Drillmington: For the Low

When the battery charged, TSL took his phone off the cradle. He searched through his texts. It was a ritual he had performed ever since he used his personal phone.

In the time that Julisia spent in the shower, TSL had sent off emails to his producer, his lawyer, his accountant, and his lawyers for his other attorneys and bean counters.

When Julisia walked from the shower naked but toweled off, she dressed in a flowery ensemble of pink and blue. She dazzled in the ensemble and stepped with elan.

“We’ve got nearly a quarter million in the account I told you about right now,” she said with her hands up to her hair and pin clenched between her top row and bottom row of teeth.

“That’s right.” TSL said it as a revelation. His eyes brightened and he hopped from the bed to kiss Julisia.

“That’s right. I can use that money to get the short set I saw…better still, I can pay off everyone I just messaged.”

“You make sure you speak to your lawyers and your accountants face to face.”

“You think I don’t know that? I was just letting them know I’m still breathing.”

She grinned. “As long as we’re doing business together, we have to remain committed to the idea of always conducting ourselves with an heir if we're in this together.”

“Of course. Ju, what’s up?”

“What?”

“Ever since you came back from Prague you’ve been acting differently,” TSL pointed out.

“How?”

“You’re just going on and on about what we should be doing and what I should be doing. It’s getting weird.”

“You said it yourself. I’m your woman and your manager. I know that I’m capable and you know it, too. The difference is that I’ve got a new vehicle parked outside. Other than that, we have the same script and the same hook to the same song.”

“TSL, I’m just letting you know that if we’re going to do any of this, it’s possible only if we play our positions.”

Julisia shot narrowed eyes at TSL . “That’s all I’m saying, too.”

Once TSL had showered and dressed, they took divergent paths. Julisia was off to the nail salon and beauty parlor. He didn’t pay for anything. She didn’t even use their joint account. Every dollar she spent was her own.

TSL sped off to the studio. He met up with his producer Camo7. He always had heat. He stood at about five feet eight inches and seemed taller with his arrogance. They dapped.

“What did you have in mind for this mixtape?” Camo7 asked.

TSL sat up straight and cleared his throat. “I want that rawness with the levity put together. I want it to elevate past everything I’ve ever done.”

Camo7 put on a beat. It was a fine production. Gritty and grinding with lilting strings. The production seemed to entice as TSL’s eyes widened.

“I can get in the booth right now.”

Camo7 took the time to play him some more instrumentals. The more the music pumped, the more intrigued and excited TSL became. His eyebrows raised with every new sound that emitted from the speakers. Some samples included in some of the records made him cringe.

“We have clearances for that music?” TSL asked.

“You know I cleared them. And I got them for the low. It was nothing.”

TSL brightened. There was now a renewed sense of confidence that he already had. It was like NOS. He had already come equipped with the powerful engine he just enjoyed the boost of the truth. It was all he needed.