Page 101 of Just Like Summer

“And a writer. I’ve been in these writer rooms. No one has it, not no authentic shit. I came in kicking in doors, holding niggas up. I want to go out on top forever remembered as Rowdy but proof niggas can expand past this gang shit. We all are L.O. through and through, but L.O. is so much more than our blocks. Feel me?”

“I do,” she sighed. Avoiding Cairo in any space was going to be impossible. “I’ll call Haddon and start making moves.”

“One more ask,” Rowdy spoke, looking at her in the eyes.

“What?”

“I need you to be the exec producer on it. You got an ear like no other. I’m not going out without a KP kiss of approval. I owe your pops that.”

Kamilla sucked in a deep breath and slowly pushed it out. “You’re messed up for using my daddy to get me to say yes.”

“Listen, he gave you his gift. If I can’t tap in with that nigga, I can lock in with his legacy. That golden ear you got, has to be studied,” Rowdy replied. “And plus, I didn’t smack nobody.”

Kamilla cackled. “Rowdy, it’s day two.”

“I didn’t make past day one last time. So, I’d say I’m doing great. We got a deal.”

“Let me talk to Haddon and I’ll text you a blue dot so you know.”

“Alright now, little KP. Don’t make me leave you a flag.”

“I’ll burn it. You wanna go there with me?” she asked.

“Nah, ‘cause you scare me,” Rowdy spoke, standing. “Little pretty thing like you surrounded by killers, can’t tell me you ain’t never caught a body.”

“Get out, Rodrick.”

“Damn, Mila, you not my momma,” he joked, walking out.

Kamilla took a few minutes to do what her grief therapist told her to do when those memories started to flood her— deep breaths and recenter. Taking Martez’s life wasn’t a proud moment and it would never be something to be used to show her credibility. It was either him or her. Thinking about how it could’ve turned out would have ruined her.

When her system was calm enough, she picked up her phone and called Haddon. Three rings and he answered.

“Big bad Mila,” Haddon spoke. “What you got for me?”

“I got a producer. I got an artist and I got a grab to get a nod from you,” Kamilla shared.

“Let me hear it.”

“C4. I know two rappers with some weight are hoping to have him on their next project. Both are ours. There is a new emerging rapper out of Port East. I think if we get C4, he’s coming with a package. And Ekho is looking for a label,” Kamilla said.

“Talk me nice, baby,” Haddon spoke, liking what he was hearing. “Talk to me.”

“I want them all. Ekho is coming in with fire. Three Grammy noms off his first album, and he’s going to knock out the sophomore curse. And Rowdy is wanting fire for his last album. Trae Way MB is planning his next album, we need C4.”

“Alright, then. Send legal an email to prep them for contract negotiations.”

“I was thinking we can have him come in as a contractor. The way that’ll work is any artist he works with outside of El Jefe pays the house whether a couple points on an album or a studio fee,” Kamilla added.

“And this is why you my partner. Do it. I love it. Yes to it all. When I get back to the west coast, we’re having a pool party at the ranch house. Bring my nephew,” Haddon directed.

“Got it. Thank you, Don.”

“Girl, you flying to the fuckin’ moon. Keep going. Tap in with me when you get back.”

“Will do.”

The call ended and Kamilla smiled wide and cheered. Then she stopped. “We are stuck with this man. You got to tell him sooner than later.”