“Bri,” Brixie cried out when she noticed me. She ran the rest of the way towards me and fell into my arms. “He’s gone!”
“Please don’t say that, Brixie. Who did this?”
“I don’t knooow!”
The screams that were let out between my sister and I were loud enough to rumble through each hall in the hospital. All I could think about was the many times I told him to be careful, stop being stupid, and stop messing with all of these women. The fact that he’d listened and put all of that shit behind him, started working on him and then this happened, had my heart hurting so bad.
Lord, my brother was trying to do right. This shouldn’t have happened to him.
Brooklyn wrapped his arms around us and held on as tight as he could. I was too scared to go into the room to see him. The last time that he came to my house is how I want to remember him. He was doing good and that's the image I wanted to have of him.
BROOKLYN
It’d been two full weeks since everything happened with Bri’s brother. Once they had the funeral last week, all of us showed up for her. I was even able to get my mom to go because she swore up and down that she was going to support her daughter-in-law. Family is what Bri needed after losing someone close to her. Once that was over with, she just went ghost on me.
Every day, I tried to talk to her to pull her out of this deep depression that she started to spiral into. She backed away, and I didn’t want to push so I let her have her moment. Daily, I would get these text messages from my mom that she wanted me to send to Bri. She would send them so much until I started sending things on my own that I thought would make her feel better, like affirmations and motivational quotes to get her back to... her. I neededherto want to get back to her, though. She needed to want this on her own not just because I wanted her to be ok.
I’d been missing her so much and the only thing I’d been able to do was throw myself into the studio. A place that I’d had a love-hate relationship with, lately. I love being there and hated leaving Bri at home to go. Now since I didn’t have her like I did at first, it was back to all work and no play.
I’d call Zoo or Sin to see if the girls had gone by to check on her. I tried that shit and she didn’t answer but I saw her truck right in the garage. Instead of letting that get to me, I left her sunflowers at the door and prayed she came outside before theydied. I’d done that every single day. Each day I went back, the flowers would be gone and a thank you note would be left in its place.
I don’t know where Bri and I would end up but when or if it did get back on the right track, I wasn’t letting her go or fucking up again. That little time she was upset with me had me sick. It felt like someone was twisting my heart like they were wringing a wet T-shirt with blood dripping from it. I was in love with her.
“Give me a minute,” I told Kim when my phone started going off. When I saw it was Bri, a nigga smiled hard as hell.
My Person:Are u busy?
I was, but I’ll never tell you that.
Me:Nah, what's up?
My Person:I need some comfort and it seems like my mind is clear when I’m around you, and I just want to not think about what’s going on in my life right now.
Me:You don’t have to explain it. I'm at the studio. Come thru.
Quickly, I dropped my location so she could get there.
My Person:K
I sent a text to my man at the front desk to let him know I had someone coming through. Otherwise, Dwight wasn't letting a soul up in this bitch.
"How did that sound?"
"It was perfect."
First, I glanced through the glass at Kim who was in the booth, then I shot an irritated look to her manager.
"Shit was garbage," I said. "Fix that dead-ass pitch you're in," I told Kim. Her face was full of aggravation, but I didn't give a damn. I wasn't producing her album with her half-assing this shit. She knew that and so did Qilo, her manager.
"You're being too hard on her, Brooke," Qilo said. "The damn girl just had a baby."
I licked my lips and mugged this nigga.
"Two months ago, nigga. Y'all in here tryna push an album out under my name and expect it to sound like any-muthafuckin’-thing and you know that ain't me. You want some bullshit, take her somewhere else."
Qilo knew better, though. I was the dopest producer in the city and shiidd, the South if you asked me. I'd worked with countless artists and produced dozens of hits. My name was too well known to be fucking it up behind a lazy-ass, up-and-coming R&B artist, and her money hungry manager.
"I knew coming to you wouldn't work. You're letting this become personal instead of keeping it business," Qilo said.
