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ROYAL

L AX was its usual kind of chaos—screaming kids, tired travelers, drivers holding signs, and suitcases, fighting for air. But through all that noise, I spotted Queenie and Princess right away, standing by the carousel with a cart full of designer luggage.

My mama had on a black sweatsuit trimmed in gold with some Louis Vuitton slides.

Princess was dressed like she was going straight to a photoshoot—crop top, baggy jeans, Bottega boots, and her braids down her back.

Both looked like they belonged in a spread for Jet Beauty of the Week if that still existed.

I was trying to be incognito; most times people didn’t give a damn about celebrities floating in and out of LAX but you could never be too sure. So, I had my cap low over my head, hood up with dark shades on as I made my way towards them.

“Long time no see.” I called out, as soon as I approached them. As if they automatically registered my voice, they both turned around and squealed, loudly.

“Royal!” Princess said jumping into my arms hugging me. I placed a quick kiss on her cheek before setting her down and turning to Queenie.

“Hi my Sonshine.” She said as I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her neck for a second longer than usual. I missed my mama… bad. “You look good Royal; I see LA has done you some good.”

“Trying Ma.” I replied. “Definitely trying.”

“It’s good to lay eyes on you.” She replied pinching my cheek.

I gave her a quick kiss to her forehead, my arm still wrapped around her before whispering. “Same.”

We got them loaded into the Escalade, Andy already waiting with the AC blasting. As we pulled off, Queenie leaned into me from the backseat.

“So… where we headed?”

I cleared my throat. “First stop is the house to get ya’ll settled in and to freshen up, then we gon swing by Averi’s set.

She wanted y’all to come see it, and then she said she’d take y’all out after.

Shopping, nails, whatever. I got some last minute stuff to handle before the event tomorrow but she’ll bring y’all back to the crib later. ”

Princess leaned forward between the seats. “Wait, Averi? Like… Averi?”

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “You know another one? Big head ass girl.” She gave me the finger before slapping my hand away as I tried to ruffle her hair.

“So y’all back together?” Queenie asked, a little too casually.

“We cool.”

“What does that mean Royal?” Princess asked. “We talking just friends? Building a relationship, what y’all doin’?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Mmhmm.” Queenie leaned back before staring out the window. “Everything with y’all is complicated.” I didn’t say shit after that.

After I dropped them off with Averi—who greeted my mom with a tight hug and Princess with a play slap on the arm like they were already family—I headed straight to the lounge the label rented out for the listening party.

Doheny Room, tucked off a side street in West Hollywood, had a sexy, intimate vibe. Black velvet walls. Crystal chandeliers. A stage set up with a massive LED screen behind it, the words “Concrete Roses” glowing in deep crimson.

Zay was already there, clipboard in hand, overseeing the staff like he owned the place. But it was his job as my head of security to make sure all the staff were vetted and not trying to leak shit.

“Everything good?” I asked.

“Yeah, just makin’ sure these folks don’t fuck up,” he replied. “You good?”

“Getting there.”

“Queenie and Princess made it in safe?

“Yeah. Just dropped them off with Ave on set. She gon kick it with them while I take care of business.”

We walked through the setup—tables lined with candles and cocktail menus featuring drinks named after my tracks. “Red Light Confessions,” “Westlake Ave,” and “Shotgun Kisses.” That last one had tequila, lime, and a splash of Hennessy. Go figure.

I was distracted, though. My mind was back on last night in Averi’s bed. The way she curled into me after we finished. The way she went quiet when I asked if she was ever gonna stop running from us. She didn’t answer me. Just kissed my chest and rolled over.

“You look like you somewhere else,” Zay said, interrupting my thoughts.

I shrugged. “Just thinkin’.”

Zay leaned against the bar. “Look, Imma say this once and I ain’t repeating it. You either need to let her go… or fight for her. This in-between shit? Gonna kill you.”

“I know,” I muttered.

“Nah, I don’t think you do. Cause I see it in you, bro. You spiraling. One minute you cool, next you on edge. That girl got you in a chokehold, and I’m not even clownin’. But whatever decision you make, make it clean. Stop bleeding all over her if you ain’t tryna be with her for real.”

Before I could respond, my phone rang. Unknown number with a Georgia area code. I stepped outside to answer it. “Hello?”

“Took you long enough.”

That voice. Gruff. Tired. “Pops?” I breathed.

“Yeah,” he said, quiet for a second. “Look, I ain’t call to argue.

I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry.” I leaned against the brick wall, heart suddenly heavy.

“I shouldn’t have come at you like that after King died,” he continued.

“I was hurt. Angry. Still am. But I took it out on you when all you ever did was look out for this family.” I couldn’t speak.

Just listened. “I’m proud of you,” he said.

“Saw some article about your album rollout. Westlake Ave is fire.”

“Thanks,” I croaked.

“You still my son. Still King’s little brother. He woulda been proud too.”

“I miss him every day,” I admitted.

“Me too.” A silence passed between us, but it wasn’t the heavy kind. It was the kind where you both just knew, a commonality, a trauma bond almost. We both knew what it meant to be around King at different ages, what it meant to love him, to mourn him.

“I gotta get back to it,” I said.

“Alright. One more thing.”

“Yeah?”

“That girl… the one you fought me over?” he asked.

“Averi.”

“Yeah, Averi… you like her?”

“I love her. But I pushed her away after shit went down with King, blamed her for some shit that ain’t have nothing to do with her and now things shaky wit’ us.”

“If you love her, really love her and it ain’t just a lust thing Royal, then you gotta do whatever you gotta do to not lose her,” he said. “Even if shit is shaky with y’all, if she still around after all this? She’s probably worth it.”

“She worth everything I got and more.”

“Then you already know how to fix whatever issues y’all got son. Make sure that woman knows how much you love her. Show her how Teegan men love their women.”

I hung up with my heart somewhere between broken and repaired.

The next night, Doheny Room was packed.

I wore an all-black tailored suit, gold chains under my button-down, hair cut into a tapered fade.

Queenie was a vision in a white pantsuit, her hair curled, and lips ruby red.

Princess wore a mini dress and heels that had me low-key nervous and about to tell her fast ass to go change.

Zay was in his usual: black tee, black jeans, and all his chains.

Logan and his wife were by the bar, talking with Lux, Kylei and some label execs. I greeted them as soon as we came in, showing love and respect for all they had done for me. Egypt was holding court with Nas, Serenity, Creed, Brodie and Ari near the back.

And then she walked in, in a silk champagne-colored mini dress, backless, hugging her body like a second skin. Her hair was in a high ponytail with two tendrils framing her face. Her long chocolate legs accentuated by the matching champagne colored open toed heels.

She smiled at me from across the room, waving and blushing, probably at how intensely I was staring at her. I felt my mouth salivating as I reminisced about the many nights I had her laid up next to me, tasting her skin.

“Stop drooling and go speak nigga,” Zay teased.

I grinned, making my way through the crowd. As I approached her, I instantly reached for her waist pulling her close to me and basking in the scent of her perfume. Hints of sour cherry, almonds and vanilla…always a touch of vanilla.

“You look good as fuck baby,” I said burying my face into her neck as she wrapped her arms around me.

Averi smirked. “You clean up nice too, Royal.”

“Glad you came.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she said softly. “Besides… I did help make half the album.”

I chuckled. “Half is crazy.” She raised a brow. “Aight, aight, I’ll give you the half.” She laughed, and I swear it felt like home. “Stay by my side all night, please?”

“Of course, where else would I be?”

Logan got on stage and tapped the mic.

“Good evening, everybody. I won’t hold y’all long.

Tonight we’re celebrating the third album of one of the rawest voices in music right now—Royal Teegan.

I’ve been in this business a long time, and what y’all are about to hear?

It’s different. It’s real. It’s him. No gimmicks, no fluff.

” There was a loud applause before he continued “And let me say this—shoutout to Averi St. Claire,” he looked in our direction, my hand still wrapped protectively around her waist. “She helped shape the sound of this album in ways none of us expected.” Averi blushed as eyes turned to her.

I leaned in. “Told you I’d make ‘em put some respect on your name.”

“And without further ado, Concrete Roses…” Logan finished.

The lights dimmed. The screen behind the stage lit up with the album’s cover—Concrete Roses in bold letters over a gritty black and white photo of me in a hoodie, hood low over my face, standing on a cracked sidewalk, the only color coming from the red rose petals scattered at my feet.