BLACK Is Back by Russell Blake Read Free Book Online Page B

when music had been entirely different from what someone like Roxie had grown up hearing. Even when Black’s band was breaking big, rappers of all shapes, sizes, and colors had been selling tens of millions of records, and the world had voted with its wallet, regardless of what the musician in Black thought.
    Besides, wasn’t a little bit of the disdain just envy? Sure, there was some truth to that, he acceded to the little voice in his head. Who wouldn’t want to live a lifestyle of being young, dumb, with hot and cold running hotties at your command, making millions for doing nothing but throwing attitude? It wasn’t fair…
    Of course, nothing in life was. And if B-Side had managed to wire the game, more power to him. His was a young man’s world, a world as foreign to Black as one inhabited by two-headed lizard gods. The one redeeming quality he could see to it all was that, for whatever reason, it had intersected with Black’s banal reality and managed to lavish him with some ready cash. Which was always in short supply and heavy demand.
    Black read with interest an article on B-Side’s life story: raised by a struggling single mother in one of the worst areas of New Orleans; relocation to L.A.; a troubled adolescence marked by dropping out of school in ninth grade and turning to dealing drugs, arrests, incarceration; and then salvation when Blunt had been discovered and B-Side had joined him on the climb to stardom. It read like an invented bio, but Black knew from his brief meeting that it was probably largely true, if a trifle heavy on the crime-related aspects of the rapper’s life.
    All good, but no clues as to who might have it in for him.
    After an hour of his reading and watching a few B-Side and Blunt videos on YouTube, Roxie materialized in the doorway.
    “Since you don’t care whether we ever find Mugsy, I’m leaving early to put up flyers.”
    “What do you think of B-Side?”
    “Honestly? It’s not my thing. But if it was, I’d probably like him. He’s got something that comes through. Kind of a sexy swagger and attitude, you know? After listening to both Blunt and B-Side, Blunt was more authentic, but B-Side’s more of an entertainer. I don’t know how else to describe it, but the kid’s got some grooving raps.”
    “That was my impression. B-Side’s more Vegas, Blunt was more Compton.”
    “Right. Because you’re down with the hood. You know what it’s like there.”
    “You know what I mean. More OG.”
    “You got that from one of those articles, didn’t you?”
    “I haven’t been living in a cave the last twenty years. I know what time it is.”
    “They haven’t said that since I was in diapers,” Roxie said.
    “Word. Peace out.”
    “My douche alarm just went off. Excuse me. I need to try to rescue the cat.”
    “I’m actually surprised the tubby bastard hasn’t shown back up to bum a meal.”
    “Boy, I go all mushy inside when you sweet talk like that. No wonder the ladies melt when you speak.”
    “I’m worried too, Roxie.”
    “Uh huh. I’m out of here,” she said, and then spun and made for the entrance. He could tell she was annoyed that he hadn’t dropped everything to do her bidding on the Mugsy flyer distribution, but damn it, he was trying to run a company, keep the light bill paid, and so on. He heard the front door open and called out to her.
    “I’ll take some flyers, too.”
    But she was already gone.
     

Chapter 8
    Sam Rothstein’s building was all marble and granite and cool, expensive chic, with well-groomed uniformed security guards in the lobby along with fashionably aloof counter staff who reminded Black of an expensive hotel’s. He gave his name to a haughty Asian woman who eyed him distrustfully before phoning upstairs and getting clearance for him to enter the inner sanctum. He was issued a visitor badge and advised to wear it at all times.
    The elevator was sleek, silent, and new, and when he arrived at the twentieth floor he stepped