. Not everybody wants to be on a label or out there to the world. They prefer keeping their lyrics and messages free and clear of industry standards.”
“I can see that. I thought about being underground before I signed with Cobra. I liked the freedom to be whatever I want.”
His eyes were on her. “You still feel that way?”
“Sometimes but I believe my new label is going to give me the best of both worlds. If I want to get up there and talk my shit with no regard for an image created to sell records, I can. If I want to hit charts, I can do that too.”
“You trying to have layers.” Asao asked smugly?
“Trying, no. I have layers. Can anyone get in the ring?”
“Nah, you have to earn it, but the clout connected to the man you’re with might be enough to get you on the list. You trying to spit tonight?”
Asao turned to see his boy B-Syde approaching. He stopped beside him, extending a closed fist Asao met.
Samari’s eyes moved between the two men before she shrugged. “Maybe.”
“That’s gutter shit, songbird,” Asao said with a cocky grin.
“I have bars,” she admitted, bringing a smile to Asao’s face before he turned to B-Syde.
“Put her down.”
“You sure?” he asked.
Asao looked at Samari. “She claims she has bars.”
B-Syde chuckled. “Aight, I got you.” He pointed to the stage. “But I know that isn’t why you’re here. When you hit my line you said you were trying to lock something down. What are you looking for?”
“I need a dope ass female artist. She can’t be on no bullshit though and she has to deliver something worth hearing.”
“You want Fyre then. She’s dope as hell. Be up there shutting everybody down. You want an introduction?”
Asao shook his head. “Nah, I don’t want a performance because of what my name is attached to. I want to see what she can deliver with no pretense. Where’s she at?”
B-Syde pointed to a woman leaned against the wall. She had two other women with her, one on each side. While they were smiling, talking shit, and enjoying the vibe, Fyre was focused with her eyes locked on the ring, studying the two going at it.
She had shoulder length locs dyed a reddish, auburn color, a pretty round face, and a soft sexy vibe. She was in jeans and a black tank top with a track jacket open to expose her curvy figure.
“I’ll check her out,” Asao confirmed.
“Bet, she’s next. Your girl is up after her unless you want to chill first.”
Asao glanced at Samari. “You need a minute?”
