𝐖𝐓𝐃𝐑.

001.

' 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟖, 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟑 '
death row records headquarters ━━
beverely hills, california !

"Mika Richardson, you're destined to be a star and I can see it. Joining us will let the world see it as well. You got it- you have that it factor." His words echoed in my head as my light brown eyes adverted to every single word that was typed into the stabled pages.

Suge Knight, the co-founder of the record company was seated back in his chair, his arms folded, and a Cuban cigar residing in his mouth- the smoke clouding up the spacious office.

I held onto the red pen, my fingers shaking nervously in the process but I couldn't pinpoint precisely why. This is what I've been wanting ever since I was a little girl so why was signing the contract such an arduous task?

This was my dream and as far as I was concerned, dreams were meant to be chased. But the question is, was I going in the right direction or did I not think this through enough before walking inside of the record label?

Yeah, the controversy that stemmed around Suge's name caught my attention but rumors are what's used to try to tarnish someone's image and that's exactly what I assumed it was in this situation. He looked like he had his head on straight and had his artist's best interest at heart.

The people that were on this label were like the heroes of the community and the thought of me actually being apart of what they built, was enough to make me go ahead and sign the contract.

After my name was written, he grabbed a hold of the documents and interlocked both of his hands together, leaning over the desk as a grin appeared on his face. "Welcome to Death Row, beautiful." His grin only widened, causing an uncontrollable smile to form upon my red stained lips.

"I do have a question though, Suge. Are those things that people say about you true? Do you use scare tactics to make others do whatever you want?" The questions I bombarded him with did nothing but make him laugh as if I told a funny joke.

He pulled the cigar from his mouth, setting it on the ashtray before giving me his full undivided attention. "In this business, people are gonna paint you out to be the bad guy. But I've done nothing but help others out so they wouldn't end up in prison, or worse- dead. I'm for the people and I want everyone to win. Now does that answer your question?" Before I could even fathom a sentence, a familiar voice caught my attention which directed me and Suge's head at the doorframe of his office door.

There stood Snoop Dogg with a Long Beach cap on and his jheri curls poking through it. Dogg's fit consisted of a grey hoodie, with a black shirt underneath, along with a silver cannabis necklace that resided around his neck. The pants that he wore were dark and baggy with a belt which supported them from falling off of his very slim stature.

"I didn't know you had a meeting, I'll just come back later." He stuffed his hand in his pockets. I couldn't help but to notice the little emotion he showed on his face and I was fully aware why.

The tabloids had been exploiting his name in almost every magazine because of the allegations that were pinned against him.

The situation transpired three months ago when Snoop heard a commotion outside in the street of his apartment. He watched his bodyguard, McKinley 'Malik' Lee see what was going on and that's where he found street gang members arguing with one of Snoop's friends named Sean Abrams.