Antebellum Read Free Page A

Ballin-B, Henry was Hard-Knock, Ray was Reason, and Orlando was O-Dog.
    â€œWhat happened to the chick from last night?” Orlando asked as he walked beside me. The other three were pushing the camera people back so we could move.
    I shook my head and looked down at my undecorated palm.
    â€œI’ll tell you in the limo.”
    The one white reporter, Allen, had been following me since before I made it big. For that, he was always either the first to get his questions answered, or the only one I responded to. He stood away from the vultures, but still in the path between the elevator entrance and the door. A taller Middle Eastern man held the camera while Allen controlled the microphone.
    All my boys knew Allen, so they let him through to me when he walked up to us.
    â€œMoe...Moe. Why don’t you say hello to some of your fans out here in Miami?”
    I always laughed to myself when Allen asked me questions. He’d been on the job a long time, and I’d seen him cover a lot of different artists. Every other celebrity he interviewed, he addressed by their stage name. Not with me, though. He didn’t want to risk it.
    I took a deep breath and made sure my mask was on nice and tight. Then I leaned in to the microphone.
    â€œYea, yea, yea! Dis here is Da Nigga, and you been knowed what it do, baby! Deez Nutz records foreva! Knowhatimsayin! I’m da sickest ta eva sneeze out a rhyme and da hottest ta eva burn up a track! Call all da ladies wid da phat bootie back and double D rack and tell ’em holla at ya BOY! YEA!”
    I guess a little bit of me died inside as I spoke, but I was rich, so it didn’t matter.

2
    A limousine is the most magical thing in the world. It’s like a portal into an alternate reality. I’ve known hustle-on-the-corner-Uzi-carrying thugs who’ve stepped into a limousine and climbed out as reformed members of an upper-class society. There’s just something about those long, shiny monstrosities that convinces you that you’re important, that the world needs you to succeed. Limousines are so magical that people don’t even have to see who’s riding inside. All it takes is for one to slowly roll past, taunting you with the tinted windows up, for you to think, “Wow, whoever is in that thing must be really special.”
    In the end, they’re the only things on earth that can change a man’s social status while air-conditioning him and providing him with free alcohol. That’s why I always had SaTia order one to meet us at the airport of whatever city I’m visiting, and drive us everywhere until I leave. Unless I was back home in D.C., whenever you saw me traveling it would be in a limo.
    The one we were all in now looked like someone had knocked over a spaceship and put chrome rims and Goodyear tires underneath it. I didn’t even know they made limos like it. I gave SaTia a nod of approval when we first got in and she shrugged her shoulders as if it wasn’t anything special. I guess that’s why I kept her around.
    As the limo pulled away from the hotel, I tried to take my mind off of the meeting I had coming up. Ray, Brian, and Orlando sat on the seat that stretched down the middle of the limo. I sat at the back, with Henry on one side of me and SaTia on the other.
    If I knew my manager, she wouldn’t say a word until the guys were out of the car. Meanwhile, my homeboys started their conversation, even before they had a chance to get comfortable.
    â€œYo, last night? Last night was off da chain!” Ray gave dap to the guys sitting beside him as he spoke with a grin. “What da hell did those white boys give us?”
    Orlando exhaled slowly as he sat back and nursed his crotch.
    â€œI think it was X, dude. That or Viagra. I ran through at least six chicks last night. My dick feel like a skinned knee.”
    â€œNaw, they had a bunch a’ different stuff.” Ray still seemed excited from the