The Nine

Chapter 4.1: Cayman

If you can't see chapter 3.1 in the table of contents, it's because it's private due to restricted material. Lol. Just give me a follow, take the book out of your library, add it again, and voilà. It's there.

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"So you can get us on the radio by tomorrow evening?" Wall was muttering on the phone in the living room. I was still in the studio playing back the joint we just recorded a couple hours earlier. We really did sound good - it was the best instrumental we ever tackled as a group thus far. I rolled my eyes at Cori's verse. She was on some extra petty shit, but that was just her. I really wanted us to finish up these songs so we could drop this whole mixtape.

The formula was each one of us got two joints of our own and the group would do four together, for a total of fourteen tracks. We'd just wrapped up the fourth one as a whole, I still had one I had to write, the twins finished their second today, Wall was waiting to record one of his live, Co had one bagged... Tara ain't do either one yet. Baby girl was slacking. We were wrapping all this up in three weeks, so she really had to get on her shit.

I sat back in my seat and sighed. As the head of this whole operation, it was a lot of work. A nigga had to juggle five acts, my personal life, and I had to sheriff the area to keep tabs on my money. I thanked God every day I had Wallace, that nigga was a rider. He held a lot of my shit down for me.

"Alright, 'preciate it fam, you stay coming through. Six? Cool, imma be listening." He laughed, "Iight son." He hung up.

He turned to face the open door of the studio. "We gone be on the radio this time tomorrow!"

My nigga! We needed all the airplay we could get. I gave him a thumbs up, "That was Hakeem?"

"Yeah, son said he got us."

"Good looks, good looks. Keep doing ya shit love, you really our rock." I smiled encouragingly at him and he went back to answering the house line.

I stared out the window of the study right next to the living room and looked at the darkening sky. The neighborhood below was pretty much desolate. Nobody was outside except a couple mamas and daddies coming home to they kids, not knowing their bad ass children had been out here fucking and slinging all types of shit not thirty minutes before. I laughed internally; I'm glad I ain't got kids or a day job to worry my nerves.

I sank in the chair with my phone in my hand, looked up at the dimly-lit ceiling, and started to think. The last few weeks had been fast-paced as hell, what with our EP hitting the internet and us blowing up. A nigga felt good as fuck seeing all our hard work finally starting to pay off, but this was only the beginning.

Wallace had connections with everybody from NOLA to Atlanta. They had something going on at a big club on Bourbon and Wallace knew the owner of the place. They got to chatting it up and next thing you know, dude's number was dropped. Wallace had told me to be expecting a call from the guy today and I ain't leave my phone out of arm's reach yet. This was big as fuck: our first show was gone be at one of the most exclusive clubs in New Orleans, and not only that, it would be the first time we actually made some money off our songs since we came out.

Finally, the phone rang. It was an unknown number, but Wallace urged me to answer it. It was the guy a nigga had been waiting for all day long. Finally! I took a breath before answering.

"Hello?" I answered casually. Ya boy was geeked as fuck, but I played it cool.

"Who am I speaking to?" A high male voice answered back.