Glory Girlz (A Fredo Santana Story)

Vibes

Akira POV

"Fake bitches, I really ain't wit em. Imma send a choppa- maybe two of em'. 

Got yo' man slurrpin' on ma pussy hoe. The fuck you thought, you was gon' get credit foh?!" (A/N: Just made that shit up xD)  

I shook my head while knocking myself in the forehead with my pencil, chewing at my lip with a concentrated frown. It was past midnight on a fucking Friday, and I was the only one in the studio trying to get this new verse out for Fredo and Keith or they'd kill me. Keith's new album 'Sorry For The Weight' was just about done, but waiting for me to finally finish the last verse of the song I'd featured in with him, 'Himilayas'. 

"Ugh, this shit so damn stressfull!!" I huffed while grabbing my can of red bull on the soundboard to chug it down angrily. I shook slightly while hearing my phone go off in my pocket, the default samsung ringtone quickly sounding the quiet studio. "Who the fuck callin' my..." I trailed off while seeing 'Fredo Bitch Ass' as the caller ID. I rolled my eyes but was lowkey happy to be taken away from my current situation. 

"Hello?"

"Where you at, Kira? I been ringin' yo bummy ass phone all fuckin' nigh'!" Fredo's voice was raised and I could tell he was mad annoyed tryna' control himself. I shrugged although I knew this nigga couldn't see me. I propped my pink air maxes onto the soundboard while gazing thoughtfully through the glass. 

"Exactly where yo' ass told me to be, nigga! The studio! And things ain't lookin' so good righ' now." I sighed as my brown eyes scanned over the paper that only had two fucking lines on it. Weak, as fuck!

In the background it sounded like Fredo shifted as there was a shuffling of clothes in the background as his voice went grounded and serious. "Why? What's happenin'?" I raised a brow and spoke slowly while listening to the aggressiveness in his tone. 

"Nothing, I just think i'm havin' rappers block or sumthin'... can't seem to go past two damn lines. This shit is hard." I heard his low and husky chuckle from the other line and I swallowed, my eyes moving to gaze to the ceiling. Why is his voice suddenly so attractive to me? "You need some help over there?" He blew out into the phone while speaking and I knew this nigga was smokin' a blunt. I hummed dramatically before sighing. I was tired as fuck, and I knew if I didn't have at least a couple lines written by morning Keith would deck my ass. I cringed slightly imagining the sight. He beat his hoes around us while we were in the main mansion. I seen this nigga drag one of them up the stairs one time before kicking her back down. 

"Mhm," I nodded while yawning into the phone tiredly. It was silent for a while on his end and I slowly began to doze off while the phone was placed to my ear before a loud blast of music was heard, causing me to jerk awake, kicking the can of red bull off the soundboard and onto my lap the contents spilling everywhere. "Shit! Nigga what the fuck is wrong with you?!" I screamed down into the phone as I heard Fredo's cackling on the other line. I gritted my teeth. 

"Ol' leprochan ass lookin' motherfucka!" I wiped at my navy blue bust forming fitting track top, courtesy gift from Adidas while swearing at Fredo on the line who continued to laugh, blasting some foreign shit. 

"Wake that ass up, ol' cross-eyed, flat titted havin' bitch! Fawk you mean!?" With that he hung up, and I gaped at the phone holding it away from my face. That nigga really know how to get on a girl nerves! Damn! 

----

30 some minutes later..

I was already knocked out cold as I waited for Fredo's ass to come through, until I got the impression that he probably wasn't even coming at all. I shifted and mumbled swear words under my breath while tossing in the uncomfortable chair closer to the back walls of the studio room. My dark curls fell into my face as I tilted my head onto a warm shoulder with my eyes still closed. I smiled sleepily while nuzzling my head against what I assumed was a pillow. 

"Shakiraaaa..." The talking pillow mumbled into my ear while kissing along my earlobe and I moaned in response, giggling like a mad school girl as the talking pillow began to nibble on my earlobe. 

I tiredly whined and I felt my head shake as it laughed lowly. I smelt a strong scent of weed from beside me suddenly and slowly opened an eye to see the leather jacket that belonged to no other than Fredo. His black eyes gazed down at me wordlessly as he blew out the stream of smoke from his lips and into the ceiling. I watched his adam's apple bob as he leaned his head back onto the couch, one arm still draped over my shoulder as he passed the blunt to me. I took it without a word, placing it between my manicured fingers before taking a slow, much needed drag. He continued to stare into the ceiling as I exhaled away from him, blowing the smoke in another direction. No words were needed at the moment as we both relaxed and basked in each other's company. This happened alot when I was around him, we wouldn't say a word- just smoke. That's all that was needed. 

"Lemme see that paper," He finally spoke after 5 minutes of passing the blunt and basking in our own thoughts. I nodded and quickly stood up to snatch the paper from the soundboard with a sigh. I sat back down beside him and re-read the line myself before flinging it into his lap and avoiding eye contact. 'Here goes the scoldin'. I thought. He read over the two lines I had before choking on his blunt with a chuckle. I picked at my fingernails as he threw the paper down onto the floor. 

"The fuck is that?" He raised an eyebrow at me i rolled my eyes, glancing down to the paper he'd just thrown. "Words?" I heard him sigh from beside me and I sneaked a glance up at him to see him rubbing at his face. "Listen, you know ion like you singin' bout that kinda shit. It's lame and wack as fuck bruh; real nigga shit." He suddenly stood up and walked towards the soundboard to take a seat in his usual seat like the other day when Soulja was here. I rolled my eyes thinkin' back to that date just a few days ago. After our altercation the nigga really had the nerve to follow me on Instagram and like 4 of my recent pictures. His ass was soon to be exposed. 

"C'mere kitty." He demanded and I raised a brow at the old nickname he used to call me while growing up. I walked over to him while yawning and leaned an elbow on his shoulder watching him as he adjusted different settings on the sound system, slowly turning it up as he nodded his head to the track I was supposed to feature with Keith. The only difference is that he'd slowed the beat. 

"Aigh, look. All you gotta do is spit sum real quick. It don't even gotta make sense for all I care- half that nigga shit sound like he got some fucked up unidentified syndrome." I smiled slightly as he handed a notepad to me and patted his leg with a smirk. I rolled my eyes and moved to grab another chair to place beside him but was stopped as I felt an arm sling around my waist, pulling me back. 

"Why you so scared of Daddy?" He spoke into my ear and I snorted loudly, trying to contain my laughter while wiggling out of his hold. 

"Nigga you so damn creepy, let me go!" I laughed as he rubbing his nose into the back of my shirt and I stomped on his foot. "I know you ain't just wiped yo' boogey on me?" He kissed my earlobe in response and finally let go of the hold around my waist. I sucked my teeth while dragging another chair to sit next to him and begin working on the rest of the song. 

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By the time we'd finished, I peeped the time and nearly took a third glance. It was 4:12AM. Gizzy was going to slaughter me..