Page 64 of Stay Dangerous

I knew he was a big dog, but fuck him. He singled me out for no reason, and while hecouldrap, I definitely could spit way better than that nigga who was in the booth, so it counted.

“You think you can do better?” he asked, reading my mind.

I snatched out his grip and pulled my bandeau up. “IknowI can.”

“Aight,” he nodded, before looking at the twins. “I’ll be back for y’all in a lil’. After you, Freckles.”

He opened the door and gestured for me to leave first, so I did.

“This way.”

I followed him deeper into the building. When I heard a noise behind me, I glanced back to see the twins, eyes wide, feet glued to the ground.

“Help me,” I mouthed, but they just stood there.

“Watch out.” I turned as his hands grabbed my shoulders. I almost ran right into him.

He kissed his teeth, before snatching a door to my right open, and pushed me inside.

This suite was done in muted grays and royal blues, with a long leather couch taking up an entire wall, and a dashboard with different knobs and buttons taking up the opposite wall.

The recording booth was huge, big enough to fit a band, but it was only a stool and microphone then.

This must have been where the real artists recorded. The other rooms were for play.

This was real.

And seated in the far corner was the Native Sons. In the flesh.

A noise I wasn’t proud of filtered out, as I grabbed my phone to take a picture.

It was snatched out of my hand before I could even unlock it, making me growl and their heads to snap toward us.

Grimey smirked, and gestured for me to keep walking. “Yo’ young ass shouldn’t even be here. You definitely not recording shit.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not young.”

A snicker came from in front of me, and when I turned, Trippy, the producer of the duo, was smiling. “You young as fuck, cuz. Younger than Cochise fasho.”

Doing the mental math from that vlog featuring the elusive First Nations Prince, I realized he was right on the money and gulped.

PC, the rapper and the reason I know I’m straight, peered at me. Taking him in, all thoughts of my boyfriend evaporated.

He was even finer in person.

Baby face. Seasick waves.Green eyesthat made him seem like a hot alien. And though they were sitting, all of them, even Sheisty, his brother and the head of Get Money Records, were tall as hell, over six feet.

Trippy was wearing a pastel blue sweatsuit from some skating company, while PC was in a freaking wife beater and basketball shorts, like he rolled out of bed five minutes before.

“She prolly came with the twins, but Fave’s thirsty ass had his arm around her.”

“I don’t know that nigga,” I spat, feeling the need to set the record straight. It was plenty of girls in the other room, trying to be seen and being overeager. “I live next door to Rain and Rian. Those are the homegirls.”

“Them hoes old enough to be yo mama, cuz. And they can’t be yo homegirls if they letting Fave’s weird ass push up on you.”

“Well, I was about to leave untilhedragged me in here.” I shucked my thumb at Grimey, who went to sit on the couch near us.

“Get this, Freckles says she can rap better than me.”