Antwan shook his head at me. “I had no idea you were friends with Fatima’s crazy ass. She dates my nigga, Snare, my drummer.”
I nodded. “Yeah, me and Fatima go way back to fifth grade. She used to date my brother.”
“Oh yeah? Well, what happened to that relationship? He couldn’t handle all that crazy, huh?” Antwan grinned.
I exhaled deeply. “No. He died four years ago in a car crash.”
Antwan’s grin faded. “Car crash? Awe, man, shawty, I’m sorry.” He looked down at the scar on my chest, over my heart. Then, he looked into my face. “Were you in that car crash too?”
I nodded, forgetting that I was actually wearing something that showed a little cleavage for a change. Although I wasn’t ashamed of my scar, I didn’t want anyone asking about it. It only reminded me of losing my brother. “Yeah. The only reason I’m alive is—”
“Are y’all ready?” I was interrupted by the infamous Karen Black.
Antwan still looked at me, like he was trying to figure out where he knew me from. I think it was starting to come back to the boy when he saw that scar of my chest.
I turned my attention to Karen Black as she strolled through the ten of us that stood backstage, ready to show our skills to the rowdy crowd behind those curtains. Karen looked like the chocolate version of Sade. She was tall with the prettiest, deep bronze-colored skin. Her long hair flowed down her back, trailing down her beige Gucci dress. She had to be at least 5’10” without those heels. She was once a model, but once she married old school rapper, Ervin Black, she started producing music and was great at it. Everyone on her label had made it double platinum. Her crew stayed in the media’s eye. Tour after tour. Concert after concert. Acting gig after acting gig. Collaborations. Book deals. Magazine spreads. Radio interviews. Clothing lines. Restaurants. Endorsements. Rumor had it that the company was going bankrupt, but I didn’t see how. Instinctive Entertainment was everywhere you turned.
Karen caught sight of me with Antwan, and she winked at me, grinning, deep dimples stinging her left cheek. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, I’m looking for a few good song writers. I only need three. I picked the three cities that I’m choosing from. That’s here in B-More, then I’m headed to Miami, and then to Houston. I’m short on time, so this performance tonight is going to make or break you. I’m only choosing one of you to interview tonight after the show. No pressure.” She laughed, watching the nervous expressions on all of our faces. “My husband, the executive producer of IE, is going to be out there watching. Not to mention myself, Antwan the Jeweler, and our hot DJ,” Karen glanced at me, “Sean Lee. Sean Lee is the reason why we’re in need of new song writers.”
I looked at Karen.
“He is about to leave me for a few weeks and go work for Relentless.” Karen announced something that I had absolutely no idea about.
My eyes widened. “Wait, what?”
Antwan looked at me, eyebrows lowering a little, probably wondering why Sean was of any interest to me.
“Okay, lyricists,” Karen clapped her hands together. “Showtime in three minutes. Audrey?”
“Yes?” My heart sank in my chest.
“You’re up first. Kill this shit. The press is watchin’.” Karen winked her eye at me before turning around, leaving backstage, making her way front stage. You should have heard the screams coming from the crowd. “Hey, how y’all beautiful people doing tonight?” Karen’s voice filtered the room, followed by whoots and squeals.
I took a few deep breaths, trying to pace my breathing and control my heart rate.
“So, yo, how do you know Karen?” Antwan faced me, adjusting my crop top a little, fingers gracing against my torso as he pulled my shirt down a little. He looked me over before looking into my face. “Sean Lee? That’s your nigga?”
I just looked at Antwan, heart rate speeding up, as Karen told the audience about the talent show I was about to perform in first.
“So, you’re not gonna answer me, huh, Lyric?” Antwan shook his head at me, looking down at the bracelet on my wrist. He looked back into my face. “Did the nigga give you that bracelet too? I’m asking because my dancer, Brandie, has the same bracelet on tonight.”
I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Brandie? Yeah, that’s my sister.” Might as well tell him; he was bound to find out sooner or later.
Antwan’s eyes widened a little before shaking his head at the situation. “Well, the nigga just gave your sister a new pair of earrings. Not to mention, what looks like a big ass hickey on the side of shawty’s neck. Seems to me like he’s her man.”
I frowned, all nervousness subsiding.
“You should’ve fallen for someone who deserves your heart instead of falling for someone who was just gonna play with the muthafucka.” Antwan whispered to me.
I looked at Antwan. “That’s what niggas are good at; playing games, and trickin’ us into falling in love with y’all when y’all know y’all ain’t ready.”
“Not all of us, shawty.” Antwan shook his head in disagreement. “Sean doesn’t represent us all. Some of us are too old to play games. You need to tell that silly muthafucka that tricks are for kids.”
I nodded. “Oh, I intend to, when I get out there on stage.”
“A’ight, let’s see then.” Antwan dared me.
“Audrey Gibson?” Rip, the co-owner of the club, stepped backstage.
I looked up at him as he walked towards us.
Rip walked up to Antwan, giving him some dap before looking me over. “You’re up, Ma. Rip that shit.”
I looked at Antwan, who was grinning at me, looking me over too.
I sighed, rolling my eyes, leaving the two of them standing there.
“Good luck!” The other contestants rooted for me as I left backstage, making my way front stage. Boom, there everyone was, surrounding the stage, all eyes on me. It was a lot to take in. I looked down at the people surrounding the stage, and then I looked out at the tables seated around the room.
“Audrey! Whoot!” My girls were cheering me on at the table to the left.
I laughed nervously, eyes searching the room until I saw Sean’s ass sitting at a table in the center of the club with my sister, her friends, and a few of his boys. You should have seen the look on Sean’s face when he saw me standing there on stage, standing there in front of the microphone.
“How is everyone doing tonight?” I spoke up after a few seconds of my stare down with Sean. Oh, he looked just as pissed to see me as I was to see him. As pissed as I was, it felt so good finally showing the skills that Sean was scared to unleash. And the look on my sister’s face was priceless. I didn’t know whether the girl was shocked that the sister she claimed didn’t have the balls to get in front of a crowd was actually standing on stage in a room full of hundreds of people. Or if she was scared of what I was going to say after seeing the two of them together when they claimed they despised one another.
I grinned a little, as the crowd cheered me on, as the band behind me started to play a slow groove. I adjusted the microphone stand, hands trembling a little, as my nervousness began setting in again. “Ya know, a lot of y’all know me from the Foot Locker at Arundel Mills. Yeah, that’s me, the one y’all stay tryin’ to get to hook y’all up with a discount. A few of you know that I write music. I’m a writer, not a rapper or a singer, so bear with me. My girls talked me into doing this bullshit.”
My girls whistled. The crowd laughed, all except for hating-ass Brandie and shaky ass Sean. The more I looked at those two together, the more courage I got to face them both.
“This song is dedicated to all the niggas who fucked us over because we let them.” I sighed through the microphone, getting hundreds of amens from the crowd. “This song is dedicated to all the niggas who keep on playing games, whose lovin’ ain’t the same, like they just know we’re here to stay. Like a bitch not gone get tired of his shit.” I removed the microphone from its stand, my eyes focused on Sean and then on my sista. “This song is al
so for the bitches who can’t keep their muthafuckin’ hands off our men. Who can’t find a man of her own. Who fucks her way to the top. Who thinks she’s playing you but she’s playing herself.” I held my middle finger up high, towards my sister and Sean. The crowd cheered me on. “Fuck y’all. I call this song… Sean Lee Doesn’t Belong to Me…”
Oh, all eyes were on Sean, the nigga who was ashamed to let the world know that he was dating an average-looking brown-skinned girl. I was good enough for him as long as nobody knew what I looked like. Brandie was industry pretty, sitting there looking like a mix between Alicia Keys, Paula Patton, and Jhene Aiko. Ya know how it is. Us black chicks were cool until the nigga thought he’d come up. Not realizing that the black woman in his life was the only reason why he even got the chance to meet those girls.
The beat of the drums resonated throughout my body. The saxophone player had my soul feeling so good. Queen Gates hummed into the microphone to my far left. She was a bad vocalist who refused to leave the club. She didn’t want any label trying to own her. In the club, she could do her own thing. She knew how the industry worked. She knew it would change her into someone that she didn’t want to be. Queen Gates always played by her own rules. I looked at her over my shoulder as she winked her eye.
I exhaled before I opened my lips to rap my lyrics.
“Are you ready to talk now? Seems like you’re always too busy for me; after all that we’ve been through, I can’t get a minute. Wow. I don’t ask for much; maybe a kiss, maybe just a touch. Maybe you can hold me once in a while; there used to be a time when you’d do anything to make me smile. I remember when you’d stroke my insides until my legs went numb; do you remember me screaming in your ear, ‘I’m about to cum, nigga, I’m about to cum!’” I laughed.
The crowd hollered.
Sean slouched back in his seat.
Queen Gates hummed behind me.
“I lived you, I breathed you, I loved you, nigga, I needed you.” I sang, tears forming in my eyes.
“You know I needed you.” Queen ad-libbed.
“I told myself that I wasn’t gonna write another song about a nigga who could give two fucks about me but… you pulled out of me to pull into her. You said you loved me, you said you’d never leave me, so why the fuck are you sitting here with her? I’m tired of the lying, I’m tired of the crying, I’m tired of loving you when I’m the only one who’s trying…” I rapped to Sean.
“You ain’t shit, nigga. Time to pack your shit, nigga…” Queen sang, neck roll, eye roll, and all.
The crowd cheered us on.
Brandie rolled her eyes, glancing at the expression on Sean’s face.
I exhaled before I sang, “I’m not worth your time; no one knows you’re mine. You’re ashamed of me, was blind but now I see. I was there when you needed me, but you won’t give your heart to me. Now I see why you can’t love me, too busy lovin’ my sister, Brandie. Slangin’ wood, up to no good; the kind of love I needed, you never understood.” I started rapping again.
“You’d never understand that all I wanted was for you to be a man. My man, nigga, not hers, not theirs; you were supposed to be mine, Sean, why the fuck do I have to share?”
“I needed love, nigga.” Queen whispered through the mic.
“If her bed is where you lay your head, come get your shit, you and that bitch.” I hissed through the mic, the crowd cheering me on. “I wasted so much time trying to make your heart mine.” I whispered. “You never belonged to me because that bitch is where you always wanted to be. So, let’s end it right here, let’s just end it at that; once you walk out that door, there’s no coming back. Enjoy your life, don’t come looking for me; once it’s over, it’s over, you’re gonna miss me, Sean Lee…” And I dropped the mic, walking backstage, as the crowd chanted. I walked past Antwan, who was trying his best not to grin.
I made my song short, sweet, and to the got damn point. I really had no interest in winning the contest. I just wanted to show Sean that I was no fool. That I knew he was fuckin’ around with my sister. That I knew he lied to me about where he was going that night. I loved that fool, and all he loved was himself. Too in love with his own talent to realize I had talent too. He kept me in a box, never wanting me to break loose. I needed a little polishing, but the talent was in me. And after that night, he couldn’t deny it. Shit, I was the one who helped him stay up all night writing music. Music that I wasn’t getting paid for writing. It wasn’t Brandie’s ass who helped him into stardom. It was me, got damn it. I didn’t want to win the talent contest; I just wanted to beat my sister’s brains in, in front of Sean. I had to get out of there before I went to jail. I was tired of people taking my non-ratchetness for a weakness. I’d fuck a bitch up over mine, only… Sean wasn’t even mine. He made that known when he showed up to the club with that bitch.
I tried to sneak past the other contestants and dart out the back door. I don’t think I made it five feet from the back entrance when I heard Antwan calling my name.
“Aye, where you goin’, Lyric?” I heard footsteps behind me.
I looked back to see Antwan standing at the foot of the stairs. I sighed as Antwan walked up to me. It was cold as hell outside, and there I was, trying to be cute in a crop-top.
Antwan shook his head, watching me standing before him, shivering. He took off his jacket, throwing it over my shoulders. “Where the fuck is your coat?”
“I-I left it in the car. You know muthafuckas at your brother’s club be stealin’.” I rolled my eyes, watching Antwan smiling down at me.
“Where you goin’, Ma? Why you leaving me so soon?” Antwan asked, licking his lips.
I shook my head. “I just wanted to see for myself that the nigga was here. I didn’t really plan on winning. I just rapped and sang a song to y’all that took me five minutes to write, that I wrote in the car on the way here.”
“So,” Antwan made a face. “You didn’t come here for me; you came here for him? To prove something to that nigga?”
I sighed. “Antwan, honey, I don’t know a got-damn thing about you. All I know is what I see on television, and what I see on television is a boy who’s too scared to be a man. You rap about a life that you should have outgrown by now. Your lyrics are full of anger, full of pain, full of fear. You live on the edge. You’re hood than a muthafucka, Antwan, when you should be straight-Hollywood. You still hang with all the niggas you used to fuck with in Meade Village. You’re rockin’ all this purple shit, like you’re one of the Royals, even though you claim not to be affiliated with them. You talk all that shit in your songs, yet as I stand here face-to-face with you, I don’t see any of that shit you spit in your music. I see a scared little boy who wished he knew his mama.”
Antwan’s eyebrows knitted together, his eyes searching my face. “I thought you just said that you didn’t know a ‘got damn thing’ about me.”
I just looked up into his face.
“You got the job.” Antwan huffed, shaking his head at me.
“What?” I asked, watching him walk back up the stairs leading to the club.
He tapped on the door, looking back at me standing there in his jacket. “You had the job when I saw you swipe that card to pay for my shoes, shawty. You showed love, so I gotta show it back.”
I shook my head, walking back up the steps to the club, taking his expensive jacket from my shoulders, handing it back to him. “You know that’s not fair, Antwan. Those other contestants are talented! You need to give them a chance.”
Antwan nodded. “A’ight, let’s let the crowd choose.”
And the crowd chose me that night. I won by popular demand, not by Antwan’s vote alone. My girls were happier than a muthafucka, but I was nervous out of my mind. And you already know Sean was mad as hell, looking at me like he wanted to ring my neck for revealing that I was the girl that he was hiding from everyone. Karen Black invited me to VIP to sit and chat with her that night. I told her I would if I could bring my girls with me. Of course she a
greed, especially since she already knew Fatima. I tried to slip past Sean, but he grabbed me by my wrist, pulling me to him, my sister and her friend, Lola, at his side.
I glared at my sister a little before looking back at Sean.
“What the fuck are you doin’ here?” Sean growled.
“What the fuck are you doin’ here? With this bitch at that?” I pulled from him.
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, Audrey. Take ya ass back home.” Sean demanded. “You don’t need to get involved in this shit. Go the fuck home, Audrey!”
“Listen to your man, sis,” Brandie grinned, nudging Sean.
Oh, you know I wanted to beat the hoe shit out of Brandie, but I didn’t. I let it ride. Why? Because she needed the attention more than I did. Even though I wanted to walk away, Mariah wouldn’t let me.
“Ya know, the last time I saw you, you had dick in your mouth.” Mariah pushed me to the side and got in Brandie’s grill. “Here, let me give you something else to put in your mouth.” And Mariah punched the bitch right in her mouth.
There my best friend was, trying to rip that girl’s face apart, and there I was, breaking up a fight, and there Lola was, trying to jump in to defend my sister. Sean backed away as security rushed over to break us all apart. Of course, Mariah was thrown out of the club. I tried to go with her, but she shouted at me that I needed to stay, that I needed to sign the dotted line on the contract we knew I was about to be presented with. Fatima and Elle took Mariah home after telling me that they’d see me at the after party. And I watched Sean carry my sister out of the club to Lola’s car so she could get her to the hospital. Watching him with her broke my heart all to pieces.
There I sat in VIP, watching all these record executives poppin’ champagne. Just that morning, I was working at Foot Locker, doing inventory. But there I was that night, sitting amongst some of the biggest record executives in the country. And I should have been excited, but I wasn’t. My life was about to change, and I wasn’t sure which direction it was about to go. I sat there in a booth, across from Karen Black and her husband, Ervin. I took a deep breath as Antwan slid into the booth next to me. I slid over a little to give Antwan his space, but he slid next to me, as close as he could get.
The LyricsTo His Song Page 4
