The Come Up (Book II) : PRODIGY

Chapter 6 - 808

A skinny, dark skin boy with glasses comes up and gives me a dab, a big smile on his face. I pull him to my chest with a smile on my own face.

" What's up lil man?" I question.

" Yo, you're my favorite rapper. I know every song on that mixtape and you actually made me want to rap. So I started right after your tape came out." He chuckles. " I just really wanted to meet you."

"Wordd?" I say impressed and humbled.
"Well let's hear something." I urge on.

"What you wrote so far?" I continue.
A tall, plump dark skin lady with his exact face stands to the side smiling and snaps a picture.

The kid adjusts his hat and licks his lips.
"Call me young rebel I be out here plotting stupid ish, 14 but I bag ya chic drive her off in my plastic whip, clown all the men she was messin with like this kindergartener can spit. She bussin splits." He exaggerates with his hands.

I laugh staring at him amazed.

"I'm hella compassionate, my Mother a Queen. So I know how to treat em but I'm never gon feen. You wanna be with these clowns be my guest, I got next and when you come
to ya sixth sense. Come at me." He ends.

I know the largest smile is on my face. I stand there frozen, staring at a miniature me. I dab him up again.
"Yoooooo. Young Rebel, that was fire. I don't believe that you just started, you had to have been messing with it before." I fold my arms, serious.

"Nope! Ask my Ma!" He points enthusiastically.
The tall plump lady nods in agreement.
"He rapped all your songs throughout the house, back to back and then started writing the week after. That's all he's been doing." She smiles warmly at me.
"I had to take him to meet you." She still has the camera in her hand, still recording the whole encounter.
"Woow, you really remind me of myself when your age. I see so much in you. What's your real name?" I ask.
I felt my self separating from the moment, like I wanted to shed a tear. Something building up in me. And I know that I am moved by him but I can't help but relate it back to Chanel. Going from such a low place to a place so high, it must have messed with me. I keep my composure. No way I was going to break down in front of lil kid. No way I was breaking down at all. Ain't nobody hurt or dead, that's the only time I cried and even then, it doesn't happen. I've become so numb to it all that I don't feel it all the way anymore. Or maybe for my sanity, I don't allow myself to. The last time I even teared was when Chanel visited me in jail. I wouldn't let her get that out of me again. I snap back to the present.
"My name is Raymond." He says confidently.
"Raymond Rebel. Oooo, you don't even have to think of a rap name. You on your way." I confirm.

Something in me wanted to take this little boy under my wing but I have nothin to offer him and my wing is broken. What would I do but have him come to the realization that his hero is a flawed and often depressed human. Fucking groupies and drinking to climb out of sadness.

" I'm gonna give you my number. I want to stay in touch with you. But listen to me.." I say.

He looks excited at the fact that I am going to stay contact. So excited that he almost jumps out of his shoes.

"Yea?" He asks excited. His glasses jumps on his face.

"You can't give this number to anyone at all. Don't let anyone know you have it. No girls." I point my finger at him and he chuckles.

"Okay, I won't." He says over and over.

"Okay, come take a picture with me." I smile. I pull my own phone out and put it in selfie mode. I put my arm around his neck and snap the picture and he smiles as hard as he can. This is how I felt when I met Mac.

I shout him out on Instagram. Caption titled Young Raymond Rebel that baddest MC out here.
When he has to leave, he looks back at me several times to see if I am still watching. Seeming to be unable to believe everything that just happened. I feel something well up in me again and I clear my throat to keep it down.

The performance goes by fast. I feel completely exhausted after, like I just did a 2 hour long concert. Emil had left the Plaza right after meet and greet ended, saying he was taking some girl he met the last time he was in LA out. I remember knocking out on the drive back to the hotel and then falling asleep in all my clothes.
I wake up around 3 A.M in the morning to a million texts, mentions, Instagram posts and notifications on my phone. Confused, I scroll through my phone reading slow and sleepy.

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