The one I drove down Old Gentilly Road in the rain, dodging potholes, with my precious cargo stowed in the trunk. In my rearview mirror, I saw the headlights of the other car that followed me. I jumped around in my dream, going back hours before. “This yo’ fault, North,” Melvin, the real money and power behind On-Phire, barked. A dangerous man with a dark soul, his deep, raspy tone scared both of us. Jason was the front for the cameras, but the final decisions came from Melvin, a ruthless killer and not-so-former drug dealer. Jason’s law degree gave an air of legitimacy and class to a company that still had its hands dirty when dealing with its artists. Shitty contracts and outright theft were the normal course of business. “I had nothing to do with this, Melvin!” Jason yelled as he sidestepped around his massive desk to get some distance from his boss. “That cop was wilding out on his own. You know that.” On-Phire’s rising star, AK, had been feuding with us, and now he’d wound up shot and killed by an NOPD cop who lost his fucking mind.
