Page 83 of Just Like Summer

A few turns down a few streets and Nate parked in front of a wide garage door.

“5063 Wayman Shores Lane is your home now. The only time you should be setting foot in Volts is to get some fried fish. Your granny’s house has a long term tenant. They pay on time and they don’t bother nobody. Money is in that account Fahaad set up for you,” Nate informed, killing the engine and stepping out. “The neighborhood is safe. They’re scared of you more than you should be weary of them. Housewives, doctors, lawyers type shit. That one next door is feral though, watch out for her.”

Cairo stepped out, took in the house that was too big for him, and grabbed his duffle bag out of the backseat. Trailing Nate up the wide sidewalk, he retrieved the key and opened the door to his house. A house that was meant for a family, not man putting his life back together. He didn’t get past the foyer before he stopped and inhaled.

Knowing his friend, Nate stopped and said, “Dania made sure the fridge and cabinets were stocked— plates, cups, pots, food. You got a week’s worth of frozen meals in the freezer. I figured that’s how long you needed to decompress. I’m giving you exactly a week though; we got moves to make. Like to a barber and the store to get you some clothes that fit. What you do, eat the iron?”

“It was either that or beat niggas up every day for testing my cred,” Cairo grunted.

“Well, I’m happy you ain’t skip leg day and not tipping over when you walk,” Nate joked. “Seven days, C4.”

Cairo accepted another brotherly embrace before Nate left. Alone, he roamed around the open space. Only two rooms were furnished – the small room off of the study that held his sound equipment and the primary bedroom. In the garage, his Camaro sat fully-detailed. A few hundred more miles on it than when he left.

Sitting inside of it, he let a tearful smile form over his face. The tears fell and he didn’t wipe them. He imagined that she drove it back and forth to campus and when it was time to move on from it and him, she did.

“Pull your shit together, nigga,” he grumbled to himself. “She did what you told her to do.”

Cairo forced himself out of the car and back into the house. Warming up a frozen meal, showering, and standing at the counter to eat, he landed in the bed, hands tucked behind his head and staring at the ceiling. For three days he slept, ate, walked around his house, on repeat. The final four days, he was back in his home studio putting the emptiness he felt into the music.

Day seven was gone. By day eight, Fahaad was at his door alongside Nate. Everyone looked different but the same. It was clear that the work with Ekho changed Fahaad’s trajectory and Cairo was pleased with the outcome.

“Your phone don’t work?” Fahaad asked, walking into Cairo’s unfurnished home and taking his shoes off.

“Been sleeping,” Cairo shared. “Didn’t sleep in five years, figured I needed a couple days.”

Fahaad chuckled. “Could’ve been two if you listened to me in the beginning. Head harder than a dick that ain’t had pussy in a decade.”

Cairo frowned, shook his head, and walked off to the kitchen. “Don’t have no furniture so we standing. What’s up?”

“You a grumpy nigga again, huh? You need me to find you some bitches?”

Cairo’s frowned deepened.

“Nah, that won’t work,” Nate spoke up. “He like his women not ran through.”

“Ah, I see. Anyway, you ready to come back into the world or you want the mystique?” Fahaad asked.

“I don’t like these niggas. Wanna keep this shit low,” Cairo replied. “Get me on Ekho’s album and I’m cool.”

“That’s already in the works, but you gotta find another artist, and I know the best place to do it…” Fahaad shared with an easy smile forming.

“The look on your face tells me it’s exactly what I don’t want to do,” Cairo replied. “Where?”

“La Bega. There’s a festival next week. The biggest labels send their biggest and baddest to the rookie sound stage. There’s an artist there emerging. You land him, you land the label, and it’s up,” Fahaad shared.

“Especially if it’s El Jefe,” Nate added. “Lucci has been aggressively solidifying his roster. You need to be in the mix.”

Cairo groaned. “I can’t just be low?”

Nate answered before Fahaad. “Nah, that ain’t where you shine. Get something on you can go out in, we got to cut the Tarzan shit off.”

thirty-five

“Are you listening to me, baby?” Armon asked Kamilla, who indeed was not listening. This was the point in the conversation where he typically lost her. The talk of making things official, helping her raise her son – meeting families.

Kamilla’s eyes drifted from a series of texts. One from Jay Lucci about meeting her in the next twenty minutes, another from Fredo about picking up Kairo this weekend so she could have some time to herself, and back to him. Armon was – safe enough, handsome enough. He had no ties to the streets, worked in hospitality management, and wore a suit everywhere he went. He was polished, an OSU graduate and on his way to own or run a Fortune 500 company before he turned thirty. And in order to position himself, he was in a rush to be married or at least engaged by the end of the year. That wasn’t an idea Kamilla had for herself. Not with him at least.

Truth was the idea of a traditional family, being married, and anything else faded away a year and a half ago when she decided that her waiting was in vain, and it was time for her to live. Like she’d spoken it to the universe, and it answered, she bumped into Armon on a family work trip. True to the set-up, she and Haddon were in planning mode while watching Kairo run along the beach. Armon just so happened to break Kairo’s fall and used it to talk to his mother.