Sky's The Limit

xxxi

thirty one | crystal

Everything was happening so fast.

One minute, I was sitting at the longest table I'd ever seen, sandwiched between childhood friends. Scribbling my name right underneath Will's, who sealed our destiny with a cheesy grin and the statement: No goin' back, son.

The next minute, we were being introduced to engineers and producers, marketing experts, and even other artists. We were being led all over the building for a tour.

We were given a wide array of places and names, and while my brothers absorbed it all with enthusiasm, I was becoming extremely overwhelmed.

By Wednesday, we were assigned a team who would be working most intimately with us in the studio.

They seemed cool enough, but I couldn't help but think how I'd much rather continue working with Ice.

After all, he made most of the beats on our demo. It almost felt wrong being in that nice, big studio we were shown on our fast-paced tour without him.

By Friday, we were already talking about concepts for our album, what our image would be, what our sound would be. Really, what sound the label wanted from us— something jazzy but street. Something hard but radio-friendly.

It sounded like they just wanted another Digable or another Onyx.

This only topped my feeling of inundation with irritation.

By the end of the week, I was looking to unwind in a major way.

I called up Xena, who I'd made quick friends with after the showcase.

She knew how to party, and she could actually hang, going from club to club with us as we celebrated a successful show and the optimism of the new year.

And, by the looks of the week I've had with I.V. so far, the year was off to a great start.

As great as it was though, my fears were proving to be even greater.

"Girl, I don't know what you're stressin' about. Y'all about to be on!" her words were split between licks as she prepared a blunt.

I kissed my teeth and folded my arms while sinking into the cushions of my couch.

"You don't need to be dwellin' on the negatives, especially not ones that haven't even happened," she added.

"Who's to say they won't happen?"

"Who's to say they will?" she retorted before grabbing my lighter and sealing what would soon be my escape from the stresses of the week.

"You need to get a grip, girl. I know shit isn't all peaches and cream yet, but shit, you're on your way there. That's better than a lot of niggas," she affirmed.

"I guess you're right," I mumbled.

"Guess? You better know!" she chuckled. "But it's okay that you don't know. You'll have your mind right as soon as you hit this blunt. I got this pack from Branson."

I raised an eyebrow. "Branson? Harlem Branson?"

"Hell yeah," she nodded with a smirk.

"'Shaany goes to him too, whenever he has the time to go all the way to Harlem," I noted.

"A man with taste! Mm!" she declared while I fought off a laugh.

"Girl, please," I shook my head at this growing crush she had on him.