FOUND [COMPLETED]

XXI

Jay

I didn't go to Crazy Horse. I was too worried about everything going on with Beyoncé and Isabella to be distracted by some women performing. Of course I wouldn't mind it, what man would, but I wanted my wife over anything. I knew I had fucked up when I made the comment about cheating, I don't know what a nigga was thinking. I wasn't thinking. But I did know that I loved Beyoncé with everything in me. I would never make the mistake of cheating on her again.

Instead of Crazy Horse, I decided to head to the studio Bey & I own downtown, about ten minutes away from our apartment, and five minutes from the Eiffel Tower. Paris is practically a second home to us, so much has happened in this city that's changed our lives. We got engaged here, our baby Blue was conceived here, it's a special city to us.

Some of my best work comes to me when I'm in some sort of conflict, with myself or others, so why not make something of it? I haven't put out anything in a while, and even though I'm technically retired, there's always gonna be new music from me. Whether it's a feature or an album, I never know until I hit the studio and decide what I want to do. Bey and I were in talks of coming out with something together, but we haven't gotten past the talking phase yet. I'll bring it back up when we're back on good terms, cause I might get my ass beat if I try to collab with her right now.

I pulled up outside the building and tipped the driver a hundred before getting out the car. I saw some paps on the corner and titled my hat down as I walked inside. I wasn't in the mood to entertain them today. Or ever, really, if you've seen some of the photos they've gotten of me. Beyoncé laughs at them all the time.

Beyoncé. Shit, I really gotta fix things with her.

"Mr. Carter, what's up man." Stephen, a good friend of mine and Bey's, greeted me as I walked through the lounge.

"Hey man, just trying to get some writing done. I got some verses to put down." I told him while patting his back. I pulled away from the hug and pointed towards the studio. "Can you do me a favor and make sure nobody comes in my studio? I don't want to be bothered today, I got some stuff to handle."

"Of course." Stephen nodded and pulled out his phone. "Does that include Beyoncé?"

I shook my head. "Nah man, my wife is always an exception. It's her studio too. I doubt she'll show up, but if she does let her in." I told him. "My kids too."

"Got it." Stephen nodded. "Nice seeing you again, Jay." He said while dapping me.

"You too, man."

I walked down the hallway to my studio and locked the door once I got inside. I didn't doubt Stephen's abilities to keep people out, but I wasn't trying to risk it. I didn't like being interrupted when I was in the middle of writing or recording, because my flow wouldn't be as hot as when I started. I've always been this way, it ain't anything new.

I grabbed a champagne glass and a bottle of D'ussé before pulling my chair up to the soundboard. I set up my MacBook and plugged it up before getting to work. Occasionally I'll work with other writers or producers, but I usually like to take care of the writing myself. It's more meaningful when it's raw; when I can just think or say a verse before putting it down. If it's planned, it ain't as good. That's how most of my biggest hits were made.

I clicked a file and rhythmic beat starting playing throughout the studio. I leaned back, bopping my head along to the beat as a million thoughts flew through my head. I was thinking too much. I'd been thinking too much since I got the call that they found my baby two and a half months ago. Now it was time to do something with it.