In Front of the Mic

Chapter One: I'm Coming Home

Note From The Author:

Before I begin, I just want to thank you for choosing this book. You're opinion means a lot to me and your feedback is greatly appreciated.

Tiffani POV:

I woke up to the pilot announcing our arrival in LA. I can't believe I'm back here. Ugh... so many memories are flooding my head. I gathered my things and exited the plane. I was so tired I didn't even hesitate to leave the airport, catch a cab and head to my hotel. The entire way there I couldn't help but think about Michael.... or Tyga, whatever he wants to be called now. I remember how inseparable the two of us were as kids. He was there through some of my toughest times... but as soon I left for college we started to lose touch. A few months ago I saw him on 106 & Park promoting his new album, I wanted to congratulate him... but what could I possibly say without sounding like someone who just wants to be his friend because he's famous? Hell... what am I going to say when I see him tonight? I stepped out of the cab and checked into my hotel. After taking a shower, I rested on my bed and mapped out my next moves. I planned on surprising him at his birthday party tonight. The only problem was.... I didn't know where the party was. I browsed through Instagram until I came along a picture he posted. He was standing with Chris Brown and the caption read:

@kinggoldchainz: AYYE LADIES!! Come out and turn up witcha nigga for his 23rd Gday at Club Exclusive! Drinks on me all night. Oh and tha homie @chrisbrownoffical will def be in the building! #KingShit #Kingin

Well, that's one issue handled... now I just need to go find something to wear.

Chris POV:

"Man, what the hell are you doing just moping around? It's ya birthday, yo ass need to be out there having fun."

I said to Ty as I passed him the joint. He been acting all sad and shit lately. I wonder what the hell has gotten into him. My nigga ain't never been the type to let shit get to him.

"You ever get that feeling where.... ummm..."

"Nigga just say it damn... and past me the joint. Yo cheifin' ass." (cheifin'/ chief= the act of hogging the joint)

He hit it again and passed it to me.

"Iight Breezy you better shut that shit up it's my muhh fucking birthday and I can chief if I wanna."

He nudged my arm as we shared a laugh.

"Anyway..." he continued. "Do you ever get that feeling where, you're happy... but you know you'd be happier if a certain person was there to share the moment with you?"

I nodded my head as I thought about Rihanna. Damn, me and Rob (Robyn) used to have some good ass times together, but we just ain't there no more. I mean we still cool, but it's just not the same between us.

"Nigga!" He said in his Kevin Hart voice. I snapped out of my train of thought. I forgot I was even talking to his ass. "Damn, Chris you don't listen for shit. How the hell you got them big ass ears and can't hear? Ole dumbo head ahh."

"Man fuck you I ain't got big ears witcho skinny ass. You look just like a dirty Qtip with that light brown hair." He shot me a look and snatched the blunt from my hands.

"So what are we gonna do about this shit?"

"Man.... what the fuck are you talking about?"

"See, I don't even know why I explain shit to yo brick wall head ass. My friend Tiffani, she's the one I was talking about when I asked my question. She was my homie since I was just a youngin' running these streets. Tiff was like my lil sister man. Then she went to college and forgot about a nigga."

"Shit... fuck her. Obviously she ain't a real friend if she would do some dirty shit like that."

"Nahh, she ain't like that it was just... I don't know. I think the distance killed us." I stood up and patted his shoulder.

"Oh well, if she's really the friend you say she is then she wouldn't want you sitting here like a sad sack of shit. It's your birthday dude be happy. Who knows, she might wanna see you as bad as you wanna see her." He nodded his head and I turned and started heading for the door.

"Aye where the fuck is yo highlighter ass going?"

"Nigga. I'm finna go pick out a fresh ass fit for tonight. I'm tryna bag a groupie or two. Ya feel me? Ion get tired!" I said as I scrunched up my face. (Ion= slang for I don't, tryna= trying to, also slang)

******

LATER AT THE MALL

I walked into the store and looked around... I guess business was slow today. Well at least I don't have to worry about any long lines. I browsed the racks until I came across a red and white Louis shirt, some white skinny jeans, a red Louis belt and some red and white Chucks. As I made my way to the check out counter I noticed there was a girl there already checking out her clothes. She was short as hell! She had to be like five foot even man. I'm not even surprised I didn't see her when I walked in, but she looked bad. She had long wavy black hair with blonde tips, that danced just above her round apple bottom. I wish I could see her from the front, but shit a nigga ain't complaining about this view either. I stood behind her and waited for her to complete her her purchase. Damn this girl got expensive taste all I see is Gucci, Louis, Fendi, Alexander McQueen, and a few Prada bags.

"Damn yo nigga must love yo ass! Shit, you breaking the hell out his bank."

"I buy my own shit thank you very much. Who the hell do you think you are worrying about what the fuck I buy anyway? Witcho irrelevant ass. Ohhh I ought-" She turned around and stopped. I bet she feeling crunchy as hell right now.

"You were saying?" I smiled at her and she blushed, trying not to smile to hard. She had dimples and everything... I think I done found me a trophy.

"Oh ummm... don't worry about what I buy. I got me... always."

"That's cute... but baby I'm FAR from irrelevant."

"I guess you right... sorry about that. I just snapped real quick my bad." She laughed moving the hair out of her face. Oh lawd she was so fucking pretty!

"You good ma. I ain't even mad, sometimes you just gotta check a nigga."

"Word. I work to damn hard for a nigga to think that I got someone paying for my shit."

"Oh really what you do?"

"I work with Eminem. He pays me to work with some up and coming artists he's considering on hiring."

Store clerk: "Umm ma'am, you need to type in your pin."

"Oh ok." She quickly typed in her pin, received her receipt and walked away. Fuck! I never even got her name. Man, that fucking store clerk... he done cock blocked my ass. I hope I see shawty again though.

★★★★★★★

Well, that was chapter one! I hope you enjoyed it. It was kind of slow, but I think you'll like the next chapter.