Rebel (A Rihanna and Eazy E Love Story)

Packed Bags and Open Roads - Part 1 (Chapter 34)

Today marked the official start of the Straight Outta Compton Tour, and the air buzzed with anticipation. N.W.A., J.J. Fad, Michel'le and Rebel were gearing up for the journey of a lifetime. At Leimert Park, the crew had gathered where the tour buses and vans were lined up, their glossy exteriors reflecting the California sun. Luggage was being hauled into compartments as the sound of chatter and laughter filled the lot.

Yella leaned against one of the buses, a broad grin stretching across his face. "Shit, I lived all my life for this day. Hittin' the road, partyin', and fuckin' all the bitches," he said with a laugh that was both mischievous and triumphant.

Cube, never one to let a comment slide, smirked and shot back, "You better strap up, nigga, and pray you don't catch nothin'." The crew laughed as Cube dapped up Ren, the camaraderie between them palpable.

Eric strolled over, a figure in tow. "Yo, niggas," he called out, his voice slicing through the chatter, "This is the homie, Too Short." He gestured towards the Oakland rapper, who gave a confident nod and a smirk that said he belonged. "Short, this is the crew: Yella, Cube, Ren, Dre, and The D.O.C."

"Wassup," Short greeted the guys, his tone laid-back but assured.

"Wassup, Short," Cube responded, stepping forward to dap him up. "Shit, just the other day I was vibin' to Life Is... Too Short. That album's fire, man."

"Much respect, man," Short replied, dapping Cube back with an easy grin.

The exchange carried a mutual understanding, one artist to another, both hustling to claim their space in the rap game. The others chimed in, throwing out nods and words of respect as the atmosphere grew even more charged. Today wasn't just the start of the tour—it was the meeting of forces that would leave a mark on hip-hop history.

Yella leaned against the bus, arms crossed, with a grin. "Aye, Short, you ready for this tour life? Ain't no sleep, just music, parties, and madness."

Short chuckled, his voice smooth with a hint of edge. "Man, I been built for this. Y'all just make sure you keep up."

Ren laughed, shaking his head. "Aight, Oakland. We'll see what you got."

Nearby, Dre was scrolling through a clipboard with the tour manager, checking schedules and setlists. He looked up briefly, catching the vibe between the crew and Too Short. "Yo, Eric," Dre called out, waving him over, "we good on the set times, right? Ain't tryna deal with no promoters trippin' last minute."

Eric nodded, shouting over to Dre as he walked towards Pat. "Yeah, we solid. Everything's locked down. First stop's The Summit, Texas!"

Eric stood off to the side, speaking in a low voice with Pat. His tone was firm, leaving no room for misinterpretation. "Pack the heat and rounds in the van, hide 'em good amongst the equipment," he instructed, his sharp eyes scanning the lot for any sign of Jerry. "And make sure Jerry don't see a damn thing. Last thing we need is him gettin' in his feelings and runnin' his mouth over this."

Pat nodded, his expression serious. "Got it. Anything else?"

"Nah, just make sure it's handled," Eric replied, glancing around again to ensure no one was eavesdropping. He wasn't about to hit the road without being strap. The thought of heading down south where the KKK and other racists lurked made him uneasy.

Eric's jaw tightened as he thought about it. The south wasn't just another stop on the tour—it was a battleground, and he wasn't taking any chances. He had heard the stories, seen the news. Black men and women were targets, and he wasn't about to become one without a fight.

More than that, he liked knowing he was protected. That's how he moved—calculated and prepared. Having a piece on him was the only way he could feel comfortable, especially in unfamiliar territory.