NIGHT RIDE. | 90s Imagines

FEENIN' - DEVANTE SWING.

All the chronic in the world couldn't even mess with you...you're the ultimate high.

DeVante's slender fingers slide across the mixing board with ease as he tunes out all the extra background noise that came with being in the studio.

His nerves are on edge from his lack of sleep over the last week. Usually, he'd have a joint stuck between his lips to keep him at ease, or else he was quiet and irritable. But he was out, which was rare, but he also had the displeasure of dealing with beggin' ass niggas all week — you know those kinds of people.

There's a knock at the studio's door but DeVante doesn't answer it. Instead, he lets someone else open it, and only half a second in does he realize it's Static. Static's one of those people whose energy he can feel as soon as they step in the room. There's only one other person that can do that.

"What's up?" He says without turning around.

"Danielle's outside," he replies in his thick country accent, "She got yo shit, De."

That's the other person.

"Go get it," he says coolly.

Static shakes his head in return, "Nah, she said she wanna see you. She said she ain't givin' me nothin' until you come outside."

"Man, fuck that bitch," he groans. Although he gets up anyways, tucking the 9mm he kept on standby into his jeans.

"De, you don't think..." Missy trails off in concern, "I mean, it's Danielle. She wouldn't try to...you know."

"I don't, but it's also midnight and colder than a motherfucker out there," he answers, sliding on his jacket, "So I don't know."

No one says anything else as he begins walking out of the room, until Static catches up with him and asks, "You want me to come out with you?"

Static, as everyone knows, is DeVante's right-hand man. De hardly goes anywhere without the kid by his side, and he knows Static's down for whatever and has got his back no matter what. But what he's not gonna do is put him in this situation. If shit goes left, he ain't tryin' to have Static jump in front of him. And he knows he would because that's just how hard Static rides for De.

"Nah, I'm good. Just stay here until I get back," he says, but Static keeps following him.

"Come on, man! What if she got people wit' her?"

"Nigga, what I say? Just stay here, I'll be fine. If I ain't back in ten minutes, stick ya head out. Until then, chill," he pats Static on the shoulder before zipping up his jacket and walking out.

It's freezing and DeVante immediately regrets coming out here, so there's a grimace on his face, even as he spots Danielle's red Toyota parked on the side. He had to keep this look on his face. Then she would know he meant business and he didn't have the time or patience to be dealing with her bullshit. Just get the weed and bounce, you know?

The producer could see her bundled-up figure leaning against the car, and the glowing embers of her cigarette are nothing compared to the kind that is laid in his chest right now. This happens every time he sees her — which is exactly why he didn't want to in the first place.

Much like Static, Danielle was a person whose energy he could feel as soon as he was in her vicinity — and it was always her vicinity, because she always managed to have all eyes on her as soon as she walked into a room. It became her room, even when she walked into his studio. It was crazy to think that she sold hefty amounts of weed, with the kind of attention she could bring to herself, but she kept herself out of harm's way and out of the hands of the police.