walking into a greenhouse.
Egypt took a seat while Malone poured them both a cup of coffee. He sat them on the desk, then pulled out a small bottle of brandy from his desk drawer. He held it up, raising his eyebrows in a questioning expression.
“Just a splash,” Egypt said. It might help the headache.
“A splash is all you were getting anyway,” Malone smiled. “This shits expensive.”
Malone handed her a cup, sat on the edge of his desk and sipped his brew.
“Good stuff,” he commented.
“You should be a bartender,” Egypt cracked.
Malone wasn’t in the mood for joking. He cut straight to the chase. “Moore, can I be straight with you?”
“Definitely.”
“You’re too dam pretty and too trigger happy to be a cop. What the hell are you doing here?” he asked. Egypt knew she was a conundrum no one had yet solved in the Chicago Police Department.
“I want to make a difference,” Egypt replied without hesitation. She knew it sounded lame, but it was the best she got.
“Join the Red Cross.” Her falling face made Malone soften some. “Look, Moore, I don’t know what’s driving you, I –,” he began to say.
Egypt sighed, holding up her hand. If she was to escape the lame ass reply of a typical Beauty Pageant air-head she’d just given, she might as well go the whole nine.
“My great grandmother.”
“Huh?”
“You said you didn’t know what was driving me. Well, it’s my great grandmother. She… she was a God-fearing woman. Never drank, never cursed, and never lied. All she did was go to church, until one night coming home from worship, she was gunned down in a drive-by. Senseless, random violence and she was the victim.”
The headache was replaced by the prickle of tears in the corner of her eyes. She wiped them with the heel of her hand. “It’s for her. If I can stop that happening to someone else, just one person, then it would be worthwhile.”
“I get it, but grief isn’t the reason to own a uniform, and neither is revenge. You’re wild, Moore. Too wild. Giving you a badge is like throwing gasoline on a fire. How do I trust you on the street, when you screw up so easily in the simulator?” Malone said. He wasn’t being an asshole for the sake of it, she could see in his eyes he believed what he was saying.
Egypt was furious, but she kept her composure. “Sarge, with all due respect, I think that’s bullshit. I graduated at the top of my class in the academy, my psych report gives no indication of this wildness you claim – “
Malone cut her off abruptly.
“Fuck the academy! I know a wild card when I see one, and I’m looking at one right now!” he bellowed. He took a breath and a slug of coffee. Egypt wondered how far he’d got counting to ten in his head before he spoke again. He sighed. “Look, I could easily stick you behind a desk and bury you, but you’d probably transfer to another precinct and get assigned a beat anyway. My point is, I’ve seen your kind before.”
“I’m going to be a cop, Sarge,” Egypt replied firmly. He shook his head, went around the desk and sat down. “Suppose there was a middle ground.”
“I’m listening.”
“How do you feel about undercover work?”
This she wasn’t expecting, this felt like a reprieve, a chance to prove herself to Malone and all the Chicago PD cops who thought she was all heat and no fire. “Whatever it takes,” she said finally.
Malone leaned forward. “What do you know about the music business?
“Ay yo, step up! That was your cue,” Kane said to Power, bringing him back to reality partially.
Power glanced at Kane, but he was still conscious of the beauty sitting in the corner of his eye. Damn, even this woman sat like a queen. If she’d of walked in with a leopard on a leash instead of Duppy, Power would not have been at all surprised. Power jumped tracks in his head and came back to the now.
“Yeah yeah, my bad. Go back and I’m on it.”
The beat broke in.
On her part, Egypt was just as struck by Power, but she was much subtler about it. She was aware that when she was looking anywhere other than at Power in the booth, that Power’s eyes were hot on her. Normally she’d feel sorry for the guys looking at her who were normally so far out of her league, but Power was anything but. It wasn’t just the way he looked, although he made pleasant tingles in all the right place, but the way he moved – liquid yet sharp, all attitude yes, but with a smile that could kill at a hundred yards. Even the way he walked, all lopsided shoulders and gangsta sway, made her heart skip a little.
Lust at first sight.
Duppy didn’t even notice her sudden infatuation with the green-eyed bandit in fatigues, rapping the sound that would soon rule the streets. Only when Power rhymed did he lock eyes on her, and she in return looked right on back.
His style sent chills through her. She licked her lips in anticipation of what the future might bring. Shifting position in her seat wasn’t helping cool the fire any. Power was burning her.
When Kane and Power entered the engineering room, Duppy gave them a pound and a gangsta hug. “Yo I can’t even front, that was the illest shit I heard in my life! Yo Jim, how come I never heard that beat before? When did Diamond do that?”
“He didn’t,” Jimmy replied. “Kane here did.”
Duppy looked at Kane wide-eyed. “That’s you?”
“You already know,” Kane’s arrogance made Egypt smile behind Duppy’s back. Kane wasn’t as much to Egypt’s taste as Power, but there was a dark intensity to him that she really appreciated.
“We definitely need to talk,” Duppy responded, he was about to say more, when he saw that Power was all but ignoring him, and only had eyes for Egypt. Duppy moved into both their eye lines, and trying to catch the situation early said, “Oh my bad, fam. I didn’t introduce. This beautiful woman is about to be the first lady of Notorious Records. That is, if she can handle the pressure and prove her position. Egypt, this is Power and Kane, also known as Q.B.C.”
Egypt looked at Power. “What does Q.B.C. stand for?” she questioned.
“Real niggas everywhere,” he replied.
She was about to get confused, then her expression showed she understood. “I mean the letters.”
“Queens Boro Crew. So what you do? Rap?” Power probed.
Egypt smirked mischievously. “You want to see what I do?”
“Seein’ is believin’, right?”
Oh I wanna show you her face said as she sashayed through the studio, and into the booth.
Egypt put on the headphones. The room smelled of blunt, Power and Kane. There was electricity in that smell. It was all potential. She looked through the glass as Kane and Power sat down, swapping the blunt. Power never took his eyes off her.
“Give me something clubby,” Egypt requested.
It took Jimmy a minute to find an appropriate track, but when he did, Egypt’s nod told him he found the right one. She dug into the track with a joint she knew they wouldn’t be up on - an old Chicago house classic.
From the moment she opened her mouth, she saw that first note grabbed every man in the room and wouldn’t let go. They swayed