Wicked Ambitions 2: Wicked World

WICKED AMBITIONS 2:

Wicked World

Published by Reginald K. Write

Copyright 2017 Reginald K. Write

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PROLOGUE

WICKED

I took a long look at my lover Max as he slept. This would be our last time together for three whole months. He looked so peaceful, I hated to wake him.

I glanced at the silver clock on the nightstand. It was a quarter till three in the morning. I had a long day ahead of me. I hated Max had to leave, but he knew the rules. I gently nudged him awake. He opened one eye and turned his head so he was facing me.

What’s up? He asked groggily. Time for me to bounce? There was a flicker of sadness in his eyes. I hated when he looked at me this way.

It wasn’t easy being gay in the rap industry. Being in a DL relationship with a super-producer and record label CEO made it even more complicated. In order to have a career doing what I loved, I had to spend a lot of time and effort lying to the public about who I loved.

The way I’d managed to hide my sexuality and keep our long-term relationship under wraps all these years was by sticking to three simple rules.

Rule #3: No spending the night at each other’s crib.

Yeah, too bad we don’t have more time before I go on tour, I replied.

He frowned. I wish I could go with you.

I gave him a pointed look. Man, don’t start that again.

I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying I wish I was with my boy while he’s traveling across the country. I was about to embark on a three-month summer tour in a few hours. I’m not even gonna be with you on your birthday. My 27th b-day was in July, the second month of my tour.

You know I would love you comin’ on the road with me, but you have a label to run, I replied. And besides, it would look suspect if we were always hangin’ around each other.

Rule #2: Limit public sightings of us together.

Good thing it doesn’t look ‘suspect’ when JJ’s hanging around you, he said with a sarcastic smirk. Jamir Johnson, better known in the music industry as JJ, was still relatively new as my manager. Up until five months ago, Max himself had filled that role. However, after an agonizing internal and external debate, I'd chosen to replace him. It wasn't an easy decision, but it was one I felt was best for both of us. In addition to managing me, Max was also a CEO and a highly sought-after producer. He had too much on his plate to manage me effectively. When I was his sole act, things were a lot simpler. He worked to promote me and I did the same for him in return. We held each other down just like we'd promised all those years before we finally broke into the game. But as both of our careers blew up, things got a lot more complicated. In the end, I thought it would take a lot of pressure off him and take some of the strain off our relationship if someone else oversaw me and handled my day-to-day business. It would let him focus on building his label, and allow me to focus on putting out good music, which was what mattered to me most.

At least that was my intention in bringing in JJ anyway.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Nothing, he replied.

Nah, don’t mince words with me, son. If you got something to say, spit that shit out. You think me and JJ fuckin’?

Of course, not. His brow furrowed. Should I?

So him being my manager still got you feelin’ some type of way, huh?

He sucked his teeth and shifted his gaze. Fuck outta here. I’m not worried about that nigga.

Yeah, clearly. I rolled my eyes at how childish he was being. Regardless of what he said, I knew he disliked JJ because he still felt slighted by me seeking out a manager. The way he was carrying on you’d think I’d cheated on him by bringing another nigga into our personal relationship.

A tense silence passed between us.

You’ve been so busy lately, I was surprised we could even spend this long together, I said, changing the subject.

I shut my phone off and forwarded all my calls to the office. He slid out of bed butt naked.

I laughed. Darlene’s earnin’ that paycheck today, huh? Darlene was his personal assistant.

Trust me, she earns it every day.

I rolled onto my side and watched him get dressed. He was unusually quiet.

Everything good?

Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? He asked, not even bothering to look in my direction.

I knew he was salty about not going on tour with me and about having to abide by my rules, but he’d get over it. Sure, I was little paranoid, but I had be. The possibility of us being caught out there was too great to risk. All it took was for us to get caught slipping just once, and everything we’d worked so hard to build would come tumbling down. I knew there were a lot of haters out there who’d love nothing more than to see that happen, too.

Rule #1: Trust no one.

I always told myself as long as we stuck to the three rules, there was nothing to worry about and our secret would never get out.

Three months later, I found out how wrong I was.

CHAPTER 1

WICKED

(THREE MONTHS LATER)

Damn, that nigga Flipp irks the fuck out of me, I remarked to JJ as we cruised through the streets of Manhattan in an SUV with tinted windows. Five years ago when I was struggling, trying to come up and make a name for myself in the music industry, I used to be envious listening to other rappers and entertainers being interviewed by DJ Flipp. His show was the highest-rated afternoon rush hour broadcast in New York on urban radio. However, he was known for being messy and starting drama. He’d done his part in igniting and fueling plenty of rap feuds over the years, which is what he’d just tried to do with me. I should’ve known he was going to bring that Lil’ Blunt shit up.

Lil’ Blunt was the opening act on my tour for about a month until he started fuckin’ up—showing up late to shows, comin’ out on stage beyond lit, and just not taking shit serious enough. After he was kicked off the tour, he came at me on twitter. I wasn’t down with all that modern social media beef, though. Whenever I had an issue with someone I preferred to handle it the old-fashioned way, face-to-face. After exchanging words, Blunt and I squashed our beef like men. We weren’t cool or anything, but as long as he stayed out of my face, there wouldn’t be any problems.

He was just trying to stir up some drama. He's like the aggravating kid on the playground always instigating fights. My manager removed his dark shades from his chiseled face and smirked.

I’d met JJ last fall at a boring ass industry party my publicist, Aubrey, dragged me to. I was off in the cut working on my second Henney and coke when homeboy came up to me and introduced himself. At first, I didn’t want to be bothered. But after he complimented my latest album--even going into detail about what he liked about each track--I gradually warmed to him. During the course of our convo, he revealed a little about himself, also. Although he’d worked in the music industry in various capacities for a minute, he was just beginning to branch out into artist management and was looking for his first big client. I was impressed by his vision and his drive. After exchanging contact info with him and communicating for a few months, he convinced me to give him a trial run as my manager.

While he was generally laid back and businesslike, JJ could flip the script in a hurry when it came to his money. Dude was always about that paper. There’d been times when I saw him go the fuck off on somebody if he thought they were trying to fuck me over. He was an aggressive advocate with crazy business savvy who possessed street smarts, and he also had crazy connections. In the short time he’d been my manager, he’d help me better my brand and appeal to a broader audience. My face was all over the TV and my voice stayed on the radio. I had endorsement deals all out the yin-yang and was even in talks to get my own clothing line! And the tour for my third studio album Wicked World, which was about to wrap up in a few days, had been a huge success.

But for me, that still wasn’t enough. I wouldn’t be content until I took over the world. A year or two from now, I wanted to sell out concerts worldwide, not just in the States. I saw JJ as the person who could help make that goal a reality.

I know. Being grimy is how he got where he is today. I’m not hatin’ on homeboy’s hustle, but it’s just mad annoying the way he’s always provokin’ shit, I said.

I’ve heard it said before that ‘controversy creates cash’. Evidently that’s the maxim Flipp chooses to live by. You did a good job not letting him profit off you though, bredrin. Jamir called everybody he was cool with bredrin (which is a Rastafarian word meaning a close friend or family member). He and his parents emigrated from Jamaica when he was ten. Even though that was over twenty ago, you could still hear a faint accent when he spoke, and if he got really excited, he’d start speaking in Patois.

I heard my cellphone ring. I pulled it from my pocket to see who was calling. It was Aubrey. What’s up, Brey?

Hey, Will! Her vibrant voice screamed through the receiver. You knocked that interview out the park, boo! You were phenomenal!

Thanks, ma. Just don’t book me on that nigga show again, aight? I joked.

She chortled. Stop being a punk, boy. You handled him perfectly. Listen, I’m not going to keep you long. I just called to go over tomorrow’s itinerary.

I listened to her tick off a laundry list of media interviews she’d lined up for me to promote the last concert of my tour. I loved being a rapper, but the promotional and other business aspects of the industry such as dealing with publicists could be exhausting. Aubrey was cool as fuck, but her chatty conversational style stretched what should’ve been a four or five-minute call, max, into a ten-minute and counting one. I was happy that Flipp was my last interview for the day and I’d be free to chill with Max.

As she continued chattering, I heard two beeps in my ear. I pulled the phone away and smiled at the name flashing on the screen. Think of the sexy devil and he shall appear.

Aye, Brey, I got another call, I said, rushing her off the phone. I need to take this.

Oh ok, boo. Call me back later when you get time.

I hung up with her and accepted the new call. Yo! What up?

Sup Bae? Max's deep voice replied.

Just leavin’ DJ Flipp’s show.

How did it go?

It was aight. Brey said it was 'phenomenal'. I glanced at JJ out the corner of my eye and saw him pull a pack of cigarettes from his blazer. Dude was practically a chain smoker. Aside from Flipp dragging up the past and tryin’ to put me on the spot, things went pretty good.

Cool, cool. I'm tied up in the studio with Tommy.

I frowned. He's still there?

We've been working on this track forever. Dude's more of a perfectionist than you. He chuckled. Max was producing Tommy’s new mixtape.

Whatever, man.

We're just wrapping up for the day. You should swing by.

I was eager to see my boy, but not Tommy. I’ve been running around doin’ interviews all day. I’m tired as hell. I think Imma head home.

Tommy Gunn and I were labelmates at Scorcher Records five years ago. Scorcher and the Fiyah Spitta Family were the hottest label and team in hip-hop. That is, until the illegal activity of the label's owner, Shameek Scorch Sampson, ultimately led to the company's demise.

A demise I played a part in.

The public at large had no clue what really went down back then and why I ultimately chose to cooperate with law enforcement to take Scorch down. If the world knew how ruthless Shameek was, they'd understand why I had to do what I did to protect my kid and everyone I loved. I had no choice.

Tommy took a plea deal and ended up being sentenced to six years for drug and racketeering charges after a law enforcement sting operation brought down Scorcher Records and landed a number of its entertainers and staff behind bars. For some reason, he’d been released almost a year early. And to make matters worse, Max had signed him to a record deal without consulting me while I was on tour. I hadn’t had any interaction with him since everything went down all those years ago. For all I knew, the nigga hated my guts.

Come on, Will, Max whined. Don’t be like that.

I sucked my teeth. Aight. See you in a minute. I hung up with him and called out to my personal driver. Aye, Tone, can you drop me at Max's crib instead of home?

You got it, boss man, he replied, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

Why you going over there? JJ asked.

Tommy Gunn is in the studio. He wants me to give his new track a listen, I lied. I saw dollar signs dance in his eyes. He'd never met Tommy before.

You mind if I come?

Yeah, you can tag along. Just don’t harass the dude, aight?

Jamir laughed and rolled down the window. He then pulled out a lighter and lit his cigarette. So when are you going to tell Max about the deal? JJ had negotiated a record deal with Sony Music two weeks ago. It came with a big ass signing bonus, my own imprint, and a bunch of other enticing perks. However, the deal was exclusive, which meant I’d have to leave my current label if I chose to accept the offer.

Nah, I wanted to wait to tell him about it in person. I’ll make up my mind once we talk.

What? He sounded surprised. "You still haven’t decided to take it?"

Man, this is a big decision. I averted my gaze to the window.

You know you’re not obligated to stay with Madd Music, right?

I had a clause in my contract that allowed me to leave Max’s label anytime I wanted. That clause was specifically put in by JJ when he renegotiated my contract with Max after taking over as my manager. Since the beginning of the year, he’d been encouraging me to spread my wings and fly to a bigger label, but so far, I’d been reluctant to do so. Some of it was the fear of stepping into the unknown, but most of my reluctance stemmed from a fear of how Max would react to me leaving the label we founded together. As far as JJ knew, me and Max were just good friends. He had no idea how deep our relationship truly went or how tight we really were.

I know. I just feel bad about leaving my boy behind.

I understand you feel loyal to him because you came up together, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t branch out and do your own thing, he replied, taking a drag of his cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window.

Yeah, but--

Never allow yourself to get complacent. You should always strive to push yourself, to keep reaching for bigger and better things. If Max is really your boy, he’ll understand and will want the best for you.

I nodded my head in agreement. He’d summed up my thoughts perfectly.

Have you ever heard the saying, ‘familiarity breeds contempt’?

Probably--but feel free to refresh me, professor. Jamir was well-read, and was always throwing out deep quotes and crazy words.

It means if you’re around something too much or for too long, you’ll eventually grow to hate it.

A part of me wondered if he was only referring to my current record label, or Max himself. Either way, I felt compelled to voice an objection.

That’s not necessarily true.

"Of course it’s not true in all situations. That’s why some people stay at the same job all their lives, or stay married to the same person forever. Sometimes if things are good as is, you shouldn’t rock the boat. It's OK to be content if you’re satisfied."

But what if I’m never satisfied?

Then you’ll never truly be happy. There’s a fine line between ambition and avarice.

I raised an eyebrow.

Greed, he clarified.

Nigga, you and these weird words. You need to be a rapper too, ya know that?

No, that’s your calling. This is your world, bredrin; I’m just a hungry and horny squirrel trying to get and bust a nut in it.

I sniggered at his corny, dated reference. Sometimes if I didn’t know better, I’d swear JJ was an old head instead of a dude in his thirties.

He took a final pull off his cigarette and then flicked it out the window. He exhaled the smoke. Just keep in mind that this is a rare opportunity we’ve been given to take things to the next level. I advise you to think long and hard before passing it up; we may not get another chance like this if you do.

I nodded to confirm I understood what he was saying and