one shots

method to the madness [1/3]

[author's note: the following one shot is a gift for my good sis, @miaveli. I hope you— along with everyone reading this— go into the new year with goals to elevate to the next level of yourselves and that you all, of course, reach those goals. Happy New Year. Enjoy.]

"Yo, Mia. What's up?" Clifford greeted shortly after entering the doors of the label's headquarters.
"Hey, Meth," Mia smiled timidly, watching as he leaned onto the front desk on his folded arms.

"What's up wit'chu? What's the science, shorty?" he grinned, his eyes never leaving her face.
"I know you see me working," she couldn't keep her smile from widening.

"You call filing your nails working?" he raised an eyebrow.
"Don't you have a meeting or something?" she scoffed, making him laugh as she set down her nail file.

"Yeah. I do. Is J-Wop in?" he asked.
"Yeah. . . but she's taking her lunch soon," she informed him.
"That's cool. I'll catch her on her way back in. Besides, that gives me more time to sit here wit'chu," he smirked.

With a playful roll of her eyes, Mia shook her head. This wasn't anything new, seeing as though Clifford had been flirting with her since he first set foot into the label's headquarters. By this point, he'd been signed for a relatively short period of time but made an appearance at the offices almost as often as he did the studio. Always claiming that he had a meeting, he'd stop in and make conversation with Mia, a receptionist for the label, before leaving.

"You know good and well that you're not here to see the A&R. That's never the reason you're here," Mia pointed out.
He chuckled. "So, the jig is up, huh?"
"Yeah, the jig is up, Method," she confirmed.
"Well, since the jig is up, when are you gonna' stop actin' like you don't like me?" he inquired.

"Boy, bye," she waved him off while turning her attention toward the computer that was positioned to the left of her.

"Come on now, Mia. You know I'm a sensitive man. Why you playin' me like this?" he leaned a little closer to her over the relatively tall desk.

She gazed up at him with eyes that glowed with both cynicism and slight playfulness. "I'm not playing you. I'm not doing anything, Method. I'm working," she nodded toward the screen of the computer that faced her.
He kissed his teeth. "Whatever, man. . . Don't hit me up when my album drops and honeys are flocking."

"Don't worry. I won't," she smiled at him.
He smirked, his eyes lingering on her for several seconds before he finally slid his folded arms off of the glossy, marble counter top. "One of these days, Mia," he wagged his finger while backing away.
"None of these days, Method," she mirrored his actions, a smile etching itself on her face.

With that, Clifford was making his way out of the lobby of the tall building. It was a bit cool outside, but he didn't mind it. After all, he had a hoodie on. It never took much to keep him warm. The cool breezes assured a more brisk pace in everyone's step, and he was no exception as he approached his good friend and labelmate, Reggie.

"Man, I don't get why you keep comin' up here. Don't shit happen in there but paper shredding and call holding and demo-tape trashing," he voiced.
"I went to holla' at Mia," Clifford admitted.
Reggie kissed his teeth and rolled his eyes.

"What?" the young caramel-skinned man asked Reggie.
"Nothin', man. I just think you're wasting your time," he muttered before the boys approached the car they arrived in.

Reggie got behind the wheel while Clifford took advantage of the passenger seat. Once they were both settled within the vehicle and the car was brought to life, Clifford continued the conversation.