The transition from the Opa-locka tarmac to the heart of South Beach was a blur of neon palm trees and the salt-heavy air of the Atlantic. Aubrey sat in the back of the SUV, his phone vibrating with a steady stream of "congratulations" texts he didn't bother to open. Beside him, Jas was already on the phone with a promoter from LIV, navigating the Miami night before it even started.
"Look, I'm dropping the boy at the Setai," Jas said into his headset, glancing at Aubrey. "He's got 'executive business' with the Queen. I'll link you at Prime 112 in an hour. Keep the table open."
Jas hung up as the SUV pulled into the sleek, darkened driveway of the Setai. He turned to Aubrey, giving him a long, measuring look. "You look different than you did in LA, Aubrey. You got that Houston stank on you—that confidence. Use it, but don't overplay it. Robyn's seen every version of a 'tough guy' there is. Just be the guy who wrote those verses."
"I got it, Jas," Aubrey said, his voice calm. He stepped out of the car, feeling the eyes of the valets and the tourists on him. He wasn't a ghost anymore; he was a recognizable silhouette.
Inside, the Setai was a temple of hushed luxury. The scent of expensive orchids and sandalwood filled the lobby, a sharp contrast to the smell of cigars and sweat he'd left behind in Texas. He took the private elevator to the penthouse, the silence of the ascent allowing the adrenaline to settle into his bones.
The private elevator ascended in a vacuum of silence, the only sound the faint, expensive hum of the cables. Aubrey stood mirrored in the polished mahogany walls, staring at his own reflection. Jas was right—Houston had changed him. The soft, anxious edges of the Toronto actor had been replaced by a hardened, predatory stillness. He checked his reflection, adjusting the heavy silver chain around his neck. He looked like a man who was no longer asking for a seat at the table; he looked like a man who was ready to own the room.
When the doors slid open directly into the Setai penthouse, the air hit him like a physical presence. It was cooler here, smelling of expensive white tea and the sharp, floral tang of hibiscus. The suite was a masterpiece of dark wood and floor-to-ceiling glass, offering a panoramic view of the Atlantic Ocean, where the waves were churning like molten silver under the moon.
Robyn wasn't in the main living area. The suite was bathed in a moody, amber light, with a slow, bass-heavy track looping softly from the hidden speakers. Aubrey walked further in, his boots silent on the silk rugs. He felt a strange mixture of absolute confidence and the familiar, electric spark of nerves that only she could elicit. He had slept with three of the baddest women in Houston just twenty-four hours ago, but standing in Robyn's orbit felt like walking into a high-voltage cage.
"You took your time," her voice drifted from the balcony.
He turned to see her leaning against the railing. She was draped in a sheer, floor-length silk robe that caught the ocean breeze, fluttering around her like a ghost. She held a glass of dark rum in one hand and a lit blunt in the other, the cherry glowing like a tiny star in the darkness. She looked effortlessly regal, her hair windswept and her green eyes scanning him with a look that was both weary and intensely curious.
Aubrey walked toward her, stepping out onto the balcony. The salt spray was a fine mist on his skin. "I had to handle the family first," he said, his voice dropping into that low, resonant register. "Wayne doesn't let you leave the table until the ink is dry."
Robyn turned fully to face him, leaning her hips against the railing. She took a slow, deliberate drag, holding the smoke in her lungs for a long beat before exhaling it into the space between them. "I heard about the ink. And I heard about the celebration. Word travels fast in the 305, Aubrey. They say you had quite the 'Toast' at that mansion in Houston."
Aubrey didn't flinch. He moved into her space, stopping just inches away, close enough to see the way the moonlight caught the tattoos on her collarbone. "It was a celebration of the work, Robyn. Nothing more. You know how it is—everyone wants a piece of the winner. But I didn't come to Miami for the noise. I came for the music."
"Is that right?" She tilted her head, a small, knowing smirk playing on her lips. She reached out with her free hand, her long, dark nails grazing the fabric of his hoodie, lingering just above his heart. "You smell like ambition and expensive soap, Toronto. But I still see that little boy from the library behind those eyes. The one who was afraid to read his own lyrics."
"That boy stayed in the airport," Aubrey countered, his hand coming up to gently but firmly catch her wrist. He didn't pull her closer, but he didn't let go. "The man standing here is the one who's going to help you finish this record. I'm not here to play games."
"Everything is a game, Aubrey," she whispered, her voice a thready, melodic rasp. She didn't pull her hand away. Instead, she leaned in, her lips inches from his ear. "Especially in this city. You think you're a king because Wayne gave you a key? In Miami, the ocean doesn't care about your contract. And neither do I."
She pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, the challenge clear and cutting. "I heard about the twins, by the way. Maya and Mya? And the tall one... Malia? You've been busy. Did they teach you anything useful, or was it just a lot of sweat and ego?"
Aubrey felt the heat rise in his chest, a mix of embarrassment and a strange, competitive pride. "They taught me that I have the stamina for the long haul. Which is good, because I hear your sessions go until dawn."
Robyn laughed—a deep, throaty sound that vibrated in the night air. She drained her glass and stepped back, breaking the tension as she headed back into the suite. "You're getting better at the talk. But I don't care about the talk. I want to see if you can handle the booth with me without choking on the pressure."
She walked over to the marble bar and poured herself another drink, her movements fluid and athletic. She didn't offer him one. "We leave for The Hit Factory in ten minutes. If you want to impress me, don't just rap about the money you don't have yet. Rap about the things you're afraid to lose."
Aubrey followed her back inside, watching the way the silk robe clung to her frame. The sexual tension was a physical weight in the room, but it was layered with a professional rivalry that made his blood sing. She was testing his focus, trying to see if the distractions of Houston had softened his pen.
"I'm not afraid of losing anything," Aubrey said, his voice steady as he pulled his yellow legal pad from his bag. "I'm only afraid of staying the same. And after tonight, that's not going to be an issue."
Robyn stopped at the door, looking back at him over her shoulder. For the first time that night, the 'Boss' mask slipped, and he saw a flash of genuine respect in her eyes. "Good. Because if you can keep up with me tonight, the 'Toast' you had in Houston is going to feel like a birthday party at a playground. This is the big leagues now, kid. Don't blink."
The elevator ride down was silent, but the air between them was electric. Aubrey felt the weight of his notebook in his hand—his weapon and his shield. He thought about Malia and the twins, their faces fading into a blur of amber and mahogany. They were the past. Robyn, standing beside him in the quiet elevator, smelling of sea salt and power, was the future.
As they stepped out into the humid Miami night, the paparazzi were already waiting, tipped off by the shifting tides of the industry. The flashes began to pop, a strobe-lit welcoming committee for the new power couple of the charts. Aubrey kept his head down, but he didn't hide. He walked toward the waiting SUV with a new, measured stride.
He was in the 305. He was with the Queen. And the real work—the work that would make the world forget everything but his name—was about to begin.
"Quick update: Updates will be sporadic for few less than a week while I finish up my exams. I'll still try to post here when I can! For those who can't wait, you can find advanced chapters over at
Patreon.com/thetribes where you can get over 25 advance chapters.
See you all on the other side of finals!"