Carmen Read online

  Neezy closed his eyes, blunt in one hand. Nothing in the other.

  He bobbed his head and the words eloquently poured from him.

  “She don’t know me. Still love her…cus she birthed me….”

  Tears filled his eyes as he continued with the love letter that he never wrote.

  “My first love. My heartbeat. She carried me nine months, I’ll give her the world. I’ll give her my last….”

  He was talented. Using his pain as a gift. Sharing his secrets with the microphone.

  “Word to my brother. He said momma was our black Queen, that’s why I treat her like…love her… like…she’s my Aminatu, my Makeda, my…Sheba. She’s mine. My Earth. I honor her. Adore her. Was raised not to ever put another before her. Yeah.”

  He drained his energy into the booth. Until he had nothing left to give.

  When he made it home, he wasn’t surprised to see his baby there, in his bed.

  She’d texted him when she boarded her plane, notified him that she’d landed. Asked was he going to still be able to come and get her. She then told him that she was going to grab them dinner and would see him at home.

  Not one response came from him.

  And yet, she was still here.

  She’d called seven times and doubled that in text messages, asking was he okay because it was getting late and she was beginning to worry about him.

  They didn’t go all day without talking.

  It wasn’t their norm.

  Well, hers.

  Nehemiah didn’t need anyone.

  He was cool alone.

  The studio didn’t do its due diligence today.

  He drove home, still feeling heavy as ever. Seeing Carmen in his bed irritated him.

  It was the first time he ever felt that way about her being in his space.

  In his personal space.

  He wanted to be alone.

  If he was an asshole he would’ve woke her ass up and told her to skate.

  That was the old him.

  He wasn’t that nigga anymore and plus; she didn’t deserve that from him.

  She’d done nothing wrong.

  He closed the door and decided to smoke until he fell asleep.

  In the middle of the night, Carmen woke up to relieve herself and the faint smell of marijuana was what notified her of Nehemiah’s arrival.

  She used the bathroom, washed her hands, fluffed her hair.

  She hadn’t seen him in forty-eight hours and had been missing him something serious. After the fourth call went unanswered and text messages were left on read, she figured he was knee-deep in work and decided to put his food into the microwave and went to bed.

  He looked tired, as if he’d overworked himself today. The worry lines etched across his forehead told her so.

  His hands were stuffed into his Nike shorts. His head reclined on the back of the couch. She moved his ashtray to the floor along with his gun and cell phone, which was dead.

  Carmen hiked the t-shirt that she’d taken from him up over the beginning of her thighs and landed her poohnanny atop his crotch.

  Grinding on him until he came to his senses.

  Naturally, his penis hardened under her.

  She smiled at the instant sensation. Carmen bent down and kissed his neck.

  He reacted but it wasn’t what she was expecting.

  Their chemistry was strong and perfectly intact.

  His response was rejection.

  Her and dismissal didn’t do well together.

  She leaned back and looked at him, “What’s wrong?”

  He moved her off his lap as gentle as he could.

  “Nothing baby, you caught me off guard. I was sleep,” he yawned.

  It was hard for her to believe him being that he was the King of sliding into her warm folds while she was sleeping. He admitted that it was his favorite time to fuck her.

  She didn’t say anything.

  He drew her close and she laid her head on his chest.

  “How was your trip?”

  Neezy was a professional at digressing. Simply because he didn’t like confrontation or arguing.

  Carmen filled him in on the details surrounding her trip.

  “I told my best friend about us and she’s so happy for me. She’s going to come up for your first show. I told her it was going to be on 11th street-

  “What you tell her all that for?” he cut her off by asking the question.

  Carmen rose and looked at him, carefully.

  His tone made her feel like he was barking at her and she didn’t like it.

  Her words came out, but it was a struggle.

  “Uh, she’s my best friend and I kept checking my phone for a text from you and let her tell it, I’m glowing, and my butt is getting big.”

  He shook his head, “Like how old are you? We still pillow talking?” he was annoyed.

  She said, sarcastically, “I didn’t know I was a secret.”

  Neezy hopped up from the couch, “You not but I don’t like people in my ma’fucking business. Keep your mouth closed.”

  It sounded like a threat and that’s what bothered her the most.

  She jolted to her two feet as well and said, “Who the hell you talking to?”

  Carmen didn’t like being talked to like that. She didn’t appreciate it at all.

  “Bra, just get out,” he was done with the conversation.

  He needed some time to himself anyway. Truth be told, his problem had nothing to do with her having girl talk with one of her homies.

  He was blissful that he was the sole reason for her glow.

  That’s what a man was supposed to do. If the nigga you were with didn’t aim to put a smile on your face, he wasn’t the one.

  She crossed her arms across her juicy breasts.

  “Nehemiah, I know like hell you not putting me out,” she snaked her neck.

  Carmen refused to give him her tears.

  “Yo, if you can’t roll with how I’m rocking then we can wrap this shit up before it even gets started,” he told her, not meaning one word that glided out of his curled-up lips.

  She didn’t have to be told twice.

  Carmen went into his room, grabbed whatever she could fit into an old MCM duffle bag. She threw her leggings back on and slid her feet into some Givenchy slides.

  He was smoking when she walked through the living room.

  Neezy didn’t stand up and try to beg her to stay.

  Nor did he apologize for raising his voice at her.

  Lord knows, even a few mumbled words would’ve planted her there with him.

  She didn’t want to leave…but would grant his wish.

  When she walked out, she slammed the door behind her.

  The room stilled while his mind did the opposite.

  η

  “Yo, you alright?” Porter asked Neezy. He patted his shoulder after he gave him a head nod.

  “Okay, cool.”

  He looked down at his notepad, “Where was I?” he scratched the side of his beard, hating that he’d lost his train of thought so fast.

  It had been a lil’ minute since he managed an artist and had team meetings.

  Been a minute since he was out of bed this early, especially when it wasn’t his day to wake the kids up.

  Porter was a lil’ rusty.

  He laughed nervously, “Let’s eat breakfast and then we’ll resume,” he told everyone.

  Porter gulped down the last of his coffee while peering over at Neezy once more.

  “You sure everything good?” his tone was always inviting, warm and comforting.

  And most importantly, he was genuine.

  Porter didn’t openly take on people’s fuckin’ problems, he tried his hardest not to, yet often found himself putting on the Superman cape.

  Only because he knew how it felt to hold everything in.

  It was unhealthy.

  “Yeah, I’m straight. You don’t have to ask me no more,” he let him know t
hat he was good. Neezy never had a daddy and his brother was dead. P needed to back the fuck up. Today wasn’t the day. He didn’t understand why his presence was needed at this stupid ass meeting anyway; he was the artist. All he wanted to do was record and make hits. For goodness sake, how many times did he have to tell them that? Were these niggas hard of listening?

  Porter said, “Roger that.”

  He got up and made him a small plate of fruit and cheese with a slice of raisin toast.

  “Does everyone know each other? Or have you guys worked on projects together before?”

  The question was posed for everyone at the roundtable. These were Juice little minions. His boy had his own team now. An entire record label, building and security included.

  He was damn proud of Juice and was honored when he reached out asking for him to step up and fill the role of Neezy’s manager in his absence.

  He shared with P that he had been doing everything thus far out of his pockets. Neezy wasn’t offered a contract. From his own past experiences in this industry, before he exerted any time and energy into this kid, some paper work would be signed.

  Contrary to popular belief, P was still the man and was a very busy guy. He was in high demand across the board. His expertise was requested, presence was needed, and everyone wanted him at their conferences, on their panels and in their space. QB teased him the other day by saying, “Niggas will pay you a thousand per minute just to talk to you.”

  Porter laughed him off until he got home and considered becoming a business consultant. He could use his mistakes and experiences to help other aspiring entrepreneurs reach their fullest potential.

  It was something to ponder on. For now, he had Lil’ Neezy to worry about.

  Everyone looked at each other and somewhat felt as if they knew the person sitting next to them.

  Kinda…

  Not really…

  Were the looks on everyone’s faces.

  He wiped his mouth with a napkin and then stood up, “Breakfast over. Okay before we really get to work, let’s do a bonding session. It’s important that we all know each other. It will help us a lot down the road. I’ll start, my name is Porter Bavay. I am from Paris, France. Married so don’t try it,” he chuckled.

  “Father of a hundred kids, I do a lot. I dabble everywhere. My biggest pet peeve is tardiness, don’t forget that,” he said firmly.

  “Neezy, you’re up!” he gave the artist the floor.

  He participated but it was obvious he didn’t want to be here.

  “I’m Neezy, my real name is Nehemiah...only one person calls me that though,” his voice trailed, as he thought about his sweet thing who he’d pushed away.

  He called her a few times on some high and emotional shit, but she didn’t respond to him. The pain of missing her was currently hurting more than a tooth ache.

  “I’m from Atlanta, Georgia.”

  One of the girls said, “Yeet!”

  She must’ve been from the dirty-dirty too. He threw up a “W” because he was straight outta Bankhead. Neezy loved the Westside…it was truly the best side.

  Neezy skipped over the details surrounding his personal life and relationship status. That was none of their business. P was happily married so he made lil’ jokes about being off the market.

  “Uh, my biggest pet peeve would probably have to be people in my space when I’m creating. It’s kind of like let me be for a second.”

  He didn’t stand up as Porter did to do his introduction, but the rest of the room did.

  Once that was through, Porter did a few more “games” and then concluded the meeting.

  “Tomorrow, we’ll get down to business.”

  Neezy was relieved that it was over.

  He hopped up, anxious to hightail it out of there.

  “Neezy, one second my man,” Porter was on him like white on rice.

  He groaned, “What now?”

  Him and Juice acted the same. Juice was anal and so was this nigga.

  They always wanted something.

  “Clear the room, folks. You can stay in the building and prep for tomorrow, but I need this room,” he informed Neezy’s team and his new staff.

  It didn’t take long for everyone to disperse.

  Neezy sat back down and Porter did the same.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked him again, because his attitude was funky, and he didn’t work with divas. His wife was the first and last artist that had given him the blues.

  Porter didn’t have the patience to pacify or kiss a grown man’s ass. He had a house full of spoiled children to tend to.

  “Yeah, I’m good…”

  He finally admitted, “Me and my shorty got into it, I’m straight though…” he kept telling himself that and everyone else. Neezy and feelings were new, which told him that he was really feeling his baby and missing her like crazy.

  “Time heals,” Porter offered some sound advice.

  “What’s up?” he asked, ready to get whatever they needed to discuss over with so he could keep it moving.

  Porter pulled out a contract thicker than the Holy Bible.

  “I’m very excited to be working alongside you on this promotional tour and with shaping you into a future mogul. Juice hates that he couldn’t be here right now, but he trusts me and it’s important that you trust me as well,” he started off by saying.

  “I told him I understand…if it was my baby, I would be home too. Locked in that thang.”

  Tia was home recovering, but the baby was still in the NICU. It was a miracle in the making but until then, his wife needed him, so he temporarily stepped down from his company until everything was well.

  “He appreciates it too.”

  Porter grabbed his lucky pen and began to explain to Neezy, “You can take this with you. Have your lawyer or whomever you trust, look over everything. Once it’s signed, me and Juice will sign it and then we can officially get to work.”

  “This not no 360 or nothing like that, is it?”

  P chuckled, “Y’all new-school kids…why is that the first question everybody wanna ask?” he never understood that.

  Neezy laughed as well, “Shit, I don’t know.”

  “Exactly.”

  He slid the contract over to him and said, “Call me if you have any questions.”

  Neezy didn’t have any questions nor was there anything to ponder on.

  “I’m going to sign it. I trust y’all niggas, y’all held me and my family down for a year. Paid my rent and made sure I came home to some paper. My brother used to talk about you all the time.”

  He didn’t even thumb through the pages. Neezy went to the last page and signed on the dotted line.

  P was impressed.

  He stood and shook his hand, “When I say I got you, I mean it lil’ homie.”

  Long after he’d left, Porter Bavay remained, working on putting together a master plan to blow this young boy up. He had the heart of a lion and the spirit of a giant. He was thinking about re-releasing his EP with seven new tracks and go from there. Neezy had so much recorded content that they could take drop back-to-back for months. Nothing but mixtapes. Mixtape money was the new thing. The album would be drawn out and long overdue. He knew exactly how he was going to market this. It was genius.

  He checked the time on his watch, and he needed to get the heck out of there before he missed the game.

  P loved sports and didn’t miss any game in the city.

  Basketball, football, baseball, soccer, he loved all that shit.

  He didn’t have time to go home and change, so he left the suit jacket with his driver and took his tie off. He unbuttoned the top two buttons and texted his wife, “Hope you had a good day, babe. At the game.”

  She texted him back and said, “Love you and I know baby lol.”

  His schedule was pretty routine.

  Her spirit had been down since everything transpired between she and her brother. As he predicted, the story was old news
and Genesis still had her on block.

  Mahogany would have to do a pop up on him soon. His condo was in her name and she paid the rent so technically, she had the right to barge in there.

  When she spoke to her mom, she talked cash money shit and agreed with Mahogany until P shook his head and motioned for Mahogany to cut it out. Entertaining and hyping her mother’s antics up wouldn’t make things any better in the long run.

  They had to love and accept Genesis for who he is.

  Being a season ticket holder had its perks. The private parking lot, separate entry into the arena and his all-time favorite, the got damn food. Man, whoever the new Chef or catering company that the arena hired to serve the food in the suites had been on it all season.

  He would purposely starve all day because he knew he would eat good at the game.

  His inner “fat-boy” crip walked as he noticed that tonight they had baked potatoes loaded with brisket and onions, honey garlic chicken wings and Nathan’s hot dogs. The dessert table and salad bar was crowded too.

  Porter grabbed a beer and piled up some food on a plate.

  “Mr. Bavay I can take that to your section for you,” one of the attendants suggested.

  He shook his head, “I got it, thanks though. Can you grab me some napkins and a bottle of water? That’ll be great.”

  He didn’t trust anyone with his food.

  Once he made it to the suite that he wrote-off on his taxes at the end of the year, he took a deep breath. Said his grace and then kicked back, while eating and watching the game.

  Normally, his guys would attend with him, but they weren’t real basketball fans. They only came to the games that everybody came too. Porter didn’t miss anything.

  He normally sat courtside, but he couldn’t really enjoy the game down there because people always wanted to stop and chat.

  It was a basketball game; he was there to watch it. Not talk or take pictures.

  Mahogany loved courtside but she barely paid attention to what was happening, so he sat down there whenever she wanted to tag along.

  He preferred that she didn’t though, because again…he was a real basketball fan.

  Halftime approached and he went to re-up on food before they shut it down. Porter ran into Eastland.

  Nia’s husband.

  He made a mental note to stop fuckin’ doing that.