Page 10 of Love's Free Will

“Lemme make this real clear for you, Shawty,” he drawled, taking another step closer, invading my personal space. “I don’t need no fuckin’’ help. Especially not from some ran through actress who fucked with the right niggas and suddenly thinks she’s Quincy Jones.”

I swear to God, my vision went red. I took a deep breath, reeling in my temper, because if I snapped the way I wanted to, Iwas gonna end up catching a case. Instead, I smiled, the kind of smile that let a nigga know he fucked up.

“I never had to fuck nobody to prove my talent. How many dicks you sucked to get in this room?”

“Aye you better get her ass.”

“Oh, and since we talkin’ credentials now?” I tapped my chin, pretending to think. “Let’s see… hit TV show making millions, 10 songs making Billboards hot 100, three Grammys. Songs I wrote and produced charting every damn year. My first project won awards before I was even out of college.” I let the words settle, watching his smirk fade. “Meanwhile all you got is a fuckin’ BET award for some trash ass song nobody talks about. So tell me, Royal, when exactly was the last time your mid-ass music was nominated for anything besides that one time on BET?”

Crickets.

Good. Let that shit simmer.I thought with a sly smirk on my face.

I turned to Logan, done with this whole conversation. “Yeah, I’mma go ahead and pass on this bullshit. I don’t work with fuck niggas.” Then, without another word, I grabbed my bag and walked straight out the studio.

4

ROYAL

The door slammed shut, leaving nothing but silence and the low hum of the beat still playing through the speakers. I sat there, jaw clenched, chest tight, still irritated as hell.

Who the fuck did she think she was, talking to me crazy? And also, who the fuck did Logan think he was demanding I work with that bitch.

Before I could process that any further, Logan’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

I exhaled sharply, refusing to turn toward him.Here we go. “Man, don’t start,” I muttered, rubbing my hands together, still heated.

"Nah, fuck that," Logan snapped, stepping closer. "You gon' ruin your whole career ‘cause you too fuckin’’ hardheaded to listen?!"

I turned my head slowly, finally looking at him. “Nigga, that bitch was disrespectful as fuck. I don’t need her help.”

"You don't need her?" Logan barked out a humorless laugh. "These charts say otherwise."

I glared, nostrils flaring. “Man, fuck you.”

“Bet,” Logan shot back, unbothered. “Then fuck your project too.”

“Whoa, whoa.” King stood. “We ain’t gotta go that route. Royal already got a lot of time invested in this shit.”

“So do I King.” Logan replied. “Yo’ client don’t fuckin’’ listen. So you know what? I’m done.”

The words hit different. I sat up straight. “The fuck that mean?”

“It means,” Logan said, voice tight, “that if you don’t stop actin’ like a bitch and learn to fuckin’’ listen, your shit is done. I’ll shelve this whole album, Royal. Good luck getting another deal anywhere else."

My fingers flexed at my sides, my breathing slow, controlled. Logan and I had been cool for years, but that don’t mean I liked niggas talking down to me—especially not in my own studio. I wanted to beat his ass, but what would that solve? LA Records had so much pull in this industry that I knew if they wanted to they could blackball me and I didn’t need that shit.

I gritted my teeth, standing to my full height. “Man, fuck outta here. You ain’t about to do no dumb shit like that. I’m literally one of the top artists on the whole label. Besides me, only other people makin money are Heaven and Reese.”

Logan’s bored expression was even more annoying. “I don’t give a fuck about how much money you make me. I make my own damn money. Yo fuckin’ ego and yo’ pride gon keep preventing you from doing big shit. If you think for one fuckin’ second that I won’t cancel all this shit you got another thing comin.”

“Royal, stop fuckin’ playin.” King said shaking his head. “It’s too much money to be made.”

I stayed quiet for a second. I didn’t have a choice. My jaw ticked, my fists curling, but before Logan could walk out, I muttered the words I hated more than anything.

“Wait, white ass nigga, damn.”

Logan turned back, arms crossed. “Say that again?”

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