Page 19

ROYAL

T he air was thick with creativity and smoke—Malachi’s usual incense burning in the corner, mixing with the sweet scent of the blunts being passed back and forth.

Studio C at Grindhouse was dim except for the amber glow of the board, casting shadows across everybody’s faces.

The kind of lighting that made you want to bare your soul. And that’s exactly what we was doin’.

“Mic’s hot,” Malachi called out from behind the board. “Egypt, you ready?”

Egypt nodded from the booth, her lips close to the mic, those big-ass headphones swallowing her whole face.

I’d asked Averi to get on the track, damn near begged her, but she refused.

Instead, she called in a favor and had Egypt on a plane straight from Toronto where she was finishing up some movie.

Egypt pulled her faux locs into a messy bun, rolled her shoulders back, and then that voice came out smooth like honey over gravel.

Posted on the corner where the day fades to black,

Got dreams in my pocket and pain on my back…

Mama said be careful, streets don’t love nobody…

But I’m ridin’ for my name, ‘til the reaper come find me…

She hit every note with that gritty, emotional rasp that made people lean in. Made you feel every word.

Averi was sittin’ next to me on the couch, hoodie up, legs folded under her, and noddin’ along to the beat she had made, her work mixed with my lyrics created magic. I looked at my girl, proud as hell. She wasn’t even trying to be sexy and still looked like a whole fantasy.

“You hear that shit?” I said low, to nobody in particular. “That’s the one.”

Malachi leaned over, turning a few knobs. “That hook gon’ hit real ones in the chest. Deadass.”

When Egypt stepped out the booth, I gave her a dap and a quick hug. “You a fuckin’’ angel, Sis.”

She grinned. “I know.” Then turned to Averi. “You’re lucky I love you, girl. I wasn’t tryna work on my day off.”

Averi laughed. “I owe you dinner and a year’s worth of spa days.”

“You sure the fuck do.”

Malachi gave me a look. “You ready for that final verse?”

I stood up, cracked my neck. “Let’s get this shit done.”

I stepped in the booth, adjusted the mic, and let the beat hit. The baseline rumbled through my chest, and when Egypt’s hook came back in, I closed my eyes.

Then I let the verse pour out of me like a prayer I ain’t know I’d been holdin’ back.

Posted on the Ave where the shots rang out,

Learned how to hustle when the lights went out.

Grandma cooked rice, no meat in the pot,

Now it’s lobster and steak off a million-dollar drop.

But I remember cold nights, black hoodies, bad decisions,

Runnin' from the past like I could outrun the prison.

Now I’m prayed up, paid up, but never forget,

What it cost to be the man that these labels respect.

When I came out the booth, Malachi was already clapping. “That’s it. That’s the fuckin’’ one. Concrete Roses is a fuckin’ wrap.”

Averi gave me a nod, soft and subtle. But her eyes said what her mouth didn’t—she was proud. And if I was being honest, that meant more than any award.

King stood up, tossing a blunt between his fingers. “Aight, that’s it. Album wrapped. We gotta celebrate.”

“I’m good with chillin’ here, or takin my ass home.” I said, flopping back down on the couch.

“Nah, nigga. You always tryna play it cool,” King laughed. “You drop your best shit to date, and you wanna go home? Fuck that. We outside.”

Egypt smirked. “I don’t mind a little outside…”

Averi smiled at her and leaned back, stretching her arms up with a yawn. “It’s my last week here anyway. Might as well do it right.”

I didn’t say nothin’ at first. That sentence hung in the air longer than it needed to.

Last week here.

That shit hit different. It was her last week before she flew back to LA. Before she went back to her life. She’d mentioned to me needing to get back because she had some meetings to go to and in a few weeks, they would resume shooting her show.

And me? I’d still be here. Back to the grind, back to all the shit I had been putting off while I dedicated the last few months to being in this studio. I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying not to let that show on my face.

“Yeah,” I said finally. “Fuck it. Let’s go celebrate.”

Averi turned to me. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” I said again, surer this time. “We outside.”

The bass rattled my chest like it was synced to my heartbeat.

We slid into VIP like we owned the place—which we pretty much did. Compound was packed wall to wall, hot air thick with weed smoke, perfume, cologne, liquor, sweat and anticipation. The DJ was talkin’ his shit, crowd amped, lights bouncing off diamonds, gold chains, and sweat-slicked skin.

Me, Averi, Egypt, King, Zay, and Malachi deep in the corner booth. Bottles already poppin’, waitresses rushin’ over with sparklers and ice buckets, black shades on inside just to hide how high we all were.

Averi was on the dance floor with Egypt, hips swayin’ slow to the music, dress ridin’ up just enough to make me want to go drag her ass back home right then and there. But instead, I just watched, lips curled in a smirk, blunt between my fingers.

“Nigga, close your mouth before you start droolin’,” King joked, throwing back a shot.

I looked over and shook my head. “Mind yo business.”

He grinned, holding up a glass to the ceiling. “To album number three.”

Malachi echoed it. “Future multi-platinum album number three, you mean.”

“Aye, let’s not get ahead of ourselves?—”

Before I could even finish, the lights dimmed and the DJ’s voice boomed through the speakers.

“ATL—y’all know who the fuck in the building tonight, right? Lemme hear y’all make some noise for Royal!”

The crowd exploded. Phones up. Hands in the air. Chantin’ my name like I was God on stage. And then?—

“Momma workin’ doubles, tryna stretch that check out”

The beat dropped to Westlake Ave, and the whole club went crazy . I stood up without thinking. The whole VIP section lit up, Egypt screaming, Averi laughing, and the crowd singing every word like they wrote it themselves.

“ Lights off, heat low, had to thug that shit out …”

Averi turned to me, wide-eyed and beamin’. “They know the whole song…”

I nodded, eyes scanning the sea of bodies vibin’ to a track I made outta pain. “That’s wild.”

But inside? I was torn. I was happy as fuck that Westlake Ave had been doing good since it dropped a week ago.

I didn’t even know it was dropping until I heard it play on the radio.

Logan hadn’t told me shit, but when I called him, he told me Lux had heard it and told him we needed to drop it ASAP.

And he was right, it had been doing numbers ever since.

The other half of me though, the one so deeply connected to the woman that stood in front of me smiling was fucked up. She had one week left. Back to life without me. And maybe I was frontin’, actin’ like that didn’t fuck me up. But it did.

I ain’t even wanna think about that flight yet, that trip to get her to the airport with all her shit.

I kept tellin’ myself I’d cross that bridge later.

Hell, maybe I’d fly out there. Post up in LA for a while.

Stay at her spot. Be on some real… relationship shit.

The thought alone made my chest tighten.

I’d never done that with no woman before. But Averi wasn’t just any woman.

I felt someone wrap their arms around my waist—Averi. She stood on her tiptoes but even that only got her to the top of my chest, so I bent down to her level causing her to goofy ass to giggle, lips brushin’ against my ear.

“I’m ready,” she whispered.

Fuck. My favorite two words that came from her pretty ass pouty lips besides when she was moaning my name. I looked over to King, who was surrounded by a pack of IG baddies, his arm slung around two of ‘em like he was already halfway home.

“I’m out,” I told him.

He raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

I nodded. “You know why.” I tipped my chin toward Averi.

He smiled and stood up, dapping me hard. “I get it, lil bro. Do your thing. You did that shit tonight, man. Whole album’s pressure. I'm proud of you.”

I nodded, emotions lowkey swellin’ up behind my shades. “Appreciate you. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“We been doin’ this shit together since day one,” he said, squeezing my shoulder. “Just remember that. I got you always.”

I nodded again; throat thick.

“Ayo, Zay,stay with him. I’mma take the ladies back.” Zay gave me a quick nod, already positioning himself near King as a buffer between him and the growing crowd.

I grabbed Averi’s hand, Egypt right behind us. We slid out the back through the artist’s exit, away from the cameras and chaos. The night air was thick, humid, smellin’ like sweat and spilled Henny, but it felt good against my skin.

We piled into the black Escalade. Averi curled into my side, head on my chest, legs tossed across mine. Egypt was already half-asleep next to us.

As the car pulled off, I exhaled deeply, lookin’ out the tinted window at the blurred neon lights and fast cars. I should’ve felt nothing but joy. The album was done. The club went crazy. I had the baddest woman in the room ridin’ home with me. But this strange heaviness sat in my chest.

One week left. One week until everything changed again.

When we got to our building, we all piled into the elevator.

Egypt was barely holding up, stumbling in and then holding on tight in the corner, Averi was so busy laughing at Egypt that she herself started to stumble until I pulled her against my chest, wrapping my arm around her waist holding her steady.

When we got to the 15 th floor, Egypt stumbled out of the elevator and was already halfway to Averi’s apartment by the time I stepped off the elevator to make sure she got there okay.

I had Averi’s goofy ass hold the elevator until I made sure she got inside safe before jogging back and then she and I took it to the 17 th floor.