True Stories.....First Chapter Of The Book I'm publishin'zzzz
Saturday, May 20th, 2012
A cool breeze whispered through the busy streets of Bucktown, pinching locals' faces. Only the air still remained too humid for me to be comfortable in my jean jacket, a wink from Lake Michigan to notify us Chicagoans that the frigid winter was departing and our precious, longed-for summer would represent in its place. Most of my closest friends and local music industry scenesters were present tonight at a trendy establishment just northwest of downtown. Dimmed lights, top shelf liquor barricading the bar, newly released rap and R&B music flowed from the speakers and rocked the indescribable diversity of women. I scanned the crowd until an unfamiliar face caught my eye. Now an unfamiliar face wasn’t typical in a gathering like this. My crew and I kept a close tab on people who entered our tight knit circle. After all, we were Chicago’s music scene and a new face in the crowd must have a profound purpose or affiliation. However, this twenty-something Kim Catrall cheated the other party goers of my attention. She exuded sexuality with blonde hair down to her back and dark makeup around large hazel eyes. She was authentically voluptuous, which was hard to find these days due to the increasingly popular trend amongst Chicago women of implants and augmentations. Her curves were defined in a skin-tight maroon dress, which she adorned with flashy costume jewelry. I was completely captured by this stranger, whose nose was indulged in her Blackberry, yet simultaneously up in the air. The young women around her bobbed and swayed with their hands up to the music, still her face remained entertained by the small glowing screen of her phone. The only thing stopping me from approaching her was Lisa, the Northwestern law student I'd been fucking for the past few months. With a heavy sigh, I took a sip of my Hennessey and glanced over at my date. Lisa’s cold stare was also fixated on my newfound sensation. We watched as the party host, Brady Steinman, brushed past other women to greet her. I thought to myself that she must be from Los Angeles, since the party was for Brady’s relocation to the west coast to further his budding film career. Brady handed her a champagne flute, grabbed her by her waist and kissed her cheek - an approach similar to mine, which I would have proudly executed had I not a ball and chain tying me down to this bar stool. I watched her laugh and talk, rap along to songs, whisper to her amazon friend. She was seemingly a happy woman with large facial expressions who enjoyed getting drunk off champagne.
"Mason, are you buying me another drink?" Lisa interrupted as if she sensed my sudden admiration.
"Add it to the tab," I grunt at her. The piece of action I'd been considering transitioning into a full-time love interest had suddenly become a nuisance. I sipped the last of my drink and when I turned back around from placing it on the bar, my eye candy disappeared. I finally saw her girlfriend following her out of the door and into a cab. The Hennessy in my system had me feeling like I might actually have the heart to disrespect Lisa and chase another woman out of the club.
I went home that night and indulged in some social media stalking to find that I shared many mutual friends with . Upon learning that she lived in Chicago, I feared maybe she had some previous sexual involvement with someone I knew, but released that idea from my mind, as I wanted to keep her an angel in my dirty thoughts. Upon my stalking invasion, I discovered that she had been well acquainted with Chicago’s ritzy nightlife scene. She attended many exclusive events such as after parties, fashion shows and mingled with artists and models, which also confirmed the materialistic vibe i’d gotten from her at first sight. I chuckled a bit to learn of her marijuana vice, as she poses in a pictures with a large amounts of the magical plant or smoked a leaf in others. The last shocking revelation was that she is the mother of a young son, of whom she alters her classy demeanor to wear side ponytails and crossed eyes for his amusement. She shared her world with 456 followers and whomever else wanted to see. Private she was not, which made me feel that she was easily accessible.
Three weeks from the Sunday that I first saw Raina she stayed on my mind but didn't appear as often. I'd been busy producing music and keeping my South Loop clothing store thriving. I debated whether I should ask some of my guys if they knew her but felt like most would be biased or break my spirits with inaccurate information. I still wanted to get this woman in my condo, in my bed and see what she looked like naked. She seemed so obtainable to me and all I needed to do was reach out. Suddenly, my wild imagination is interrupted by the ringing of my iPhone. It was Lisa. I’d been neglectful of our relationship since the party so I figured I'd at least speak with her.
"Ummmm?" She hummed on the other line.
"What a nice greeting. What can I do for you?"
"Mason, I get that you've been extra busy and that's all good and all, but can't you shoot me a text? Or like invite me over or something? I’m cool with you doing your music, I’m just feeling lonely," she whined.
"I would come get you, Lees, but I have jury duty in the morning. Ain’t no telling how long I'm going to be sitting on a bench. Could be weeks."
"OK, well let me know if you need help with the store at all. I was really looking forward to doing something with you tonight.” She sighed heavily into the receiver.
"Sorry babe, life will slow down for me soon enough. You should be doing homework anyway instead of wasting your time with me."
"You're the only thing that keeps me sane, Mason," she said strongly, probably expecting a romantic response.
"I'll come get you sometime this week, Lees. We'll bump heads. No worries." I assured her and hung up.
I wouldn't mind having Lisa's beautiful, caramel complected body bent over in front of me this evening, but I had prior engagements early the following morning and entertaining Lisa would be another chore that overwhelmed my agenda. I emailed a few more tracks to some of my working artists and decided to knock out in my king-sized bed. A warm feeling of success and opulence came over me when I closed my eyes. Summer 2012 belonged to me. Artists that I produced for such as Rockie Fresh, King Louie, Chief Keef, all had been signed to hip-hop's most successful labels. When I wasn’t ordering exclusive clothing and shoes for my busy men’s store, I was pumping hits for big names and acts on the rise that I deemed profitable. I knew that soon I would have to relocate to Los Angeles like the rest of my counterparts and leave everything that wasn’t music-oriented behind.
My alarm clock woke me up at 7AM along with Twitter, Instagram notifications and emails.
“Fuck!” I couldn’t help but scream. Today was an extremely busy shipment day for the store and a big day for Chicago’s underground music scene since Kanye West was remixing a local artist’s song and releasing it to blogs later in the afternoon. Yet I would be completely unreachable to my peers, trapped at the courhouseton the Southwest side, trying to decide someone else’s fate. I've gotten out of jury duty twice before, but was served yet again. A very frustrated me put on a suit and tie and some dressy Balenciaga sneakers and scowled at my reflection one last time before hailing a cab outside of my South Loop loft.
After passing through an endless line of security, I followed the bailiff into a room with a melting pot of 29 other people who all looked equally as annoyed to be there. The constant vibration of my cell phone against my leg was torture. I wanted so badly to be apart of what was occuring with my store, my artists and know everything as soon as it happened. Continuing the pity party inside my head, I was astonished to see the final member of our jury duty gathering. Raina. The desirable, newcomer I'd been masturbating about for almost a month now. Suddenly the buzzing on my thigh seemed irrelevant. She was even more captivating with her hair in a messy bun, an off the shoulder top and yoga pants, although I’m pretty sure my subpoena told me to dress business professional, she must have missed the memo. She planted her nose in her Blackberry until the 30 of us were called into the courtroom. I made eye contact with her as much as possible, which caused her to look back at me to see if I was really staring at her. A woman sobbing in a nearby room stole my attention. A prosecutor entered the room and explained to the 30 of us that the trial is concerning a criminal case, an assault charge where a man supposedly burned his wife’s body with boiling water. Presumably, his wife was the sobbing woman. The prosecutor then randomly selected myself, Raina and ten other jurors to the box and proceeded to ask us some questions about our history and background. I tried to answer my question of “Did you grow up in a two parent household?” as biased as possible, stating I was raised by a single mother, hoping it would release me from this commitment. Raina also wore her irritation on her sleeve as she answered her question.
"I say throw this guy in jail. I’m gonna let you know how I'm voting right now. He is guilty," she declared. “My ex-husband looks just like him and he beat my ass in front of our son on Christmas morning."
The judge raised his eyebrow at the firecracker spouting off her personal business and quickly dismissed her. The judge allowed us to break for lunch and I mindlessly chased after Raina.
"Excuse me," I called and she sharply turned around as if she were expecting me.
"Did you wear Balenciaga sneakers to jury duty?" she asked, causing me to look down at my feet although I already knew the answer.
"I did," I said slowly, wondering where her question would lead us.
"Hm interesting." She turned her nose up and shoved her Blackberry next to her ear. Silly of me to think that was going to lead into a conversation. Raina began talking to someone who was obviously coming to pick her up.
"Where's your man at? " I tried again.
"Where he's supposed to be - making money," she sassed.
"To keep you from pressing charges against his abuse?"
"Such a shame - wealthy in style but such a poor listener," she snapped. "I said he was my ex, as in no longer."
A black BMW pulled up, a male I initially assumed, but the female rapper blaring from the system proved otherwise. The tinted windows rolled down.
"Haaay!" A loud voice popping gum spewed the obnoxious greeting from a thin dark complected woman wearing large sunglasses.
"Rain! What are ya doin’ out here with this foolie?” she asked with a thick islander accent. Raina rolled her eyes and positioned herself in the front seat. I was shock to realize that I knew her chauffeur. She was Sam Nicholson, the longtime girlfriend of artist manager Breeze.
"What’s up, Sam? Your friend was trying to treat me!" I laughed, using Chicago slang to describe how I’d been disrespected.
"Reasonably so," Raina agreed.
"Where did you go last night?" Sam quickly asked, assuming I'd went out. Probably trying to keep tabs on her publicly unfaithful playboy of a boyfriend.
"I was at home preparing merchandise for the store. I wasn't out chaluping with Breeze." Sam was always questioning people about Breeze, so I took the opportunity to mention that I was a business owner. She pushed her sunglasses higher up on her nose and drove her sassy little girlfriend away from me.
“Treated,” I said aloud and turned around. The jurors outside smoking finally stopped staring. Out of the 1.5 million adults in Chicago to be chosen for 30 person jury duty, it was Raina and me. I expected to see her out and about on the social scene since I knew we had mutual friends. Hell, I could’ve sent a facebook message but I didn’t. I left it to fate and here she was in the courtroom, looking sassy, which I was starting to accept as her normal behavior. She dissed me and then she rode off with my friend’s girl. I could count on Sam to share with her how I am a “typical industry guy” and a total player. I couldn’t even answer my cell phone to help troubleshoot a problem at the store. I just sulked my ass back to jury duty, which would have my ass in that courtroom for the next four days until someone who knew the defendant was dismissed from duty and we all agreed he was guilty.
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