Y/n's POV
"Let's try that again," I said as we gathered in the studio with Cole, Travis, and Thug. We were all working on improving our parts for the song.
Thug chimed in, "Let me make a few changes and see if that makes it any better."
"Maybe it's this damn beat. I should change it," I suggested, feeling frustrated.
"No way, man. This mix is fire. We all fuck with it," Travis replied, showing his support.
"If all of you are having a problem with rapping along with it, then there must be something wrong with it," I insisted, feeling the pressure.
Taking a deep breath, I stood up and decided to step outside for some fresh air.
"I'ma get some fresh air real quick," I announced to the group.
"Take your time, lil Jay," Cole said as I left the room.
Leaving the studio, I made my way to the elevator. When I said I needed air, I meant real fresh air—the freshest air I could get in L.A.
The elevator felt stuffy, and even though I was alone, I felt hot. Perhaps it was just the stress. Being a first-time dad and working on my first major project was a lot to handle. I wanted everything to be perfect. My dad was my inspiration when it came to music, and I wanted to impress him. My mom always prioritized family, so I also wanted to make sure my kids were well taken care of. I didn't want to disappoint my mom either.
I wasn't kissing ass; I was genuinely grateful for the upbringing I had, and I wanted to make my parents proud. Nobody was forcing me into this—I was doing it for myself. As I exited the elevator, I bumped into my dad and Kanye. It had been a while since I'd seen Kanye.
"What a surprise! Where are you off to?" my dad asked.
"I'm just trying to get some fresh air. There's a lot going on up there. Wassup, Ye?" I replied, acknowledging Kanye's presence.
Kanye responded, "Waiting for you to drop a song. I heard you were working on something."
"Yeah, what I'm working on is what's stressing me out right now," I confessed.
"Don't overwork yourself. Keep yourself paced and grounded. It'll work out. Even the best of the best get lost sometimes," my dad advised.
"It's my North's birthday party tomorrow. You should come by with your sister, and I'll walk you through some stuff," Kanye invited.
"I'd really appreciate that," I replied gratefully.
"It'll all come together. I'll see you later," my dad said as we parted ways.
I left them and went to a café across the street to grab a coffee. I despised Starbucks and preferred organic coffee. Starbucks felt like a disaster of sugar waiting to happen, no offense.
...
Later, I found myself at Ryan's house, spending time with the twins. Rei had fallen asleep, and Rye was trying to roll over.
"Just a few more minutes, baby girl, then you'll be good," I said, encouraging Rye during her tummy time.
I needed to finish the tummy time, although I was hungry. I wanted to be there to support Ryan. She was out with some friends, getting some fresh air and a massage.
"You think I could land a Kardashian? Preferably Kim Kardashian?" I jokingly asked my two-month-old daughter, Rye. I liked having conversations with them, believing it would improve their communication skills at an early age.
I was determined to have exceptionally intelligent children, those "Giga babies" who knew everything and skipped grades because they were overly smart, if that was even possible.
