The hood was loving Trev's song so much that people were blasting it in their cars as they drove past us, Trev began performing more of his music. We both went to different places in the city to do open mics, on top of that we were in the studio as much as we could be. Music had taken over our lives and it was perfect. When we were in the studio, I tried to focus on music and not what was going on with us personally, even though that became harder and harder as sex began to feel like the best thing in the world, along with Trev's touch and his body and ohh his kisses.

"Chanel?" Flex chants my name.

I look at him, coming back to reality.

"You are zoned out today. Everything alright?" He asks.

I nod quickly. "When am I not deep in thought?" I joke.

"True." Flex answers. I didn't sing today, Flex seemed to be working on mixing Trev's vocals. It was all about Trev recently, which was fine. Flex said it himself. He was more familiar with rappers.

Okay.

I can't lie.

I was a little jealous.

"Did you get back to Richard or Mac about the college you're going to?" Flex turns his spinning chair around to stare at me.

"Nope, not yet. But I got accepted to Harvington, right in the middle of Albany. I think i'm going to go." I say, flipping through some pages of my journal. It was hard to think about leaving everything we've started here. Most days I shunned it away from my mind completely. It was easier not to think about it at all.

"You MIGHT go? To Harvington? You MIGHT?" Flex exclaims as he gazes at me in disbelief. I make an odd face at him which he ignores.

"One of the top Ivy league schools in the country and you're saying that you MIGHT attend?"

I smile sheepishly. "No big deal. I like what i'm doing here." I answer. I didn't tell anyone but a huge part of me kinda just wanted to stay and do music, but I knew that was unrealistic.

"What you're doing here does not compare to how bright your future will be if you graduate from Harvington. You can graduate as a janitor and you will still be an inspiration to any of these kids on the block.

"I know. I just know they aint like us. The kids that go there. ..they probably stuck up and smart." I shrug and direct my gaze to the door of the studio.

"Good, you will fit right in!" Flex retorts. I roll my eyes and he laughs his throaty laugh.

"Be happy and go to the school Chanel. You got ya studio and producer over there, very close by it seems, so you still gon be doing ya thing. When you get tired of the smart, stuck up people, go to Mac and record fire tracks. Problem solved."

I sigh and look up at Flex with puppy eyes. "What do I do when I miss you?" I ask childishly.

"You bring ya smart, stuck up ass, right back here on that weekend." His voice is warm and gentle.

I smile and clutch my heart. He always knew what to say. Leaving Flex was hard enough. I stopped myself from thinking about leaving Trev and Trisha and Mom. I can always visit but it just wont be the same. I was homesick while still at home. Trev walked through the door with Pookie who had shaved his head into a high top with a fade. His baggy clothes and red book bag were signature to his style. Trev was wearing jeans and a black sweater with his song name across the chest and his logo that Pookie created.

"Yoooo Chanel!" Pookie always spoke loudly but he illuminated the room. Him and Trev both. It was a different energy when they walked in and everyone always felt it. "Wassup young Empress?" He says rolling the R's.

I get up and give pookie a big hug. His baggy clothes are roomy around his skinny body. He's 20, just life Trev and though I am not far from him in age, he's been calling me the young empress since I can remember.

"Hi Pookie. What you been up to?" I greet.

"Just been out here chillin, makin money. You know how the boy do." Pookie replied. He dropped his bookbag on the floor and walked over to Flex to respectfully greet him.

"What's good fam?" Pookie dabs him up.

I respected Pookie so much because he was very into fashion, much like Trish. Even apart from that, he was a born graphic designer. He used to do graffiti when he was a little younger, but he got caught a few times so he's slowed down a bit. These days he takes his art to paper. Trev told me that he's been finding random white people in Manhattan to sell his paintings too. They love how "urban" and "cool" it looks. I can imagine.

Trev did his usual handshake with Flex before he came over to me and pulled me into a warm embrace, his nose pressed into my neck. He smelled so good, I tried to properly control myself. I hadn't seen him all day. It doesn't seem like long but it was for us recently. We've been spending so much time together.

"Hi, baby." He whispers against my cheek.

"Hi." I say softly. He releases me and I noticed Pookie and Flex looking at us with big smiles on their faces. I shake my head in response. They were so nosey.

"Whoo boy. Wish I had me a girl. Y'all make a nigga jealous." Pookie finally breaks the silence and flops down on the studio couch.

"You got a girl. What happen with Trisha?" I am truly concerned about Pookie and my best friend. One day I really did want them to settle down. Maybe he could even help her with some fashion pointers. They were perfect for each other.

"Ya girl be trippin. I took her out to eat, tryna make her my baby. Right? We get to the restaurant and she gon start dissin me like 'i hope ya broke ass payin for this food cause i aint got no money'. I'm like baby, i got money, that's why I brought you out here. She start pattin her weave and rollin her eyes at me."

The entire room is hysterical but he continues his story.

"Askin me if my pieces gon hit. I'm like you damn right, my pieces gon hit. What I look like?" He takes out his pick and starts picking at his afro.

"Anyway"- He adds - "I like ya girl, she just need to stop dissin me in public and in general. Bout if my pieces hittin. Trev, have my pieces ever not hit, ma nigga?"

Trev holds up his hand in surrender and shrugs.

Aside from Pookie, everyone in the room is chuckling and shaking their head at this typical story of the two and as usual no one is taking Pookie seriously. He finishes the story with "Y'all know that's my baby though. Ain't no one messin with her but me."

Trev went over some corrections with his latest song and then we all just hung out in the studio with Flex telling different stories. Pookie's stories were always so funny I could barely breathe. Not even because of the situation, just how he stold it. It got late and me, Pookie and Trev headed back to Brownsville and left Flex to fall asleep. As soon as we got back, Pookie went straight home, saying he already felt like he was cock blocking.

I spent another hour or so at Trev's house, watching movies, cuddled up with him in his couch. His mom wasn't home and I found it weird how she was never here. I knew his little sister was at his Grandma's house for a bit.

I noticed a lot while hanging out with him and it worried me, but I knew he wouldn't want to talk about it. Today I tried anyway. Right after the movie ended.

"Your Mom works a lot, huh?" I try to ask without being totally invasive. He wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheek.

"Yea. She got another job, tryin to support us. She's at the hospital and after shifts there she works at a cafe in Manhattan that serves bubble tea which I heard the white people love." We laugh.

"You tasted it before?" I ask amused.

"Nah." He answers with a smile. "We can go get some one of these days."

A few moments pass and turn myself to him and look him in the eyes.

"You miss ya mom?" I don't know where the question comes from but I felt like I needed to ask him anyway.

"Yea. I miss her and I get worried something might happen to her sometimes but I be prayin like you told me to." He pokes my nose lightly. "We need the money so there aint much I can do. We sold over 100 hoodies, a few beanies and the t-shirt just off of that one song. So I feel like when I release the album and all the merchandise, ima really be able to help out and make this honest money."

I nod. "That's good. I didn't know you sold that many."

"Yea, Pookie been workin over time. We got another 100, coming in tomorrow. We sellin them $30 a piece. They fit well, so people actually buy them. So far we've made over three grand in week." He turns to look at my facial expression, my mouth is wide open.

"That's insane." I comment, feeling my smile as big as it can get. I was happy he was making money. He needed it. But I was waiting on the other people on the block to start saying something about his profits. And when they hate, guns come right after that. My face goes blank as I imagined what could happen if they knew he was making that kind of money in such little time.

"Who else knows you're making that kind of money?" I ask suddenly serious.

"Just Pookie. I told him to keep it low and now you know to keep it low. But I don't have to tell you that, you know how the hood gets. I paid all the bills due. Mom will probably find out in the next few days when she calls up to tell them she ain't got the money." He laughs at the thought and I can see how happy he was to finally be helping her out.

"Once I start making enough, ima make her quit that bubble tea job so I can actually see her at home. Ima take her out to dinner, both of you. Buy y'all stuff." He kisses my forehead then my nose. "Make sure my Queens are good."

I kiss him a few times hoping that he would understand how proud I am of him trying to take care of us, but I wouldn't be comfortable accepting anything at all from him.

"You don't have to.. buy me anything. I'm fine." I mumble against his neck.

"I knew you were gonna say that. Too late though." He gets off the couch and walks to his room. I huff and puff already annoyed. I was fine, I didn't need anything and I hated when people spent money on me. Call me stubborn or prideful but I wasn't the one who needed it. I had enough.

He comes back with a pink hoodie and white print. The front had his logo and the back read "Young Empress" in a nice cursive. I stared at it unable to be mad at all. I was actually very grateful. I tried to hide it.

"Haaaan, look at your face. You mad hype."

"I really love it, Trev. It's dope, I can't even lie." I took it from him and slipped it over my tank top. It was a small, it fit perfectly. Trev pulled my hair from inside the hoodie so it was resting on my shoulders. He took a step back, the biggest smile on his face.

"Shit look dope." He commented.

While laughing, I give him a dozen kisses. "Thank you." I sing.

"You should thank Pookie too." Trev says, kissing back when he can.

"Yea, I figured he had something to do with the back." I smile, running to the mirror in his room and looking at my new hoodie. It fit like every hoodie should. Enough room to be comfortable but still stylish and warm. As I was in the mirror modeling, I felt his hand around my waist. His head sat on my shoulder and his other hand held a camera to the side of me. I smiled and posed until I heard the click. Then turned my head to kiss him before the other click went off.

"What better way to sell merchandise than to have a beautiful lady wearing them." He said as he turned me around to face him.

"You think i'm beautiful?" I ask astonished.

"Chanel, don't play with me."

I giggle and jump on his bed. I sit up and motion for him to come on the bed with me.

"Nah, that's a set up." He says chuckling.

"It's not a set up, I just wanna hug my baby." I say defensive but with the softest voice. I pretend to be shocked that he would ever think I was trying to seduce him. I had the -what kind of woman do you think I am- face on?

He looks at me to check if I am lying and I tries to keep from smiling.

"SET UP!" He yells as he backs away from his bed suddenly.

"You think i'm beautiful, baby?" I ask dauntingly. I pull the hoodie off and over my head slowly, purposely letting it lift my shirt enough to expose my slender stomach and cotton pink bra. He couldn't keep his eyes off me.

"Set up, set up, set up." He kept whispering to himself. "Don't do it Trev. Don't look at her."

Smiling I ease my waist up and unzipped my pants, shrugging it off my legs.

"Chanel." He warns.

"What?" My Halo on my head.

"I'm just getting comfortable. I lay on his bed in my underwear and tank as I watch weakness plaster his face. He was mine now. I don't know why he thought there was any way around the set up.

I get up and walk towards him, taking his phone out of his hands. Ruffling my hair and pursing my lips I take a dozen selfies, cleavage exposed. He continues watching me but I can see his jaw clench and his sweats extends. I feel my tank being lifted over my head. I snap another picture.

He moves his hands up my waist and stomach, kissing deep into my neck and I snap those too. He always made me feel so sexy. Soon my bra was off and on the floor, his hands cupped around my chest. I captured that as well. My underwear found themselves on the floor and his shirt was off. His hand covered my breasts and the other was comfortably guarding between my legs.

The phone captured it all.

_________________________________________________________

"By now, most of you should have gotten your college acceptance letters. So far, I must say that I am very proud of our senior class. A lot of you pulled through last minute but you did it. I don't know how but I really am happy you did." Ms. Radick stared at Trisha who was glaring at her lovingly. She smiled. Senior seminar was usually boring but not this time, I was happy. Because instead of skipping it to go do something stupid, Trisha was right here next to me with her name on a list of college acceptance letters. Not only did I help her get multiple scholarships and grants, but I helped her with the essays, I made her a fashion portfolio, sent her to the interviews, told her how to answer the questions and got her grades up. I was proud that we were here together.

Ms. Radick began announcing students who got into the Ivy League schools. Including myself, it was only 3 of us. "Accepted to Colombia Medical Program is Ashley Vega." Ms. Radick announced and the senior class applauded in respect. No one really knew Ashley but she was always studying. I guess it paid off. "Accepted to Harvington University, Chanel Little." The auditorium roared in applause and friends and teachers looked at me. Some with smiles and some with distaste. "Accepted to LaGuardia College, Reemah Witfield." The auditorim again went up in applause. Other names followed of colleges that were considered great schools, and about 10 names were called including Trisha who had made it into Astoria School of Design.

A few teachers congratulated me after, as well as a few students. Many teacher congratulated Trisha desperately wondering how she did this in less than a few months. Her test grades had improved, her attendance was perfect. She was never disruptive in class.

"Honestly, I owe it all to Chanel." I heard her say a few times. That seemed to explain everything because a big "Ohhh" erupted after she said my name. We left school to go meet up with Francis and Pookie by the basketball court. We weren't tryna play, just chillin. I was the only one who would be leaving for college. Astoria was in Queens, New York which was only an hour away by transportation. Harvington was at least 5 hours away from the city.

I tried not to let it bother me. But it was. Summer was close and I was running out of time with my friends. There was something thrilling and very scary about leaving the hood.

The thrilling part was that if you left and made it big, you would never have to come back.

The scary part was that if you left and made it big, you would never have to come back.

A basketball flew 2 inches away from my face and slammed into the gate.

Francis was looking at me with a scared face, truly apologetic.

"Boy, you tryna take my head off?" I yelled at him.

He laughed and came over to hug me. "Sorry Ma, but maybe if ya head is missing you can't leave us and go to college." He said.

I walked over to the basketball, picked it up and and handed it to him. "Who told you that?"

He pointed to Trisha and Pookie who were across the court flirting up a storm, probably annoying the heck out of each other.

"We was gon find out anyway. I'm just sayin, how you feel about leavin ya boo?" Francis bounced the ball a few times, not looking at me but waiting for an answer I didn't have.

"I don't know. I try not to think about it." I answered honestly.

"I like your hoodie." He commented. I smiled remembering I had to thank Pookie. I walked over to the two and gave him a big hug. A hug so big it angered Trisha. "Alright Chan, move ya ass from my man." She said laughing.

"Thank you so much for the hoodie, Pookie." I said.

"You welcome, Young Empress." He responded and bowed honorably.

"You gave her a hoodie, where my hoodie at? You playin games wit me Pookie." Trisha said upset.

"Ay! Relax ya grumpy ass! I got ya hoodie in my damn bookbag. I couldn't even get to give it to you cause you talk so damn much." He said walking over to his bag.

"Aw baby. You know I get lih dat. Lemme see it!"

I was laughing at the two idiots. Trisha's hoodie was baby blue with the logo in the front and "Mrs. Pookie" written on the back. She loved it so much she hit Pookie in the face with it for titling her but was still proud to put it on. "How much y'all sold these for? I see everybody wearin them now."

"Don't worry bout all dat. Just model it. Matter of fact, you and Chanel come over here." He said placing us in the middle of the basketball court. He took out his phone and we posed like we were the shit in these hoodies because we were.

We watched them play a game of one on one until the other guys from the block joined a little later. They were talking about what happened with Francis bro and how he hasn't really been laughing since. Francis was trying to defend his happy spirit but I saw through it too.

"I'm the same me. It shook me up yea but this ain't shit we not used to." Francis said. "I'm just glad my bro alive and long as that nigga know that if I catch his ass, it's over."

I hated that the boys sometimes spoke like that because I knew it was true.

"You would put one in the nigga who shot your brother?" One of the other guys said.

Francis looked at him with complete scorn. "I been lookin for that nigga."

Pookie took Francis by the arm and pulled him to the side, I walked over with him.

"Go home." Pookie said firmly.

Francis looked at him like he was stupid.

"Ma nigga, go home right now." Pookie took Francis's bag and threw it at him.

Francis who was my height looked up at Pookie, so close you would think they were about to either kiss or fight.

"If someone did something like that to a nigga that's close to you, you would say the exact same thing. Ya hypocrite ass and I meant every f***ing word of it. Believe that." Francis said putting on his bag pack.