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“What is bigger than music?”
His smile grows.
“A collision.”
The word hangs between us.
A collision.
I already hate it.
“What does that even mean?”
“An international fashion house collaboration.”
I stare at him.
He doesn’t blink.
His eyes meet mine.
“The collision of two worlds that dominate culture.”
Now I’m listening.
Because it seems like they already figured out something I haven’t.
“You know what’s funny?”
I raise an eyebrow.
“You still think like a rapper.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“That’s a bad thing?”
“It is when the world stopped seeing you as just a rapper years ago.”
“When you wear something, even if it’s ugly as hell, it sells out.”
I say nothing.
Because he’s right.
“You mention a restaurant and reservations disappear. You release a song and streaming records break. You post a movie you’re watching and the actors become household names overnight.”
I exhale slowly.
Because I know where this is going.
“You don’t understand your own influence.” His voice lowers. “You keep thinking you’re a man trying to survive the industry.”
A pause.
“One of the biggest fashion houses in the world wants to break into music,” he says. “They’ve conquered fashion, beauty and social media.”
His gaze shifts toward the city outside.
