More Life: Chapter Eleven

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    Sophie wanted to work everything out with Aubrey, but he'd reached the limit of bullshit he could handle. He informed his team of what was going on and delegated the responsibility of communicating with her. The team could handle it, because he couldn't even begin to process that this was happening to him. 

    He'd expressed as much to Chubbs, who'd given him a major side eye before saying, "I never thought I'd suggest this, but have you ever considered seeking therapy?"

    Aubrey had gotten defensive immediately.

    Chubbs held up both hands. "No, no, no, don't give me that bullshit. I'm not calling you crazy. Well...I mean, you are a little crazy. Everyone is. I'm just saying, though, you've been through some insane shit. The Palmer shit. Losing Destiny. Now this? All while returning to music and wrapping up an international tour? This is a lot, man. You know you have me to talk to, and you have the guys to talk to, but we're not fucking licensed in this shit. You know?" He passed the hookah pipe to Aubrey.

    Aubrey stared off into space, slowly shaking his head. "You're the only one I can be this honest to about all of this. I can't imagine myself saying this shit to a complete stranger. They wouldn't understand it and wouldn't understand me, because they aren't living in this shit. You're living in it with me? You know. So, you might not be licensed but you're still a lot more qualified to put me in my place when needed."

    Chubbs squinted in contemplation, then slowly nodded his head. "I mean...that tracks."

    Aubrey laughed and took a puff of the pipe. He tilted his head back and blew up rings of smoke. The air in the hotel suite grew clouded, even with the balcony door cracked open. He sighed and closed his eyes. "Of course this would happen to me."

    "I mean...are you surprised?" Chubbs asked incredulously. "Considering how you move?" Few words spoken, but so much meaning behind them. He was all for a good time, but had always felt that Aubrey sometimes took it too far, entertained too many women, entertained a subpar standard of women. He didn't always speak on it but then again, he didn't have to. All he had to do was give a look when shit was going down, and Aubrey knew exactly what he was thinking. "You talking as if you're a victim in this shit. I can't with you sometimes, man."

    "I don't want a child with her," Aubrey stated flatly, handing the pipe back to him.

    "Then why fuck her?" Chubbs countered.

    Aubrey looked away from him, towards the balcony window and the early morning hours beyond. 

    "I seriously want an answer to that," Chubbs prompted, gesturing with the hookah pipe as if it was an extension of his hand. "Early on, your excuse was that it was expected of you. A part of the rap lifestyle, right? You're established now, though. You don't need gimmicks and photos of you in a club throwing a stack of ones at some strippers. You've made it. You've beyond made it, in music as well as the business space. What is the excuse now?"

    "I..." Aubrey shook his head, because he didn't know how to answer that.

    "I thought you were going to jump to a grief excuse," Chubbs said and finally took a hit of the pipe. 

    "I was grieving," Aubrey muttered, annoyed at this conversation. If this convo annoys me, I can end it. All I have to do is tell him that I'm not in the mood to talk anymore and he would know to shut the fuck up, because I'm the breadwinner in this crew. I'm the one who signs the checks. But I'm not ending it, why?

    Because you need to hear this, a higher consciousness told him. You're off the rails and you need to hear this.

    Chubbs sighed sympathetically. "Look. I'm not looking to reduce the significance of the shit you have been through, brother. Okay? Like you said, I've been there with you. I've been there through it. I do want to make sure you're looking in a mirror, though, and being self-aware of the choices you are making. You had to find a way to emerge into this lifestyle and be taken seriously when your start wasn't quite like a lot of your rap counterparts. I get that. You had to deal with shit involving your family, shit with women. You had the Robyn shit. You had the period of not believing in love because of the Robyn shit. And Destiny..." He shook his head, struggling to even find words. "What happened to Destiny just wasn't fair. Pure and simple. It's a nearly impossible thing to process. Nearly impossible. Going around and fucking any and every woman isn't the way you process it, though, and you know that. Fucking some new cat might be how to help get over a fucking break up or some shit, you know? But it's not a way to process actual loss, loss of a true love. On some level you know that. This woman...she was never going to be as important to you as Destiny was."

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