Hip-Hop Time Machine

3

After a great talk, I was starting to look at Eazy less and less as a rap star, and more of just a regular person. A regular person with a share of rap star issues. He talked about his beef with Dre and wanting to end it. I already wanted to slow down time and I've only been here for two hours or so.

"You wanna start heading back to the house?" he asked.

"Yeah, this place is starting to fill with more people so we should probably get out of here," I replied.

"I don't mind the people. I just don't wanna keep you out too long if you have stuff you need to get done, you know with the moving and all."

"Depending on if the moving truck arrived or not, I'll have lots of work ahead of me."

"Yeah, I feel you. You want help?"

"That would be great, but I don't want to bother-"

"I offered. When the moving truck gets there, I'll help you."

"Thanks," I said with a smile, kind of blushing.

He threw out our garbage and I followed him back out in the car. He started it and we were on our way back to the house. 

The moving truck pulled up just as we did. Eric parked the car in his driveway and we got out to meet the movers and open the door for them.

"Hi," I said to the movers. "Just bring everything in. If there's anything that doesn't fit through the front, use the side door because it's wider."

"Okay, miss."

Once they were done, me and Eric went in to look at the small amount of furniture and decor that was left there.

"We definitely could have used a smaller trailer for that," I said.

"Why didn't you?" Eric asked.

"It would just be a longer process. Driving here and then driving back then driving here again. It's just quicker paying the extra $100 and having them drive."

"Makes sense. And what do you mean, 'we'?"

"Oh, well, 'I'. I said we, I guess I was including the movers too. My bad."

"Oh, nah. I just thought you moved here with someone else."

"Nope. It's just.. me."

We moved the furniture around to my liking and got all the silverware and dishes into the drawers and cabinets. The last thing we did was my bedroom, but that was easy because it was just the bedframe, mattress, and a nightstand.

When everything was finished, we plopped on the couch, out of breath.

"Yeah, you weren't gonna be able to do that all by yourself," he said.

"You're right. Thanks a lot for that."

"Of course."

"Yo, so do you have any plans for tonight?" I asked him.

"Not that I know of. I was just gonna chill at the house and maybe watch some TV. Why, wassup?"

"Oh, nothing big. I was just gonna ask if you'd like to stay over for dinner, maybe cook with me?"

"You got it."

I smiled and flicked on the big boxy television and turned on the news.

"Singer-songwriter Dino Valenti of Quicksilver Messenger Service died today in his home. The cause of death has not been discovered yet," the reporter on TV said.

"Damn, that's crazy. That's like the third person they announced dead on the news today," I told Eazy.

"Everyone out here dyin'. Don't matter how famous you are," he replied.

I wanted to tell him so bad that he was set to die in less than six months. But is it set in stone? Or can I save him?

"I totally forgot I don't have any food to cook. I'll go run out and get some. Taco night?" I asked.

"Yes ma'am. And can you get some honey buns? Just a pack," he replied.

"Yeah, for sure."

I came back and he was setting up the pan in the kitchen and getting the utensils out to do the cutting and cooking.

"Oh, thanks," I said, walking in relieved.

"No problem."

I put the tomatoes, lettuce, meat, sour cream, tortillas, and cheese on the counter and started to cut up the veggies while Eric fried the meat and added the seasonings.

The food came out amazing.

We sat down and made our tacos after putting all the food on the table. I made some lemonade too, and put that on the table as well. Before even taking the first bite, just the smell made my mouth water. "Oh, my god, this is amazing," I said as I ate some. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"My mom taught me when I was a kid," he said. "She loves cooking."

"That's awesome. My mom never cooked. That was always my dad's place."

"He teach you anything?"

"No, but I have some recipes. He died the summer before I went into middle school."

"Oh, man. I'm sorry. If you don't mind me asking, how'd he die?"

I replayed the story in my head and the visualization hurt. "My cousin decided to join a gang, and when they were beating him in, my dad saw and tried to help him get out. 'You're gonna kill him', was the last thing I heard him yell before he ran in. Somebody stabbed him and by the time the ambulance got there, he was dead."

"And you saw the whole thing?"

"Unfortunately."

"What gang was it?"

"I don't even know. It wasn't the Bloods, Crips, or Latin Kings. They were wearing literally like rainbow colors and was a bunch of kids."

"Kids out here thinking it's cool to be in a gang. End up killing innocent people. Yo' cousin was dumb though."

"I know. We haven't talked since that day."

"I feel you."

"Yeah.."

"But hey, let's lighten the mood. I want you to meet some people after we finish this masterpiece of a meal," he said with a smile. I couldn't help but smile back.

After we cleaned up the kitchen and dining room, Eric grabbed the pack of honey buns and the keys to his car. "Let's go," he said.

I locked up the house and got in the car. I wondered who I could possibly be meeting, considering the possibilities were endless. He handed me a honey bun, started the car, and we were officially on our way.