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I dragged my feet into the studio, here in Brooklyn.
I greeted a few familiar faces as I made my way to a back studio room where I heard a instrumental playing loudly. I twisted the door knob and walked inside. The smell of liquor and weed immediately had hit my nose as I walked inside the large spaced studio.
A few guys I was familiar with were in here and two females that I wasn't was sitting on the couch.
I waved my hand to remove some of the smoke out of my eye sight. I guess he finally seen me because he stopped the music and stood up.
"Yo, everybody get out for a couple of minutes."
Without any remarks, everyone got out soon leaving me in the room with just him.
"You did not have to do that. I just came to check on things."
Joey waved me off and sprayed some air freshener "Nah my bad, I shouldn't have let the smoke session to get this crazy."
I chuckled as he straighten up things
I finally was able to see what he had on. He was dressed in a plain muscle shirt, white and multi- colored track like pants, with all white air forces on his feet and minimum jewelry on his body such as his neck, wrist and fingers.
"Sit down. I know your feet probably killing you."
I took a seat on the couch "Oh you just don't know."
He chuckled and soon sat down grabbing his notebook and wrote a few things down before looking up at me.
"What's up?"
"You still mad?" I asked
"I'm not mad. I was wrong for being late and shit to my interviews last week... I just been going through some shit. And you're pregnant, the last thing you need to be doing is going back and forth with my ass."
I nodded "I understand where your frustration and feelings were coming from but-
"I know I need to see a therapist. I'm just not too down with telling someone my problems."
"You tell me your problems and I'm just a random person."
