𝐓𝐄𝐒 ⋆ 𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐘
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❝seven pounds of pressure❞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞
[18+] [third person; omniscient]
The scent of weed, hookah coals and the pungent smell of spilled alcohol hung heavy in the air, smoke wafting in thick, gray vapors in front of Jamari’s face as he exited the back of the club. Trotting down the short, wooden steps, he joined his entourage and a group of other men that were hanging out in the back parking lot. The air outside was humid - almost sticky, and fresh with the smell of rain that left the fabric of the monogrammed, navy blue and white Louis Vuitton polo he wore clinging to his body. The night sky above was vacant - light from the stars obscured by street lights, bathing the cracked, wet asphalt below in an odd shade of orange. Steam wafted up from the concrete, surrounding the men huddled in a circle in front of him too consumed in their dice game - their voices loud and obnoxious, echoing in the vacant parking lot, along with bass-boosted music that played from a red Dodge Charger.
Jamari hung to the outside of the crowd, his body supported by the brick wall behind him, his eyes following the motion of the set of white and black dice as it collided against the ground. Hands swiped at money as more fluttered through the air - green, tatted bills falling haphazardly on top of fresh bank notes below.
His ears were filled with the sounds of incoherent conversations, background noise to the thoughts that raced in his head. Subconsciously, he played with the lighter and blunt in his hands, flicking the lighter on and off again, the strong smell of butane dancing across his senses along with the subtle smell of the berry flavored tobacco leaf.
Rolling the blunt back and forth between his fingers, he finally decided to light one end - the flowery, diesel smell of the weed intensifying as he brought it to his lips, inhaling harshly as the smoke filled his lungs, smoke spilling out from the other end.
Jamari’s nerves were on the fritz - an almost electric, pin needle sensation washing over his body.
Even the numb lull from the amount of Hennessey that coursed through his veins couldn’t completely tune out the way he felt.
Something was bothering him.
And the feeling washed over Jamari like a nasty disease, permeating his mind.
It bothered him from the moment he woke up this morning, through his much awaited interview with V103, and lingered even in his studio session. It made him feel antsy. Unfocused. It made him feel on edge, almost like he was watching a horror movie - worked to the edge of his seat, anticipation building to a crescendo. That kind of feeling was foreign, so unnerving and unlike himself.
It was like he could feel that something was wrong, so wrong, and the thought of it made the hairs of the back of his neck stand up. It sent a chill down his spine.
Something lingered in the fuckin’ air, and Jamari swore he could damn near taste it.
Feel it.
Hold it in his hands.
And he didn’t like it.
“Murda, you straight?”
Looking up, he met the eyes of his bodyguard, Joshua. He didn’t even notice that he was standing in front of him, the raspiness of his voice in Jamari's head sounding so close, yet so far away. Joshua’s eyes scanned his face, his body language stiff as he stood with hands clasped together in front of him.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jamari cleared his throat, nodding his head. He puffed smoke again, the sensation of the smoke burning the inside of his nose as he inhaled. The rest of the smoke escaped from between his lips as he spoke, Jamari inhaling deeply again before extending the blunt to Joshua. He hoped that the weed would calm his nerves, and really hoped that his friend wouldn’t be able to tell how “off” he felt.
But, seeing right through the thinly veiled gesture, Joshua raised his eyebrows, “You sure?”
“Yeah,” he lied again, “I’m just in my head ‘bout this music shit.”
Joshua nodded his head - slowly - his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the look on Jamari’s face. Even if the tongue lied, body language couldn’t - and Jamari looked like he was a deer in damn headlights, fear and worry lurking behind his expressive, dark brown eyes.
But even if he wanted to, Jamari knew he wouldn’t be able to explain clearly how he felt to Joshua. His “spidey senses” were tingling, and he couldn’t stop himself from doing mental gymnastics as he tried to narrow down exactly what it was. That was Jamari’s biggest issue - he didn’t know what had him so wound up. What was pressing his buttons, pushing his pressure points.
Like damn, what the fuck was it?
“You a fraudulent, wack ass nigga!”
Murda could point out that grating, pitchy voice from anywhere, his eyes immediately finding the owner of the voice in the crowd - dressed in a red and white Gucci shirt, and black jeans, and a big, obnoxiously sized chain in the shape of a money bag hanging from around his neck.
That voice belonged to no one other than Rich Baby - Murda’s labelmate and one of the sharpest thorns in his side.
From the moment the two of them met, Rich Baby seemed to have it out for Murda. Whether it was on social media, in songs, interviews - whatever it was, he made it his business to antagonize Jamari every chance he got. And unfortunately, since they were on the same label, it meant that they ran in the same circles. And because it sold records, made the fans want more from the two of them, made the blogs talk - Jamari had to be in his presence more often than he would like. And for someone as attention seeking as Rich, it meant that he would go all out to keep the persona, the image attached to his name.
But for once, Rich’s attention wasn’t on Jamari, and instead of the dice game that had come to a screeching halt in front of them.
Rich was staring down another man, dice in one hand and money in the other, the two of them exchanging nasty glares at each other.
“Here them niggas go,” Joshua added, shaking his head as he watched the group over his shoulder.
Tension hung in the air as words were exchanged, playful banter and yelling suddenly turning serious. The air surrounding them seemed to turn stale, and Murda could feel the shift in the situation - his chest tightening as his heart thumped away loudly in his ears. The blunt in Joshua’s hand had long gone out - a thin wisp of smoke filtering from the charred and blackened end of the blunt. The crowd seemed to egg on the “discussion” between Rich and the other man on, both sides taunting each other.
“You tryna say I’m cheating? Cause I know that ain’t what yo’ ugly ass is tryna tell me, nigga!”
“That’s exactly what the fuck I’m saying. You fuckin’ dumb?”
“Watch yo’ fuckin’ mouth when you talking to me, nigga-”
“The fuck is you finna do if I don’t?”
That’s when the pushing and shoving started.
The sound of shouting filled Jamari’s ears, Rich’s figure drowned out in the sea of men that seemed to swarm the situation - some of them trying to diffuse it, while others were too consumed with their argument to be bothered with backing down. Designer shoes and Jordans stepped all over the money on the ground, while hands reached to pull the men apart, some men opting to attempt to pick up the money beneath their feet like vultures.
“What - you wanna hit for this shit or what?”
Wait..
“I got something for you, don’t even fuckin’ worry.”
Was this..
“Hold on, the fuck you finna-”
A loud, ear splitting pop rang out into the air - echoing as the crowd instantly scattered, spreading out in all different directions, like a bunch of roaches. Loud footsteps and screaming echoed in the night air, and the sounds of engines revving and tires screeching across asphalt made for a disastrous symphony.
Jamari’s ears rang, and he could smell the smoke from the gunfire in the air, temporarily stunning his senses and burning his eyes.
But when the smoke cleared, his eyes caught sight of Rich on the ground.
“What the fuck!”
Joshua yelled, kneeled down at Rich’s side. His hands were covered in thick, red blood as he tried to apply pressure to Rich’s chest. Rich grabbed weakly at Joshua’s hands, smearing the liquid across his shirt and Joshua’s tattooed hands. Without even thinking about it, Jamari joined him at Rich’s side along with a few other people - a woman lifting Rich’s head while another was on the phone, her words barely comprehensible as they slurred together.
Jamari was completely paralyzed as he stared down at the pool of blood covering the front of Rich’s shirt, Rich’s eyes blinking slowly as he tried to speak but the woman cradling his head told him not to. His body was frozen, his mind struggling to comprehend what he was seeing in front of him.
Then he realized - what he had been feeling all day. What had been bothering him.
Death.
It hung high in the air, yet Jamari was powerless to do anything about it.
The sound of sirens filled the air, swarming Jamari’s senses as he was fixed to his kneeling position on the ground. His hands trembled, and he struggled to breathe, watching Joshua as he continued to apply pressure to Rich’s chest, blood covering his hands and his shirt. Rich struggled to breathe, his chest rising shallowly as blood spilled from the corners of his lips with each passing breath. Joshua shouted at Rich to hold on, that he would be okay - but as the intensity and volume of the sirens grew closer, they all knew that there wasn’t much they could continue to do.
Jamari’s ears hadn’t stopped ringing - in a trance as he watched Rich take his last breath.
“Murda - we gotta go!”
The sound of Joshua’s voice fell on Jamari’s deaf ears, his body still frozen in place as he looked upon Rich’s cold, lifeless eyes.
“Jamari, are you listening to me?”
Joshua shook him, trying to snap Jamari out of his trance.
“Jamari!”
Yanking him up from the ground, Joshua shook him again, his bloody fingers digging into the soft fabric of Jamari’s shirt. Their eyes shared the same fearful, panicked expression in them, the two of them realizing the magnitude of what had unfolded in front of them. Sirens wailed through the streets, and behind them people filed out of the club, more people screaming and wailing in disbelief, the two men getting swallowed up in the crowd that had started to form.
“What the fuck do we do?” Jamari stumbled over his words, the syllables spilling out from his mouth.
“Ain’t shit we can do now but get the fuck out of here.”
𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘?. . . the key signature, ❝dreamchaser❞
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Born Jomo Kenyatta Hankerson on September 26, 1969 (son of Barry Hankerson / CEO of Blackground Records)
In his earlier childhood, Jomo was trusted with the task of walking young Aaliyah and Rashad home from school when their mother couldn’t; they lived five (5) blocks from each other. Aaliyah grew up with many pets, including ducks, snakes, and iguanas. Her cousin Jomo had a pet Alligator (which even Aaliyah felt was a bit much).
“I was in my last year at Pepperdine University when we started Blackground records in ‘91”, Jomo shared with Fader Magazine ( back in 2011).
After the R.K scandal, Jomo didn’t feel it was fair that the public villainize Aaliyah and ultimately, they felt they were blackballed from the music industry because of how difficult it was to get producers for the sophomore album.
When Lifetime did their disgraceful Aaliyah biopic movie, Jomo shared the similarities he saw Zendaya going through that Aaliyah went through and shared with V103 that (like Aaliyah), “She’s just trying to get a job and just work, it’s not her”.
When asked who he thought should play Aaliyah instead, Jomo responded, “I would love to get Zoe Saldana”. He continued saying, “I think she could pull off the acting part and she’s obviously gorgeous and beautiful”.
In Christopher John Farley’s 2013 book ‘Aaliyah: More Than a Woman,’ Jomo shared that the collaboration between Aaliyah and Trent was challenging to arrange due to their conflicting schedules.
“They did get a chance to meet, they did not get a chance to work together. But Trent, creatively, is a very deliberate cat, and they were never able to coordinate schedules. And when Aaliyah's movie career took off, it made it really hard for us to find the time and coordinate with Trent. She was excited to meet him, and she told me afterward that he was absolutely as incredible as she thought he would be when they met,” Jomo shared.
There is little to no other information on Jomo Hankerson's personally life (wife, kids, etc).
Source: Google, Wikipedia, Linkedin, Tumblr, IMDB, and Getty Images.
"I remember that once Rashad and Aaliyah got to Detroit, that Aaliyah and Aunt Diane would always be around the house singing. Growing up, Aaliyah would sing the whole Whitney Houston album" - Jomo Hankerson on growing up with Aaliyah.
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2 Owls
“Can I get 2 grape-flavored white owls?” I said sliding a twenty on the counter.
The gas station clerk grabbed two cigars from off the wall behind him and about $17 worth of change out the cash register. I stuffed the change in my jacket pocket and kept the blunts in my hand as I walked back to my BMW with expired plates. I hadn’t driven my car in a while so the gas tank was still practically full. This was one of those mandatory joy rides you had to make on a vintage foreign car because when you don’t drive a car enough and just leave it sitting, all type of stuff start happening to the transmission and what not.
I never drive too far. Just a few miles around Logan Square or Humboldt Park. I’ll usually just let my sister drive and I ride shotgun to stay out of trouble. But my sister was out of town and I needed to get out the house anyway.
I wasn’t good at rolling so I was rolling on the way to pick up Lisa cause I hadn’t seen her since our college days at Northwestern. I would write her English Papers and she would write my Biology papers. She became a nurse. And I became a greedy banker because being a teacher wasn’t going to cut it when I had lawyer fees. She had just moved back to the hood too. But her stint was looking more permanent cause her father got really sick and it honestly just wasn’t looking good for Mr. Reyes. Student loans and medical bills don’t stop. But neither can you. You know?
I pulled up in front of Lisa’s child home apartment on Drake. She popped right out. Lisa is a very attractive woman but it’s like life made her forget it. Kids, abusive baby daddies and life can do that to you. Lisa was hiding her eyes behind huge reading glasses, a northwestern hoodie and Jordan 9’s. It was like she got dressed using whatever I had in my closet. Her pony tail was messy too.
“Hey Los.” Lisa said after pecking my cheek.
“Sup, Lisa.” I said handing her the blunts and the eighth I had just bought. “There’s some cd’s in my glovebox you could use.”
“Damn. Right to the point, huh? No how are you?” Lisa said digging in my glovebox.
“You know I’m pressed for time and I can’t get pulled over.” I replied. “How’s your dad?”
“I don’t want to talk about my dad.” Lisa replied.
Lisa pulled out my copy of The College Dropout and started breaking everything up on the booklet.
“Why you playing V103?” Lisa asked.
“Cause it’s night time and I like to relax at night. Everything ain’t about turning up.”
“I’m not trying to turn up either. But damn. This song old asf.”
The radio was playing “Remind Me” by Patrice Rushen and I did not want to change the station cause I really loved this song. It was literally one of my favorite songs ever.
“What you tryna hear?” I asked.
“You can leave it.” Lisa replied already licking the blunt.
I kept on Armitage until I saw Margie’s Candies and then made a right on Western so we could smoke in Humboldt Park by the Paseo Boriqua signs on California.
Once we parked, we lit the blunt and took several puffs each in silence. We were still as tight as we were in College. Distance and years of no communication couldn’t change that. We were family.
“Why you so quiet, nigga?” Lisa asked.
“You quiet too!” I replied.
“How are you, though?” Lisa asked. “You always checking on me which I appreciate and all. But you gotta start making things more about you, Papa.”
“Here we go.” I replied. “Look, I’m good. Never better.”
“If you say so, Los Cruz.”
“The whole government?” I asked laughing.
“The whole government.” Lisa replied matter-of-factly.
Once the blunt was finished, I opened the sun roof to let in some fresh air. I was taken back by how bright the stars were. And despite being hidden behind clouds, the moon was still visible in a subtle, but still beautiful way.
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