DRASTIC (Book 4 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 48: Drummer Boys Follow Through

This chapter is...rough. Buckle up!

Bodie

I pull into TJ's dealership and hop out the truck, giving a wave to one of his salesman as I barge right into his office despite the guy's protests.

To my complete surprise, TJ's got his girl backed against his desk, smoochin' on her. It's okay, though. They are fully clothed, and the baby is in the carrier at their feet so I walk on in, figuring it's just a hello kiss that I'm about to make a good-bye kiss.

TJ whips around, as Shay shyly hides her face. "Dawg."

He sounds irritated, so before he can tell me to get the fuck out, I wink at his shorty, toss her a "Hello, beautiful Shay," pick the carrier up with his baby girl, plop down in his desk chair and shake his daughter's teething toy at her until she grasps at it. "Hey, baby girl. You're so pretty. Good thing you take after your momma."

TJ sneers at me. Shay gives a sassy, "That's right." Baby Kamila smiles.

Of course I like Kamila for her own sake, because babies are pretty cool, and she is a very pretty little thing. But it does also cross my mind that it would be the ultimate justice to become baby Kamila's favorite "uncle." If I'm stuck with the damn Turners because my kid considers TJ his "bonus dad," I feel like TJ should feel what I'm feeling.

So I'm going out of my way to ingratiate myself with TJ's fiancée and kids. After all, we are one big happy family now, even if Shay and Pat don't quite know it yet.

And TJ and me? We are partners in crime again.

Even Shay is smiling at me. "Have I told you I like the new 'do? Those dreads were getting kinda nappy," she teases me.

I rub my head. "Yeah, it was time to put childish things away. Time to get serious," I give TJ a weighted glance. He reads my cue that we have business and ushers Shay and the baby out with a promise to look at all the pictures she sends during her scouting mission to look at reception venues. Now that the baby's been born, they are moving ahead with the wedding, I guess.

I follow him out to the lot as he says his goodbyes. He comes to stand beside me. I'm looking at the black, illegally tinted Escalade I drove here—one of the pair I bought off him three months ago.

"Yeaaaaahhh, Imma have to trade these in, Dawg," I say, as I pop a piece of gum.

"I had to order those special. Gave them to you at cost. Took no commission. You don't like 'em? "

"I love 'em, but they are a drug dealer's car. Number one profiled vehicle. Nothing but a hassle for a black man when he gets stopped by the cops."

"Surely you knew that when you bought 'em, Dawg."

I look at the boy like he's stupid. "When I bought 'em, I wasn't a drug mule, Dumbass!"

He shoots a wary look at a potential customer nearby. "Will you keep your loud-ass voice down?"

"I'm so sorry, bringing my trouble to your house," I grit quietly.

"I can't help it that you shared your peanut butter sandwich with me in first grade and we became friends. Then my brother turned out to be a goddamn sociopath," he grumbles. "I'm with you. I got your back. What more do you want?"

"I want you to sell me some new cars. The first one needs makes the statement I'm-A-Smart-Black-Man-With-Money-But-I'm-Not-A-Drug-Dealer-Don't-Hassle-Me-I-Might-Sue"

"But not a rock star car, because that blows the low profile."

"Right."

"Hmmmm." He thinks on it, gives me a head tip, and walks through the lot, bringing us to rest in front of a sporty, silver sedan.