Dre Day

The One Who Walked Away

March 1994

Dre POV

I'm sitting in the office, Jimmy and T.A. with me, feeling the vibe get tense real quick. T.A.'s demeanor is different, and there's something in his eyes that says he's onto something, that he's figured out a piece of the puzzle.

"I know the truth," T.A. says, his voice cutting through the quiet, heavy like a thunderclap.

Me and Jimmy share a glance, feeling the weight of his words. T.A.'s got this new resolve, a determination shining through him.

"What you mean, T?" I ask, trying to keep it cool but feeling the tension rising.

"I've been digging, Dre. I know about the deals, the numbers, what's really going on behind the scenes," T.A. says, eyes locked on me, unreadable yet unwavering.

The room feels charged, heavy with the truth that's been unearthed. My composure falters for a sec, vulnerability peeking through my usual confident stance.

Jimmy's eyes dart between us, sensing the storm brewing.

"How could I be so stupid?!" T.A exclaims. "All this time, I've been working, I've been creating the best shit, that $50 million deal was too good to be true! You muthafuckas were gonna give me the bread and take my share of the label!"

I hesitated, searching for the right words. "T.A., it wasn't about that. It was about securing our future, the label's future. I thought—"

He cut me off, his tone sharp and laced with disbelief. "Securing our future? What about my stake in this nigga? What about what I've put in? When you and Jade were busy being all coupley and shit, guess what muthafucka! I was the nigga working in that studio all day and all muthafuckin' night so you could have tracks to listen to! I was that nigga who wrote all your shit and for Snoop, Dogg Pound you name it! And to think, my own brother-my friend-"

Jimmy attempted to interject, his voice calm yet tinged with urgency. "T.A., there were considerations, negotiations—"

But T.A.'s patience wore thin. "Considerations? Negotiations? What about paying me for my grind man, for the Chronic, Doggystyle, all of it? My album Street Knowledge I ain't seen a dime! You took from me, man."

The hurt in his eyes mirrored the disappointment in his voice. "I trusted you, Dre. Like a brother."

"I know it looks messed up, T.A.," I tried to reason, my voice tinged with regret. "But there's more to this than meets the eye. It's a game, and sometimes—"

"I'm done playin' games, Dre," T.A.'s voice cracked with pent-up emotion. "I put in my heart, my soul. My trust."

His anger swirled, mixing with the disappointment of betrayal. "How could you let this happen?"

I felt the weight of his words, the sting of his disappointment. "I never wanted this, T.A. You're family, man. Always have been."

T.A.'s frustration surged as he turned toward Jimmy, his voice now directed at both of us. "You know what Death Row pulls in, Jimmy. At least $300 million a year, easy."

Jimmy's expression remained composed, but the tension in the room was palpable.

"And my album, 'Street Knowledge,' went diamond," T.A. continued, his voice rising with conviction. "That's gotta be at least $40 million on its own. You telling me that ain't worth a fair cut?"

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. "T.A., it's a complex game—"

"But it's my life, Dre!" T.A.'s voice cracked with frustration, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and hurt. "What are my fans gonna think when they find out? You, Jimmy, Suge, they're giving me not even 10% of what I made for Death Row!"