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He frowned for a second before continuing, “Yeah...listen, I know you think Lil Tate needs a new contract but we have at least another year.”
“The contract ends today, Stan,” I said firmly with a bright smile. “It’s a bullshit contract in which you take half of his money, and I signed him directly. I didn’t know who you were until after we’d finished a demo.”
Stan looked at Lil Tate. “It’s standard in this industry for a newcomer to give his agent a larger cut. Now that he’s established, we’ll reduce the percentage in a year when the contract ends.”
“I don’t think you heard me. The contract ends now and he’s not going to resign with you. I’ll manage him myself or find him another manager. End the contract now, and no hard feelings.” I shrugged, still smiling. I knew my All-American looks were deceiving. I looked like an angel as a baby and a little boy. Even now, my unruly, wavy, curly hair projected a false innocence. I wore button-up silk shirts and ties to hide the tattoo on my neck that I displayed freely on the weekends and around my people in the neighborhood. “Or say another motherfucking word, and I may not allow you to walk out that door alive.”
“What....Augh!” My foot had just stomped on his dick, and he squealed. I stomped again, and he fell out of the chair, howling in pain.
Lil Tate and his men laughed out loud as I perched back on the desk. “Stop embarrassing yourself. Get off the floor.”
Purple and red mottled his face as he held himself and eased back on the chair. He panted, and beads of sweat ran over his forehead and down his face.
“You no longer work for Lil Tate. Whatever money you already stole from him is yours. Any money he made today and moving forward belongs to him, and whoever he decides should be his manager.”
Stan’s face scrunched in pain, and he pushed out his words. “You...can’t...do...this.”
“Lil Tate, you have a piece?”
Lil Tate reached into his ankle and gave his 9mm to me. I held it with the barrel and muzzle pointed to the ceiling. “Now, don’t make me point this at you because if I do, I’m using it.”
Stan’s eyes widened as I picked up my iPad. “Just need your John Hancock and Lil Tate is a free talent again.”
I kept the gun in one hand as I passed Stan the iPad. I used the gun to show him the signature line. “Right here.”
He shuddered, and his hands trembled while digitally signing away the rights he should’ve never had.
“You can go now. Lil Tate and I have to discuss his concert tour.” I reached out my hand. “Let me help you.”
Stan wearily took my hand, and I pulled him up to his feet, though he still slumped slightly over because of his pained groin.
“This goes without saying whatever happened here. Stays here.” I patted his shoulder. “And if you have any doubt about who I am and the power I wield, try me.”
Lil Tate snickered. “Have a nice life, Stan.”
I stepped back and gestured to the door. “Connie will make sure you get to the elevator.” Stan did his best to walk upright though he limped out my door. We all laughed while Lil Tate and I dapped each other off. “Bruh, I will never doubt you again. I bet the little bitch peed a little in his pants.”
“Probably shit too. I don’t know why motherfuckers like that think they run anything.” I chuckled and moved back to my chair. “Now, we’re setting you up for a ten-city tour in the fall. We’ll keep it East Coast and Atlanta for now. We see how you do. If you love it and it brings us money, we will add more shows.”
He glanced back at his friends, and they nodded. “I trust you, Gav. Shit, you just saved me millions.”
“Then I’ll draw up a contract, and you will review the terms of the ten cities and timelines.” I pushed up my sleeves. “I’ll send an email and get my assistant to send you a paper copy. Sign once you feel comfortable. Cool?”
“Yeah.” He scratched his bearded cheek before surveying the room. “You clear of bugs?”
I frowned. “Yeah. My security checks twice daily. Why?”
“I didn’t call because you can never be sure when the phones are tapped.” If Lil Tate had grown up anywhere else, he would sound paranoid. I knew otherwise. He was fully aware that his popularity had in essence placed a target on his back. His actions would forever be noted because of his past and possible current affiliation with criminal organizations. Apparently, Lil Tate knew of my background outside of music producer and executive before the incident with Stan. I hated it when my two worlds collided, but being in the rap game often meant it was possible.
“Alright, whatever you need from me is already done.” I held my hand back out again.
Lil Tate dapped me off. “This is why I rock with ya. You know when to be real with me. I did some digging, and I know your family.”
Never wanting people outside the family or the commission to know much about me except what they read on the internet, I answered directly, leaving no room to discuss who I really was. “Yeah, so I ask again what you need from me. I won’t ask again.”
Lil Tate grinned. “This some Wakanda shit or what?” He then sobered. “Serious tip. I used to run with St. James Crew and was up high as one of their top soldiers. They’re about to be ambushed, and it won’t be pretty.”
My muscles tightened. “How do you know?”
