Episode 6: The Birth of Wynter $now

Wynter

“Girl! Yo freestyle on Kenton Tea got like, a million likes!”

“I’on know why. You aight, but you no Nicki.”

Angelica and Janellica slap hands like that shit’s funny, the hater bitches they are. Any time we around some niggas, they always gotta rag on me.

Like I’d ever lower myself to fuck with a man who looks their way.

Ugh, men. I don’t even wanna see a penis, indefinitely. 

The niggas we’re drinking with put my freestyle on the tv in their garage, and they hype me up, much to their chagrin.

“That shit hot, mama,” the light skinned one with the face tattoo says.

I lean over, showing just a hint of cleavage. “Don’t call me that,” I wink. I fight to keep my lip curling. 

Bitch ass Set, ruining everything by going and falling in love.

“What you want me to call you?”

I open my mouth but my phone begins to vibrate on the table. When I look down, these hoes start shrieking, so I know they see the instagram name.

“Are you gon’ answer?!”

“Why he calling you?! How you know him?!”

“Who is it?”

I stand, grabbing my purse, wood, and phone, and excuse myself.

Because I’m for sure going home after this.

We’re in the South East, somewhere I definitely shouldn’t be in LV Boots with a Celine purse, but I’d be lying if I said I was worried.

Not much gets to me these days. Not much of anything.

I swipe to answer as I walk to the curb. The camera lags a little, but when a very handsome face appears, I smile.

“Wynter muthafuckin’ Snow.”

“Hi Grime.”

He grins harder, taking the blunt from someone off-screen before showing me who’s by him; Sheisty of course.

“Wassup, cuz,” he nods.

“Y’all tell me. This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Nah, that freestyle that’s everywhere is a pleasant surprise.”

Grimey brings the camera back to him. “Here I am asking who is this fine ass girl rapping her ass off, and then I click on the tag and it’s you. Where yo freckles, girl?”

I roll my eyes, switching to the rideshare app. “It’s makeup, Grime. I know your hoes wear it.”

“You got jokes. Why can’t I see yo pretty face?”

“I’m ordering a rideshare.”

“Where you at? Me and Shaka in traffic now.”

“South East. Six-Owes.”

“Give me ten, what streets,” Sheisty calls out.

I look toward the intersection, two houses down. “Sixty-second and Terrabella.”

“Fasho. We on the way. Lemme see you girl. It’s been too long.”

I switch back to IG, and he grins once more.

“You been good though? I worry about you, Wynter Snow.”

“Careful, or I’ll think you care.” I smirk into the camera, but he sees through me, like he always has.

Me and Grimey have history that many don’t know. Being a fast ass teen, hanging with all older women, had me in East Kenton with the G$ crips, which eventually got me in the studio with Grimey and the Native Sons.

Not many can say the infamous Grimey taught them how to mix and master tracks.

“You still trouble,” he says. Nipsey starts getting louder and louder, until I see a cobalt blue Bentley stop in the middle of the intersection.

I start jogging toward them, sliding into the back driver’s side and buckling in before they peel off.

“Why y’all out? Where your wife, Sheist?”

“See, I was finna break you off something but you bringing up bullshit,” he bristles, turning his music down.

“You know you not my type,” I quip, making Grimey chuckle.

“You know she like project babies, Shaka. The crips can’t do shit for Miss Wynter Snow.”

“Project babies can’t give her a mill in cash.”

“Wait, wait. What are you talking about?”

Grimey rolls up his window and turns to face me in the back. “You grew up, Wyn. You sexy as fuck, and got bars. You serious about music?”

This isn’t the first time he’s asked me this. Back when I was a kid, I brushed him off, told him this was just fooling around.

Back when I had other plans. Silly plans involving someone who doesn’t exist in my world anymore.

“Why not, you know?”

Grime stares at me for a beat before turning around. “Stop at the park.”

I settle in the back and enjoy the ride, letting Nipsey serenade me about doubling up.

We pull up to a vista in East Kenton, parking at the end of the drive.

They get out, so I get out too, taking in the purples and pinks of the sunset.

“Come here, Wyn.”

I walk over to the front of the car, where these two big doofuses are sitting on the hood. Sheisty’s phone begins to ring, and he kisses his teeth, hopping off to answer and bicker at his wife that he hates.

“You crashing out, cuz. It’s happening so slow you don’t even see it, but you are. Blonde wig, fake titties and shit. This ain’t you.”

I scoff, folding my arms. “You knew me when I was, what, fourteen? Fifteen? I grew up, Grime. I’m grown now.”

“There’s growing up and there’s crashing out. Trust me, I know.” He rubs the fox tattoo on his arm and sighs.

“I’m stepping back from rapping, and wanna get into A&R. My lil’ brother Cochise is finally taking this shit seriously, and I’m taking him under my wing. I wanna do the same witchu.”

“How you gon’ have time for both of us? If I take you up on your offer.”

“I’m Grimey, baby. I can do all things. Even if you not ready, I want you to start coming to the stu with us. Fuckin’ with them scammers and jackboys ain’t it, Wyn.”

“So you do care,” I smirk, taking a step toward him.

But he just grabs my hand, stopping me. “Don’t do that. We all care about you. Me, Shaka, Tripp… Pic.”

I snatch my hand back. “That’s a lie.”

Grime shakes his head, taking out his phone.

“What are you–”

“Wassup, cuz,” Grime interrupts me. “I’m here with Wynter Snow, and she saying you don’t give a fuck about her freckly ass.”

He hands me his phone, and I snatch it, mugging him.

PC stares at me, looking almost bored. He never speaks, so facetime seems a little redundant.

“Well? I can’t read minds,” I snap.

His mouth quirks, as he sits up wherever he’s at. “Still got that smart ass mouth, I see.”

“Damn straight.”

He shakes his head, letting himself smile a little more.

“Stop being stubborn, cuz. Let me apologize to my lil’ sis in person.”

He hangs up in my face, the rude bastard that he is, but I’m still smiling. Pressure still starts building behind my eyes.

Grimey slides off the hood of the car and envelopes me in a hug. He’s tall enough to rest his head on the top of mine.

I hold onto him from dear life. He couldn’t possibly know how much I needed this hug. 

A hug from a genuine friend.

“We going to the stu tonight. You coming?” he asks when he lets me go.

My setting spray is the truth, because there’s no makeup on his white tee.

“Yeah, I’ll go. Sheisty was serious about that advance?”

Grimey barks out laughter. “You signing with us?”

“She know she is, but as usual, Wynter Snow gotta be difficult.” Sheisty comes over, trying to mush me on the forehead.

“Shakari, stop!” I squeal, getting behind Grime.

“Y’all both kids. She said she comin’ to the stu. Maybe Tripp can convince you to sign with the winning team. You know he was always her favorite.”

Sheisty opens the back door for me, and I slide in, feeling better than I have for months.

Maybe I can be a rapper, make it even. Maybe G$ can be my Foe Dub.

Maybe I don't need them. And Auty surely doesn't need me, now that she has Sabrina.

Grimey and his friends always accepted me, never looked at me like other grown men did at that age.

They even held my secrets, never judged me when others did. And still, I turned my back on them, for no good reason. Not anymore.

I reach up and hug Sheisty before he turns the car on. He chuckles, tapping my forearm.

“Don’t hug his ass too long, you know his ol’ lady got the nose of a bloodhound.”

We both cackle as Sheisty flips us off and I settle back into the seat. 

“Well, she’s gonna have to get used to me, ‘cause Wynter Snow is back in East Kenton.”