Reginald walked up the stairs in front of his apartment. His building was rather quiet. There were mostly elderly people who lived there. He preferred the quiet sanity of his home to the utter chaos of Brandie's apartment a few miles away.
He enjoyed his free time and his relaxation. The Hill was out of control most of the time, with the combination of music, dancing, drinking and even drugs. So when he had a chance to kick back, he took advantage. While he did crave the life of a star, he wanted to keep it as simple as possible. He thought of surrounding himself with his friends and giving back to his community.
As he entered his home, he turned on his stereo and put in an old Maxwell cd. He went into the kitchen and grabbed a Corona from his fridge. He took a few sips of his drink as he sat back on his couch. His mind wandered back and forth over the way he met with Mr. Martin today.
He was supposed to pick up Duane at a restaurant and that didn't materialize as he expected. "I wonder what happened to Duane," he asked himself.
Reginald wasn't aware that Duane never intended on being there.
Duane sat in his office. He waited patiently for Gerald, one of his bouncers and one of his dealers to arrive. Not only was Duane a club owner, but he was also selling dope out of his club. He sold everything from weed to ecstasy to crack. He was also about his money. If you owe him money, he either gets paid or he takes it out on you, physically and mentally.
While Duane and Reginald grew up in the same neighborhood, Duane was a couple years older and grew up harder. Most people saw him as a bully in his teenage years. He was already pushing major weight for the local dealers and at 16 he dropped out of school and started selling for them full time. At only 18, he bought his own house, and a Lincoln Navigator, fully loaded, and paid it all in cash. Of course, with the line of work he's in, he had someone he considered legitimate complete the transactions.
Even though he was seen as cold-hearted, he would look out for the younger kids in the area. One of those kids was Reginald. Reginald viewed Duane as an older brother in a lot of ways, but knowing what kind of life he lived, he kept his distance until they got a little older.
Reginald had always been a great singer. He started singing in his church choir and in school productions. Everybody thought his voice was great for his age. When he turned 21, he and some of his friends began performing at The Hill, a club that Duane had recently purchased. Duane always said that he would help Reginald fulfill his potential so he wouldn't wind up slinging dope like him.
Duane wasn't pleased that Reginald didn't sign with Claude the first time, though he understood why. Reginald was very loyal to his friends. They had always been supportive and he felt that leaving them would be a betrayal of that friendship. Duane respected that, but he feared that The Crew was really holding him back. He thought that may have been Reginald's only opportunity.
However, when Claude Donaldson rang Duane's office phone this day, it seemed rather odd. "Duane Clemons," asked Claude over the phone. "Yeah, this is Duane, who is this," Duane replied. "This is Claude Donaldson, from Image," said Claude. "Look, I remember your friend Reggie was looking for a record deal. Is that still the case," asked Claude. "Yeah, so," Duane said. "There's an A&R guy who needs a break too. His name is Craig Martin. He's at Italiano's on Washington," said Claude. "You know that this kid won't go without his band, so you get him down there without them," Claude continued. "Reg needs to be there before 8, because that's when Craig's meeting with the executives ends," said Claude. This place his top quality, nothing but valet parking. But Martin rode in with one of the execs. After what they are going to tell him, he won't be riding back with them," Claude finished. "Craig might give him a break, because he needs one. Just get him down there."
Duane hung up the phone. He thought for a moment. "How can I get him to meet an A&R guy without the boys," he said to himself. "He won't go for it. Maybe I should trick him into getting down there," said Duane.
Duane picked up his cell phone and dialed Reginald. "Reg, I need you to bring your cab down to Italiano's on Washington Boulevard and just park in front," said Duane. "Why, what's going on," asked Reginald. "Nothing, I've got a meeting over there that should be over around 8 o'clock," said Duane. "If I'm not out by 8, then you can roll. I don't want you to have to hang around too long," said Duane. "Okay, I'll be there, but why aren't you driving," asked Reginald. "Negro, just be there," snickered Duane.
Reginald sat in his cab, in deep thought. "I hope Duane isn't pulling me into some shit," Reginald said to himself. Reginald put the cab into drive and headed to Washington Boulevard. When he finally arrived, it was five minutes before eight.
Reginald turned off the engine and took in his surroundings. "This place is mad expensive," he thought. "I can't imagine Duane doing business in here, unless he's moving up the food chain a little," he continued. Reginald watched the valet attendents bringing cars to several different people. He watched them all drive away one by one.
Reginald looked at the clock. It was 8:02. Duane hadn't come out yet. "I'll give him another minute and I'm out," he said to himself. Reginald began to sing to himself. Just then, he was started by a knock at his window. It was Craig Martin.
As Reginald came back into the present, he laughed to himself. "It's funny how things work out," he said softly.
To Be Continued
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