Dre Day

Another Blow

June 1994

Dre POV

The joint was buzzing with beats, but my head was spinning with thoughts of T.A. I'd messed up, and I knew it. It wasn't just about business; it was about loyalty, about keeping the circle tight. But ego had its way, and now, here we were—me, Jade, and D.O.C., trying to grab a bite, but my mind was somewhere else.

I spotted that damn magazine sitting there, like it was waiting for me to pick it up. T.A.'s face plastered all over the cover, screaming 'FREE AT LAST!' in bold letters. My gut clenched, knowing what I was about to read wasn't gonna be a pat on the back.

I flipped through the pages, eyes scanning for his words, half-hoping he'd say something to ease this tension in my chest. But deep down, I knew better. There it was, his interview, bold as brass.

"Yo, Dre, you good?" D.O.C.'s voice broke through my trance, but I couldn't tear my eyes away.

"Yeah, just checking something," I muttered, my mind racing faster than my words.

Jade leaned over, peering at the pages. "That him?"

"Yeah," I grunted, my jaw tense as I read his words. T.A. was straightforward, no mincing words. He laid it all out, his reasons for splitting, and I couldn't blame him. He had his own vision, his own path.

"That's rough," D.O.C. murmured, his tone sympathetic.

Jade glanced at me, concern etched on her face. "You okay, Dre?"

I shrugged, trying to play it off. "Yeah, just expected more, you know?"

But inside, I felt a mix of things—anger, disappointment, and yeah, a sting of regret. I'd let something special slip through my fingers, and it was gonna take more than beats to drown out that truth.

T.A.'s words cut deep. He laid it all bare, talking 'bout his grind at Ruthless, pouring his soul into that hustle only to get played by Eazy-E. I could relate, having seen that side of Eric myself, the way he maneuvered in the game.

Then T.A. went on, reminiscing about the genesis of Death Row—the desperation me, him, and D.O.C. felt, clawing for a way out, and then linking up with Suge and Griffey to birth our own movement. It started with promise, with that kinship we all craved, a bond that felt unbreakable.

"It wasn't about fame or cash," T.A. laid it out plain, and I nodded as I read. It was about trust, about feeling safe in a world where the spotlight brings shadows darker than you can imagine. His words resonated, hitting a nerve deeper than I wanted to admit.

"It's not a docile environment," he said. I couldn't help but smirk at that, 'cause he was right. It's a jungle out here, where the game chews you up and spits you out if you ain't watchin'.

T.A. then spoke of that rift he had with me, the one that led him to leave in a flash. He justified it, said it wasn't crazy, just a move that felt right. His sanity, his peace of mind—that was the currency he couldn't afford to lose in a place where everyone had an opinion, and few cared 'bout the man behind the music.

I glanced at Jade and D.O.C., seein' the weight of T.A.'s departure heavy on 'em. D.O.C. looked like he'd lost a brother, and Jade, well, she always had love for T.A., been tight like that since forever. Their reactions mirrored my own—feelings of loss, regret, and a gnawing realization that we'd let something special slip away.

"It's messed up," D.O.C. muttered, his voice tinged with emotion.

Jade sighed, her eyes flickering with sadness. "I can't believe he's gone."

I didn't have the words. Sometimes, the silence spoke louder than any rhyme or reason. T.A.'s departure left a hole, one that wouldn't be filled by beats or success.