Free Antebellum by R. Kayeen Thomas Page A

niggas—” He walked up to the table in the middle of the room and pulled a 9mm handgun out of his pants. “—but I’m tryin’ to ride on dese niggas tonight.”
    He put the gun down on the glass table in front of him and kept his hand on top of it as he looked up at each of us. “What’s up?”
    â€œWhoa!” Rose and SaTia jumped back from the table.
    â€œHell yeah!” Ray pointed to the gun on the glass table. “Dat’s what I’m talkin bout!”
    â€œLet’s lay dese niggas on the sidewalk!” Brian walked around the room, slamming his hand against the wall.
    I stayed in my seat, looking at Orlando as if I was trying to pinpoint the part of his brain that had stopped functioning properly.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing?”
    â€œOh, so what? You Mr. Hotshot Famous Rapper now and you cain’t ride for yo’ homies no more? Yo’ man sittin’ up in the hospital half-dead and you cain’t take no action? All dis fame done made you some kinda pussy?”
    Without thinking, I walked over to the table, picked up the gun, turned it around in my palm so that I was holding the barrel, and smacked Orlando across the face with the handle.
    â€œNigga, don’t you ever call me no pussy again! I could give a damn ’bout yo’ lil gun! You forget who da hell you talkin’ to? I’m Da Nigga; you wouldn’t be nothin’ without me! Nothin’! Everything you got, I bought, nigga! I’ll beat da bricks off you!”
    Orlando spit blood from his mouth onto the floor and looked up at me with unadulterated contempt.
    â€œSo you can pistol whip me, but you cain’t go after da niggas who ’bout killed your man? Aight, Mr. Moses Jenkins, let’s see how many bricks you beat off me when I get dat gun back...”
    At that moment, I decided to quit everything. Doing shows, making music, interviews, I was going to quit it all.
    Somehow, in only one day, a man had tried to kill me, one of my best friends was in a coma, and now another of my best friends had threatened my life. And it all related back to being in this godforsaken business. It was only one night, but that was all it had taken. It was too much for me to bear.
    â€œI can’t do this anymore...” I started.
    Rose cut in before I could finish.
    â€œAlright, look, everyone needs to calm down, okay? Moe, give me the gun so I can check to see if there’s a serial number on it.”
    I still had my eyes nailed on Orlando as I slid the gun down the table.
    When Rose got it in his hands, he examined it briefly.
    â€œMs. Brooks,” Rose said. SaTia shook herself out of the trance of watching two best friends get ready to come to blows. She turned toward Rose. “Do you think you could continue to add some common sense to this situation? Moe put his fingerprints on this gun. I need to go and make sure it disappears.”
    Aligning herself with him would have been out of the question in any other situation, but she recognized the severity of the moment. She gave him a slight nod, and he quickly got up with the firearm and headed to his quarters. As soon as he was gone, SaTia turned back to us. “So, I guess it’s time to pack up our stuff and move back to the ghetto, right? It was fun while it lasted, fellas. Hope your careers were worth it.”
    Orlando wiped some more blood away from his mouth with his wrist.
    â€œI’ont care what dat nigga...”
    SaTia turned to him instantly and stuck her finger in his face.
    â€œShut up! You shut up! What kind of idiot shows his gun off in front of a record executive? And what did you all think you weregonna do?” She looked back and forth between Ray, Brian, and Orlando. “You were gonna go ride for your nigga, huh? You got no proof that P. Silenzas had anything to do with what happened tonight. And even if you did, so what? Did you think you were gonna ride three blocks