Whirlwind

22

[Riley]

I was certain that I was the only person in Queens or better yet in this new era that still owned a home audio system, one that included a cd and cassette player. My father bought it sometime in the '90s, more than likely during my middle school days, and much to my surprise it managed to make it all the way through to 2011. I've been known for years now to be quite the music head, and every song and artist I have grown to love and fixate over were first heard from the speakers of this now antique stereo. There were so many memories tied to it and maybe that was the reason I couldn't see myself disposing of it anytime soon. Until it finally dies and can no longer contribute to my addiction, I wouldn't dare turn to the likes of Bose players or these popular Beats by Dre everyone are collecting now a days. This gem was it for me.

The album Mahogany Soul, another gem of mine, crafted by none other than Angie Stone was the only thing I had on rotation at the moment. It was the only album in my collection that I was sure would set this precise tone that strangely I couldn't put into words this Saturday evening. I just wanted to come down from the high leveled stress my job on the regular gives me, and be so buried in peace that cleaning the mess of clothes and shoes I had scattered all over the place wouldn't seem like a hassle. I just wanted to transcend the current mindset and universe I settled in if it were possible and on to alternate ones. Ones that would fulfill this indescribable tone I wanted swarming me. Angie was doing the job though, her voice and lyrical perfection were doing the trick. 

Somehow I was moving from either side of the room, sometimes my eyes were closed others open, swamping clothes and shoes on hangers and into boxes while each song played like an auto book. Hell, I was so sucked into her that I didn't even notice the company that had plopped across my bed. This man had made visiting me unannounced a bad habit of his and wasn't even aware of it.

"Holy shit!" I shrieked as my hand clutched my chest and the blouse within it tightly, while he just remained unbothered by the shock his presence had put me in. "Why do you insist on doing stuff like that?"

"You know, you should restart this song and sing it for me. I'm not gone act like I didn't hear you angelically humming along over there."

"And then he ignores my question..." I mumbled with a roll of my eyes, going back to my systematic process of hanging these last few blouses up. "What brings you here Goliath?"

"You."

"Okay then, what else brings you here?"

"Damn, I can't come visit my best friend whenever I have a desire to now?" Lamarr sat up from the duvet he had briefly gotten cozy on and held his chest dramatically, just as I had a minute ago. "I'm a little hurt by this unwelcoming vibe I'm getting. You know the routine, Smurfette. So I'll act like you ain't ask that question and ignore this tension." he added, keeping his charades going.

"You make me sick, you know that?" The moment he saw the plastic hanger fly from my hand toward his face, Lamarr grabbed it just in time and smirked back at me.

"It's my pleasure. Seriously though, I wanted to come see you before I left for LA tomorrow morning."

"Already?" I asked being a bit disappointed that he was leaving again. It seemed like he had just came back from the west coast last week.

Now that Lamarr was pushing for his debut album to release in September that meant he had to spend all the months prior to it as preparation. That included flying all over the country doing radio interviews, some kind of mini promotional tour or any other thing under the sun that would spread word about Cole World: The Sideline Story. Might I add I took pride in being one of the first to even know the official title of his first self-proclaimed 'baby', and even more the growth I was witnessing in his art.