I cut his microphone off because I didn’t need to hear anything else.
“Watch out, Yo.” I lifted her from my lap and climbed to my feet.
Dashawn chuckled and Rome flew up just in time to block the door to the booth before I threw it open.
Rome pleaded his case. “Come on, man. We’ve been at this song for days. He’s irritated. That’s it.”
“You want me to go across yo’ jaw instead?” I asked but he didn’t get a chance to answer before the door opened behind him.
I reached right over Rome’s head and grabbed Merch, lifting his lil ass clean off his feet.
“Bitch, are you out of yo’ mind talking to me crazy?” I shook his lil stupid ass side to side, Rome still wedged between the two of us.
“Come on, Drix.” Rome pushed me. “He didn’t mean it.”
I dropped Merch just long enough to nudge Rome out of the way and sent my arm right into Merch’s throat, pushing him into the door so hard I was going to have to pay to get a hole patched. Merch gasped and I glared down at him.
“The only reason I’m not stomping on yo’ windpipe right now is because my brother needs you to tour, but bitch, don’t ever in your life interrupt what the fuck me and my wife got going on.” I dug my arm into him harder and both of his hands reached up to dig his nails into my skin. I lifted his ass a little by his throat and watched his eyes widen. “Make this your first and last time thinking you can talk back to me while I’m doing your simple ass a favor.” I pulled my arm back and he crumpled against the door. “Now make that ten a thirty and get me something to eat.”
Merch put his hand to his throat as he gasped and Rome tried to help him to his feet.
Dashawn was folded in half laughing. Alan just shook his head.
I walked back to my seat and collapsed. Myome stood in front of the soundboard just looking at Merch as he climbed up. I put my hands back on her hips.
“Come on. Let’s get you a tea,” Rome offered.
Merch nodded. He briefly looked over at me then faced forward again and we all watched them exit.
“You did not have to yoke that grown man up like that.” Dashawn snickered.
“How is he going to complain about not being done with a song that we could have been done with two days ago if the mothafucka could carry a tune and sang the lyrics like he was supposed to.” I shook my head and looked back at Myome. “Now, back to you.” I licked my lips as I looked at her. “What’s going to make you feel better?”
“If you call Monica and invite her over so I can swing on her.” Myome smiled and batted her eyelashes at me.
I chuckled.
“As much as I’d love to set her up and watch you knock her head into the soundboard, I know you’d regret that shit, Yo.”
“Are you sure? Because it doesn’t feel like it,” she admitted.
She held my face in one hand and her thumb traced my tattoo of her name.
“Have I ever played about you since we got married?”
Myome’s eyes drifted down to mine. She exhaled and shook her head.
“No.”
“Exactly. I’ll take care of it.” I smacked her ass. “Don’t worry about it.”
Dashawn didn’t just sell work. He also repped a set who put loyalty above anything else. It would be easy for him to recruit one of the girls to slap fire from Monica’s ass, so honestly I wasn’t stressed about any of this. If Monica getting beat up would make Myome feel better, cool. That was an easy fix.
“And you’re going to take care of it?” she asked.
“Mhm.” I turned her around and lowered her back to my knee. “What did you eat today?”
“Nothing for lunch yet.”