Amias sat beside Oakley in the booth, nodding along as his cousin laid down another verse. The energy in the studio was electric—bodies crowded into the space, conversations overlapping, music pulsing through the air. Taz hunched over the mixing board, adjusting levels with practiced precision, occasionally glancing up to catch Amias' eye.
"That last line could hit harder," Amias suggested, leaning forward. "Something about 'streets watching' instead of 'people talking.' Keeps the imagery consistent."
Oakley considered it, then nodded. "Yeah, I rate that. Let's run it back."
As his cousin stepped back into the booth, Amias felt a strange sense of displacement. Two weeks ago, he'd been just another face in the crowd. Now, people were actually listening to his input. His enhanced lyrical abilities were proving useful, even if he couldn't match Oakley's natural flow or stage presence.
A movement caught his eye—Temi, gesturing for him to come over. She stood with her friends in the corner of the studio, surrounding a small table where someone had set up a game of Monopoly. Drinks were being passed around, laughter bubbling up from the group.
Amias hesitated, glancing back at Oakley who was now focused on his delivery, headphones clamped over his ears. He didn't have anything else to do currently…
"I'll be back," he murmured to Taz, who nodded without looking up.
As he approached Temi's corner, he couldn't help but scan the faces, wondering if the man who'd had her on his lap earlier was among them. Tha was a bruise on his pride he couldn't help but press.
"Finally decided to join us?" Temi smiled, her voice carrying a playful edge. She reached out, tugging at his arm. "Boy, sit down. You've been over there looking serious all night."
Amias allowed himself to be pulled down onto the sofa beside her, acutely aware of how close she was sitting. The warm scent of her perfume mingled with something sweet and alcoholic.
"This place has been such a vibe," she continued, gesturing around with her drink. "We sent Jermaine downstairs to get more Hennessy. You want some when he gets back?"
Amias studied her face, trying to reconcile this version of Temi with the quiet, focused girl he'd observed in class. "Didn't know you were into this scene," he said, careful to keep his tone neutral.
Temi's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Of course you would notice what I'm into," she said, her voice dropping slightly. "You're always watching me in class."
Heat crept up Amias's neck. He'd definitely have to put an end to that. "Just surprised," he managed, attempting to regain his composure. "You seem different in school."
"Different how?" She leaned closer, her shoulder pressing against his.
"More... reserved."
Temi laughed, the sound bright against the background noise of the studio. "You think I'm going to act wild in Mr. Leatherback's economics class? Please." She took a sip of her drink, eyes never leaving his face. "But you're not exactly who I thought you were either."
The Monopoly game was getting heated, someone shouting about Park Lane while slapping money down on the board. Temi shifted, moving even closer to Amias, her hip now pressing against his thigh.
"So what happened after you left Friday?" she asked, twisting to face him, her body language open and inviting. "You disappeared on me."
"Had things to handle," Amias said vaguely, trying not to notice how her eyes caught the light, warm brown with flecks of gold.
"Mysterious," she teased, then reached for a bottle on the table. "Take a shot with me?"
Amias shook his head, instinct kicking in. He'd learned young never to accept drinks from people he didn't fully trust. "I'm good."
"Come on, one shot won't hurt," she insisted, pouring clear liquid into a plastic cup.
"I said I'm good," he repeated, firmer this time.
Something in his tone made her pause. She set the bottle down, studying him with new interest. "Alright," she said slowly. "No pressure."
A cheer erupted from the Monopoly game—someone had landed on Mayfair with a hotel. Temi laughed, momentarily distracted, and Amias allowed himself to relax slightly. Despite his reservations, he was enjoying the company, there wasn't the demand for competence that came with working with Oakley, she allowed him to unwind.
She turned back to him, shifting her position so she was partially leaning against his shoulder. "Tell me about your day," she said, her voice softer now, almost intimate despite the noise around them.
Amias opened his mouth to respond when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, seeing Tyler's name on the screen.
"Need to take this," he said, standing abruptly.
Temi pouted but nodded. "Don't be long."
Amias stepped out of the studio into the relative quiet of the hallway, pressing the phone to his ear. "What's up?"
"Ami—" Tyler's voice was strained, panicked. "We're in trouble, man. Big trouble."
"What happened?" Amias asked, instantly alert.
"MGZ," Tyler said, the name sending a chill down Amias' spine. "We ran into him in Harlesden. He punched me, bloodied my nose. Had a blade."
Amias' whole body went cold, then hot with anger. "MGZ? Apanni?"
"Yeah," Jordan's voice came through now—they must have put the phone on speaker. "Ami he knows what you've been doing. Said you've been watching his moves, sending people to his yard."
Amias paced the hallway, his mind racing. "What did he want?"
"Said one of your runners took bags off one of his," Tyler explained quickly. "Wants two and a half grand by Saturday or he's coming for all of us."
"Two and a half grand?" Amias repeated incredulously. "He's smoking something."
"That's what I said," Tyler replied, a nervous laugh escaping him. "But he wasn't joking, bruv. He slashed at me with the knife. We barely got away."
"Where are you now?"
"On the bus back to our endz," Jordan said. "We're safe for now, but—"
"Stay there," Amias cut in, his voice hardening. "I'm sorting this."
"What are you gonna do?" Tyler asked, concern evident in his voice. "Ami, don't—"
"I'll handle it," Amias said firmly. "Just get home safe."
He ended the call, his hand clenching around the phone. Apanni. The name alone made his blood boil, memories of Mason's death flooding back—the knife, the blood, his own cowardice in running away.
He dialed Wyge's number, drumming his fingers against the wall as he waited for an answer.
"Yo," Wyge's voice came through after three rings.
"I need the secure line," Amias said without preamble. "Connect me with Capari."
There was a pause on the other end. "What's going on, cuz?"
"Apanni," Amias said, the name tasting bitter on his tongue. "He jumped Tyler and Jordan in Harlesden. I need to link with Capari now."
"Give me five," Wyge replied, his tone serious. "I'll call you back."
True to his word, five minutes later Amias' phone rang again. He answered immediately.
"Yeah?"
"It's Capari," came a deep voice, rough with sleep. A yawn followed. "What's so urgent, bruv? Just got out of bed."
"Apanni and his boys jumped my friends in Harlesden," Amias explained, keeping his voice low. "They're demanding money. Two and a half grand."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end. "You sure it was him?"
"Tyler said he called himself MGZ. It's him."
Capari was fully awake now, his voice hardening. "What do you need Ami?"
"Get some zedz," Amias said. "Sweep the area. Not deep into their territory, but enough to send a message."
"You realize what you're asking, right cuz?" Capari asked, his tone serious. "This won't end with one sweep."
"I know," Amias said grimly. "But I'm not paying him a penny. It's been on sight with Apanni for two years. Nothing's changed."
A long pause, then: "Alright. I'll gather the mandem. We'll take care of it for you."
"Safe."
Amias hung up, his heart racing. He leaned against the wall, trying to calm his breathing. Apanni was the reason Mason was dead. The reason Amias had a jagged scar across his bicep. The reason he sometimes woke up in cold sweats, haunted by the memory of that night in the alley.
And now he was targeting Amias' friends.
A humorless laugh escaped him. Two and a half grand? If anyone from 12Anti caught him, Apanni would be lucky if he lived to see Saturday.
Taking a deep breath, Amias pushed off the wall and headed back into the studio. He needed to act normal, to not let on that anything was wrong. The last thing he needed was questions to worsen his growing migraine.
Wyge or Capari would inform Oakley on their own time for him. They were all related to one another after all.
When he returned, Temi was still waiting, now stretched out on the sofa, her legs curled beneath her. She brightened when she saw him, patting the space beside her.
"Everything okay?" she asked as he sat down, closer than before.
"Yeah," he lied, forcing a smile. "Just a little situation."
Temi studied his face, her expression concerned. "You look stressed."
"A bit," he admitted, running a hand over his face.
She reached for the bottle of Hennessy, offering it to him. "This helps."
Amias shook his head again. "Not tonight."
Temi pouted but set the bottle down, her gaze lingering on his face. "Fine, but you need to loosen up somehow. Come on," she said, tugging at his arm. "At least hang with us for a bit."
Amias allowed himself to be guided back to the circle of friends surrounding the Monopoly game. The tension in the air was electric—someone was clearly dominating the board, plastic houses crowding Mayfair and Park Lane.
"This is Amias who you all saw earlier," Temi announced to the group. "The one I was telling you about."
Six pairs of eyes turned to assess him. A girl with box braids and gold-rimmed glasses smiled first.
"So you're the quiet one from economics," she said. "I'm Kysha."
Introductions flowed around the circle—Jermaine with the diamond stud earrings, Keisha whose pink-tipped locs swayed when she nodded, Marcus was also there, and two others whose names blurred together in his distracted state.
The Monopoly banker—Jermaine—looked up from counting colorful bills. "You playing next round?"
"Nah, I'm good," Amias said, settling on the sofa.
Keisha rolled the dice, moving her piece with dramatic flair. "Thank god! Finally passed Go!"
Laughter rippled through the group as she collected her money. Amias felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly, the normalcy of the scene providing temporary distraction from the storm brewing in Harlesden.
"So," Kysha leaned forward, elbows on her knees, "I heard your track. Proper cold."
"You were hiding talents," Marcus added, nodding appreciatively. "No one knew you had bars like that."
"It's just something I've been working on," he said.
"Just something?" Temi echoed, rolling her eyes. "Boy, don't play it down. Everyone's been asking who you are since Oakley played it."
The conversation flowed around him—questions about his music, how long he'd been writing, what else he was working on. Amias answered carefully, part of him still processing the call from Tyler, another part hyperaware of Temi's proximity, the casual way her hand had come to rest on his knee.
In the recording booth beyond them, Oakley was laying down a verse, his voice filtering through the glass, commanding and confident. Several producers huddled around the mixing desk, heads nodding in unison to the beat.
"Drink?" Jermaine had returned from his Hennessy run, passing around plastic cups.
Amias declined again.
"Come on," pressed Marcus. "One shot won't kill you."
"I'm good," Amias repeated firmly, noting how Temi watched this exchange with renewed interest.
The Monopoly game reached its chaotic peak—Keisha landing on Park Lane with two houses, her dramatic wail of financial ruin drawing laughs from everyone. Across the room, someone switched the studio speakers to play dancehall tracks during the recording break. Bodies began moving to the rhythm, the energy shifting as work gave way to celebration.
Two girls Amias didn't recognize were dancing with deliberate sensuality, drawing appreciative glances from the guys present. The scene struck him as performative, everyone playing roles in this studio ecosystem where attention was currency.
His phone vibrated in his pocket—checking it discreetly, he expected another update from Tyler but instead saw a message from Zain, who'd probably stepped out, about the upcoming video shoot. The reminder sent his thoughts racing again—with that situation brewing, involving Tyler and Jordan may not be optimal, the both wouldn't be in the right mind state and he'd need to find a new link for the filmer.
"What's got you so deep in your head?" Temi's voice pulled him back to the present. She was watching him closely, her eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol.
"Just thinking about a video shoot coming up," he answered truthfully.
This caught everyone's attention.
"You filming a music video?" Kysha asked, eyebrows raised.
"That's the plan."
"Where you shooting it?" Marcus asked.
"Few spots around White City."
Marcus nodded slowly. "Smart. Keep it authentic."
Keisha leaned forward, suddenly interested. "You need girls for it? I've done video shoots before."
"Same," added Kysha. "I can send you my Instagram."
Amias felt Temi shift beside him, her body language changing subtly. "He's still getting it sorted," she said, a possessive edge to her voice that wasn't there before.
The conversation turned to hair, with Kysha suddenly studying Amias' appearance with critical eyes.
"Your look needs work though," she declared. "The clothes are giving, but the hair..."
"What's wrong with my hair?" Amias asked, hand instinctively reaching up to touch his curls.
The girls exchanged glances, a silent consensus forming.
"It's just basic," Keisha explained. "You've got these nice curls but there's no style to it."
"You should get it braided," Zahra suggested. "Cornrows would suit your face."
"Or twists," Jermaine added unexpectedly. "My sister does them proper clean."
"Definitely cornrows," Temi decided, her fingers boldly reaching up to touch his hair. "You'd look less like a baby and more like an artist."
"I don't look like a baby," Amias protested, though the comment stung more than he wanted to admit.
"You kind of do," Keisha laughed. "Cute, but not serious."
Temi pulled out her phone, scrolling through photos before showing him an image. "This hairdresser. Shanelle in Ladbroke Grove. She's the best. You should go tomorrow."
"I'll think about it," Amias said noncommittally, though the idea had taken root. His image needed to match his music if he was going to be taken seriously.
Outside the booth, Oakley had finished his session. The studio was growing more crowded as the evening progressed, people flowing in with drinks and food, the atmosphere shifting from work to celebration.
Temi noticed Amias' distracted gaze. "Too noisy for you?"
He nodded, the combination of music, voices, and his own churning thoughts becoming overwhelming. The MGZ situation weighed heavily on him—what if they had found him instead? What would happen next? Would he end up like Mason, bleeding out somewhere while others watched?
"Come with me," Temi said, standing and offering her hand. "I know somewhere quieter."
Amias hesitated, then took her hand, allowing her to lead him through the crowd. They bypassed the hallway that led to the bathrooms and storage rooms, instead heading toward a different corridor. Temi moved with confidence, clearly familiar with the studio layout.
They reached a door at the end of the hall, which Temi pushed open to reveal a small balcony overlooking the London skyline. The night air was crisp and cold, a welcome relief from the stuffy heat of the crowded studio.
"Better?" she asked, closing the door behind them. A translucent curtain hung across the glass, providing privacy from anyone who might pass by in the corridor.
"Yeah," Amias admitted, breathing deeply, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. The city stretched before them, a tapestry of lights against emerging darkness. "How'd you know about this spot?"
Temi leaned against the railing beside him, their shoulders touching. "My friends have been coming to these sessions for months. They showed me all the hideaways."
They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the city below. When Temi spoke again, her voice was softer than before.
"You know," she murmured, "I've been watching you for longer than you think."
"Yeah?" The word came out rougher than he intended.
"Mmm," she confirmed, her free hand coming up to rest on his chest. "Not just in class. I noticed you at that football game a few weeks ago. You were so serious, standing at the back, watching everything. I wondered who you were."
"Just your classmate," Amias said, his heart accelerating.
"No," Temi shook her head, "you're not just anyone's anything."
She moved closer still, until he could feel her breath against his face. The scent of her perfume enveloped him—something expensive and subtle. Her hand slid up from his chest to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair.
"Definitely need those cornrows," she whispered with a smile. "But I like you anyway."
Then she was kissing him, her lips soft and insistent against his. Amias responded instinctively, his arms encircling her waist, pulling her closer. The world beyond the balcony faded away—all of it receding into the background as Temi's body pressed against his.
Her hands grew bolder, sliding beneath his jacket, exploring the contours of his chest and back through his shirt. Amias felt himself getting lost in the sensation, the heat building between them despite the cold night air.
Temi pulled back slightly, her eyes dark and intent in the dim light. With deliberate movements, she reached behind her and turned the small lock on the balcony door. The soft click seemed to echo in the quiet space.
"No one will bother us out here," she whispered, her voice carrying a promise that sent a shiver down Amias' spine.
She guided his hands to her waist, then lower, her intentions unmistakable. Amias hesitated for just a moment, a final rational thought cutting through the haze of desire—then Temi's lips found his again, and rational thought gave way to more primal instincts.
<>
That's it for this week.
"Bro he better kill..."
"Bro he better not cuff this..."
There I made the comment for you, now you can feel free to theorize what's happening or talk about details you noticed, rather than just criticizing the chapter.
At that point why even bother putting in hints for you to notice or spend my time layering the story if you repeat the same thing each chap.