Location: January 1st, 9:37 AM.
Local Restaurant, New York City.
Jo-Vaughn eyed his plate. Before him sat an enormous platter of food; eggs, ham, and piles of fried potatoes. A tureen of fruit sat in ice to keep it chilled. A basket of rolls so full it could keep a family going for a week was set against the edge of the table. And an elegant glass of orange juice completed the ensemble of morning hors d'oeuvres.
"Christ." he marveled, his plate an awe-inspiring work of art to a man as hungry as he was.
"Watch yo damn mouth boy! I didn't take you here to put the lord's name in vain over ma food." his grandma snapped harshly.
Jo-Vaughn smiled sheepishly and returned to admiring his plate. Grandma Livingston was a nonsense kind of woman and unlike any grandma to ever walk the face the earth. While most could imagine their snow-white haired grandparent knitting, over-cooking, and planting wet kisses on their faces, Joey grew up with the image of a vile, jet-black haired disciplinarian who took no shit from anyone or anything; never cooked, sure as hell never knitted, and the only kiss he ever received from her was the painful kiss of a leather belt on his ass.
Yeah, she wasn't the picture of an ideal grandma. But Joey wouldn't have it any other way.
"So nana, Joey began, swallowing a potato chunk before he went on.
"You heard back from mom yet?"Grandma Livingston cut into her eggs with a fork and popped them into her mouth.
"She called me this mornings'. Told me she made it Naija safely.Joey nodded and swallowed another potato. His mother, Nina Livingston, had flown back to their hometown for a little R&R with the rest of the family. That left Jo-Vaughn in charge of the oldest Livingston. Which meant treating her to breakfast and dropping a third of all the cash on him for extra bullshit. That coupled with his mother's demands to do something with his hair before she got back or she would, quote:
"cut that shit myself with a knife.", left him dipping into what was left of his endorsement money.
The young Livingston let out a silent sigh and glanced out the window of the cafe. The hustle and bustle of New York never ceased to amaze him, even though his entire life had been spent milling about the maelstrom.
"Awww, shit, that news-conference was this morning." he exasperated as he leaned heavily into the backrest of the booth.
Joey had been planning to go, it was something small in the Brooklyn neighborhood but it would have been a great moment to gather awareness for his youth-league fundraiser. Unfortunately, with the last two days activity, that with his mothers sudden vacation, today's concert and breakfast, the event had totally slipped his mind.
"And why in God's name would you want to do that?" Grandma Livingston asserted, finishing off the last of her eggs.
Joey grunted.
"I mean, these kids need some kind of support? Any extra money we can get to get this youth-league running again would be great for em.""Joey, you know people ain’t so charitable these days, and especially won’t be for a monsta’ inclusive league." she pointed out.
"Nana, everyone deserve a chance. We going right back to the 50’s the way we treating these people. I’m not gonna let kids miss out on an opportunity to grow, get off the streets."Grandma Livingston chuckled disappointedly.
"Baby you got a big heart, that vigilante work got you thinking grand, but people ain’t quick to change, Jo-Vaughn. You done a lot, but you can’t keep funding this for long. Don’t tell ya mama I said this, but stick to playing hero.With that, she grabbed a napkin, cleaned off her mouth and lifted herself up and out of the booth.
"Well, thank you for treatin' me this morning, Tokunbo."Joey cocked his head to the side, his lip curling slightly at the use of his african name.
"Oh, where you goin?""Oh, me and the girls gonna get the nails done. Nina can't have all the fun. Go do something." she said, waving him off as she showed herself out.
Joey watched her leave, a frown dancing accoss his face.
...playing hero. Well, here he was again, alone with a whole day ahead of him and with plans that didn’t require his attention till later. After a pause, he simply shrugged and dug back into his meal. Shit would come up.
Location: January 1st, 5:07 AM.
Madison Square Guardian, New York City.
“Are you kidding me?”Spittle flew from the tomato-faced manager as he fumed into Jermaine’s broad chest. Yet his bleating only earn him an opaque silence that only seemed to feed his into growing tantrum.
“I’m her fucking Tour Manager! Let me through the damn door!”A thin paper blunt hung from Jermaine’s bottom lip, a small trail of smoke escaping from the corner of his mouth danced its way to the ceiling above him. Slowly he took it from his mouth and blew a puff into the mans’ face for spites sake.
”Does it look like a give a fuck? I’m genuinely wondering, does it look like I give a fuck?” he sighed.
Before he could continue the green-room door opened, revealing the casual form of Karen.
“It’s okay, Jones, you can let him through.” Returning the blunt to his lips Jermaine graciously stepped aside and almost mockingly bowed and gestured him forward. He had no beef with the man, but damn if he didn’t enjoy the entertainment he provided in between the dull moments of this job.
As the door closed behind him he blew another puff and took out his phone, he’d gotten a message earlier. It was from an old friend off the block. A third baby? A baby shower invite?! Jermaine didn’t bother to stifle his sigh as he dialed the number and put the phone to his ear. In moments, the line went through.
“Yoooo, JJ what’s good?!” a gruff voice answered.
”Ey nothing much, Keem. Heard bout the baby, just wanted to congratulate you.”A chuckle.
”Oh man I appreciate it, you been a real one since day one I just thought I’d let you know we’d be having a baby shower. You know, barbecue, music, dancing, em gifts. I know you out here making that KAREN MONNNNEY!”This time Jermaine stifled a sigh and smoothly imitated a his laugh.
”Ey you know it’s ight, just a lil something something. I can’t say imma be able to make it, but I’ll see if I can get y’all something small.”A moment of silence.
”...something small? Fam you is rich come on now. Get the baby, ion know, a crib, maybe a car, something man.””The fuck a baby finna do wit a whole ass car?”“DRIVE THAT SHIT FUCK ELSE?!””FUCK YOU ME-“ he paused a moment to breathe.
”Bitch you got me mixed up. I feel like if you on yo third baby bitch you don’t deserve a baby shower anyway! I ain’t gon be showering you wit gifts just cause you like to fuck. Shit there’s a lot of people that like to fuck, I ain’t never bought em a gift. Fuck outta here.”Inside the faint sounds of a budding argument could be heard, but it wasn’t shit to interfere with. There was no hostile intent being thrown around, so he could rest easy. Ol’ tour manager was off the shits anyway, he was probably heated about her being slow to dress or something like that. It really wasn’t any of his business.
“See bruh bruh, money dun changed you.” Keem retorted but Jermaine had long since disconnected, finally having enough of the bullshit, and observing that Karen’s tour manager had finally left in a huff. Karen followed not too long after.
“It looks like it’s showtime.” she intoned, seemingly prepared for her preformance.
Jermaine’s eyes took in her visage beneath his sunglasses, but only for a moment. Tiny denim shorts, shoulderless top and stilettos. She was bad, but fooling around with the client was a sure way to fuck up the money, not to mention she was still Disney Star age despite her build.
”Damn sure looks like it, ma.” he chortled as he took point and led the way.
”You ready?”
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