Page 48 of Kisses Behind The Spotlight 2: Finale

SKRTTTTTT!

A black Tesla swerved through the bay doors. The driver was halfway in the passenger seat, giving him enough leverage to kick the driver’s window hard enough to crack it. When the car stopped, D3’s upper body popped up, and a grin spread across my face.

The bay door closed, darkening the warehouse. Panic riddled D3’s face as he whipped his head around in all directions. I turned to Tech and Stepp for answers.

“Tech found him and hacked his self-driving car. This was my sign to never set foot in one of those bitches,” Stepp clarified. “It was just like playing GTA to get him here.”

“Hit the F1 key to open the doors,” Tech requested.

Moments later, the doors opened, and D3 stumbled out of the car.

“Shit!” He exhaled, leaning over to catch his breath.

With his knees planted and his chest heaving, D3 finally looked in our direction. He scanned the four of us, and his eyes bucked when they landed on me. I pulled my gun out, and the front of D3’s tan Nike joggers darkened from piss.

“Come on, you gone piss before we can intimidate you?” Stepp complained. “You lucky this warehouse don’t belong to us!”

“Man. Please don’t kill me,” D3 pleaded, his eyes never leaving me.

“You know, right before you came into the house, I alluded to killing you, but they were being civilized. Then you went and proved why we should’ve killed you that day. You see how easy it was to get you to this isolated area?”

“Shit, man. Wh… wh… what? Y’all trying to get me to drop the charges?”

“I ain’t trying to get you to do shit,” Vincent scoffed, pulling his gun out and shooting at D3’s feet.

POW!

POW!

POW!

POW!

He hopped around, arms and legs flailing in all directions. A puddle of piss splashed beneath his feet.

“Like I was saying. I ain’t trying to do shit. The gun always gets the job done,” Vincent bragged.

“Yes, sir,” D3 nodded rapidly. “I’ll dr… dr… drop the charges? I swear on my mama. Just let me go, and I swear I’ll tell them I don’t want to move forward with the charges. I’ll tell them my memory is fuzzy. I can’t really remember.” D3 begged. “I swear, I was never going to take the stand anyways. I just thought I could leverage the charges to get James to let me out of my contract without penalty since he wasn’t fucking with me no more.”

“How the fuck did you think James would react to you disrespecting his daughter?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” D3 admitted.

“Yeah, you and whoever helped you with that shit barely had two brain cells to rub together. I figured. Think long and hard with your next move. Even if they were to give Q time or probation. He’ll survive it. But I promise you won’t,” Vincent flashed a menacing glare. “Q needing this off his back now is the only reason we didn’t drive your car over the Skyway Bridge. You have until the end of the month to clear his name.”

“Understood,” D3 agreed.

Vincent motioned toward the door, and we all headed that way until Tech stopped next to D3. “I have a question. Who told you that stuff about Q?”

“Montell told me a few years ago. He worked on a few tracks for me when I was on the come up. Montell took every opportunity to talk shit. He said he was Q’s producer until he blackballed him,” D3 informed us.

“Nah, Montell produced one hit song, and Q wanted to keep him on, but his work ethic wasn’t there, and he wasn’t producing quality work anymore. Which I’m sure you can agree with because you ain’t stick with the nigga,” I chimed in.

“Facts,” D3 confirmed.

POW!

Vincent shot at D3’s feet again.