There’s fifteen voicemails, all from the damn news wanting fucking statements, and I cringe hoping they aren’t blowing De` up like this.
I see the group text from Noah and Asa, and one from Mya. I check hers first.
Mya: You got this, crow and I got you. Thinking of you.
I feel that slight peace that only she can give me and text her back.
Me: Thank you. Have a good day, butterfly.
She responds with an emoji blowing a kiss and I send one back before opening the other.
Asa Group: Had the guys and Jen reschedule all your appointments out two weeks. You were booked seven months out, so we pushed all the way back. Most your clients know thanks to the fucking news.
Noah Group: I am bringing Chad in to help with some of the photo realism tatts that we have had waiting in the wings. The studio needs to keep pace and he is the best in the industry next to you.
Me: Cool. Tell Chad I said thanks for the help. Thanks for fixing the books too. How is the studio? Packed with reporters yet?
I ask because I share partnership with a Rockstar and anything touching Noah’s name, the vultures come scavenging. My name and my studio have been all over the news yesterday and today even without the clarification that we should have today.
Asa Group: Noah beefed up security and we closed until further notice on walk ins. If they ain’t booked, they ain’t getting in.
Noah Group: I had Tay give a press release stating we were all keeping you and Deja in our thoughts while we await the results of DNA. She is ready to make another one on your behalf once we know more.
Me: You two could run the world.
I chuckle at that knowing I am right. Asa is so much like Cal used to be. All business, all pussy, all the time. Repeat.
Asa Group: We got your six. Keep us informed.
Noah Group: Whatever happens, we are family Sul. You ain’t alone. Trust me, yeah?
Me: Yeah, I trust you guys.
Noah is all about trust, and lives and dies by it. If he tells me he’s there for me, I trust that he is and won’t budge even if I fought him on it.
My phone rings just as I set it back on the dock.
“Hey, Pop.”
“Hey, son. It’s time.”
