“Your hips, your thighs, your lips got me feeling like this. Ooohh, I can’t get enough; you got me feeling you when our lips touch.” Queen sung the lyrics to the hook, along with the band.
I bobbed my head, standing up against the wall, reading over the lyrics. It was about 8:30. Elle swung backstage, bringing me a change of clothes. She brought me a pair of tight black pants and a lace fitted shirt to wear, with a pair of patent leather Red Bottoms. I hated wearing heels, but since I was going to be sitting on a stool, in the background with Queen, then it was all good. My heart beat out of control as Elle brushed my hair up into a ponytail, and Mariah redid my makeup.
“Girl, this tour is about to be off the chain!” Mariah spoke softly as the band practiced. “We go on tour in a week, girl. Shit, next Saturday to be exact.” She shook her head. “Apollo’s album drops next week too. He’s going on tour with us. So much for rehab, you already know Sean is going on tour with them. The nigga is always making promises to you that he can’t keep.”
I sighed.
“And aren’t y’all supposed to be in the studio putting together Antwan’s new album? They’re working the shit out’cha ass. Shit, other than the paycheck, it feels like we never left Foot Locker!” Mariah rolled her eyes, thinking of all the shit we put up with back at Foot Locker.
I watched as Antwan rapped his verse, facing his band, bopping his head, and swaying to his music. I always loved to see Antwan perform, whether it was live or on television. He put everything he had into his raps. The lyrics weren’t always my favorite, but his delivery was on point. This song wasn’t so bad, since it was about me. My nerves were on edge once it was time to take the stage. My girls wished me luck as we passed them and went on stage. I sat alongside Queen on a stool a few feet behind Antwan. Queen grinned at me, her bright red lips juicy as hell. She winked her eye at me before looking out at the crowd of people.
The place was lit like a muthafucka. Antwan performed at his brother’s club every weekend that he was in town to help his brother generate more business. Apollo was new on the rap scene and needed his brother’s fan base to help boost his. Apollo was known in the streets, but Antwan was known worldwide. You would have thought there would have been jealousy or at least envy between the two, but their relationship couldn’t have been further from hate. They fed off each other’s energy. I saw evidence of that when I walked in on them in the studio that day. Nevertheless, Apollo kept Antwan in trouble, which made me question whether or not the fame was really what Apollo wanted.
“Look at ya nigga.” Queen nudged my shoulder, whispering in my ear.
I looked in the direction that she nodded her head in, seeing Sean sitting at a booth to the right of the stage, my sister and a few other dancers sitting in the booth with him. I sighed as Antwan looked back over his shoulder at me. The crowd was hype, waiting for Antwan to open his mouth and spit something a cappella, as he often did before the beat dropped.
“Aye, yo, you already know my twin, Antwan, is about to spit fire, so just sit back, relax, get high, and enjoy the ride!” Apollo hyped the crowd up even more, announcing his brother’s presence over the microphone.
Apollo stood at the bar with a group of his boys from The Village. Despite the events that occurred that day, neither brother looked fazed. I, on the other hand, was anxious as hell. I just knew something crazy was going to happen. I sensed it the moment that I saw the police questioning Antwan backstage. I eyed Apollo, who wasn’t dressed in purple that afternoon, but light blue from head to toe. I wasn’t into that thug life, but I’d been around Sean and his homies enough to know that the street crews always changed their crew colors the day they knew some shit was about to pop off. That was in case the police showed up to wherever the chaos broke out; the street crews wanted to confuse the police, so they wouldn’t immediately know which street crew was responsible for the street war.
I watched Antwan turn his white baseball cap, which looked neon blue under the white lights of the club, to the side. He placed his mic to his lips. “Now, tell me what nigga don’t want a girl he can call his own? A girl whose touch will make you feel at home. Just when you thought no one understood what you need, this girl enters your life, has your heart racing at full stampede. In a perfect world, she’d already be mine. But I’ma get my shit together; yeah, perfection takes some time…”
Antwan looked over his shoulder and winked at me as the crowd whistled and squealed.
I swallowed hard as Queen nudged me. I looked over my shoulder at Elle and Mariah, who stood backstage, giving me a thumbs up like some damn fools. Then, I looked to the right of the stage where Sean was sitting, looking pissed as a muthafucka, shaking his head at me as the beat dropped.
“Yo,” Antwan laughed, “fuck this ballad shit. Let’s get down to muthafuckin’ business. Let me tell you what happened to your boy last night. Shawty had a nigga feeling so good, high as a muthafuckin’ kite. We started kissing and touching; this girl is such a flirt. She told me to be gentle, then she pulled up her skirt. She spread the legs for me, said it’s yours if you want it. Told me she ain’t been drilled in a minute, so when you dive in, nigga, don’t kill it. Told me to take the pussy, so I slid my dick up in it. Shawty gobbled the dick, rode the skin off the dick. That shit was so good, something a nigga will never forget. Oh, before I left her, I said, ‘shawty, you got a man?’ She said, ‘Don’t you see his picture on my nightstand?’ I laughed when I looked at the picture; said, ‘Oh you’re Sean's girl? I knew you looked familiar.’”
My eyes widened.
The band laughed, still playing along with the lyrics that were so not the lyrics that we rehearsed just a few hours earlier backstage. Antwan had the whole crowd going crazy, wondering if this dude was rapping lyrics that were true. A few days earlier, no one knew that I was Sean’s girl, but he made the announcement loud and clear over the airways the day before that I, Audrey Shanay Gibson, was his fiancée. And right in front of a crowd of at least five hundred people, Antwan let it be known that, even though his song may have over exaggerated our encounter the night before, there was a flirtatious encounter. And you already know, as soon as the dude started rapping, people already had their cell phones held high, recording the show.
“Oh, boy,” Queen muttered to herself before she stood from the stool, sliding it to the side with her Monolo’s. She took over the song, singing the hook to Your Lips, the song that we were supposed to be performing.
I sighed, standing alongside her, pushing my stool to the side as well, singing along with her. Antwan’s ass was bold as a muthafucka. He was already in enough shit and really didn’t give a fuck if he was about to be in some more. Sean may have not showed me much attention when he thought no one else was interested, but when anyone else showed interest in getting to know me, it was straight war with him. But for whatever reason, Sean remained calm that night. He slouched back in his chair, chrome fronts gleaming, not the least bit fazed by Antwan’s insinuations. And that shit made me really nervous. Sean, calm? Never.
In seconds, right in the middle of Antwan’s first verse, a group of unfamiliar faces strolled into the club, dressed in all black attire, red and black plaid bandanas covering their mouths. Murk was in the building. The signature bandanas gave them away. They came from all directions of the club, scattering like ants, moving quickly across the club floor, removing their bandanas after their presence was made known.
“Aye, yo, Apollo!” This dark skinned tall guy shouted as he pulled his bandana from his face.
Everything happened so fast. Before Apollo’s crew could react, bullets started spraying everywhere. The crowd scattered, trampling over one another to get out of the club. I caught a glimpse of Sean getting my sister and her girls out of harm’s way before firing back. Queen tried her best to pull me along with her, so we could escape backstage with the rest of the band, but my feet were planted on the ground. I watched as Antwan and his band members fired back at the niggas who were shooting up the
place. Drizzle’s crazy ass had an AK-47, firing on those muthafuckas. The crew always kept weapons on stage, tucked behind their equipment.
“Audrey!” Mariah screamed at me from backstage.
I watched as Apollo fired shots back at the crew, who apparently had come to take him out. And I watched as Apollo was shot, right between the eyes. As soon as Apollo was shot, Antwan was shot in his side. Regardless, Antwan kept on firing until his gun was empty. He pulled out the gun that was tucked in the back of his pants, firing back, backing up, making his way to me, grabbing ahold of me, getting me backstage and out of harm’s way.
“What the fuck, shawty?” Antwan screamed, his chest heaving in and out.
My eyes widened as I looked at the blood gushing out of the wound in his side. “Antwan, you’ve been shot!”
“Get out of here! Go!” Antwan pushed me, trying to get me to leave out the back door with the rest of the crew.
“No!” I screamed. “You have to get to the hospital!”
“Nah!” Antwan’s eyes were getting heavy, but he refused to give into the pain and fatigue of losing all that blood. “I’m not leaving my brother!”
“Homie, he’s already gone.” Antwan’s friend, Trap, hated to tell Antwan, but someone had to.
Antwan yelled out as Trap and Drizzle grabbed their friend, trying to get him to leave out the back door with the rest of us. I think it took about five people to get Antwan out that door; he was fighting with everything he had to stay.
I sat in the backseat of Trap’s Cadillac, listening to everyone going off, frustrated, mad that they weren’t prepared for what happened that night. They should have known better. Apollo should have been prepared; he knew that killing A.J.’s son was going to lead to war as soon as word got out that Apollo had left McKaylah’s place that night. If the police didn’t get Apollo, A.J. Miller was going to find a way to get him.
Queen removed the scarf from around her head and handed it to me. Blood gushed through the spaces in my fingers as I applied pressure to Antwan's side.
“I’ma get them muthafuckas!” Antwan screamed as I pressed down on his side.
My heart stampeded in my chest as Trap raced down the highway on the way to the hospital. I hadn’t even known that boy a week. How the hell did I get caught up in Antwan's life?
We got Antwan to the hospital. Mariah went back to her crib to get Apollo’s girls to safety. She told me she was going to take the girls with her to Alexandria where her cousin, Tracie, lived. She would text me when she got there safety. Sean’s ass texted me, trying to make sure that I was okay. I rolled my eyes and ignored his text. By the time we’d gotten to the emergency room, Antwan was in and out of consciousness. The young hospital staff was so busy ogling over Antwan in the emergency room that they couldn’t even concentrate on the fact that the boy had been shot in his side.
Antwan stayed conscious long enough to get registered that night but passed out just before giving registration his birth date. We all watched as Antwan was rushed to surgery. He was bleeding pretty badly. Apparently, he was shot more than once in his side. We were all worried that the bullets might have hit a major artery or organ, but both went straight through. As soon as he was stitched up, we were able to see him. But he wasn't too ready to see us. As soon as he came to, he was throwing shit across the room. He was hurt, he was angry, he was pissed. He had to be sedated before we could go into his room.
The staff was still pretty thirsty once Antwan was bandaged and sedated, hooked up to a bag of O-negative blood and fluids to keep him hydrated. Antwan lay in the hospital bed, temples twitching, but calm.
“Look, bitch. Are you gonna take his blood pressure? Or you gonna drool all over the muthafucka?” Queen hissed at the technician in triage that night.
The little thirsty bitch wiped the drool from her pink lips as she began taking Antwan's blood pressure. “I'm so sorry. I'm just—I'm just a huge fan.” The technician looked Antwan's biceps over. She shook her head to herself at how fine that boy was.
I sighed. “Do you think he’ll be able to go back home tonight?” I asked, eying the expression on Antwan’s face. On second thought, nah, he didn’t need to go anywhere. He was sedated, but that boy was heated. He was going to act a got-damn fool as soon as he left that hospital.
“I think the doctors are going to keep him here for a while, at least until tomorrow. I think he had a bad reaction to the medication that was given to him while they were stitching him up.” The technician looked Antwan’s face over before taking out a thermometer to take his temperature. “Mr. Jared, can you open your mouth please?”
Antwan looked up at her, eyebrows lowering, connecting, forehead wrinkling. Antwan really didn’t feel like being bothered. And I was sure a room full of people, friends or not, was irritating his soul.
The technician sighed. “Well, we’re about to move him up to room 336 in about ten minute. We'll check his vitals then.”
Another technician entered the triage. “I think we need to move him like now. The lobby is filled with hundreds of people that found out that he was here! His bodyguards are standing by in the hallway, and hospital security is in the lobby, but you know how it got the last time that he was here!”
“Right.” The drooler agreed with her co-worker. “Call a transporter down.”
“Bodyguards?” Antwan's voice was weak. “Where were those muthafuckas when my brother got shot the fuck up?”
Drizzle and Trap looked at their friend.
“Antwan, about three of your bodyguards died trying to protect both you and your brother.” Drizzle hesitated to say. “They died doing their muthafuckin’ job; believe that, homie.”
Antwan looked at him, his eyes watering. “Body—” Antwan choked, unable to get the word out. “Who did they get?”
“Gavino, Roland, and Oscar.” Drizzle watched as Antwan went at it again, trying to snatch his IVs out. And there his friends were again, trying to calm him down.
Queen paced the floor that night in the lobby on the third floor.
“Well,” Sheena Turner, Antwan’s agent, stood in the doorway of the lobby, shaking her head, her brown skin glistening, “I’m glad Antwan is okay. I’m not trying to be greedy, but he has a lot of business ventures going on. This doesn’t look good for him. What company wants to invest in a man whose life is so chaotic? Trying to hook up another meeting with these people is going to be very difficult.”
Queen rolled her eyes. “This is the main reason why I never wanted to get involved with this industry bullshit. Y’all are always worrying about your own personal gain than worrying about a man who just lost his twin brother! I grew up with these two; they are the only brothers that I know! And you’re over here worried about my nigga getting involved in more contracts with more greedy muthafuckas! Please, get the fuck on, Sheena. I’ve had enough of you for one day. You already know that I can’t stand you! What happened back at that club is no different than what happens in this industry every day! You knew my brother was about to be owned by A.J. Miller, and you didn’t even tell him.” Queen shook her head at Sheena.
Sheena shook her head, grabbing her jacket and purse from the chair alongside the door. “When Antwan wakes up, tell him that I will be praying for him and his brother. I’ll call him in a few days. Tell him to stay out of trouble.”
Everyone shook their heads, knowing good and well Antwan’s ass didn’t know what staying out of trouble meant.
“Man, this shit isn’t gonna die down this easy.” Rhandy sat down in a seat across from me, popping open a bottle of Mountain Dew. “You already know ‘Twan is gonna roll out as soon as he gets the fuck up out this bitch... and I'm rollin’ with my nigga, too. Real talk, yo.”
“Nigga, you must’ve lost your mind. Apollo dumped McKaylah’s and Wale’s body in the dumpster outside of Relentless Records. The janitor caught Apollo ballin’ off out of the parking lot. Y’all already know A.J. sent these niggas after Apollo. And this nigga is about to take over I
nstinctive. He’s about to make Antwan's life hell!” Snare warned his friends before they decided to get froggy. “Nigga, you wanna get froggy with this muthafucka? Go ahead and jump out there like a dumb ass if you want to.”
“You already know ‘Twan isn’t gonna let this shit go, yo. I’m not about to let him face this shit alone! Hell nah! After all he’s done for us? Hell nah, nigga.” Drizzle was down to ride too. “Even little Lyric over here is down to ride with this nigga. You see she didn't leave him. I’m sure Antwan noticed her dedication too. He’s pissed right now, but he sees you, shawty.”
Everyone looked at me, nodding in agreement.
I exhaled deeply, looking down at my new iPhone as it vibrated. I’d received the, “We made it to cuzzo’s place. The girls are safe, fed, and took a bath, boo. Oh, and I’ve got Steel’s badass with me. If he pees on my couch, you bought it, bruh” text from Mariah. I was a little relieved.
“Hush! LOL Thanks, love. I’ll call you soon. Antwan is resting.” I texted back with a smooch emoji.
The doctor entered the lobby.
We all stood from the chair.
“Antwan is fine. He’s responding very well to the blood that we’re giving him. He asked me to tell you all to go home. He doesn’t feel like company right now.” Doctor Tabu knew we all hated to hear that he wanted us to leave.
The LyricsTo His Song Page 16
