Aubrey dropped onto the edge of the king-sized bed, the silk sheets feeling cool against his skin, but he didn't even kick off his boots. He pulled his BlackBerry Bold from his pocket. The red LED light in the corner was blinking like a heartbeat—non-stop.
He didn't check the emails. He went straight to his BBM. His contact list was a scroll of industry heavyweights, but he clicked on the name at the top: Jas Prince.
He didn't type. He hit the dial button.
Jas picked up on the second ring, his voice sounding like he'd already had three espressos and a victory cigar. "Toronto! I was just about to buzz you. Man, do you even know what's happening right now? My phone is vibrating off the table. The leak is everywhere. They're calling it the 'Miami Meltdown.' The streets are saying you and Robyn sound like you were recording in a bedroom, not a booth."
Aubrey let out a tired, triumphant laugh, leaning back against the headboard. "It was intense, Jas. I'm not gonna lie. She pushed me. I had to dig deep just to stay in the pocket with her."
"I bet you did," Jas chuckled. "I saw the way you two walked out of that hotel earlier. You looked like you'd seen a ghost and she looked like she'd just eaten a—"
Suddenly, the audio on the other end got muffled. There was some rustling, the sound of a heavy door closing, and then a familiar, raspy laugh echoed through the speaker.
"Aye, tell Drizzy to stop lying to himself," a voice cracked. It was Wayne. He'd clearly intercepted Jas's phone. "I know that 'work' talk. I've used that line myself. Aubrey, man, you sound like you're ready to risk it all on the track. I'm sitting here with Jas looking at these blog comments, and the fans are already starting a wedding registry for you two."
Aubrey sat up, a grin spreading across his face. "Wayne? You're still up?"
"Man, I don't sleep, I wait," Wayne quipped, and Aubrey could practically hear the lighter flicking in the background. "But listen, I heard the rough mix Jas sent me. You handled that. You didn't sound like a guest; you sounded like the owner. But tell me the truth, since it's just the family on the line... did you keep your composure when she got close to the mic? Because Robyn's got a way of making a man forget his lyrics."
Jas's voice came back in the background, laughing. "He was shaking when he got in the car, Tunechi! I saw his hands!"
"I was not shaking!" Aubrey defended, though he was smiling. "I was just... focused. She's a professional, man. We were locked in."
"Yeah, yeah, 'locked in,'" Wayne teased. "That's what we call it in the 305. Well, look, enjoy the moment, kid. You're a 'Big Boy' now. The labels are already fighting over the rollout. But don't get too lost in the green eyes, alright? We still got a kingdom to build in Houston. Don't let her keep you in Miami forever."
"I got it, Wayne," Aubrey said, his heart swelling with the validation. "I'll see you guys at the meeting at noon."
"Get some sleep, Lover Boy," Wayne said before handing the phone back to Jas. "And tell Robyn I said thanks for not breaking my artist... yet."
The call ended with Jas laughing one last time. Aubrey stared at the black screen of his phone, the silence of the penthouse feeling heavier now. He felt the high of the "jist" from the guys, the brotherhood of the industry. He was one of them now.
He looked at his yellow legal pad. He thought about Robyn's warning about the "dark." He thought about Wayne's teasing. He was playing a dangerous game, balancing the expectations of the Young Money generals with the magnetic pull of the Bajan Queen.
He finally kicked off his boots and lay back, watching the shadows of the palm trees dance on the ceiling. He was exhausted, but for the first time in his life, he didn't feel like an actor playing a part. He was the lead.
Aubrey stared at the small screen of his BlackBerry, the blue light reflecting in his tired eyes. He opened the BBM app and scrolled to her contact. Her display name was just a single emoji—a red balloon—and her status was set to Busy.
He hesitated, his thumb hovering over the trackball. He didn't want to seem too eager, didn't want to break the "Villain" aesthetic he was supposed to be cultivating. But the energy from the booth was still humming in his fingertips.
He typed out: The mix is still playing in my head. Sleep well, Queen.
He hit send. The "D" for delivered appeared instantly, but the "R" for read didn't follow. He waited. One minute. Five minutes. The silence from her end was loud. It was exactly what he should have expected—she was the one who set the pace, and right now, the pace was silence.
He tossed the phone onto the nightstand, a small, frustrated smirk on his face. She was good. She knew exactly how to keep the string taut.
Aubrey finally pulled the heavy duvet over himself, the luxury of the Setai wrapping around him. As he closed his eyes, the sounds of Miami began to wake up outside—the distant hum of a boat engine, the cry of a seagull, the rustle of the palms. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, the kind that only comes after you've conquered a mountain.
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