by Nako
“Hello?”
Someone needed to tell him something that sounded appealing to the ear.
“Burke, I want you back, you know I do. But right now, I think we should take things slow. What if you come in about three times a week, stay active with your AA meetings and we go from there?”
His friend shot him a look that could kill. “Oh, so you think you gon Bow Wow me? Cool.” He thought it was best if he left before he said something that he couldn’t take back.
“It’s some things in my office I need to grab, is that cool?” he said sarcastically, but didn’t wait on an answer as he left the room.
Casey whispered across the table, “That nigga not acting weird to y’all?”
“He just got out of rehab, leave him alone,” Jillian brushed him off.
Juice changed the subject by pulling out his phone. “I want us to go check out this all-girl group. Man, they killing it.” He showed them their latest clip on Instagram that already had about half a million views.
Ten minutes later, they were interrupted by Burke knocking on the door, “I’m out of here.”
“Be safe bro, come by tomorrow,” Porter told him, thinking that everything was good.
“Nah, I’m good but I forgot to give you this,” he walked further into the room and slid a folder across the table then departed.
P didn’t know what it was and so when he opened it, his heart dropped.
“What is it?” Jillian questioned.
Porter’s eyes stung with tears.
Casey picked the folder up and read the letterhead, Berkman, Bottman, Newman & Rodd, LLP. They were known for getting the most money out of a divorce settlement. Kim wasn’t damn playing. Was she planning on wiping his boy out? He knew that they lived separately. While P was busy working, she’d decided to raise the kids in the South. Had things gotten that bad between them?
“Kim filed for divorce?” he asked his best friend, who sat dumbfounded.
η
New beginnings were something that she could get used too, and not only when it came to her career but in her personal life as well. She was happy, she was joyful, the smile on her face was well-received because it wasn’t fake these days. She was always glowing and blushing, it felt good to not have her guard up anymore. In the car ride headed home, she sang along with one of her favorite singers, Kehlani as she happily declared that she was living and how something inside of her had to die to help her realize that she truly was, alive.
What she thought was small to her, seemed to have reached the masses because the picture that she literally just posted at the red light was almost to five thousand likes. She a private person, yet every now and then she let the world into her life.
Tonight, she had the pleasure of being invited to Nia Hudson’s Girls Night In and it was something that she’d never experienced before. When Carmen sent her the invite, she instantly declined. Carmen asked her why, which led Mahogany to telling her that she had never been to one of those before and had no interest in coming. She was content with her life only including her son, brother and Porter. Well, she and Carmen ended up texting back and forth for hours. Carmen shared her testimony with her and how she wouldn’t have been where she is now without depending on the strength and love of her girlfriends. She referred to them as her “tribe” and told Mahogany that as much as she loved Porter, she still needed friends. He could be her best friend and all of that, but still, a good girlfriend was a treasure. With a change of heart, she cleared her schedule and was so happy that she did.
She was nervous as fuck when she arrived at Nia Hudson’s freaking palace. The invitation said seven o’clock and she arrived on time. It was already tons of cars in the driveway, most likely totaling up to a billion dollars. These were some rich bitches.
Porter told her to be herself and to have fun. He promised that the women were all nice and came from different walks of life.
“Don’t let the money fool you,” he told her playfully before sending her out of the door with a bottle of wine.
Her man schooled her on that too, “Never go to anyone’s’ house empty-handed even if they tell you don’t bring nothing. It’s rude.”
Mahogany stepped out of her truck and pulled her joggers out her ass.
Her man helped her dress for the night and she did look cute as hell.
The bright yellow joggers with a black stripe down the legs fit her perfectly, she wore a wife beater and a jean jacket with black Pigalle’s. The only jewelry that she wore was her watch, not wanting to do too much. P was loving the new messy blunt cut blonde wig she’s been wearing lately, so she had it sewed down the morning before.
Mahogany tapped the door, but it pushed open. She took a deep breath and followed the noise.
Nia’s house was beautiful and although it was big as hell, it seemed cozy and comfortable. Love was here.
Mahogany rounded the corner and saw platters and trays of food. Glasses of wine were being poured and there were fresh roses and candles on the tables. She really did it up for this girls’ night. When Mahogany heard “Girls Night In” she assumed they were going to be taking shots, listening to Trina and Foxy Brown and twerking on top of each other. This was like some high-class shit.
“Hiiii! You came,” Carmen was elated to see her.
Mahogany smiled and waved to the small group of women that were gathered in the dining room that comfortably sat twelve. “Hey everybody.”
Teka and Nia got up and hugged her. “Y’all, this is P’s girlfriend and the hottest chick out right now.”
Mahogany noticed everyone at the table with the exception of probably two women.
Nia Hudson sat at the head of the table alongside, Demi Westbrook-Huffington, the wife of the great and late Roberto “Papa” Huffington, Jordyn King, she was a legend by default, Teka Harris-Parks, Carmen and her best friend, Narie, Samone, a famous tattoo artist, Giselle Moreland-Braxton, who was Teka’s best friend and a serial entrepreneur.
“I love your wine,” Mahogany had to tell her.
Giselle smiled, “Well, thank you. You looking good too, it’s a seat right here.” She patted the chair next to her.
Mahogany couldn’t believe she was spending her Friday night with some bosses.
“Okay, where were we…” Nia picked up a piece of paper and asked the next question.
“What are y’all doing?” she whispered to Giselle.
“So, basically every time we have a girls’ night in, we focus on a different topic. We ask questions and discuss them, tonight’s theme is Blooming,” hence the roses all over the place.
The idea sounded dope and Mahogany was now excited to be there.
“Okay…. What is one thing that you need to let go of to bloom this year?”
They went around the table and each answered the question. It was relieving to hear that although they were wealthy and may “have it all” they still struggled too within themselves. Once it got time for her to answer the question, she decided to be honest since they all were so transparent.
“I need to let go of those who hurt me.”
The night was beautiful. She really enjoyed herself and almost didn’t want to leave. Nia told her to make sure she was at the next one and she promised to never miss another one. She left feeling like a new person. The caption that she posted with the picture of them all with a rose in her hand stated, “Blooming with these bosses. #girlsnightin”
About time she got home, the picture was reposted on all the major gossip sites and pages on social media.
“BABYYYYY, OMG! I CAN’T WAIT TO TELL YOU ABOUT MY FUCKING NIGHT!” she exclaimed as she walked through the house, barefoot. Them red bottoms bout killed her tonight. Her dogs were barking. She knew P would massage her feet and suck her toes if he was in the mood for all that.
“I’m so inspired. What you think about me opening like a business or sum?” she was just talking as she looked for her man, not noticing that things were out of place.
&
nbsp; Damn near, the entire living room had been rearranged.
When she turned the light on, she gasped.
“What the fuck?”
Had she been robbed?
“P!” she knew that he was home because his car was there. So, what the hell was going on?
As she trekked down the hallway to get her gun, pictures were off the wall. Holes had been punched.
When she made it to the bedroom, he was on the edge of the bed with a bottle of 1942 in his hand and his head hanging low.
“Bae.” She ran to him and fell in front of him.
“What’s wrong?” she panicked, thinking that perhaps, someone may have died.
“I’m not a good man,” he mumbled.
Porter was drunk off his ass.
“What do you mean? Baby, yes you are. You’re perfect!”
He pushed her backwards, causing her to fall.
“Shut the fuck up and stop lying. You rich now, you don’t need me.”
C H A P T E R 23
All the pain and struggle made me a superstar – 21 Savage
Porter used his best impression of DJ Khaled as he trampled the love of his life at the end of the Boadeci, a whopping sixty-million-dollar yacht. Although the white exquisite boat was built in 1999, Porter recently had it renovated which is why they were setting across the Pacific ocean. Her album was slated to be dropping soon, well, that was a rumor. She hadn’t really even begun to go full-throttle on putting a collection together. Between interviews, radio appearances, shows and other things that people did when they were quite relevant, there wasn’t any time in her schedule to lock herself in the studio and record.
That would be changing after their impromptu vacation. This was her last sha-bang bang before she had to do what she had to do. Half of her was anxious to record whereas the other half of her wondered did people think she could do it.
And then as if God heard her worry, here was Porter jumping on her half soaking wet screaming from the top of his lungs that she had yet, another number one hit.
After the song with 21 was received well, they did the remix which included a few heavy hitters. Mahogany was the last verse on the song and arguably the hottest.
“Swear baby? For real?” she was on the tip of the boat, taking selfies, trying to get the best angles that she could.
“HELL YEAH!” he plopped a juicy kiss on her lips and then added a lil tongue causing Mahogany to shriek in pleasure.
“Where is Reem?” she whispered, as if the boat was crowded.
“Sleeping, Captain said it may be too much motion for him.”
The kid had been sick off and on since they arrived on the boat two days ago.
“I was thinking that too.”
Porter pulled her wavy tresses from her face. “So fucking proud of you.”
Another got damn number one. His baby was on fire and she was writing her own shit. Who could compete?
The spectators and dare he say, the haters kept trying to compare her to the likes of other female rappers, old and new. They needed to stop though, becaue she was creating her own lane. Mahogany had her own wave. Her own style, her own distinct voice.
And she didn’t want any beef, seriously. Every time other chicks in the game dropped a song, EP, or album, she was posting it and saying “Congrats”
She wanted them all to win, in her eyes, it was enough money out there for them all to eat and be full, at that. It was bad enough that people were already claiming her way to fame was through fucking and sucking Porter, that was probably the only comment that constantly grinded her gears. Why couldn’t she just be a bad bitch with talent? It had gotten to the point where she barely wanted to be photographed with him, because then the caption would read on several gossip sites, “CEO and Music Exec, Pretty Boy P and his rapper girlfriend.”
Or sometimes it’ll say, “Pretty Boy P was spotted with rapper wanna-be.”
They were always so rude and nasty, she stopped reading the comments under post that included her. The night that she posted that she was at the Girls Night In, social media dragged her so bad to the point where she considered deleting the picture. People could be so cruel. It was sad at the lengths people would go to in an attempt to destroy people and for what? What did a person gain for hurting someone else with their words?
They claimed that she was the last person that should’ve been invited to Nia’s house. People wrote horrific thing such as, “Hide your wallets, she’s a scammer,” and all kinds of disrespectful shit.
The only reason she didn’t give him her energy was because that night ended in a tragic way. Porter had an anxiety attack in the middle of the night that left her with no other choice but to call 911.
Once he came to his senses, he apologized for pushing her, not remembering the hurtful words that slipped from his mouth. She forced herself to forget them, knowing that he was drunk and wasn’t in his right mind.
Mahogany asked him several times what possibly made him so angry to the point where he had to tear her damn house up and he shook his head every time, “It was a mistake and I apologize.” That was all he gave her.
She wanted him to seek help because it seemed as if her man wasn’t as perfect as she thought he was and that was okay. What wasn’t okay was him lashing out, drinking himself to the state that he did and saying fucked up shit to her.
“Are you happy, baby?”
He took her shades off, trying to see if she was drunk or high.
“What?”
“You good?” he asked her, wondering where the question came from.
“Uh yeah,” she giggled.
“We went from about to celebrate your third number one to you asking if I’m happy. Why would I not be happy?”
she reached forward and kissed his nose. “Porter, it was a question baby. That’s all.” She could tell that he didn’t want to answer it and that made her worry about him.
“I am happy,” he said, although she wasn’t convinced.
“Kay.”
For now, she would let it go. Not wanting to ruin their vacation. The one that they both desperately needed.
“Let me go get us a bottle so we can turn up,” she excused herself from his embrace.
He watched her ass jiggle as she walked away and then he reclined his head and took a deep breath. The view before him was breathtaking. His life was good, he was blessed, everything was on the up and up.
Despite learning that his late wife was really over his ass, he was good. Right?
Porter then probed his emotions further.
Was he happy? Was he really fucking alright?
He hated when he got this way, deep in his feelings, like a bitch. This wasn’t him. Porter stayed busy, he kept it moving, he had work to do, of course, he was happy…
“Are you doing the toast or me?” his girl brought him back to reality with a bottle of champagne and two plastic flutes.
“Me.” He sat up and smiled at her.
Number 1 three times in a row.
Hell yeah, he was happy. P was the happiest nigga in the world and no one could tell him any different.
η
“I can’t do this shit today,” she finally exhaled. She was tired as hell. They’d been in the studio locked in like some damn prisoners. She was hungry, sleepy, irritated and it was all kinds of shit on her mind.
Her mother was in prison, her ex somehow got her new number and was blowing her up all day every day. Even after she blocked the number, he called from another phone. She was two seconds from calling the prison and telling them that them niggas had cell phones and to confiscate them. Her brother was recovering slow, but was suffering from nightmares. Mahogany wondered if Genesis would ever be the same. Getting shot was something that shouldn’t be taken lightly. He told her the other night that every time he closed his eyes hoping to get some sleep, he heard that gun going off over and over again.
Porter suggested to wean him off the medicine the doctors had him on because it se
emed as if he was beginning to run through the prescriptions. The last thing she needed right now was for him to be needing rehab.
“Mahogany, we’re behind schedule,” Munch hated to remind her of that every few hours, but she really had to get this album done. Singles were cool or whatever, but her growing fan base was thirsty for more. They wanted to hear her voice all day. The few songs that she had on Apple Music and Tidal wasn’t enough anymore. It had gotten to the point where every time she logged on to social media, people were demanding an album. That alone was unnecessary pressure and she wasn’t sure if she could deliver them this “perfect” collection of music that it seemed as if everyone was expecting.
Porter sent her far out to freaking Arizona. It was hot, and she felt like they were in the middle of a desert, but he told her to focus and hone in on her craft. But how could she do that when her mind wasn’t clear?
“Munch, if you tell me that shit one more time I’m going to for real knock yo ass out.”
No one had ever heard her talk like that. Munch wasn’t fazed by her lil’ outburst.
“Aye, you heard what I said. From the top!” he had to put his foot down and push her towards excellence. He’d been with her from the beginning and this piss poor performance that she’d given over the past two hours wasn’t worth a damn.
“If you do it right the first time, we won’t have to keep starting over. It’s no reason why we only have four out of twelve songs recorded and we been out here for two months,” he got on her ass.
She knew that he was telling the truth and still didn’t give a fuck.
“I need a minute,” she took the headphones off and tossed them on the floor before storming out of the booth and right out the studio.
“What’s up with her today?” Seth, the engineer asked.
Juice knew that it wasn’t his place to tell them her personal business, but he lowkey felt as if she deserved some slack. For the most part, she was easy to work with. She was complaining because she truly was stressed out and he understood completely.