Antwan dried his face, watching me rubbing my chest. “You a’ight?”
I looked at Antwan. He did have eyes the color of honey. I grinned a little, slightly freaked out that I knew the lyrics and melody to a song that I’d never heard, yet somewhat satisfied knowing that his mother thought about her boys enough to compose an entire notebook worth of songs about them. “She loved you both, Antwan.”
“Yeah? Then why did she leave us?” Antwan disagreed.
“I don’t think she left you. You said you were from Florida, but the papers always said your mother was from Connecticut. How did your mother even get caught up with A.J. Miller? The grandma that passed away, was that her mother? Or A.J. Miller’s?” I threw a couple of questions at Antwan.
Antwan shrugged. “I don’t know the answer to any of those questions, shawty. All I know is we ended up in the hood, being raised by muthafuckas who could care less if we ate, bathed, or went to school. Queen’s own father was raping her. Do you know how many times she ran away, only to be brought right back to the muthafucka? Do you know me and Apollo killed that nigga—our own uncle—when we were seventeen when we found out that he’d gotten Queen pregnant? Queen was living with her friend, Lacy Rodgers, then. Uncle Walter broke in one night when Lacy was at work and raped my cousin. Queen was nineteen.”
My eyes grew big.
Antwan nodded. “Yeah, man, my cousin gave birth to a dead baby when she was just seven months pregnant. The baby was dead inside of her. They made Cuz push her dead baby girl out of her. I guess God knew my cousin couldn’t live with that pain. And we couldn’t either. Killed that muthafucka. I can’t tell you whose side of the family raised us because no one’s last name was Miller or Jared. Grandma never married and wouldn’t talk about my mother or about A.J. All I know is my life sucked until I met Ervin and Karen. I thought they were my family until they started thinking A.J. was the solution to all of their money problems. I have a feeling shit is going to get real ugly real fast. My contract with Instinctive isn’t up for another two years. So, even though I’m starting my own label, I’m still bound by law to the Blacks. But you’re not. So, whatever music you write is yours, not theirs. They get no penny for anything that you write for me. You got it? Nobody owns your lyrics but you.”
“I don’t have to sing anything, do I? I’m so not a singer.” I sighed.
“Then what was that you just did a few minutes ago? What was that you did on stage last night?” Antwan’s eyes searched my face.
I shrugged. “A few minutes ago? That was your mama singing. And last night, shit, that was anger singing. Now, if you want me to write music, I can do that, but as far as singing goes, the only thing you’ll get out of me is singing hooks, in the background, not center stage. Last night was a once in a lifetime thing.”
Antwan grinned. “I can sing.”
“What?” I looked into his face, watching him laugh. “Boy, bye. I’ve never heard you sing one bit in any of your music, and I’ve been listening to your shit since you and Apollo were posting videos on You Tube.”
“What will it take to get you center stage again? Will I have to sing wit’cha? Is that what it’s gonna take?” Antwan’s eyes searched mine. Antwan’s fingers began stroking the keys to the melody of Usher’s Nice and Slow.
I grinned, looking down at his fingers before looking back into his face.
“It’s seven o’clock, on the dot, I’m in my drop top, cruising the streets. Oh, yeah…” Antwan grinned, watching me cheesing.
I squealed, clapping my hands together. “Oh my God!” I squealed before laying my head on that boy’s shoulder. My heart melted in my chest. The sound of that boy’s voice was music to my soul. That boy’s voice grabbed ahold of my soul and wouldn’t let go. I listened to him singing the first verse of one of my favorite songs. The song brought back bittersweet memories, but I tried focusing on Antwan and that phenomenal, strong voice of his. Sean was dating this chick named Monique back in high school, but when he asked me to go with him to see Usher in concert, I didn’t hesitate. Usher was serenading the crowd with that song when Sean and I had our first kiss. I was fifteen years old and in love with a boy who was loved by all the hoes. I was so stupid. And apparently much hadn’t changed. I was about to be even stupider and let my family talk me into marrying that boy.
I lifted my head from Antwan’s shoulder, looking his face over as he sang.
“Let me take you to a place that’s nice and quiet, where there ain’t no one there to interrupt. Ain’t gotta rush. I just wanna take it nice and slow…” He closed his version of the song.
“Wow,” was all I could say. I just looked at Antwan, watching him exhale deeply. “Why don’t you ever sing? The girls would go crazy over that shit! Shit, feel this!” I grabbed Antwan’s hand, placing it on my chest, over my heart.
Antwan grinned, eyes searching my face.
“You have my heart racing, Antwan! You feel that shit?” I exhaled deeply, watching Antwan’s smile fade as he watched my chest heave in and out. “What’s wrong?” I asked him.
“This is the first time I’ve ever felt my mother’s heartbeat, Lyric… This moment is real intense right now.” Antwan shook his head to himself before slipping his hand from under mine.
“And I ain’t trying to be one of them sing-your-girl-a-love-song type nigga, Lyric. I’m a rapper. Straight thug-music ‘til the day I die. The girls gone always want the Jeweler. You’ll wish you came to Jared, too, once you realize what a mistake you made fuckin’ around with Sean’s weak ass.”
I rolled my eyes, though I was in total agreement with his cocky ass.
I watched him get up from the stool.
“Yo, you wanna go up on the terrace? They serve cocktails up there in about,” Antwan looked at his watch, “twenty minutes.”
We went out to the terrace that afternoon, drinking with the other tenants who were upstairs, enjoying the view as well. I must admit, it was nice talking to people who weren’t so ratchet for a change. They asked about the two of us and how we met, and of course, Antwan told them the story of how my life was saved because of his mother’s car accident. They swore up and down that meeting each other was in our destiny. We talked to one of the older couples who lived a few condos down the hallway from him. Mr. and Mrs. Starr was the couple’s name. Mr. Starr told us how he never knew his mother either. A few years ago, Mr. Starr received a liver transplant. He told us how he started having memories of a man’s childhood. Mr. Starr researched his donor’s history and turned out that man was his brother. Turned out, his mother was alive and living in a nursing home. She had her son when she was young and gave him up for adoption. When she tried to get him back a few years later, the family disappeared, changing their last name. The story was amazing. Though Antwan tried to hide his emotions, I knew he felt like meeting me was going to lead to him finding out more about why his mother really gave him up.
I stayed with Antwan the entire day. We ate dinner at Black’s Bar and Kitchen on Woodmont Avenue. The bodyguards showed up, staying within close proximity, but had changed into casual attire so that they wouldn’t be so obvious. I had a great time with Antwan that day. I saw a side of that boy that I didn’t see on television. He wasn’t a thug or a nigga with street credibility. He was just Antwan Jared, a boy who needed some air from the fame for a while. We sat poolside that night. I think we must have written about ten songs that night. My favorite song was the one that I’d freestyled the first few lines to in the studio for him, The Difference Between You and Me. We finished it together, adding three more verses. Adding a catchy hook. All we needed was Drizzle to give us that beat. And we had ourselves a hit for sure.
“Oh my goodness.” I looked at my Adidas watch. “It’s already 12:30 in the morning?”
“Shit, I guess time flies when you’re having fun, huh?” Antwan watched me closing my lyrical journal.
I still hadn’t touched that iPad that Karen had given me earlier that day. I liked doing things
the old fashioned way. Fuck that technical shit. I liked scribbling in my pad. It was my baby. I took that leather notebook everywhere.
I looked at Antwan. “I had a great time today. I haven’t had this much fun in—”
Antwan cut me off. “Let’s be real. You’ve never had this much fun, huh?”
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
We both chuckled a little.
“Shut up, Antwan. Sheesh. No, okay?” I rolled my eyes, trying not to grin at him and his shiny-ass braces.
“You might as well just stay here tonight. No use going back home this time of night. Your nigga’s not home anyway. My mans and them texted me earlier, telling me that they saw the nigga at Columbia Mall with his moms and shit. Yo, his mama’s a bitch.” Antwan shook his head.
“You don’t even have to tell me, Antwan. She’s always treated Sean like shit. Johnny was always her favorite. Ever since he was killed, she’s been super hard on Sean. Has always made him feel worthless. I try building him up, but you already see how that goes. He’s always running from me.” I sighed, crossing my legs, leaning back in my seat.
“Well, let him run then, shit.” Antwan scoffed. “We all have problems. The shit he’s been through with his family has nothing to do with what he’s been through with you. Up until yesterday, I didn’t even know Sean had a girl. And that’s fucked up. He’s been fuckin’ around with your girl, Fatima, too.”
I widened my eyes, sitting back up in the chair. “You knew?”
Antwan scoffed. “Shit, everybody but Snare knows that shit. I caught the two fuckin’ a few months ago. I don’t even think Fatima’s son is Snare’s. He looks just like your nigga, shawty. But judging by the look on your face, you already knew that.” Antwan shook his head at me, probably thinking I was pathetic as a muthafucka.
“Karen told me today in her office. I didn’t wanna call him out in front of Snare, but yeah, I know about it.” I sighed.
“You’re a good one, shawty. Cuz I’m ready to whip ya nigga for you for that shit. Fatima ain’t ya girl neither.” Antwan had to remind me.
“And the worse part about it all is that Fatima is like family. I’m sure my family will invite her to lunch tomorrow since Sean let everybody know that he’s proposing to me. I already know my mom is going to invite her. Not looking forward to this one bit.” I exhaled deeply.
“Then don’t go. The nigga wants to ask your parents for your ‘hand in marriage’ after the fact? After he already announced on the radio that you’d already said yes to the nigga? After he’s had two babies on you? After he put his muthafuckin’ hands on you? After he had you busting your ass at Foot Locker and shit, while he’s going broke for Fatima, Brandie, and the rest of them bitches?” Antwan frowned. “You can’t be this stupid, Lyric, or this desperate.”
I resented that, though it wasn’t like the dude was lying. “What is that supposed to mean, Antwan?”
“Just what I said.” Antwan wasn’t backing down. “You talked all that shit on stage to the nigga, and then you went back to the nigga that night. That’s the type of nigga you think you deserve? The type of nigga that doesn’t give a fuck about you, except for when it’s convenient for him? He wasn’t paying you any mind until he thought I was tryin’ to snatch ya ass up.”
I looked at Antwan. “I’m really not trying to hear this shit, Antwan.”
“The nigga is fuckin’ with one of your best friends, has a got damn two-year-old son with that bitch! And the nigga has a three-year-old baby with another chick—” Antwan started to go in on me about my stupidity, but I cut him off.
“Your chick?” I rolled my neck at him.
Antwan made a face. “The fuck? ‘My chick’? You think I give a fuck about Brenda? She made her bed, she’s gotta lie in that bitch. Karma’s fuckin’ her world up; she’s the least of my concern. My concern is you, shawty.”
“Me? Looks to me like you’re trying to run my life like everyone else is doing. All I wanted to do was prove to Sean that my life matters too. I wasn’t trying to get caught up with anything that’s going on between the two of you! You’re using me to get to him, he’s using me to get to you, and I’m not about to get stuck in the middle!” I got up from the table that we sat at.
“All I am to you are the lyrics to your song. You remember that, Antwan!”
“Nah, you’re more than that.” Antwan got up from the table, catching my arm before I stormed off from him.
“Two days, Antwan. That’s how long you’ve known me. I’ve known Sean for two fuckin’ decades!” I pulled from him.
Antwan took a deep breath, trying his best to choose his words carefully. “I just don’t understand how you can love a nigga like that nigga. You’ve known this nigga all your life—and, so fuckin’ what? I bet he’s been fuckin’ your heart up your entire life too. I heard you lost his baby in a car accident. That Brenda’s baby was born on the same day that your baby was supposed to be born. You can’t stand there and tell me that I’m wrong.”
My heart slammed against my chest. “You don’t have to understand why I’m with him. It’s not up to you to decide who I decide to spend my life with. Let’s just keep this strictly business, Antwan. Stay in your lane, dude. You stay out of my business, and I’ll stay out of yours.” I pushed him in his chest.
Antwan looked me over a little before looking into my face. He scoffed. “Well, fuck you, too, then. You want a part-time, fuck-your-friends-and-have-your-ass-babysitting-her-kids muthafucka, then do you, shawty. Y’all women kill me. Y’all diss the good niggas for drug-addicted, manipulative, bitch-ass niggas like that!”
Antwan was really pissed at me.
I broke down and cried, something I wasn’t even trying to do in front of someone who was basically a stranger.
Antwan could care less at that point that I was crying. “I was just trying to show you the difference between a nigga like him and a nigga like me. I’m here with you tonight when I could be out there with all these bitches!” Antwan took his phone out of his pocket, showing me all his notifications, texts, inbox messages, missed calls, and voicemail messages.
I looked into his face, drying my face as his phone started vibrating again. I looked down at the display, the initials “QF3” flashing across the display.
Antwan looked at his display and then back into my face. “‘Quick Fuck #3’. I don’t even know shawty’s name. All I know is she calls me whenever her man is out of town or whenever she wants to pop a couple bottles with me and my niggas. Shit, QF2 is gonna call in about fifteen minutes.” His phone vibrated again. He looked at the display. “Oh, here goes HG4. Head Game #4. Haven’t heard from her in a minute.” He opened up the text that she sent. “‘Hey, boo. I’m in town. Hit me back. Can’t wait to suck your dick.’ Oh, and she attached a picture of her suckin’ her nigga’s dick. You wanna see.”
Oh, Antwan pissed me the fuck off. I didn’t even know why I was so mad. He could have been with anyone that he wanted, but he was there with me. And all I could think about was the look on my parents’ face when they saw Sean slide that expensive ass diamond ring onto my finger.
Before Antwan could show me the picture that one of his jump offs sent to him, I slung that fuckin’ iPhone into the pool. Antwan looked at me like I was crazy.
“Go get it,” he scoffed.
“Hell nah, nigga.” I rolled my neck and folded my arms.
My phone rung in my pocket.
Antwan looked into my face before grabbing my body to his by my hips.
I gasped as this fool dug through my pockets for my old beat up ass Samsung Galaxy with the cracked screen. I tried to snatch the phone from him as he looked at the display.
“It’s ya nigga. Want me to answer it, telling him you’ve got a dick in you? I bet the nigga will straighten up then.” Antwan acted like he was about to press ‘talk’ on the phone.
“Antwan, you better not!” I squealed just as he tossed the phone over my head and into the pool.
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I pushed Antwan in his chest. “Antwan! I’ve had that phone for four fuckin’ years! That was my brother’s phone! Go get it! I’m sorry that I threw your phone in there, but please, get my brother’s phone!” I turned around, eyes searching the water for the phone. I was damn near on my tiptoes. And just when I spotted the phone, I lost my balance.
Antwan caught me but lost his balance, too, and there we were, in that cold-ass swimming pool. I came up for air, pushing my bushy hair from my face. I squealed, swiping the water from my face. Antwan didn’t come up for air with me. There he was, swimming to the bottom of the pool for both of our phones. I grabbed his hat that was floating in the water. Then, I watched as Antwan swam his way back up to me. He swiped the water from his face. Do you know that muthafucka’s phone was still vibrating off the hook? Meanwhile, my phone’s screen was black, casing full of water. I snatched the phone from him before swimming the short distance back to the edge of the pool.
“You’re welcome.” Antwan laughed a little, swimming behind me.
Antwan helped me out of the pool before climbing out behind me.
I squealed as the wind blew through my wet clothes. “I could kill you, Antwan!” I shivered before Antwan surrounded me in his arms. I swear on my life, I’d never gotten a hug so tight, so strong, so embracing. I sighed, heart trembling in my chest. “Oh my goodness,” I muttered to myself, wrapping my arms around him too. “As wet as we both are, this feels so fuckin’ good.”
Antwan laughed, heart beating against mine. “Let’s go change, shawty.”
So, of course my dumb ass didn’t stay the night with Antwan. We went inside and got out of those wet clothes. Of course, I had to wear something from his closet. T-shirt, tank top, boxers, socks, sweats, and Nike sandals.
Antwan laughed at me as I dried my hair with a towel, coming out of his bathroom.
“I look like a hood nigga for real in these baggy clothes, Antwan.” I rolled my eyes at him, eying my phone drying out on his bookshelf as I passed it in the hallway.
The LyricsTo His Song Page 11
