Black Ice

xiii

thirteen | antonio

Exhaustion wasn't even the word to describe the level of tired I was. After a full set on stage, Cris and I went on our run to promote "Need You."

Parlaying in clubs and hitting a couple of radio stations was a very social game. It was a game that I hated but had to play if we were going to see a light in the dark uncertainty we were facing.

Shaan opted not to join us— too busy catching up with Autumn on the phone. Ice was back at the hotel doing the same with Tiffany, but I wouldn't be surprised if he'd found his way into Ceezar's suite for a night of mischief.

He could have all the fun he wanted as long as he was smart about it, in my eyes.

And Ice was indeed a smart dude. Although school hadn't been his thing for a while now, formal education couldn't cage nor mold the kind of genius he possessed. If anything he put himself on the fast track, and that fast track fed his hunger for greatness.

Shit, I actually wouldn't be surprised if he was back on the bus right now, creating in our studio rather than locked up in his room.

And Crucial was probably right there with him, being the only one whose hunger either matched or surpassed Ice's.

They'd met their match with each other, and their musical chemistry was undeniable. It always felt like we were witnessing the beginning of something electric while watching them work. That type of energy and magic made us all strive for the same thing.

It's part of the reason Ishaan and Crystal spent so much time in the studio. Well, Cris— I think she had a crush on ole dude.

She just wouldn't admit it. She probably never would, and it was probably for the best.

Any budding romance between the two would probably end on an awkward note. Not to mention, he wasn't the right fit for her.

But she was so googly-eyed any time the nigga spoke, it nearly disgusted me, especially since the nigga was as shallow as a flesh wound and didn't know Crystal as deeply as I did. Yet, he'd talk like he'd known her longer than even Shaan did.

That was just another thing added to a growing list of reasons why tensions were rising between him and I.

Not to mention the fact that extra work meant extra time Crystal and I were spending together. The nigga didn't like that, always making sly comments about me trying to keep her from keeping her rhymes sharp and shit.

If the nigga knew her like he claims he does, he'd know that she does that on her own, whether I keep her from it or not. She'll find the time. She always does.

She was fuckin' Superwoman.

And with all the things happening, she always made time. She would write, organize, party, braid Issac's hair, work out, co-produce— and since that microphone fiasco in Montana, she would practically run the sound checks herself in every city we hit.

She was in her element. And she was the perfect person to have on my team, and if it wasn't for her tenacity and charm and creativity, I would've started losing hope about the future of our group.

And even in quiet moments where I'd worry and wonder if all this would pay off, she would assure me. It was like she just knew what to say, when to say it, how to say it, always.

She'd become my best friend.

Don't tell Deanna I said that.

"That went well," she sighed deeply as we stepped into the hotel lobby.