Page 43

“I can’t believe it’s you,” he says with a grin. “How long has it been, baby girl?”

“I don’t know. Daddy’s funeral, maybe?”

His face falls. “Too long.”

“Yeah.” In my peripheral, I see King staring at his phone. “I need to ask you some questions,” I say.

Alejandro smiles again. “First things first. How’s your mama doing?”

“She’s good,” I say, my smile returning. “You know Mila. Always doing her.”

“Always,” he says with a chuckle. “Aye, you still married to that little bitch? I always thought you were too pretty for him.”

“Wow,” I say. “What’sthatabout?”

He shrugs. “He always struck me as…I don’t know. Thirsty, I guess. Like he needed people to know he was Dime’s son. Wanted that shit on a billboard. Always chasing clout instead of building something for himself.”

I’m not sure how to feel about that given the fact that Brett also chased me. What did that say about me? Did it say anything at all?

“I called to ask you about Redd,” I say softly.

His face shifts. The amusement dissipates. “Damn. I kinda figured.”

“Was y’all’s beef really that serious?”

He leans back in his chair, his gaze shifting downward. “Sable…there wasn’t any beef between us.”

I blink. “What do you mean?”

He looks up at the screen again. “The labels cooked it up. They wanted a dirty south version of East Coast-West Coast. Biggie and Pac, which is fucked up when you think about it, cuz they knew exactly how that ended.”

I sit up straighter, puzzling through it. “But you and Redd—“

“We were cool,” he cuts in. “The fans ate that shit up, but me and Redd, we hated it. Last time we talked, we were planning to meet up. We were gonna present an idea to the labels. A truce song, or maybe even an EP.”

He pauses. His voice is softer when he speaks again. “I was gonna come to the funeral,” he says. “But Keisha begged me not to. She had just had Gabby a few weeks before. She thought they’d kill me down there.”

My chest tightens. “She was probably right.”

He shakes his head.

“I know the police said it was gang related, but what do you think?”

“I wish I knew. If I had any ideas, I’d tell you.” He pauses to take a breath. “Shit, the only thing I know about anything down there is that Redd was thinking about leaving Black Lace.”

“Wait, what?”

“He told me if we did end up dropping something together, it would have to be on my label. He said he didn’t trust them anymore. Something felt off.”

My pulse quickens. My thoughts are racing faster than I can hear them.

“I always hated that people thought I had something to do with it,” he adds. “Especially his family. His kids growing up thinking—“

“Wait, what?” I peer into the screen, my eyes narrowing. “Kids?”

Alejandro nods. “Yeah. Far as I knew, he had two. I never got a chance to meet them, but I definitely remember him talking about ‘em.”

“No,” I say. “He only had one. A son. He died a few years ago.”