With a strawberry pressed to her lips, she smiled. The way the sun shone on her face cast a golden glow across her brownskin. Even at just sixteen years old, she looked angelic, like a little fragile china doll that made me want to protect and cherish her more than anything else I’d ever had in my life. I couldn’t help but shake my head at how much she looked like my mother when I caught certain glimpses of her.
“Aight then.” I chuckled. “Call me if y’all need me.” I turned, walked down the hallway and out the door. The sun began to shine, and the air felt like it was beginning to get warmer. When I stepped into the car and turned it on, I revved up the engine. I pulled out of the driveway slowly, like I was in no rush to leave, like the L.A. traffic wasn’t going to begin soon. When I reached the street, I glanced in the rearview mirror at the house. For a moment, I had forgotten.
I had forgotten that Princess and Yana didn’t live with me. I’d forgotten that this wasn’t our everyday life yet, that we weren’t a family the way I wanted us to be. In that moment, I realized that that was only borrowed time, and suddenly, real life tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me that I still had somewhere I needed to be.
I exhaled, turned onto the street, and let the radio drown out the anticipation of the day that I could wake up to them without a squeezed in session or business meeting.
7
The way the sunlight poured into the meeting room gave me a migraine. I sat, slumped, with my back to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the L.A. city skyline from the thirtieth floor, my Cartier frames blocking the light. My fingers were interlocked in my lap, with the chair twisting slightly from side to side.
I didn’t feel like being there.
The projector illuminated the screen in front of the conference table with numbers, charts, and streaming projections—shit that I never cared about.
Simone and Kam both knew I stopped caring about numbers and streams a long time ago. When I was a new artist, it used to excite me. As an established artist, I felt I had nothing left to prove. I put out music that made me feel good, let me express myself and what I felt at the time it was crafted. I was in a position now that if it sold, it sold. If it didn’t, to hell with it. My enjoyment came from creation. I no longer had to prove anything to anyone.
Names of artists that I didn’t recognize agreeing to meet, let alone develop, flashed across the screen then. Their faces were printed in glossy headshots, all lined up as if potentialwere something you could measure and pin to a board. I knew the label’s formulas all too well. If they sounded anything like Westside Zay, they could sign right then and there. If they looked like they could be the next me, the label jumped right on them. I hated to pretend that I hadn’t noticed the shit they pulled. Luckily for them, I was already planning my next move. They had no idea how none of this felt urgent anymore.
Kam sat next to me with Simone to his right. She clicked through slides and answered questions about rollout strategies, branding angles, and cross-platform visibility. She was in her element, always focused and energized. I was glad I had those two on my team.
When a shot of another artist, Kamil “K Millz” Moring, flashed across the screen, my phone buzzed in my back pocket. I leaned forward, slid it out of my pocket, and tapped the screen to unlock it.
There was a text from Yana, with a picture of her hands stretched out against a marble tabletop. Her nails were freshly done, short and neat with purple tips. I read the message underneath.
Yana: Do you like them?
A smile spread across my face before I could stop myself. I shook my head slightly like she was seated directly across from me.
Me: They cute. Don’t think you grown tho.
Three dots followed my message immediately.
Yana: Mom picked the color.
As much as her mother loved purple and stars, I’d already figured. She used to draw stars all over her notebooks when we were kids. Her whole bedroom was purple.
Me: I figured.
Yana: She said that you would say that (laughing emoji)
I leaned back in the chair and exhaled through my nose. For a moment, the chatter of the people in the room faded into the background. I was just about to respond when another message popped across the top of my phone.
Amora (Hot Girl Hitz TV): I need to talk to you.
I hadn’t heard from Amora since I broke it off with her last year. She came to the movie set I had worked on for Princess’s movie with a camera crew, showing off for her live stream as if she and I were this ‘thing.’ We were never together. When I was fucking with her, I was fucking around with a lot of different women too. She was the one I called, who I knew would pull up, no questions asked, at any time of the day. I was a full-on playboy then. When I ended it with her, I apologized for it. She didn’t want to hear it, and I didn’t press it any further. I hadn’t heard from her after that, and I figured she made peace with it. I wasn’t sure what she needed to talk to me about.
With my brows together, I shot Kam a look. He understood it right away and shot me one right back. I nodded my head toward the door to let him know I was going to step outside. He nodded and turned his attention back to the front.
I stood from my seat and treaded lightly out the door. Label execs turned their heads toward me before shifting their eyes back to the presenter at the front of the room. When I reached the door, I opened it and slowly crept outside into the hallway.
The area was quiet out there. The soft, cream carpet accented the cream walls with framed plaques lined neatly next to each other. They were gold and platinum reminders of whom I’d been for a long time. I leaned against the wall and stared at the message again. I felt irritation mixed with curiosity fill my chest as I pressed ‘send’ and held the phone to my ear. Amora answered on the second ring.
“Zay?”
“Yeah, what’s up?” I responded. I tried to hide the irritation in my voice, but I was certain she caught it because there was a pause on her end.
“Hello?” I asked.
