That shit sounded amazing the first time I heard it, no rerecording necessary. Charm and Myome spoke to each other back and forth, asking me to adjust and add things and take others out. The song sounded almost ready for release by the time Retta wandered in, a bag on her shoulder and shades over her eyes.
I didn’t even look back at her.
“About fucking time,” I grunted and pressed the speaker. “Retta is here,” I announced.
Charm looked over at Myome who pursed her lips and rolled her eyes.
“Okay. Punch me in on that last chorus again so we can adlib it and we’ll be done,” Myome said.
“I wasn’t rushing you.”
“I know.”
I set her up, and when she finished, she and Charm sauntered out of the booth.
“About fucking time,” Myome snapped as soon as she was out.
I snickered a lil bit at the fact we’d had the same reaction to her arrival.
“I told you I wasn’t feeling well!” Retta snapped.
“Wasn’t feeling well or got fucked up last night and slept through your alarms?” Charm asked.
“See! This is the shit I be talking about. Y’all are always ganging up on me!”
“Imagine accountability feeling like an attack.” Myome sucked her teeth.
“You’re the last one who needs to say anything about being accountable or getting fucked up when you just got so high youblacked out, got married, and didn’t give a fuck about the group or the optics when we’re coming up on an album release.”
“What album release if there’s not a fucking album to release?” Myome snapped. “The fuck you want us to release when you can’t show up to the studio?”
“Okay. Y’all, let’s not argue,” Charm offered.
“Nah. This bitch ain’t about to play the victim when she’s wrong in this instance,” Myome argued. “Retta, you’re wrong and I didn’t even bring up you being fucked up. Charm did, so address those issues with her and not me, especially when you gon’ want my nigga to share that weak ass shit you wrote when the album drops.”
“Your fake nigga,” Retta corrected.
“Oh.” Myome held her hand up to her face, showing off her new ring. “Looks real enough to me, just like that boost in numbers and sales, bitch. You’re welcome. At least when I’m drugged up, I bring something to the team instead of a sore throat and wet ass.”
“This how girl groups get down behind the scenes?” I asked genuinely.
I couldn’t believe these women were in a group together. Shit. I’d never heard Rome and Merch go at each other this hard. I didn’t think I’d even heard them argue before.
“Not all the time,” Charm said quickly.
“But enough of the time,” Retta snipped.
“Well either way I’m not here to referee. I’m here to produce.” I lifted my hands in mock surrender. “Get in the booth.” I nudged my head toward the door.
“Ain’t nobody?—”
“Bitch.” I cut Retta off. “Get in the fucking booth. You’ve already been wasting time yo’ label can’t afford. Don’t piss me off.”
Retta glared at me and I turned back to the soundboard to set her up to record. She knew better than to talk to me the way she’d spoken to Charm and Myome. Despite how they argued, they’d been in a group together for a lil minute; so maybe that was how they got down. But we weren’t cool like that and my reputation preceded me. Even though I didn’t actually beat women, I had a bad rep from that headlock I’d given Niecy and that stupid arrest with Monica. Retta was a lot of shit but she wasn’t stupid. I didn’t take her for the type of woman to try to push her weight around on a man with a rep like mine.
There was silence for a beat but ultimately Retta went into the booth and slammed the door.
“You better lay this shit right since you ain’t feel like you need to warm up or nothing,” I said simply.