Songs About Boys

By Brian Patrick Davis

Twenty-four-year-old Sidney McKenna is an aspiring songwriter and hopeless romantic with an appetite for independence. Thanks to his successful parents and a family friend, Sidney has the means to pursue his dream of becoming a force in the competitive, straight, and male-dominated music industry that pumps through the heart of Atlanta, Georgia.

Although everyone believes in Sidneys talent and supports his eagerness to continue his journey in such an uncertain industry, he begins to second guess himself when faced with the hip-hop communitys open opposition of the gay lifestyle. As Sidney attempts to prove himself to his peers, he is also challenged with the scrutiny that accompanies life in the public eye as well as an unexpected romance with the power to forever change the course of his life and career. Now it is up to Sidney to navigate through a world filled with highs and lows, taboos, and jealousy in order to attain what he has always wanted.

In this urban tale, an aspiring songwriter sets out on a quest to find self-sufficiency, success, and love while pulling back the curtain to expose Atlantas exciting, but fickle music industry.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Mar 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781480842533

Brian Patrick Davis

Brian Patrick Davis is a full-time artist and admitted nerd with over ten years of experience as a journalist and creative force in the music industry. His writing is inspired by his desire to be a voice for anyone misrepresented by current portrayals in media. Davis lives in Atlanta, Georgia, where he innovates with his team, the creative collective Etcetera Production Group.

Book preview

1

I had been uploading songs of my own creation to my SoundCloud page for the past year, pleading with my closest friends for support with retweets, while sending seemingly unseen tweets to artists, songwriters, producers and music execs who had inspired me and my stanzas since preteen-hood. Just hoping that one of them would click and lend their genius ears. But it was beginning to feel like nothing was working. It seemed extremely fruitless, fallen on deaf ears instead of genius ones. I was twenty-four years old and had been writing songs since I was only eleven, but still no placements or major connections to show for it.

I’d always gone to artist showcases, trying to rub elbows with people that I wanted to be like. Because, see, that’s the thing about the music and entertainment industries in general. It’s a tight-knit circle. It’s more about who you know, than what you know. Or what you’re good at.

I was a peach. Born and raised in Atlanta, what some may call the heart of the music industry and in recent years, labeled Black Hollywood. Although my parents picked up and moved to not-so-far-away Savannah, I stayed here and went to Georgia State University in hopes of satisfying my mom and dad’s desire for me to delve into the depths of higher education. But that wasn’t my real passion. It was music. And Atlanta was the best place to pursue that. I became an English major, because, hell, I speak it and I considered myself to be a pretty damn good writer. Songs. Essays. Articles. You name it, I could write it. I could do it all.

In my mind, I had the perfect plan. I would go to school during the day, breeze through my assignments and spend my nights in the studio, churning out hits for my favorite artists. Things didn’t pan out that way. Mommy and Daddy were pleased that I’d gotten a degree but didn’t quite understand why I wasn’t using it to get a job, to solidify a career—one that I didn’t want, wouldn’t be passionate about and would probably end up losing. I wanted to work in music. I wasn’t looking for overnight success. I didn’t even want stardom. I just wanted to write songs and get paid for doing what I loved, something I knew I was good at. I was willing to pay my dues.

Sidney, are you daydreaming again? Ayanna snapped.

I’d been found out. I dropped a pile of CDs and ducked down, looking up at her. I’m sorry, I said coyly, chewing gently on my bottom lip. It won’t happen again.

Ayanna laughed, shaking her head. It would happen again. This wasn’t the first time, obviously. It certainly wouldn’t be the last. I was a nervous wreck. Today, I’d been invited to the studio to write and record by my best friend, Dominique.

Dominique Knoxx, formerly known as Dominique Charles, was a songwriter too. She’d been writing for as long as I had, but had definitely taken more giant leaps. Leaps and bounds in comparison to what I’d accomplished. Dominique made a splash within the last year working with some of today’s top producers and brightest stars. While in college, she turned herself into a complete studio rat, learning the ropes from heavyweights like Keri Hilson and Ester Dean.

It certainly didn’t hurt that she was jaw-droppingly gorgeous. It made the guys who hung around, especially producers and artists, more willing to work with her. Not to dim the light on her pen game, of course. She was talented. But it was obvious that they liked to have her around, not just for her top lines, melodies, and pipes, but for her looks, too. She didn’t make it hard for guys to take notice. Those almond-shaped hazel eyes and gorgeous, sun-kissed ringlets sprawling from that beautiful head of hers. ‘Nique (that’s what I called her) was to die for. She was like Rihanna’s doppelgänger, just a touch less glamorous. She had an it factor, wasn’t trying too hard, and was somewhat of a flower child. It was like her style was torn from the pages of a Free People catalog and topped with her favorite ripped fishnets, Doc Martens and a vintage leather motorcycle jacket she found at a thrift store for only thirty-five dollars.

Although she was my best friend, I looked up to her. She was doing exactly what I wanted to be doing. Plus, she always promised that once she got her foot in the door, she would help me make the connections I needed as well.

Since high school, we had made up a writing duo that we called The Ink Box. Dominique happened to be in the right place at the right time and got her break quicker than I did. I wasn’t jealous of her. I was proud. She was my best friend and I knew that with her inching her way in, we’d be back to writing songs and making money together in no time.

It’s okay, Sid. Ayanna teasingly poked my side. I know you’re nervous, but you’re at work. Just try to get through the rest of your shift without totally clocking out.

Ayanna was my boss and a close family friend. She was the big sister I always wanted. One thing I’d grown to love most about her was that she let me work in her record store—I mean, sound boutique—while still pursuing my dreams of becoming a songwriter. She kept my mom and dad at bay and off my back about my life and me floating aimlessly around Atlanta. They gave me a lot of shit about staying here for college and not moving with them to Savannah. Or floating aimlessly elsewhere.

Ayanna was a bit of a purist in the way that she didn’t approve of how music was moving into all-digital formats. She hated streaming with a passion, so she opened her sound boutique, called, well, The Sound Boutique, in the Old Fourth Ward of Atlanta, downtown on Edgewood Avenue, right next to the local but renowned tattoo shop City of Ink.

She was right. I had about an hour and a half left on the clock, and Dominique would be on her way to scoop me to head to Doppler Studios soon. While still in my head, I stacked and rearranged CDs and vinyl records in alphabetical order, still catering to the eclectic nature and art direction of displays that Ayanna was so anal about in her shop.

As the clock closed in on my release from work, I headed toward the back of the store and into the restroom to make sure that I was presentable. I mean, granted, I had been in studios before and they were pretty relaxed environments, but until now, I was pretty much invisible. I wanted to make a good first impression. I reached to press my fingers against the cool metal knobs of the sink to splash my face with water. I looked up at the mirror. Not too bad, I thought to myself. I tilted my head, my soft brown curls bouncing around my neck and shoulders. Deciding to pull them up into a messy bun on top of my head, I yanked anxiously at one of the hair ties idly sitting on my wrist.

I had on my usual: a crisp, white T-shirt, classic skinny denim jeans, ripped at the knees and a pair of dirty, white Chuck Taylor All-Stars. Was I too relaxed? It didn’t matter now. I didn’t have the time to worry about it. Dominique would arrive any minute. I slipped from the bathroom, into the break room and snatched up my laptop bag before bolting back to the front of the store.

Do great, Sidney McKenna! Don’t worry about a thing. Just do amazing work like I know you can, Ayanna shouted as I hit the door. I looked back at her, smiled, waved, and exited to the warm sidewalk to find Dominique, honking her horn as she pulled up to the curb, windows down.

You ready? She grinned, pulling her oversized Ray-Ban Wayfarers to sit on top of her crown of golden and brown curls. I smiled again, running to the passenger door of the car and hopping in.

Let’s do it.

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The ride to Doppler felt like a lifetime. The music was blasting, and we rode mostly in silence, Dominique mouthing lyrics to songs as she frequently checked her rearview and side mirrors in Atlanta’s crazy traffic.

My mind was going a mile a minute. How many people were going to be in the session? Did Dominique know all of them? Was I underdressed? Of course, my biggest insecurity reared its ugly head. Would these people be accepting of me? This was the music industry, after all. A straight, male-dominated industry. People think it’s easy to be comfortable in these types of settings as a gay guy, but really, most times, it feels like it’s only tolerable if you’re a make-up artist or hair or wardrobe stylist. You don’t see too many obviously gay men in the studio, working with producers and engineers behind the scenes. At least not from what I’d seen.

Second-guessing myself, my confidence and my talent was pissing me off. I was not this person. I’d been satisfied with who I was for a long time. Coming out was easy for me and I was never apologetic for who I was or what I stood for. So why was this grinding my gears? In my mind, it was the cocktail of the anticipation of potentially getting my big break and the anxiety of it not happening over some close-minded niggas who didn’t understand me and rejected the unfamiliar.

I looked over at Dominique. She was so beautiful and really didn’t care what people thought of her, and clearly what they thought of me. Otherwise, she would have never invited me, right? I settled back into my seat, a little more at ease. Tilting my head back, I let the breeze cool me for the rest of the ride. This was going to be alright. I would be fine.

We arrived at Doppler and I was back to being a ball of nerves. Dominique buzzed in on the callbox and a loud click rang from the door’s lock. We entered a dim lobby with softly playing music, the walls filled with plaques of artists who had come through to work their magic. The receptionist was a cute young girl, clearly a college student. She smiled at Dominique, her face full of make-up, but flawless, nonetheless.

Dominique! Hey, girl. You here for your session? the girl squealed.

Yeah, girl… anyone here yet? She looked back at me, gesturing for me to join her at the hightop desk. Trish, this is my boy Sidney. Sid, this is Trish.

I smiled and waved silently. What the hell was I doing? I’m never this quiet. I gotta get rid of these nerves.

You’re shy, huh? Trish teased.

I shook my head. Nah, I’m just trying to focus, keep my head in the game.

Dominique nudged me and laughed. Trish followed.

Sid, Trish has some pretty strong pipes on her. She thinks she’s fooling somebody by being a receptionist up here. I be hearing her in the hallways, singing her ass off while she’s going to get people coffee and shit. She’s just waiting to be discovered.

I heard that! I exclaimed.

Trish snickered. Shut up, Dominique. I’m out here trying to make it just like everyone else. What y’all working on today?

I think Bang has some stuff that he wants to work on for Kelly Rowland. Her flight hasn’t landed yet, so we’re gonna go in there and see if we can knock some shit out before she gets here. If she likes it, we’ll cut it.

My eyes shot wide open. On my first night? Bangladesh and Kelly Rowland? Dominique was tripping. This wasn’t just some fly-by-night session to get my feet wet.

Well, you can go back in there, help yourself to some water, Red Bull, or y’know… Cîroc if you wanna get a little loose before you get started. Trish pointed left to an even dimmer hallway, lined, again, with gold and platinum plaques. Their walls trembled from heavy bass lines resonating from the other side of the rooms they contained.

Cool. Dominique nodded and grabbed her keys from the desk. Let’s go.

I followed Dominique’s lead down the spacious hallway. On the right, she pulled open one heavy door marked D and then pushed another, opening up to a plush control room, filled but organized with state-of-the-art studio equipment, perched before a huge glass window, incasing a beautifully designed sound booth. I dropped my laptop bag on one of the huge black leather couches and Dominique plopped down next it, dropping her laptop bag as well, looking up at me.

You like? she asked, pulling off and tossing her Chanel cross-body handbag to the other side of the couch.

I nodded and took a seat next to her, a little apprehensive. Yeah. But, ‘Nique, why didn’t you tell me we were working with Bang and Kelly today?

Because I knew you’d freak. Just be cool. She casually kicked her legs up on the couch, unlocking her phone to check her text messages. Dominique was barely addressing me, not even looking in my direction. This is gonna be good. You got just the kind of melodies and edge that Bang likes and that Kelly’s looking for with this next project. I wouldn’t have brought your ass up here if I didn’t think you could do this. She reached back and punched my shoulder, as if to bring me back to reality.

I let out a loud sigh.

Don’t worry about this, Sid. You’re good. Just like I said, this is gonna be good. For the both of us.

There was a knock at the heavy door. Dominique and I both looked up. She pushed herself from the couch and opened it up, all exasperated, like she had something better to do.

Dominique! What up, sis?!

Sizz! What up! She leaped up and threw her arms around what seemed like a giant compared to her.

Sizz and an entourage of three or four backed Dominique into the D room, her arms still wrapped around his neck. She released him and backed away, checking him out.

I see you, my nigga!

Yeah, I’m just trying to get like you, superstar… He dusted his shoulders off playfully.

Sizz was a producer who Dominique frequently collaborated with. I’d never met him, but she’d told me all about him. All good things. And of course, I was very familiar with his work. He’s the one who kind of gave her a shot when it came to writing songs professionally. Sizz was really great friends with an artist named Tinashe, who, at the time, was looking for female writers to work with on a new EP she was dropping just before the release of a new album. Sizz called Dominique because he thought that she would fit the vibe and things automatically clicked. Dominique spoke extremely highly of Sizz, so much so, that at one point, I thought they had romantic interests in each other. Those thoughts dissipated as soon as I heard him greet her as sis.

I couldn’t help but notice. Sizz was fine as hell. He was about six-foot-six and solid, dressed in a perforated baseball jersey, joggers, and fresh Jordans. His hair was dark and thick, glistening with immaculate waves. He had near perfect caramel-colored skin and his gorgeous teeth gleamed in contrast with his luscious, manicured beard.

I smiled at their interaction. It was good to see Dominique connecting with such great, talented people.

Sizz, I want you to meet Sidney, my friend I’ve been telling you about. Sidney, Sizz.

Sizz approached the couch. I stood as he offered me some dap. This was so awkward. I was not good at dapping guys up, because I never knew what the proper gestures or protocol were. Everyone’s dap was different and I was used to hugs or handshakes. I stared directly at his hand for a moment, thinking about what the next step was, looking like I needed a manual. Dap just wasn’t something that I was accustomed to, but I tried my best, fudging my way through it.

Sidney, what up… I’ve heard a lot about you. Dominique, here, speaks really highly of you. I heard you sick with the pen too, he said, looking back at her, Dominique, why you just now bringing him up here? You trying to keep all the checks for yourself?

She scoffed at the notion, waving her hands in disagreement. Boy, shut up. You know I’m just trying to make sure I’m straight with my position before I start trying to put other people on. You know how y’all do.

It’s as if he was talking to me while not completely acknowledging my existence. His entourage, which I noticed included a rapper named Young Wade, was carrying on their own conversation near the boards while Dominique and Sizz engaged with each other.

Dominique repositioned herself to lean on me and grab hold of my arm, Sizz grinning in front of us. Me and Sid gonna come up with some heat for Kelly Rowland tonight.

Word? Sizz had a thick Cali accent and charming L.A. swagger. Oh, Sid, these are my guys… Wade, Josh, and Verne. Guys, this is Sidney, Dominique’s friend. He’s another writer. They’re gonna be working on some shit with Bang tonight for Kelly.

Verne and Josh gave casual waves. They seemed uninterested. It was clear that they were either Sizz or Young Wade’s do boys—childhood friends who got put on payroll, but lacked any actual skill. Surprisingly, Wade stepped up to introduce himself properly. Dominique reached out, pushed him in the chest playfully and gave him a pseudo-ghetto nod.

Aye, nigga, she jeered.

He grinned at her, rubbing his hands together. What’s up, y’all.

What’s up, Wade. I lifted my arm and waved like a complete goofball.

I’m supposed to be getting on one of them Kelly tracks too, Wade assured us, So, make sure you guys come with the heat and Bang leaves a spot to get me in here to throw a hot sixteen on it.

Wade was just as handsome as Sizz. Tall and fine, with milk chocolate skin and a strong jawline. He was the epitome of masculinity. He was a rapper, so there’s no telling how much of that bravado was for show, or if that was truly who he was. Working with him would have been an honor and a definite step in the right direction. Wade received some major co-signs from industry heavyweights, just off of his first mixtape, First Born Crown. People were really fucking with him—he’d been featured on almost everyone’s record that spring. Sizz had done a great job ushering him into the industry and helping guide his career, making sure he had all the right looks.

We both nodded. I felt like such an idiot. I wasn’t adding much of anything to the conversation. I was just trying to stay in my lane, doing my best not to step on anyone’s toes.

Yeah, we got you. Just make sure your ass comes with it once we get this song together. Dominique was so great at the banter. Her quick wit was one of the things that kept people wanting more. I don’t know where she got the equation for the perfect medium of being playful and flirtatious, while completely friend-zoning men who craved her affections.

Stop, ‘Nique. Wade’s got bars. He’ll bring a great energy to the track. It’ll be dope, I added.

See, Sizz… This dude knows what he’s talkin’ about. Dominique got all that mouth, tryin’ to play me, Wade, then, also, offered me some dap. I acted like I knew what I’m doing again.

We all laughed, but for them, probably at my expense.

Well, I’m gonna let y’all get to it. We out here. We’ll be in the A room for a minute, so come holla at us when y’all get some time. Peace. Sizz threw us the deuces as he made his exit. Wade, Josh, and Verne followed behind.

Dominique fell back down on the couch, grinning up at me. "You really are nervous, aren’t you?"

I sat down next to her. How can you tell?

You’re a chatterbox, Sid. Those niggas had you completely silent. You’re usually a social butterfly around strangers.

Yeah, but those are your friends. I didn’t wanna impede.

"Uhh, Wade and them niggas are not my friends. I really only fuck with Sizz."

I wondered what she meant by that.

Don’t get me wrong, they’re cool. I like Wade a lot. He’s dope. I just don’t know him like that. But I’m closest with Sizz. He’s like a big brother to me.

I nodded and stared up at the ceiling.

Let’s get to work, she said, heading to the mixing board and maximizing a ProTools session with the track already loaded up. The beat blasted through the speakers and it was time to begin. Dominique paged the engineer, Morgan into the D room and we immediately got started. She was right. This track was edgy and needed something sexy. Dominique entered the vocal booth, slid on some Dr. Dre Beats studio headphones and started laying down some airy melodies on the track, humming and scatting syllables of inaudible words. I watched her eagerly, bobbing my head as the uptempo composition slapped around the control room. I already had some lyrics for what she was cooking up. This was going to be great. Natural. Completely organic.

See! Kelly and Bang loved that shit! I knew it! Dominique squealed.

I looked down at my iPhone. Wow. It was 4:47 AM.

I smiled up at her. Thank you, ‘Nique. This means the world to me.

She smiled back, throwing her arms around my neck and pulling me close. She still smelled divine. I told you, Sid! We’re about to do this! The Ink Box takeover! Like we always said. This is just the beginning. Like, we’re coming back here tomorrow to do some more shit. We gotta come up with as much heat as we can.

No, I’m totally down, I replied. I can’t wait to go to work and tell Ayanna tomorrow. She’s gonna be so excited. I can’t believe how well this went. And I’m not even tired. I feel like we can go all night, forreal.

She released me, holding me by my shoulders now, turning her head towards the engineer. Morgan, can you bounce down the session and e-mail it to me and Sid so we can listen in the car on the way home? Just to see if there’s anything else we can do with the backgrounds or the mix. Dominique was such a natural. I admired her so much.

Where can I get some more water, ‘Nique? The interns left for the evening, and even though we’d gone through several bottles of Smart Water between Dominique, Kelly and me, I was parched.

Just go down the hall to the left, you’ll see the break room. There should be some water in the ‘fridge.

Thanks, boo. I walked into the hallway, blissfully happy, singing under my breath the catchy-ass hook we’d just put down for the new track, My Valuables. I didn’t even notice there was anyone else in the break room when I opened the stainless steel refrigerator to grab two bottles.

Good job, Sidney. You and Dominique really blew ‘em away tonight.

I spun around, startled, slamming the refrigerator door shut with my backside. I dropped the bottles of water. Oh shit!

Sizz laughed, stepping towards me to pick up one of the bottles, while I scooped up the other. He reached out and handed me the bottle. You good?

Y-yeah, I’m good. Sorry. I just didn’t know there was anyone else in here.

Yeah, boy. We be in here all night. We’ll probably see the sun rise.

I smiled shyly. Yeah. I can’t wait ’till I’m able to do that.

What’s stopping you? he asked.

I started making my way towards the break room exit. I still work a regular job. This is my first time really doing anything like this. I mean, I’ve been writing music for what feels like all my life, but this is really my first big opportunity.

Word? Well, I mean, I know you’re dope if Dominique fucks with you. And if what I heard tonight is any indication of what you’re capable of… You should come through tomorrow to work on some stuff.

Oh yeah, me and ‘Nique are gonna come and put down some more stuff for Kelly tomorrow.

Yeah? Well, come through early so I can play you some tracks and see what you do with ‘em.

Me? Yes, Sid. Duh, you. Okay. Cool. I’ll come through.

Aight, boy… Congratulations. Tell Dominique I’m gonna come in there and holla at her before y’all leave.

Alright. Thanks, Sizz…

2

T he next day, I could barely contain myself. I called my mom and talked her ear off about my evening. She was proud and excited, from what I could tell. She didn’t really understand the entertainment business, so, of course, the first thing she asked me, was if I got paid after the session. She was trying as best she knew how to be supportive, so I didn’t let it bother me. I had to get to work.

See, Sid, I told you. You had nothing to worry about! Ayanna exclaimed, cutting open a shipment box full of brand new vinyl.

I know, I know. I was just nervous. I mean, can you blame me?

I guess not. And you say you’re going back this evening? It’s gonna be no time before you gotta leave me here. I mean, not like you got any work done anyway, with all your daydreaming… Kidding, she smirked and paused. Half.

I glared at her, rolled my eyes and proceeded to help her pull the shipment from the boxes, stacking the records on the counter. Yeah. We’re going back tonight. Sizz asked me to come in early so he could play some tracks to see what I could do for them.

Sizz? Sizz the Synth? He was there too?

Yeah. Him and Dominique are really close friends. He was cool, seemed really down to earth. I’d love to write some stuff for him. His production is dope.

He’s a talented motherfucker. He and Slade have hung out a few times, from what I know. That’s a good look, Sid.

Hopefully. You know how these industry people can blow smoke up your ass. I was trying not to get my hopes up about working with Sizz on my own. Besides, it’s not like we exchanged information. There was a chance that I’d get to the studio and no one would be there. Or worse, if he was there and looked at me like I was crazy for showing up unannounced to his session.

My phone rang. I looked up at Ayanna, biting my lip. She rolled her eyes.

Boy, if you don’t answer that phone…

I reached over and slid left on the lock screen to answer. ‘Nique? What’s up?

Hey Sid. Sizz texted me and said you were supposed to come by to get some tracks from him? What y’all working on? She seemed excited.

Oh, nothing, forreal. He just said he liked what we did last night and asked me to come by to listen to some stuff. I guess he wants to see what I can do on my own. Or see how well I can perform without you? He already knows what you can do, y’know?

Yeah. He told me to send you his number. I’m gonna text it to you, ‘kay?

Okay. Thanks, ‘Nique.

No problem, babe. Love you.

Before I could respond, Dominique had already hung up and it seemed like Sizz’s contact information was already in our iMessage thread. I sent Dominique the kissy face emoji back, she responded with the winking one.

Sid! Ayanna called out to me. Take those two stacks of vinyls to the back so Slade can scan them into inventory? You can go after that. I know you’re eager to get out of here.

Sure thing. I went to lift the first stack and drop them in back.

Slade looked up at me from his iMac. Those for me?

You know it, I responded.

He rolled his eyes, but I knew it was all in fun.

Slade was Ayanna’s boyfriend—or, man-friend. She always made jokes about how she was too old to have a boyfriend. They’d been together for years. High school sweethearts. Slade was a hip-hop head from New York who had a brief stint being signed to Def Jam Records in the ’90’s. His rap career never took off. He released a single that did moderately well, but his album was shelved indefinitely and never saw the light of day. But from what I knew of Slade, that didn’t bother him. It wasn’t something he was bitter about. He wasn’t much for attention or spotlight. Hence, why he was never on the floor at The Sound Boutique. Although they dated in high school, Slade got married to some other chick right after he finished college. A girl who thought his rap career was gonna pop off and when it didn’t, you can guess the rest. She was out of there. Ayanna, who was like a best friend to him through the years, was there to pick up the pieces. They’d been together ever since.

I’ve always asked her why they never got married. She said it just wasn’t something they were interested in, that marriage sometimes makes something that was a good thing far more complicated. Slade used some of his money from ghost writing rap songs (for rappers who he will never name) along with some of Ayanna’s old modeling checks to open up The Sound Boutique. It was their baby. Along with their actual baby, Kairo, who recently turned five. It seemed like they had it all. They were my family away from home. I loved them.

I started to go back to the front to haul the last of the new shipment before Slade stopped me. Aye, Sid.

Yeah? I turned on my heels to him. He swiveled around in his office chair, facing me.

I’m real proud of you. Just make sure you don’t get caught up in this music biz shit, okay?

I smiled and nodded, I won’t. Promise.

If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask me. You know you’re like my little brother. Me and Ayanna really care about your well-being. Don’t want nothing to happen to you, Slade assured me. Plus, your parents would kill us if we let anybody fuck you over.

"Thanks, Slade. Maybe you can manage us? Make sure no one tries