Erys: Don’t let it go to auction. Handle it, and I’ll handle everything else.
Shawn: Ok.
He'd lost track of how long he’d been staring at the Paisley carpet before Remedy came back down the hall toward the room with a bag of chips in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He groaned inwardly.
“Still not real food,” he mumbled to himself. “This girl is testing me.”
His phone ringing brought on a grateful distraction from her mystery.
“What, Tone?” Erys answered.
“You coming to the studio tonight or you bullshittin’ still?” Tone questioned.
“I’m coming. Getting pops settled in this nursing home before I head back to Cashmere Lakes.”
“Shorty still with him?” Tone asked.
“Shorty ain’t leaving his side and he’s not letting her. I get it, they’re literally each other’s security blanket and I’ve fucked up their whole thing,” Erys shared.
“You gon’ fix it or leave it be?”
Erys groaned. “I got to fix it. If for nothing else, so that nigga can leave this earth in peace.”
Tone buzzed. “And what about her?”
“What about her?” Erys asked, making Tone chuckle.
“My bad. I forgot you don’t have no feelings. Cold-hearted nigga, right? Yeah, that’s you. A killer. Nothing more nothing less. All I got to say is, no one should be alone.”
“Nigga, you’re alone,” Erys pointed out.
“I got hella bitches. I’m never going to be alone. You though? You cuddling a choppa and I’m shocked you don’t have a fuckin’ stutter. I’ll see you when you come through,” Tone stated before hanging up.
Erys swiped his hand over his face again and moved toward the suite. He eased in, found Remedy hard at work unpacking Ernie’s things and trying to make it as close to his home as possible. Deciding not to interrupt, he left the roll of cash by the unopened bag of chips and eased out. The sooner he was out of the hold of whatever perfume she wore, the sooner he could think straight.
8
It’d been two nights of studio sessions Erys sat in on and Tone wasn’t completely wrong. His nephew had grown but it wasn’t musically. It was mumble rap about drugs, guns, bitches, and hoes. No gang affiliation, no real missions completed because Big Rod didn’t play that shit with the Trae Ways. There was no mobbing, no riding, and currently, no beefs. Just this overgrown wanna be in the booth wasting money.
“You a fuckin’ liar,” Erys spoke to Tone over the beat playing. “You said he grew. He grew up and out, but he damn sure didn’t grow in this. This is a waste of time and money.”
Tone bobbed his head before pointing to a side door. Erys started out of the door, finally out of the mediocre skills. His ears welcomed the silence. Tone joined him and huffed.
“I owe his momma and him, quite frankly,” Tone shared.
“So what is this, some debt? Nigga, this is torture. Two nights,” Erys said, holding up two fingers. “Two nights, I’ve listened to him rap the stories you told him like they’re his. That young nigga don’t know nothing about shoot outs, fighting for respect, or scarred knuckles. You need to pivot before you end up broke.”
Tone palmed his face. “I don’t know what else to do. He ain’t that bright, him going to college is out of the question. All he does is this and play video games all day.”
“Don’t discount the video games. You got to tap into who he is at his core, man. This ain’t it. I could really be doing something else right now,” Erys grumbled.
“Like staring at Remedy and your pops play cards or something?” Tone toyed.
“Like fucking sleeping,” Erys fired back, like his sleep schedule was actually normal.
“Yeah, you don’t sleep,” Tone replied, as YN3Dub stepped out into the hallway with a silly grin on his face.
“Y’all don’t want no wings? I need some motivation,” he said to the men. “Wild Flame is lit as fuck tonight too.”
