A Slum Love Crime. (A$AP Rocky Story)

Part Ventisette

A raven perched itself on the ledge of Nicole’s window, pecking at something in the corner of the window. It was probably spare crumbs, or maybe Nicole actually puts food out for the birds. That’s a contrast to her seemingly resentful personality.

The light banging sound projecting from the radiator plays as a background for the voices of the men downstairs. I couldn’t quite make out their conversation, but the tone was serious. The laughter from yesterday was history.

Nicole’s faint snoring also mixed in with the medley of sounds in the house. Her room is a perfect sanctuary for the morning time.

Since it is so early in the morning, and Nicole was still asleep, I didn’t know what to do. Not that Nicole’s slumber really made a difference. Whether she was awake or not, I wouldn’t talk to her. Not after how she acted yesterday.

“I’m off, bird.” I whispered through the window. I slid the sheets off of me and wriggled out of Nicole’s other bed. How convenient was it that they just bought a second bed for her right before we came?

I was stealthy as I passed the main area where the guys were, and headed straight for the steep stairs. Looking down, I was tentative toward the mysterious darkness that seemed to branch off into nothing. But ignoring my petty nervousness, I marched down the stairs quickly to shorten the experience.

I was expecting a dusty, vacant basement. Instead, there was a professional recording studio. On the back wall was a stretched leather couch. The walls had black and tan décor. In the middle of the room was a large recording device that I couldn’t identify, and then there was the mixing console, loudspeakers, and a real digital audio workstation.

“Wow,” I breathed. I’d only seen things like this on TV, maybe in movies about legendary rappers.

Behind a window of glass was the microphone. I opened the door and entered the booth, eyeing the microphone hesitantly.

“I used to dream of coming to a place like this,” Rakim said. I turned around and looked at him. He looked fresh—clean face, nice clothing, and his braids freshly done. I wondered when he got them done recently.

“But I never even got the chance to build a studio in my house. So what made me think I could make it to a real studio?” Rakim asked. He seemed to be asking himself, so I didn’t respond.

He approached me cautiously, as if I was a lion in a zoo threatening to pounce. “Are you okay?”

I looked away from him and pondered on the question. Was I really okay? Generally, no. I thought back to right before we left Benny’s house, as to how I felt and what happened. Then I remembered the incident.

“No, I’m not okay. But as far as you’re concerned I’m fine, right?” I snapped at him without meaning to. I didn’t regret it though. He deserved to be treated this way.

“Whoa, what’s the attitude about?”

“You know damn well what it’s about. All this time I’ve been so lonely, and you’ve been ignoring me. You don’t even care about me anymore, do you? And then I find out you’re keeping secrets from me. This is too much. And to top it off, it’s my god damn birthday today!” I yelled at him.

Rakim paused, shock coming over his face. “It’s your birthday?”

I didn’t answer him. I ran a finger over the glass, watching it make a stain.

“Happy birthday, Tremaine. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know. And I didn’t mean to neglect you, babe. Hey, look at me,” Rakim laid a finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. “If you were lonely, you just had to tell me, princess.”