Page 99 of Just Like Summer

Nate continued. “You know Kamilla is KP’s daughter, she likes multiple streams of income. Ain’t shit there. Now this Armon nigga.”

“She was talking to a nigga named Armon? He wear suits and shit and slap bitches?” Cairo asked.

“Man, that nigga will never kill a fly let alone put his hands on K. She got killers all around her,” Nate stated. “But is the nigga trying to collect your pretty little thing and add her to his trove? Yeah.”

“I’ll add him to the morgue before he gets that far,” Cairo spoke.

“Ay man listen…you gotta chill. You just got home,” Nate said with haste.

“And I’m not going back but I’m also going to make it abundantly clear whatever she thought she was doing without me is over. Aight?”

“Aight,” Nate digressed. “Anyway, you saw Fahaad’s text? Ekho is free. You think you getting in at El Jefe?”

“I’ll have a better idea at the producer shit later. I know I caught a moldable artist for sure. Having Ekho is an added bonus.”

“By chance, you do a deep dive on yourself, yet?” Nate posed.

“Nah. And I don’t want to. I want to keep the grind in mind. They can write whatever think pieces about me they want but I’m still Azul, still from Husten.”

Nate laughed. “You a suburban nigga now. Wait ‘til your neighbors catch up. Anyway, enjoy the desert, don’t act like yo’ daddy, and come through for dinner when you decompress.”

“Aight got you,” Cairo agreed before hanging up.

After his smoke session, he grabbed his necessary things and headed down to the festival. As he strolled through like the lone wolf he was, a Waynesville accent called his name.

“Ay, C4!”

He stopped and looked over his shoulder, finding Trae Way MB, large afro, larger personality he tempered with a cool demeanor. “Ay, MB, what’s good?”

The men exchanged a handshake.

“Ain’t shit. Lucci told me if I bumped into you to holla. How you feelin’?” MB asked. “Got that prison off you yet?’

“I’m still waking up at the crack of dawn. This shit is wild,” Cairo stated with a chuckle. “How’s shit movin’? You in the studio?”

“Man, I’m around it. I’m happy you out though, after that Ekho project, you a hot commodity. I need some shit, man.”

Cairo nodded, glee flooded his core but he wouldn’t show it. “How long you out here?”

“Couple weeks. We a bi-coastal family now. Eden is styling some artists so I’m out here.”

The men exchanged numbers and Cairo added, “I’ll work on some shit and send it over.”

“Aight, don’t let Ekho take all the gold,” MB joked.

“Nigga, everything is gold,” Cairo jokingly flexed.

“Aight, talk that talk, nigga. Happy you home. I’ll hit you up,” MB assured before his team alerted him he had to get to his next event.

“Aight,” Cairo stated, moving to his designated spot— under the tent for Kamilla’s panel. He took a seat in the back, watching how she smiled, and covered up her nervousness with a joke. The strapless flowy set she wore looked like it was begging him to pull it off. The marks he left on her the night before covered up. And that finger bare of the ring he couldn’t get off. Her assistant sat off to the side with the security he assumed El Jefe hired for her this weekend. He knew Kamilla was hardheaded enough to attempt to navigate this craziness alone. He’d navigated the worst of places and even this was too much for him.

After the Q&A, Cairo didn’t move from his spot, he watched the suited man with flowers in his hand approaching Kamilla. He watched her shoulders square. The security was on his feet and making his way to block whatever this shit was.

Cairo stood to his feet, tapping the guard in the gut. “I got this one.”

Smoothly he made his way over, trying to keep the scene he could cause to a minimum. With Kamilla behind him, he glared down at him, Cairo gritted his jaw, trying to keep a lid on his crazy.

“How you feelin’, nigga?” Cairo asked. “You gotta be Armon? You look like an Armon.”