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Only a couple more hours until I can smoke.

I don’t like to smoke or drink until after a show. It would be a good idea now, seeing as it would calm me down, but I’ll prolly smoke and drink myself into a stupor, and I can’t do that to Nut and Turk.

BirchFest is a hit like I knew it’d be. Sold out, two-day music festival, and I’m headlining the last night. Not even because they my bros, and would have done it for me if I asked.

Nah, I’m headlining because I’m that nigga. My debut album just made double-platinum. And the first single off my next one hit gold two weeks ago.

I never even wanted to rap or sing, not like my bros. Producing is my passion. I’ve always loved taking shit apart and making new things, and doing that with beats and my Granddad’s favorite songs was something that calmed me, especially after a skit.

But one of Wyn’s stupid ass dares got me on one of her singles, and next thing I know I’m making a whole album. And now, with this show, I’ll be cemented as a rap star.

Crazy, I’m living my best friends’ dreams.

Fuck, I need to smoke.

Ghosts follow me around everywhere it feels like.

But shit, one of them niggas is alive and well, based off the picture I saw last night.

I can’t even begin to think about how I’ma relay that news to my bros.

My phone vibrates but I don’t make a move to get up. I know it’s Sahara, since she told me she’d call me when she was ready to come to the talent area. But I can’t be around her right now. All she’s gonna do is give bullshit solutions to a problem that can’t be solved, and I can’t deal with that right now. Not when I’m losing the battle to keep my sanity.

Today’s my OG’s birthday.

She and I… we were thick as thieves when I was hella young. She only had me at sixteen, and I’m the spitting image of my pops, so she loved on me extra hard.

Then that nigga got out, and our relationship changed.

Really, my relationship with her and my grandparents changed. They ain’t want me around him because he was old as fuck when he was fucking with my OG, on top of being a drug dealer, but he had joint custody, and they were law abiding citizens. But every time I got in trouble at school or in the streets, they would tell me I’m just like him. Shit, my granddad had a stroke, literally, and on his deathbed he wanted me to promise I wouldn’t be like Bishop.

My OG realized my pops wasn’t about to fuck with her foreal when he got out, and all the love she had turned into resentment. Her final straw was when I didn’t get Raya from daycare on account of being arrested. She kicked me out against Nana’s wishes, and I went to stay with my pops and brother permanently.

We didn't talk much after that. Even when we both watched cancer take Nana.

But my OG is still my mama regardless. So when she asked me to keep Raya, I took her no questions asked. She was my baby sister, my heart, and I loved having her around, like she loved being around me.

My phone vibrating takes me away before the recent events start replaying, but I just put my shit on do not disturb, and put on one of my favorite songs. Rock ‘N’ Roll Gangster by Aalon.

How fitting it is now.

I never thought I’d like being in the spotlight. In fact, I fought hard to be behind the scenes in any and everything. But performing in front of hella people screaming for you, shouting your lyrics back to you; nothing compares to that shit.

I try to lock into that feeling when they knock on my trailer door. Showtime.

I take a deep breath and head out, letting the producers whisk me away to the main stage. The sun just went down, but it stays hot out here since we’re in a valley, so I don’t have a shirt on. I feel the stares from the women milling about, and even lock eyes with this singer who’s been talking to herself in my DMs. I wink at her, making her blush, before putting on the in-ear monitors one of the producers shoves into my chest.

The world disappears, and I only hear my DJ in my ear, and the base of my second single.

I walk onto the back of the stage, grab a mic, and swagger out, rapping the first verse.

I’m back home.

Song after song, I rap and sing all my parts. My homie from college, Chase, is on stage with me, recording me for archival footage and some other shit we putting together. The crowd is hype, and the ladies in the front go crazy when I wink and blow kisses at them.

Then one of my favorites comes on.

Raya’s favorite song of mine, too.

“Get ‘Em Started.”

And I feel myself overheating. I feel my muscles begin to lock in place. And I know this is something I won’t be able to hide anymore.

I look over at Chase, but he’s still recording. I glance behind me, and see Set, Brina, and Nut. Brina’s the first to notice something’s wrong. Then Nut. Then Set. But when Nut decides to move, the ground is already coming up from under me. And my world goes dark.