Episode 9: Back in the Lab Again

Shad

“You sure you don’t mind?”

“It’s really no trouble. Besides, when you’re big, I know you’re gonna cash me out on a second Storyville location. I’m thinking by the beach.”

I smirk at Van as she pushes me out of her front door. “You know I got you. Thanks again.”

“Good luck!” She closes the door and I take a deep breath.

My mom is still in the wind with her nigga. And with Tati passing away right after having Anaïs, shit’s been all bad.

Van and her sister Sahara have been a big help. Like tonight, I got a surprising call, and at the last minute, Van agreed to let Raya stay the night with her and bring her to school tomorrow. Raya loves them both, so it’s easier to accept the help. But I’m also taking twenty-one credits so I can be done early. 

But tonight, I’m not thinking about school, or my OG, or even Raya.

Sliding into my Jeep, I spark up the wood I rolled before I left the house, and start making my way to my homie Cap’s crib.

My phone chimes as soon as I pull up and honk the horn. An unknown number is asking me if I’m on the way, but I exit out that thread to text Cap.

He exits his crib and ambles over, placing his blunt in his mouth to hop in my whip.

“It’s just me and you, so don’t fucking bullshit me. What’s going on witchu, brodie?” He turns my music off and relights his blunt.

I sigh, putting out my roach as I get onto the freeway. “OG still on bullshit, so it’s just been me and Raya.”

“And Sahara weird ass, from what Jonesy said.”

“Chill out. I know you think she lame, but shit, her and her sister came in clutch as hell tonight. We get in with these niggas, that’s more money in our pocket toward the studio.”

Cap’s been worried about me ever since he came to my birthday dinner and saw Set go up on everyone. I’ve always tried to keep Foe Dub separate from my life in college, and while Jonesy isn’t from the city, Cap is, so he was more privy to what happened this last year.

Still, at the mention of what we’re doing tonight, he grins, showing his front gap. He’s always had a little following selling beats online, but this is major for him. This has the potential to put him on the map as a premier producer from the city.

“Can’t believe you been holding out on me on the Get Money connect. How the fuck you even hook up with them niggas?”

“It’s a long story,” I smirk, even though my stomach is bubbling.

I’ve known the Get Money niggas since I was thirteen, having been introduced to Trippy and taken under his wing before he got shot. After I enrolled in college, I stopped going to studio sessions in East Kenton. Sean kept going, and got super close to getting signed. In fact, Sheisty offered him a deal with a million-dollar advance the week before he died. Nut, Tati, and I were at his house the day he died to talk him into taking it, and telling Set he wasn’t going to be moving weight anymore.

It’s still love with G$ though. I still get random residual checks from work I’ve done on Grimey and the Native Sons’ albums.

But they’re not who’s summoning me and Cap to East Kenton tonight.

My phone begins to ring again, but I silence it as I pull into the parking lot of the nondescript studio they use. We bounce out immediately, Cap flicking his roach as we round the corner.

Wynter’s outside, pacing, phone pressed to her ear. Tonight’s blonde wig is cut hella short to her ears, and she’s dressed down in a black athletic set and slides.

“Damn. Wasn’t she at your birthday dinner?” Cap asks. Figures he’s checking her out. I don’t know many niggas who don’t get swept up into Hurricane Wynter.

Even me, quiet as it’s kept. But I also know she has some bird tendencies, she fucked my brother, and I think she fucked my other homie on the low, so I’m able to skirt around that shit.

She notices us and sighs loudly, folding her arms. “You could have answered my call, asshole.” She glares at me before smirking at Cap. “Hi, Shaddy’s friend. I’m Wyn.”

She reaches out to shake his hand and I slap it down. “You called. We’re here. Let’s go.”

“Bossy. Nice to see you, too, Rahshad.” She rolls her eyes and switches toward the door, keying in the code to let us in.

The inside is still much the same. She leads us all the way to Grimey’s personal studio, way in the back. We’re greeted by a cloud of smoke, but once my eyes adjust, I notice, as usual, the studio only has Sheisty seated in the far corner, on his laptop.

He stands and daps me up immediately. “Wassup, cuz?! It’s been too fuckin’ long!”

My stomach settles some. I was taking a risk, not really telling anyone where I’m at, but again, everyone’s so preoccupied. It would be nothing to ask Set to finance my dreams, but it’s something about getting it out the mud, off my own hard work and talent. 

“How you been? Where’s everyone? This my homie Cap, he’s a beast with the beats, too.”

“Cap, come over here with me.” Wyn pulls him toward where she’s apparently set up, with her own laptop and comp books on a coffee table. I take a seat next to where Sheisty resumes typing on his own laptop.

“I been straight. I’on know if you remember that one crazy bitch who tried to set me on fire that one time, but we married now.”

“Nigga,” I cackle, laughing for real for the first time in weeks. Like in any crew, niggas had people they clicked with more, and Grimey and Sheisty were closer to each other, same as PC and Trippy. But Sheisty was almost always into some wild shit, especially with women. For him to run Get Money Records so strictly, his personal life was always a mess. It’s not surprising he tied down the girl he had arrested years ago for attempted arson.

“Some First Nations shit,” he continues. “I figured, at least with her, it wouldn’t be boring, but now I’m tryna see how she can come up missing and it not point back to me. PC and Trippy are on tour and Grime popped out on a few of their dates. We linked up with Wyn a few weeks back, and we been tryna get an EP together for some focus groups. I’ve never had a female rapper on the roster, and I wanna do this shit right. But since Trippy not here, we decided to go with the other hottest producer in the city.”

“Well shit. Thanks, Sheisty.”

“Ain’t no thang, cuz. You the truth. You and that nigga YB. My condolences. I’m just here making sure she don’t fuck up shit. Once y’all got something for me I’ll add my input.” He fires up another blunt, and we dap each other up before I go see what Wyn and Cap are doing at the dashboard.

Wyn grins at me as I go to stand next to her. “I hope you’re ready to work all night! I wanna finalize two beats for my new project. It’s gonna be seven tracks.”

I nod. “Come holla at me right quick.”

Her smile twitches before we go outside. Cap’s lost in the state-of-the-art equipment, just like Sheisty’s lost in his laptop. I’m excited for how my night will go, but I still need to make sure we’re on the same page.

I haven’t laid eyes on Wyn since Tati’s funeral, and I can’t remember the last time we’ve actually talked. Over the years, her on/off bullshit with Set got on every last one of my nerves. It was lowkey a sport for them, to see who could get who riled up more. Only, it was an ego thing, and not because they actually liked each other.

Which was why me, Nut, and Turk were over it.

Brina was a breath of fresh air. Set couldn’t approach her like he did every other female, and my brother ended up falling headfirst in love instead, before shit went to hell. These days, Set’s too busy running the operation Tiny left behind to think about bitches, much less Brina, who’s back in Northupton. And Wyn’s been in the wind since he chose up, way before he took over.

“This ain’t no weird game? Me being here?”

Wyn’s brows furrow. “I’m not understanding… Sheisty said the transfer went through before I texted you.”

“It did. But you know how you are, Wyn.”

I lean onto the wall just as she folds her arms. She’s trying for annoyed, until a smile breaks on her face.

Her makeup’s so fire, if you ain’t know her, you wouldn’t even think she has freckles. Her smooth, blemish free face looks natural.

“Shaddy, you know I never mix bullshit and music, just like you don’t. We left Foe Dub, and Set, and Brina, and everything else at the door. Here, we’re back to being the kids who traded verses back and forth on MyRoom. Here, we’re actually, I’on know, friends. We can go back to the bullshit once we leave the studio.”

She holds out her hand so we can shake on it. Sincerity shines in her eyes, and for a moment, it really does feel like we’re kids again. The first time I came to this studio was much of the same; she randomly messaged me and Sean, swearing us to secrecy. I never thought the secret location she had Rico drive us to would be here, where, at thirteen, I began learning from real legends in the industry.

I needed it then, just like I need this now. A distraction from all the other bullshit happening outside of this building. I can’t help my bros. I can’t bring Tati, Fredo, or Sean back. I can’t make my OG be a mother to Raya.

But I can create music. I can make some fire beats for Wyn’s budding career. I can help cement her place as the next big rapper to come from Get Money Records, because if anyone can do it, she can.

I slide my hand with hers, and chuckle when she does the Birch handshake.

“Fasho, Wynter Snow.”

She shows all thirty-two teeth to me. “Leave the rhyming to me, Shaddy.” With a pat to my chest, she waltzes back into the studio, with me following her.

Tonight’s finna be a great one.