“Oh shit, aight.”
“Have a seat.” She chuckled. “So I have heard your work. You mainly produce for Tony Wacko’s artists.”
“Well, I’m his in-house producer.”
“Nice; that was smart for him to do that.” She smiled, and I just nodded. “You seem tense. Are you nervous?”
“Why the hell would I be nervous?”
“I don’t know, but you seem tightly wound, like you’re ready to go, and my artist hasn’t even gotten here.”
“Well I ain’t nervous. I just got a lot on my mind.”
“Fair enough. I just hope whatever you have on your mind won’t interfere with today’s work.”
“Not that type of person. Work comes before everything in my life, including my issues.”
Dallas nodded slowly with a half-smile. She was pretty… very pretty. Like that 90’s natural, no need for the extras pretty, even though she had on a full face of makeup and more designer than a little bit.
“That’s good, I guess, until you get married or something, then you’re gonna have to make some adjustments, Rahim.”
“You right about that.”
“So back to business before Cope arrives. We agreed on two songs, and once we receive the final masters, you will get the remaining fifty percent.”
“Nah, I need that fifty before I have it mixed and mastered.”
“What if we don’t like it—”
“Mixing is only making a few tweaks to the sounds, possible vocals, and other shit. We gon’ make sure he likes the song before I have that done. And mastering is basically making the song loud and clear in layman’s terms. Someone else on my team is doing that, and he gon’ need to be paid beforehand, meaning I need to be paid beforehand.”
“Okay, Mr. Cambridge, but the songs better be perfect.”
“It’s me; of course it will.”
We cheesed before chuckling, and then an awkward silence flooded the room.
Before I could say anything else, Cope walked in with too much damn energy. It wasn’t super early or super late either, but the lights in the studio were low, giving it a chill vibe that he was ruining.
I introduced myself to him, and to my surprise, homie was cool. We got right to work, and three hours later, we had one of the songs complete.
“So just shoot me your schedule, and I will let you know what day or days we can link up,” Dallas let me know as she walked me out.
“Oh, so you just run everything, huh?”
“Pretty much.” She pushed the door open for me to leave. “Have a good night, Rahim.”
I stood outside for a minute after thinking, and then took my ass to my car. Amara should’ve been off work by now, so I called her number just to gauge her attitude and let her know I was coming to visit pretty soon.
“Hello? Ahmira is sleeping.”
“I figured. How are you?”
“Fine, Rahim. Is something wrong?”
“Nah, nothing’s wrong unless you count this big ass divorce yo’ ass is trying to have.”
“Okay, and…? I’m tired, and I’ve been at work all day, so if there isn’t anything important you have to say, then I’m gonna go.”
“You hate me that much? You got that much animosity towards me?” I asked, wanting to prove that lawyer Jordan wrong for myself.
“No, I don’t hate you. I feel bad for you, and I no longer want to be married. Simple as that.”
I swear I felt my lungs stop working for a moment.
“I’m coming out there fairly soon. I booked my ticket already and a hotel, but I can cancel the hotel if—”
“No, keep it. You really don’t even need to come. Just agree to my terms, and we can part ways without having to travel.”
“Nah, I’m gonna come, and we gon’ talk this shit out and hit therapy. Then when we do that, we gon’ be back together. You think you about to just be with another nigga? Nah, not while I’m living.” I used a page out of Tony’s book. That shit worked on Camarih, so I ain’t have shit to lose.
Amara laughed, catching me off guard.
“I don’t know what acting class you’ve been taking, but get your money back because it’s not convincing. Don’t try to fight for me now; I’m over it. You should’ve tried that when it was clear I still had feelings for you. Do not come out here, Rahim; it’s a waste of money.”
She left me with the dial tone before I could say anything, making me toss my phone out of the window. After a few moments I got out to pick it up, but a nigga on a motorcycle had ran my shit over.
Saying fuck it, I got back in the car.
Whether Amara wanted me to come or not, I was going. Like I said, she wouldn’t feel this way once she saw me in person.
Rubie
I was dressed and ready for work, so I decided to take this time to check my iPhone. I had a new ritual where I couldn’t check my phone right when I woke up, especially social media. For some reason, it always started my day negatively, and I didn’t need any more of that shit hovering over me.
When I did I saw my lock screen was covered with Apple Wallet notifications. It was from all of my credit cards basically, with sky-high charges, and only a few mid-range.
Frantically opening my phone, I saw I had texts from my card issuers about going over my limit and all kinds of other shit.
After logging into all four of my card accounts, I saw over $8,000 had been spent across all of them, and by the purchases, I knew it was Armonn’s ass. I went straight to the phone app to dial his number, but it let me know it was no longer in service, reminding me I’d cut his shit off.
“Damnit!” I screamed, ready to cry.
That whole fiasco moments ago had taken longer than it was supposed to, so now I was damn near about to be late to work if I didn’t floor it.
I didn’t know what I was going to do about those charges, but I knew I couldn’t pay it. Hell, I wouldn’t pay it. Right when I got to work, I saw I had about ten minutes to spare, so I found Armonn’s Instagram to direct message him.
Me: Call me ASAP before I call the police!
Me: I know you stole my money!
I couldn’t really wait any longer, so I went up into the building to make sure I got to Mark before the time I was supposed to be starting work.
“Make me a latte,” he said as soon as I entered his office.
“Good morning, and sure. Is there something you want me to get started on?”
“Yeah, my damn latte.” He glanced up from the paperwork he was looking over before focusing back down on it.
Nodding, even though I wanted to slap him, I left to use his espresso machine. I came back to him as quickly as possible, setting it down on his desk.
“There you go. So what’s on the agenda?”
“Have a seat. I wanna talk to you.” He put the papers away.
I took a moment but then eventually rounded his desk to sit on the couch in his large office.
“Is everything okay?”
“Who introduced Angel to Tony Wacko?” Mark leaned back in his chair, eyeing me suspiciously after sipping the coffee drink.
“She umm… he’s pretty known around Los Angeles and—”
“So it just so happens that you ask for him to be invited to my event and now she’s working with him?”
“She is? I had no idea she was.” I was being honest. Last I heard, he wasn’t interested, so how was she now working with him?
“Sure you didn’t. Miss Bailey, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to continue to work for me. You’ve shown me nothing other than the fact that you’re incompetent. You put together an event that did nothing but waste my time, money, and ruin my reputation. So—”
“Mark, no, please. I really need this job. I am going through some financial issues, and I really can’t—”
“And I don’t care, Miss Bailey. I was willing to work with you, even after wasting thousands of my dollars, but now that I know you’re smuggling my artists and passing them
off to the competition? We—”
“Tony is a label! You can still manage Angel while she’s signed to him!”
“No I cannot! She already let me know if I tried to contact her again, he would whoop my ass.”
I was about to speak, but I was too bewildered. I knew Tony’s ass was crazy, but the only woman I imagined him fighting over was Camarih and maybe his sister, which I knew he loved.
He didn’t even wanna call Angel by her name, yet now he was fighting over her? Something was not right. I wanted to hit up Camarih, but if what Mark was saying was true, I was not trying to be in the middle of their relationship, fucking shit up. Plus, Tony was crazy over Camarih, and I wouldn’t put it past him to shoot someone who decided to break them up.
“I’m so sorry! What if I talk to her for you?” I got up, walking over to him.
Yes, it was my idea to hook Angel with Tony, but I didn’t think I’d lose my damn job over it. I was broke with this job, so I shuddered at the thought of not having it at all.
“Or.” He yanked me closer. “You can apologize to me.”
“I did already.”
“In my way.” He brought me down into his lap.
“Mark…”
He began kissing on my neck, and for a little bit, I told myself this was nothing and how much I needed this job. But feeling his hand go up my skirt snapped me out of it.
“Rubie, you know—”
“No, stop.” I shot up from his lap, backing away so quickly that I almost fell out of my shoe.
“What are you doing?”
“I can’t do this. I don’t do this. Let me work extra hours or—”
“No. Either you do what I have suggested, or you pack up your damn desk and get out.”
“Mark—”
“Only two choices, Miss Bailey.” He raised his brows while shrugging as I felt tears run down my cheeks.
I’d been working for Mark long enough to know when he was in a mood and had his mind made up. Either I was gonna have to fuck him or take this damn pink slip.
“I guess I will be reporting you,” I said to scare him as I stormed to the door like an upset toddler.
“Great, and I will sue you for embezzling my artist. You’ll have to pay me for all the gigs I had booked for Angel that she canceled on.”
“You never even booked her. That was the problem.”
“And how would anyone know that? I have plenty of emails with job offers for her. All it takes is a reply saying the artist is no longer under my management, and that’s proof I lost a check because of you, Miss Bailey.”
“You’re a snake, and I can’t wait until you get your karma.” I left out.
I hurried to my office and angrily shoved my things into a box. I tried not to cry so that I could continue to appear strong, but my emotions had taken over me.
I was a good person, yet horrible thing after horrible thing continued to happen to me. I was broke, had no job, was in possibly $8,000 worth of credit card debt, and my ex-boyfriend, whom I still had feelings for, was bringing a baby into this world with his ex.
I took my things down to my car and decided to phone Angel since I was still a bit perplexed. I would’ve asked her to meet for lunch, but a bitch was on a tighter budget than ever.
“Hey, girl!”
“Hey, Angel. How are you?”
“I’m great. You?”
“Hmm, I’ve had better days. Hey, so, when did you sign with Tony?”
“Pretty recently.” Her tone was much calmer now, sounding like she was lying.
“Oh… okay. Mark is the one who told me about it. He fired me because of it.”
“Oh no! I am sorry, girl. I wouldn’t have said anything, but he kept bothering me to come down to his office and meet with him.”
“I get it. That probably wasn’t the best job for me anyway. But I was calling because you told him Tony would beat him up if he tried talking to you?” I was frowning in my rearview mirror as I flicked something from my perfect brow.
“Yes, and you already know how Tony is. He is off.” She laughed flirtatiously.
“Yeah, he is… I just… I don’t know. I found that to be odd.”
“What?”
“That he would be threatening to fight over you like you’re his woman.”
“I’m his artist, and we’re cool. He just wants to protect me, Rubie, and I really appreciate it. It’s good to have a man ready to fuck a nigga up for even talking to you.” Again, she was speaking in the tone of giddy schoolgirl with a crush. `
“Right, yeah, I understand. Just remember, he is not your man. He’s Camarih’s.”
“I don’t need anyone to tell me that. Thank you.”
Click.
I sat in my car for a damn hour, just pondering and making notes until finally deciding on something.
I drove straight over to Bailey Furniture headquarters to see my dad. It was pretty easy getting up since everyone surprisingly remembered me.
“He will see you now.” His assistant smiled at me.
I took a deep breath before going back to his office. I was sure he knew why I was here because I only phoned or visited him for money. It wasn’t because I didn’t love him, but every time I saw him, he ridiculed me for being with Armonn, so I stopped trying to reach out unless needed. Today was no different.
“How much is it this time, Rubie?” my father asked as soon as I shut the door.
His strong cologne that he’d worn, since I was in grade school, had taken over the room.
My father was still as handsome as he was from back then too, with a few specks of gray in his beard and hair. He was fit as well and standing at six feet even. Women always drooled when my father walked by, but he never found interest in them. My mama had done a number on him, and although it was romantic, I wondered if he got lonely at times.
“Hi, Daddy, how are you?” I sat down.
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“I’ve been better, that’s for sure. I lost my job.”
“Was it because of that little boy?”
“No, it was because I basically hooked up one of my boss’s artists with a label.”
“Isn’t that the goal?” My father furrowed his thick and bushy brows.
“Yes.” I chuckled. “But it’s who owns the label that makes this a problem. His name is Tony Wacko.”
“Oh, I think I’ve heard of him.”
“No you have not, Daddy.” I smiled, and so did he. Wow, I hadn’t seen that on him years.
“Hey, I’m hip too. You would know that if you came around more.”
“Yeah, and I want to apologize. You were right about Armonn all along. I want you to know that I truly felt he loved me, Daddy, and that he was just having a hard time. I didn’t want to leave him when he was good to me. But I realized he wasn’t good to me. He was nice and offered the bare minimum, which is what all men should at the least offer.
But because I’d dated so many men who didn’t have the basics down, I thought what Armonn did was rare and special.” I shrugged.
“I know, honey.” He got up and walked around his desk to sit down with me. “If anybody wants you to find love, it’s me, but I’m a man, and I know how we get down. We’re not depending heavily financially on a woman we love and care about. We’ll sign up for slavery before we do that; too much pride.”
“Yeah, I heard that before, but the source was a fool, so I didn’t take it too seriously.”
My father chuckled subtly.
“So it’s over?” He rubbed my back.
“Yes. He ran up my credit cards though, and I have to report it, which is a long process. And now I have no job. I was thinking of working for Tony Wacko, but I don’t know; he’s not all there.”
Smirking a little bit, my dad replied, “That’s okay, as long as he handles business and you know the job would be lucrative for you, he can be crazy.” He sighed then added, “Just don’t marry him.”
“Oh, I won’t! He’s my
friend’s man. He’s nice to her, in his own way. I admit they’re cute together. He’s off, but then he turns to a teddy bear for her in seconds.”
“Oh yeah, he crazy.”
My father and I laughed then talked for a little longer before he left work early to take me to dinner. He did write me a check for $5,000 and said he would take care of the credit card fraud for me so I could focus on building my portfolio for Tony Wacko.
I was stressed earlier about losing my job, but taking some time off would surely be beneficial for me. Also, I had forgotten how good it felt to have my daddy in my life.
Tony Wacko
As soon as I finished getting dressed, I heard my son crying through the monitor. It was like the little nigga waited until he knew somebody was up and moving a-fucking-round to start hollering and shit.
Quickly grabbing the monitor, I shoved it down into the pocket of my sweats so it wouldn’t wake up Camarih. I wanted to be sure my girl got her rest and shit, so she could have the energy to handle her business, relax, or do whatever the fuck she wanted to do. In addition to that shit, I actually liked chilling with Baby Cuz. He was like a little ass homie with my DNA, mixed with the woman’s I loved.
“What you in here crying and shit for?” I peered over into his crib, and he stopped immediately, slightly moving his feet. “You picking up weight, ain’t you, little nigga?” I scooped him up. “It’s cool though. Hoes like fat niggas too. You gon’ have all the bitches rubbing yo’ belly, huh?” I kissed his chubby face.
I’d just met this little muthafucka a month ago, and I already loved his ass. I assumed having a son, I would be tough with him, but I couldn’t do the shit. Nigga was too cute; I kept that shit to myself though, most times.
All he did was spend my fucking money, sleep, eat, and shit on himself, yet for some fucking reason, he was like a damn gift. I stayed thinking about his ass when I was working and shit.
After I gave him a bath in his little ass tub, I put him in his t-shirt shit that snapped over his diaper. It was custom made with his nickname on it, Baby Cuz, with the blue rag design on the edges. Shit was dope as fuck.
She Gave Her All to the Hood’s Finest 3 Page 13
