“Need some help?” I watched his evil ass eyes light up, making me chuckle.
“Not at the moment, but you know I’m gon’ hit you if I do.” We slapped hands as he nodded, and chopped it up a little bit more.
After Ricky left, I went back inside the studio, and Maybach and I continued to work, tweaking the track we’d just listened to, and piecing together a few others. I wanted to finish this shit no matter how fucking long it took me.
About four hours later, we were leaving, and I checked my phone to see Kattlyn had texted me to let me know she was cooking and I’d better not stop for shit. I laughed seeing that, but then another text came through, making my smile fade.
Isla: If you and Butch make amends, then I will let you have Michael the WHOLE weekend.
Me: If you get me my money we can do that.
Isla: Stop being jealous, Micah! It’s over between us, and if you want to see Michael you will do what it takes!
Me: Ain’t nobody jealous, Isla. You and my girl don’t even compare, so trust me I ain’t checking for you.
Isla: Fuck you!
I shook my head and pocketed my phone, before hopping into my whip, turning my music on, and pulling off.
Believe me when I say I missed the fuck out of my son, but I wasn’t about to let Isla use him to make me do what she wanted me to. She was trying to use our son to get Butch on, because once the video got out of him being knocked on his ass by Ricky, and pictures of he and I squaring up, his whole image was a joke. Nigga got clowned on the daily, right along with Flow, for getting his chain snatched and fucking a minor. By saying that, Isla was trying to make me play nice with that nigga, hoping to get him a song or back onto Bankroll Records. But fuck that; that bitch ass nigga had gotten enough off of me.
I pulled up into my long ass driveway, but felt my balls draw up at the sight of Diana getting out of her car. She was smiling widely as hell as if Kattlyn’s Porsche wasn’t sitting in my driveway, signaling that she was home. But then again, Diana wouldn’t know whose car that was.
“Hey, Micah, how have you been?” Diana smiled, moving towards me slowly.
“Aye look, you gotta—”
“Why are you whispering?” she frowned.
“Because my girl is in the house.” I pointed with my eyes bucked. “And trust me, you don’t want her to see you out here, D. She gon’ fuck you up, I swear.”
“I’m not Isla! She may have karate chopped her ass, but I’ll fuck her ass up, okay!”
“Nah, you won’t. For one, I’m not gon’ let her find out for your sake, and secondly, you ain’t about to be fighting my girl when there ain’t even nothing to be fighting over.”
I was trying to be nice about the shit. What I really wanted to say was that I fucked and it was nothing else behind it, but I wasn’t built that way. From being with Isla for years, Diana became someone that was cool, primarily because I knew she’d always try to help Isla be smart about shit as far as her money and whatever the fuck her career was. But now I was wondering if she was behind Isla fucking around on me.
“Micah, we have something though, we always have.” She reached to hold my hands, but I moved them. She noticed and paused, but decided not to address it. “We’ve always been cool, and I think we could really have something.”
“No, because I got something already.” I tittered angrily. “Why was you even in San Diego?” The question spewed out because it’d finally come to mind.
“I knew you were single and had a show, so…” She shrugged with a lustful smirk.
“Diana, you gotta go, and I mean like right fucking now.” I started guiding her towards her car.
“Micah, please tell me what happened between us wasn’t just you using me to make Isla upset.” Diana’s eyes looked sad as fuck as she stared up at me once we got to her car.
“Nah, of course not. I was single and doing my thing, but now I’m in a relationship again and I need you to respect that, aight?”
I wanted to tell her ass yeah, hoping it’d convince her to leave me be, but I knew she’d run back to Isla and confirm what she thought she already knew. I refused to allow that. Isla wasn’t gon’ keep getting the upper hand over me, and I put that on Michael.
“I will until I don’t need to anymore.” Diana stood on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek gently, before pulling back with a smile on her face.
“Just get in ya car,” I told her lowly.
She did as I asked, as I kept darting my eyes from her to my front door and windows. My heart was beating fast as hell hoping Kattlyn wasn’t taking in any of this shit. I knew she would probably murder Diana’s unsuspecting ass, slap me up, and then probably leave too. And I didn’t hit women, but Kattlyn’s ass hit like a nigga, making it hard to just take them damn blows without wanting to retaliate.
I made my way inside after Diana left, and followed the loud smell of food. I knew the shit was gon’ be good as fuck, because I could already taste it through my nose.
“Oh my gosh, no, but make sure you send me what I asked, please, Nolan!” Kattlyn whined into her iPhone as she turned the stove off. I noticed her expression change upon turning around and seeing me. “Okay, bye, thanks.”
“Nolan?” I cocked my head. “Who is that?” I sat at the bar area across from where Kattlyn was standing.
“Oh, Nolan is my lab partner in class, remember?”
“That’s a nigga?”
“Yeah, does it matter?”
“Nah, I guess it doesn’t, but I assumed you would have told me ya study/lab partner was of the opposite sex.”
“Excuse me, dad, I didn’t know it was all like that.” She started to take down some plates.
“Yeah, it’s like that. If I was doing a record with a female and didn’t say shit, you would be pissed off.”
“So, I can do that, you can’t.” She smirked as I came up close behind her.
“Nah, you got shit twisted. You know I’m a jealous ass nigga. I’m trying to ease up on it, and to do that, I need you to help me by telling me when you’re working close with another nigga.”
“Okay, I’m sorry.” She turned to face me, so I leaned down to peck her. “I just didn’t think of it that way because it’s just school.”
“I get it.” I ate one of the crackers she had out for some reason. “But don’t be studying all late with his ass, aight? All niggas wanna fuck you.”
“Wait.” She laughed. “I distinctly remember you telling me that, that wasn’t true. That you specifically didn’t only think about that.”
“Yeah, and I thought that shit was true until I met yo’ ass. I know off top that every nigga, shit, every female too, if she’s gay, wants to fuck you upon seeing yo’ fine ass.”
“Well hey, what can I say?” She batted her eyelashes, making me chuckle.
“Say ‘hell nah, I got a man.’”
“Of course,” she whispered just before I crushed my lips against hers.
***
“Good morning, Mr. Gaines. Thank you for coming to see me on such short notice.”
“No problem.” I smiled as I sat across from my lawyer, Amanda.
“So, I’ve been going over everything and doing my best to see what we can do about you and Michael. The best we may be able to get is you being allowed to spend maybe one day a week with him, if Isla agrees to it.”
“The fuck? How is that good for me? I raised that boy, and you think one damn day a week is gon’ suffice?”
Amanda was pretty smart, but right now, she must have lost her damn mind or something.
“No, I absolutely don’t think so. But the fact remains that you are not Michael’s father and she is his mother. If she doesn’t want you around her son, then she has the right to say so. Her giving you one day a week would be a privilege, not a right.”
“Aight, well we need to look into something else because one day a week definitely ain’t gon’ work for me. I want at least half his time. I want like two weeks out of the month.”
“Mr. Gaines, I need you to be realistic with me, and I know it’s hard since, in your eyes and probably hers too, Michael is your son. But unfortunately, a lot of the times, they look at blood, and not what you did for him. Maybe if his father weren’t alive or something, you’d have a better chance, but still, she has the ultimate say-so because she isn’t an unfit mother.”
“How do you know she ain’t unfit?”
“I said I did all I could, so I hired a PI to follow her a couple days out of the week, and she is very doting to the boy.”
“Whatever.”
“And don’t do anything crazy, Mr. Gaines. If somehow Michael’s biological father ends up missing or anything of the such, the finger will be pointed right at you.”
“I don’t even do shit like that, so you can save your advice.” I stood up. “I guess we should proceed and try to get my one day.”
“Yes, sir,” she said to my back because I was already on my way out.
Her mentioning not to touch Don irritated the fuck out of me because that was exactly what my mind went to. After killing Bull, it awakened a part of me that I didn’t know existed. However, killing Don wasn’t the move for me. I loved my son, but there was no way I was about to spend the rest of my life behind bars over Don’s ass. I really wouldn’t see my damn son then, and all this shit would be for nothing.
As I sat in my car, fuming, I just stared out the window trying to figure out how I could do whatever I needed to do to get Michael. My son was more important than all of this shit; my music, house, cars, every damn thing. Without him and Kattlyn, a lot of this shit meant nothing to me.
Finally, the wheels in my head began turning, so I made a few calls then headed out to this North Hollywood bar.
“MG, welcome, man. I didn’t expect your kind to be here.” The shaggy white dude at the front smiled after trying to dap me up.
“Yeah, this ain’t really my scene, but I had to get away, you know?”
He nodded.
“Well, have a good time, man, and your first drink is on the house. Let them know Asher said so.” He shoved his blond hair backwards.
Walking into the pretty dark bar, I scanned the area and spotted Don sitting at a corner table drinking with one of his flunkies. Making my way over, when I got to the table, I stopped, and he looked up at me before sucking his teeth.
“Oh shit, I ain’t know you was gon’ be here,” I lied, sitting down at the table next to his.
“Well, just ‘cause I’m here don’t mean we gotta converse, muthafucka,” he snapped, but I remained calm because I had a greater goal. Plus, I’d whooped his ass twice and wasn’t interested in doing so again. It was pointless, and honestly wouldn’t bring me any type of gratification anymore.
“Right. So umm, I’m honestly surprised you lost Isla. I thought you would have been able to lock that down,” I said, as his homeboy kept his attention on his phone, probably macking on some thot.
“What? You ain’t one to talk. You ain’t got her neither.”
“Right, but supposedly I’m soft, and you’re supposed to be this tough ass player guy, but she left you and got another nigga raising your kid… for the second time.” I shook my head as a waitress approached me. I ordered a drink just so I wouldn’t appear suspicious. Since we were near the bar, she quickly brought my order out.
“Trust me, I could cut that shit off anytime I wanted to.”
“Sure you can.” I chuckled. I felt him staring at the side of my face as I sipped my glass of Jim Bean, so I glanced his way.
“I can, nigga, don’t put it past me. I’ll have Isla and my son right back in my house before you could even make it to wherever the fuck you’re going.”
Nodding, I polished off my drink and said, “Yeah, nigga, and I’m King Tut.” I got up. “Well, seeing you diminished my mood, so I’m gon’ get up out of here.”
Without another word, I left the bar with a smile on my face. This was just the fucking beginning.
Chapter Three: Jason “Frisk” Hensen
Greezy and I were in the conference room at Bankroll headquarters, listening to the three songs that could be potential singles. I wanted the one with Ricky AK, because to me, that shit was fire, but Greezy all of a sudden hated it. The three we were listening to right now were good as fuck too, but that track I did with Ricky would definitely send me to number one, so I was annoyed as fuck that Greezy didn’t like it.
“I think ‘High Life’ is gonna be the one,” Greezy said as he turned the last song off. “That one is gonna do numbers, I tell ya.” He beamed.
“Yeah, I agree, maybe as like a second single. But, G, ‘Big Bank’ with Ricky is the one, I’m telling you.”
“Frisk.” He ashed his cigar. “I understand where you’re coming from, but the song isn’t that great. You did well on the song, but Ricky, not so much. I think he’s too focused on that label that’s gonna fail, and that baby mama of his, to really bring it.”
Unintentionally, I jerked my neck back because I was surprised by his words.
“Did you hear the song? Are we talking about the same shit? Ricky damn near out rapped me on my own shit. I’m telling you, G—”
“And I’m telling you I don’t agree, Frisk. We have to come to a mutual agreement here, and we both agree that ‘High Life’ is a great track, right?”
“We do.”
“Then that settles it.” He rose from his seat. “Now, I have another meeting to go to, so I’m gonna freshen up. Trust me on this one. I’ve steered the careers of some of the people you look up to; Ricky, MG, and even that fuck up, Qamar. And look where Automatic is headed? Do you really wanna go against what I say?
“I hear you.” I exhaled heavily.
“I know it’s hard to listen to someone else for a change, but I promise I’m only doing what will make you a big thing, and nothing else. Hell, it’s my company’s money I’m spending, why would I steer you wrong?” He looked down at me, his hand gripping my shoulder.
“I don’t think you’d steer me wrong, I just think maybe you ain’t hearing what I hear, ya know?”
I couldn’t help but think about his ass telling me that he was gonna be focused mainly on MG, Automatic, and me. I knew his reasoning behind dumping Qamar, but Ricky, I wasn’t too sure of that. A part of me felt like it was because Ricky planned to leave the label after his last album that was due, and do his own thing. I prayed like hell that Greezy wasn’t on no bitch shit like that; upset because niggas wanted to branch out and elevate. For now though, I would listen, and if the single didn’t do what I needed it to, then I would be sure to put the Ricky track out.
“I hear what you hear, but I need you to understand me. I do this every day, all day. I hear shit y’all don’t hear. I know what the fans want, and what these radio stations like to play,” Greezy explained.
I said nothing else as Greezy left the conference room. I wasn’t too far behind him, as I made my way out and onto the elevator.
By now, it was around 8 p.m., and I was supposed to go record, but I wasn’t in the mood. This music shit meant a lot to a nigga, and the simple thought of my first single being lukewarm fucked with me. Times like these, I missed being unsigned, because I could do what the fuck I wanted. Yeah, labels brought more money, since they were like that rich ass uncle who could pay for whatever, but with labels came restrictions.
I had a taste for Chipotle, so I texted Virginia to see if she wanted anything since she was at my crib. We’d been still going strong, and I wasn’t complaining at all. Virginia was nothing like Charmaine’s ass in the sense where she had her own shit going. I know that was weird to say since she was my assistant, but seeing that she was her own woman, working and not always on my dick about something, turned me on. Charmaine’s ass was way too muthafuckin’ clingy at times, and had no goals outside of shaking her ass at AOD.
“V!” I called out when I made it into my crib.
She ain’t answer, so I assumed she was in the shower l
ike she always was around this time. I jogged up the stairs after putting the food in the kitchen, because I was gon’ try and catch her before she got out, to get some pussy.
I snatched my shirt off once in the bedroom, just as Virginia’s phone made a sound. I swear I wasn’t trying to look, but the name Trey caught my eye as I kicked my slides off. Scooping her iPhone up, I saw it was an Instagram message.
TreySeagull: You bet not forget about me tomorrow. :)
I frowned so hard I felt my face morph. I didn’t know if I was more bothered by the fact that this nigga was gon’ see my girl tomorrow, or that bitch ass smiley face he put on the end.
“Hey, when did you… get here?” Virginia wrapped her towel around her body and cocked her head when she saw her phone in my hand.
“Who is Trey Seagull?” I got right to it. No need for me to beat around the bush and shit.
“Why?” She attempted to grab her phone, but I raised my arm so that she couldn’t get to it.
“Who is this nigga!” I barked.
“He is just a friend! He’s Vigo’s cousin, and that is it! Why are you even looking in my phone!”
“Fuck you going to see him tomorrow for?”
“That is none of your business, okay. He’s just—”
“Nah, what you say?” I glared down at her, in disbelief that she’d just said her talking to another nigga is none of my muthafuckin’ business when her ass been laid up in my crib for the past week.
“Not like that. I told you he’s just Vigo’s cousin, and we’ve bonded over the fact that we lost someone we both cared for. It’s just a lunch like thing…”
“Oh, okay.”
“No, it’s not coming out right, Jason! It’s not anything romantic; we’ve always been cool, and we were both close to Vigo, so now that he’s gon’ we just… He doesn’t even live out here, he lives in Connecticut.”
“Oh, so if he lived in California, you’d be fucking him?”
“No!” She stomped her foot. “I’m trying to find the right thing to say here, but nothing is coming out the way I want it to. Trey—”
She Got It Bad for a Heartless Gangsta 4 Page 6
