“We haven’t committed to a divorce. That’s all there is to say.” I took a bite of my food.
“So y’all fucking?”
“You want me to beat yo’ ass?” I asked seriously, dropping my fork.
“That means yes.”
“That means worry more about yo’ bitch ass homeboy’s trash ass verse you sent me and less about what me and my wife got going on in our marital bed.”
“You couldn’t wait to get a fucking wife.” Rome laughed hard as hell. “You’ve been ‘my wife, my wife’-ing a mothafucka to death ever since, B.”
I couldn’t stop a smile from crossing my face while I chuckled.
“Shut up, bitch. How about that?”
Rome laughed harder and I joined him, despite not wanting to, and shook my head.
“That man in love. Damn.”
“Chill out. Nobody is in love. We’re just… dating.” I shrugged and picked my fork back up. “But I like her. I can admit that. I’m feeling her and I like knowing she’s wearing my ring and is going to be wearing our last name. It’s… reassuring,” I said. “Like I know we’re locked in.”
“And you actually want to be locked in with her?”
“Yeah. I mean, you’ve met her. She’s cool people. She’s smart and talented and driven and she might like me to share a lil post or shit for promo, but I know for a fact she’s not a gold digger. She checks a lot of my boxes, man.”
“I feel you. I’m happy for you, bro.”
“Thank you.” I took another bite of food and Rome and I drifted into another conversation, discussing what we had planned for our days.
Once we finished eating, I headed upstairs to change while Rome cleaned the kitchen.
By the time I was done taking care of my hygiene and dressed for the day, Dashawn had made it over. Chandler, Pops and I were going with Rome to a meeting for a music streaming service that wanted to work with him. In the meantime, Dashawn was going to house sit while the construction people I’d hired for my in-house studio worked.
Rome and I headed straight to the meeting spot and just chopped it up until Pops and Chandler arrived.
Rome ended up not signing anything and we split up, with Chandler and Rome hopping into Chandler’s whip so they could run press before Rome’s album came out and Pops hopping in my car.
I’d gotten a lot of offers in the last year or so for collaboration, but only a few had interested me, and only one had me ready to sign on a dotted line, a popular headphone line. I planned on working with them to design shit that would do what I needed it to do in the booth and outside.
It had been the first collaboration I’d pitched to Chandler myself and of course she’d given her stamp of approval. Now, we needed to talk about money and numbers. That meant Pops was on the front line. While Chandler did everything face to face with the public, Pops did everything behind the scenes that dealt with money and contracts. We were going to finalize our cut and hopefully have me signing on the dotted line today.
I sat back throughout the meeting, just listening to them go back and forth. Eventually my pops was able to talk them up from twenty-five percent to forty by promising I’d handle the marketing. Understandable, because while I’d be designing and marketing the product, they’d be footing the bill for everything I needed as well as producing and doing everything customer-facing.
It was more than I’d thought I would get and I wrote my dad a ten-thousand-dollar check as soon as we got back in the truck.
After I dropped him off, I headed back home. Dashawn and I smoked a bit and chilled while we waited for the work in the at-home studio to wrap up. Once they were done, Dashawn and I headed downstairs and I fucked around with beats while Dashawn freestyled, reminding me that he was wasting his talent by not getting in the booth more.
I looked at my work phone when it started vibrating, declined the call, and flipped the phone face down without even reading the number. Anyone I’d agreed to work with I’d delivered for and I’d signed all the release forms, so there wasn’t shit for me to discuss with anyone businesswise.
After Dashawn left, I did housekeeping, throwing clothes in the washing machine and taking the trash out before sitting in the studio and fucking around with a few beats. I moved the clothes to the dryer and collapsed onto the couch for a quick nap. When I got up, I folded and put everything away then got ready for Radiant Reverie’s concert.
Once dressed, I texted Rome to see if he was still coming and headed to the venue.
Chandler and Rome were already there, the latter holding the five dozen roses I’d requested for Myome. We linked up in the parking lot and headed toward the back entrance, past security who let us in without words exchanged.
The performance was at a midsized club and there was already a DJ on stage in lieu of an opening act. Myome, Retta, and Charm stood near a door I assumed was their dressing room, each clad in their performance outfits, Myome visibly jittery. She gripped her microphone in one hand and the other shook beside her.
“Loosen up,” I called out.