The Come Up

Chapter 44 - Talks

 Blaco knocks on the door of studio B and completely disrupts the studio session. Mac looks at him blankly but I am actually glad that he's interrupted us because I am so sleepy that I can feel my body dragging around the building. Of course I couldn't sleep last night after hearing that Trevon was passing up the opportunity for early release. I regret breaking my mirror because when I was getting ready this morning after two hours of sleep, I accidentally stepped on a piece of glass. It took me half an hour to stop the bleeding and attempt to clean the blood off of the white furry carpet. So I was an hour late to Mac which he was not happy about. He didn't question me much or push me too hard, something tells me he won't  be on my ass until he is sure that I am over the whole shooting situation and I very much appreciate it.  

"Sorry for the interruption." Blaco is in a white t-shirt with jeans and a red fedora. I always loved how he dressed. I squint at him as he opens the studio door. 

"Chanel, Mila responded to the email and she is down to be on the song.  She wanted to meet you in Cali on Monday, which works out because you have the show in Cali Tuesday night." Blaco looks at my schedule then back at me waiting for an answer. 

I did have a show in a Cali, I guess getting to meet Mila would be killing two birds with one stone anyway. I'm excited to go to Cali, I've never been anywhere out of New York in my life. Not to mention it's 12 degrees outside. 

"Yea sure." I agree drowsily and with a shrug. 

Blaco looks to Mac then looks to me. As I turn my head to look at Mac, I can see him staring deep into me. I hold his gaze, not blinking and his face remained firm, headphones sitting on top of his head, pencil diddling between his fingers. 

"Close the door, Blaco." He says. 

Blaco exits and I stay slouched over in my chair, even though everything about Mac's persona tells me to straighten up and at least pretend to be focused on a record winning album of the third and youngest female rapper and singer to sign to Atlantic. 

"Talk." Mac says  with a quiet but authoritative voice. 

"There's nothing to-" 

"Chanel." He interrupts and his eyes are set on mine again. 

I take a deep breath and search for the words but they don't come, even when I open my mouth to begin. I close my mouth and look at my shoes. I slide my hands underneath my thighs and try again. 

"Trevon." Is all that manages to come out and it's stupid that in the 2 minutes of silence that Mac has given me to speak, I haven't come up with something better. But that was all I had. 

"Trevon is the other artist Flex was telling me about, right?" He questions and leans forward. I look at him carefully and nod. 

"What about him?" He urges me to continue. 

Was that all he knew? That he was the other artist? The other rapper?The other talent that Flex took under his wing? 

He didn't know that I landed him in jail, or that I fell in love with him before I left for school and before he was incarcerated? That all my poems and songs are about him? That above our whole friendship, he is my inspiration and all together motivation. The one I aim to please with my new poetry or songs? The only person I ever want feedback from? The only person who could read me like that back of their hand? Did he know? 

I take a very deep breath and begin a story that starts from when I was 8 years old and stretches up until the present day including last night. What I loved about Mac was that he didn't interrupt me or begin to look bored, he just sat there for an hour while I poured out everything to him in a way that I felt empty and light after I was done.