Should have known my safety wasn’t his concern, only the money—it’s always about the money.
“Hopefully, this will blow over,” he continues, “now that y’all are both headed out on the road and you get back to fuckin’ around—“
“Hold up, Jay. Who said anything about fucking around?” I ask, crossing my arms, pissed that he’s even implying it.
He just stares at me, not saying a word. Bingo, motherfucker—this shit’s for real. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, saying, “Aww, shit….”
“I’ll take that as a ‘congratulations,’” I say, getting up and turning toward the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta stop by my crib and pick up a few things ‘fore we take off again.”
“Trace,” he says, and I look back at him since the tone in his voice is one I haven’t heard before.
“Yeah, Jay?”
“I gotta warn ya because I’d be a fuckin’ lousy manager if I didn’t. She better be worth it, dawg, ‘cause this could be a game changer. And Ace, you know as well as I do, you don’t play and they ain’t gonna pay, and it don’t matter how much you hate the fuckin’ game. You and that girl together, well…let’s just say, you might be the one to lose, my man.”
“Thanks, bro, but losing her wouldn’t make the game worth winning. So I guess I’ll take my chances because she is worth it.” With those words I walk out the door, satisfied that Jay knows where I stand.
“Baby Love, how’d it go? You’re still in one piece so that’s a good sign.”
“It’s all good, Stella. Nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about.”
“You know I can’t help myself, Sugar Pie. And you with your sweet words, it’s no wonder that girl fell for you.”
“What makes you say that, Stella?”
“Son, I could see it in her eyes when y’all were in here together that one day.” I’m floored by her response but happily so. There I was thinking she had a thing for guitar boy, but Stella—who notices everything that goes on within these walls—saw something I didn’t.
“Yeah? Well, that’s good to hear ‘cause I sure as he—…uh, heck, fell for her,” I admit. Sad to say, but I can tell this woman things I won’t even say to my own damn cousin.
“That’s good to hear, honey, because you two got some rough terrain ahead of you. Just remember though that there Ain’t No Mountain High Enough….” she says, breaking into song. Aw hell, she’s never going to stop now—not with that one. A little of the load off my chest, I’m tempted to sing along, but I’ve gotta get back and pack before it’s time to jet.
“See ya when I see ya, Stella,” I call out on my way out the door, listening to her sing about how I can always call her, no matter where I am or how far apart we are. Even though it’s just a song, I know deep down that it’s true.
I sent a text to Taryn when I first got in the car but haven’t heard anything back. She’s probably already on the plane by now, hopefully not too bothered by the extra attention. Then again, if anyone knows how to deal in the spotlight, it’s Taryn Starr.
Walking into my hotel room, I’m surprised to see the whole damn crew making themselves at home. I figured they’d be visiting whoever they wanted to see while we’re in LA, not hanging in my suite, drinking beer, and – oh hell no. “Dre, why the fuck you gettin’ blunted in my crib?” I ask, not masking my anger. He’s been high more often than not lately.
“Ace, just be glad he’s only got the herbs. Fucker already hit the hard core shit ‘fore he got here,” Quinton chimes in.
“The fuck, Dre?”
“Hey, it’s been a rough day. You done got yo’self a white woman and now the rest of us gonna pay. ”
“Yeah, what gives, T?” Xavier asks. I look around, seeing the questioning and even accusatory looks on the faces of my so-called friends.
I’m pretty sure that’s a flash of red I just saw rocket across the room. So they’re going to turn against me faster than the fans, huh? Well, fuck ‘em. I’d turn right around and leave this second if my shit wasn’t here.
“So this is an ambush, is that what it is? Well, y’all can just get your Benedict Arnold-selves outta here. I gotta pack and I’ll meet up with ya on the plane, ‘aight?”
“Negative, Ghostrider. Change of plans,” Marcus says. At my confused look, he explains, “Since our next stop is in the fuckin’ heart of Dixieland, we’re not leaving ‘til tomorrow to give Cal time to set up some extra security.” Shit, that’s where Cal’s run off to—doing extra work I created. He’ll understand though. If anyone will, it’s Cal.
“Yeah, so we figured we’d just come here and get shitfaced since we ain’t goin’ nowhere,” says Dre, slurring more words than not. “Plus, we wanna hear all about country girl. What’s it like havin’ some white pus—“
Without a second thought, I charge over and grab my cousin by the shirt, yanking him to his feet. “You even think about fucking finishing that question and I’ll kill you before the drugs have a chance to,” I threaten, my voice surprisingly low but murderous.
“Woah, Trace…let’s just chill. You know Dre,” Quinton soothes, pulling on my arm. I’m not in the mood to let it go though. “He likes to hear details, no matter who it is. Like a fucking girl, if you ask me,” he jokes, but his voice is obviously strained.
“Yeah man, why don’t we all sit and have a drink,” Xavier adds. “We don’t gotta talk about anything you don’t want to. We just miss hangin’ with you, that’s all.”
Maybe having a drink is a good idea. Lord knows I need something to take this edge off, and I do miss spending quality time with my boys. Ever since the tour started, I feel like it’s been me and them, not us. And as much as I sometimes wonder whether any of them would be around if they didn’t make a shitload of money being a part of my crew, they’re all I’ve got. “Alright, but talkin’ about Taryn is off the table,” I state firmly, so they know I mean business. I release Dre with a warning in my eyes and he wisely keeps his mouth shut. Then I accept a beer from Marcus and sit my overly edgy ass down.
An hour or so later, we’ve moved on to liquor and I’m feeling better about things—much better. Since it’s been a little while since I’ve drunk like this, I can feel it hitting me harder and faster than usual. I’m not complaining though. It’s nice taking it easy and I even find myself spitting rhymes, making up shit as I go along that has the guys rolling around on the floor, laughing their asses off.
I feel my own ass buzz and it takes me a minute to figure out that it’s my phone. “Gonna get this, be back in a sec,” I say, my words sounding slurred, even to my own ringing ears. I close myself off in my room and open up my messages.
Taryn: I’m assuming you made it okay?
Me: Nah, I’m still here. You?
Taryn: I’m good.
Even in my drunken state, I know that her response means she’s not good. I don’t think—I just call.
“Sup, Peaches?” I ask when she answers the phone.
“Do you really want to know, or should I answer with no comment?” she asks. Well damn, what did I do?
“Am I supposed to know what the fuck that means?” I ask angrily.
“Well, after you walked out my front door this morning, I kind of got the impression you weren’t ashamed of me…or us. Your response to the press seems to indicate otherwise,” she says, and fuck if I don’t hear the hurt in her voice.
“My response?” I ask, gentling my voice some because this can easily be sorted out. “Taryn, I haven’t said a damn thing to anyone. Now Jay does tend to talk for me, but babe, that’s his standard answer for everything. I’ll talk to him about it, but you should know that answering any questions they throw your way never works out in this biz. Just gives them a chance to twist your words around or add somethin’ or delete somethin’. You know that as well as I do.”
She remains silent so I continue, “But you’re gonna have to trust that the words I said to you this morning are true or this ain’t gonna work, Taryn. You can’t be questionin’ everything you hear, and I’ll try to do the same, ‘aight?”
“Are you drunk?” she asks.
The fuck? Here I am trying to talk her down and all she got out of what I just said was what I didn’t say? Well, fuck trying to make her feel better.
“Look, we can talk tomorrow. The boys are here and we’re hangin’ out. We’ll talk later, ‘kay, babe?”
There’s a pause and I’m just about to check to see if she hung up when I hear her softly say, “Okay.” I end the call, feeling like the world’s biggest dick. As much as I love talking to her though, I’m not drunk enough to know that if we keep talking, I’m going to say something stupid that I’ll regret in the morning.