Page 142 of The Last Man on Earth
I’m so fuckin’ high.
But this is when I write best. I’m back in the studio, and weed brings out my creativity.
I got my headphones on and my pen in my hand, scribbling lyrics that reflect where I am in my life right now. The crash, the island, survival, and aftermath are all a part of the narrative thread moving through my new album.
Me falling in love, growing up, and having the life I always wanted is the overall theme.
It’s anybody’s guess if it’s gonna be well-received or not. Sometimes niggas don’t like to see you happy. To this day, people want Mary J Blige to be depressed again so they can get anotherMy Life. But whatever happens, I’m telling my story in my own words, and fuck what anybody thinks about that shit.
Ain’t like I’m hurting for money. I was already straight, but after we settled with the search and rescue company, and Tianabankrupted them bitches like she said she would, I ain’t gotta put out another album in my life if I don’t want to.
I step out of the studio and head upstairs to shower. I’ve been living in the Atlanta house since the baby came. I bought it and figured I might as well build a studio in the basement so I don’t have to be far away from my babies when I’m working.
I jump in the shower real quick, making sure I’m squeaky clean. Can’t be sitting around the baby smelling like dank. After, I throw on some sweatpants and head to the place where life happens. Where my family is.
Ari’s on the couch breastfeeding Isla—we both loved that name—and JR is outside splashing in the pool with Ashara and the girls while Celeste, our new photographer, takes candids. Their laughter drifts in as I make my way to the couch, but a text stops me in my tracks.
Raymond Newcastle
Hey, son. Hope your doing good. I got a situation I could use your help with if you can
I read it over and over again. Me and Dr. Souza were just talking about this shit. She said some people aren’t meant to walk with you into the next season of your life. So, instead of thinking and worrying about his ass, I’ma just do the hard thing and block my sperm donor. No hesitation.
I put my phone back in my pocket and sit next to my angel, leaning down to kiss her temple. “How you feelin’?”
She looks up at me with a smile. “Good.”
"Celeste been okay?"
She nods.
It was a hard sell, honestly. Ari didn't see the need to have a stranger hanging around just to snap pictures of us. I explained it to her as best I could; we hire professionals to capture our special moments so that we can stay present in the moment andlive them. Most celebrities do. And at the end of it all, you have archives of parts of your life you wanna relive, and you can pass them to your children, who pass them to their children, and on and on.
Or, you become part of history.
I gave Kiara's camera to her kids, and they were able to sell the pictures from the day of the crash toTimemagazine. They're doing a whole feature on the tragedy, and every single passenger is getting a profile. I saw the layout for it, and it's beautiful. It really honors everybody's memory.
“You ready for tonight?” I ask.
“I am.”
I stare at the four-carat princess cut diamond on her hand and get chills. This woman is about to be my fucking wife. That’s insane.
“By the way, your push present is done.”
“Aww, baby. You’re so good to me.”
“You say that like you didn’t cuss me out.”
My angel had me by the fuckin’ balls after she gave birth with no drugs on the side of I-20. I had already planned to give her the world, but after she did that, she wasn’t shy about asking for it.
What she wanted most was a second home in Tally that’s near her parents, so I bought her the land and she met with the architects and designed it the way she wanted.
“Whenever you feel up to it, the decorator is ready to meet.”
She nods. "By the way, the NTSB investigation is done."
"Oh yeah?"
