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Arm Candy

Page 24

by T. C. Littles

Ring, ring, ring!

  Of course, it wasn’t Samira calling back. She was too busy feeling herself and trying to prove a point. It was the DJ from the radio station I’d connected with, Beats. I threw my game voice on and was ready to talk business.

  “Yo, Beats! I hope the tracks been spinning and shooting up the charts.”

  “Oh, fa’sho. That’s part of the reason why I’m hitting you up right now. Is this a good time to chop it up?”

  “Never better. What’s the word, my manz?”

  “Ya boy Johnie came down here the other day and spat an interview out. The lines were off the hook, he was cool with the callers, and even dropped a few dope verses live over the air that hyped up the mixtapes you dropped off for spins. I thought shit was cool until I got a track this morning in my email from him. Dude, I ain’t trying to be on no messy-chick shit, but are y’all still making money moves together or nah? That cat seems to be spazzing.”

  Infuriation was an understatement to describe how I felt. This rat bastard was gonna keep coming for me until I gunned for him. If he wanted the thuggish nigga to come creeping back outta me, then so be it. I might’ve cleaned up well for the sake of my career, but I was still bred to go hard like a beast. Samira came along with money and softened a nigga up. Caught up in the moment, I replied to the DJ with too much emotion.

  “To keep it one hundred with you, me and that bitch-made nigga got into a scrap session last night at the studio. I’m done putting his ass on. Matter of fact, do me a solid and pull those songs off rotation. I’ll be through there by the end of the week. I’ve got some new things in motion.”

  “Whoa, K.P., I know you’re heated about whatever beef you and ol’ boy got going on. However, you can’t expect me to step in the middle of that shit when it’s money on the line. If I get the request, I’ve gotta make the play. Ya boy has already struck his first move so he can easily take that song to another station. Then I’m fucked on ratings. C’mon, man, you already know the rules.” Beats was being honest. “The most I can do is send you the link so you can be prepared with a comeback.”

  Ol’ boy was right. He had me feeling like a punk on multiple levels, and truth be told, I deserved it. As a man, I couldn’t ask him to do something I wouldn’t do. For all I knew, he could’ve had mouths to feed too. Yet even if he didn’t, it wasn’t my place to count the dollars in his pocket. He’d already done enough by putting me up on Johnie’s snake move. Not wanting my reputation smeared any further, I fell back.

  “My bad. Let me play my position, ’cause you’re right. This shit ain’t got nothing to do with you, but good lookin’ on sending that track. I’ve gotta dead this shit quick, fast, and in a hurry before it causes a problem with my career.”

  “As long as you know it ain’t personal, we’re cool.”

  “I’m out my feelings, bro. Me and you are good fa’sho. Please believe I’ll be getting at you before the week is over.”

  “A’ight, you know how to find me.”

  The call ended, but my tension didn’t let up. It was really fucking me up that this nigga Johnie was trying to clown me like Meek. He wasn’t about to body me with his wannabe-Drake-singing ass.

  * * *

  The hotel room was dark, quiet, and still. No wonder Samira felt so comfortable talking reckless after pulling that stunt with our accounts. Her suddenly sneaky ass wasn’t even here. Flicking on the light, I threw my keys across the room in anger. She’d gone mad wild, tearing up shit in here.

  “Oh, bitch, you’re done,” I yelled out in madness.

  Pacing throughout the room, I continuously called Samira’s phone back-to-back, but it kept going to voicemail. It might’ve not been her in the flesh, but the sound of her voice during the greeting made the hair on the back of my neck stand tall. I never thought I could hate Samira as much as I did right now. Fucking my boy was a cold, harsh move. Yet fucking with my money was unforgivable. As far as I was concerned, she’d taken revenge to the next level and was trying to take me under.

  All the stuff I’d gotten her from the mall yesterday was gone, my clothes and shoes were cut up and tossed around the room, and everything of fabric material within the hotel was shredded as well. Samira had done more than proved her point. She had a nigga listening and at attention fa’sho. My thoughts weren’t in her favor, though.

  The one trigger that kept popping off in my mind was her banging my boy. She was probably getting down with that nigga and laughing in my face with his ass at this very moment for pulling the wool over my eyes. It was just too damn convenient that my fist pounded into his face yesterday and now Samira was going against the grain once again. If she thought she was gonna start putting Johnie on, especially with my money, I was gonna put my hands on her too. All rules were off.

  This time when her voicemail kicked on, I left a vulgar message so she’d know where I was coming from. “Where in the fuck are you at that you can’t have your phone on? I’m back at the room and found your little surprise, Mira. You’re foul as fuck. I should’ve expected that since you let Johnie bust it wide open with your trifling ass. Get at me when you spit that nigga’s nut sac out ya mouth. Please believe I got something for you, on behalf of my li’l one. Yeah, whatever. I ain’t worried about you or that bastard. I’ll be waiting on your comeback. Peace.”

  The End

 

 

 


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