Tyler was yanked from his sleep by the sharp ring of his doorbell. Groggily, he sat up, his eyes scanning the room. He wasn't expecting any visitors, and he definitely hadn't ordered any packages. His pulse quickened as he slipped out of bed, grabbing his phone from the nightstand to check the door cam.
The paranoia hit him instantly. His mind raced through every possible scenario. Could it be one of Rico's boys? The cops? Someone from the label? He glanced at the screen, and what he saw made him freeze.
Standing at his doorstep was a face he hadn't seen in a long time—his old associate from the gang, Jamal, looking rough but still carrying that familiar edge. Tyler's heart skipped a beat. What the hell was Jamal doing here?
He hovered near the door, debating whether to open it. His hand hovered over the handle, but something held him back. Years of survival instincts screamed at him to be cautious. He checked the door cam again. Jamal was still there, fidgeting, looking around like he was nervous about being seen.
"Yo, Ty! It's Jamal, man! Open up, I ain't here on no bullshit. I know you're in there Ty, I can hear your breathing through the fucking door. Just need to talk man," Jamal called out, his voice muffled through the door.
"Fuck" Tyler sighed, his paranoia still gnawing at him. He unlocked the door, cracking it just enough to peek out. "What you want, J? It's been a minute."
Jamal's eyes darted up and down the hallway before stepping inside. "I knew you were alive man .I had to find you. A lotta shit's gone down since the last time we talked."
Tyler closed the door behind him, locking it twice. "What are you talkin' about? What's goin' on?"
Jamal ran a hand over his buzzed head, looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I'm talkin' about Carlos, Rico, the whole crew. Shit's changed, Ty. Ever since that shootout, the gang's been fallin' apart."
Tyler's stomach tightened. "Shootout? I heard bits and pieces, but I thought everyone either scattered or… well, didn't make it."
Jamal nodded grimly. "Yeah, it was bad. I barely got out alive, man. Carlos? He wasn't so lucky. Cops came down on us heavy. They caught him, and now he's locked up. Rico? That dude's been layin' low, way low. Cops are all over his shit, and he knows it. Ain't nobody seen him in months."
Tyler leaned against the wall, trying to process it all. Carlos was arrested? Rico hiding? It was like the streets had shifted overnight.
"What about the gang?" Tyler asked, his voice low.
Jamal shrugged, the exhaustion clear in his eyes. "Ain't what it used to be, man. With Carlos locked up and Rico out the picture, dudes started bouncin'. Some left the life, tryin' to go legit. Others, they jumped ship, joined other crews. It's a mess. Ain't no money comin' in like it used to."
Tyler shook his head, his thoughts racing. He had gotten out, just in time. But now, the past was catching up with him in ways he hadn't expected.
"So, what do you want from me, J? I'm done with that life. I'm tryna do somethin' different now." "So why'd you come here? What do you want, J?" Tyler said, his tone firm but conflicted.
Jamal scratched his head, glancing around the room again. "I see you makin' moves, Ty. You got out the game and you're doin' somethin'. I respect that. I… I need somethin' for myself too. I can't keep runnin' around in circles, lookin' over my shoulder every day."
Tyler narrowed his eyes. "And what's that got to do with me?"
Jamal took a deep breath. "Look, man. I know the streets, I know people. I could help you. I don't know what you do right now dawg but when shit happens, you're gonna need someone watchin' your back, makin' sure nobody takes advantage of you."
Tyler crossed his arms. "You tryin' to be my bodyguard or somethin'?"
"I ain't sayin' protection, man. I'm talkin' about management. I know how to hustle, how to make connections, how to read people. Whatever you're doin', you could use someone who knows the grind."
Tyler studied Jamal's face. It wasn't like he hadn't thought about needing a manager at some point. Jax had already hinted that Tyler would need more structure, more people in his corner as his music blew up. But Jamal? A guy from his past, who didn't even know what kind of game Tyler was playing now?
Tyler shook his head. "You don't even know what I'm workin' on, J. What makes you think you'd fit?"
Jamal grinned, a cocky glint in his eye. "I know how to move, Ty. Ain't about what you doin' now—it's about where you goin'. I see you leveled up. You got plans. I'm just tryna help you hit them goals without all the traps. You and me, we come from the same place. I know how this life can swallow people up, and I ain't about to let that happen to you."
Tyler was silent for a moment, thinking it over. He wasn't sure how Jamal would fit into his music career, but one thing was clear: he could trust Jamal to be loyal. They had history, and Jamal knew the consequences of crossing him. And maybe, just maybe, Jamal could help him stay under the radar while navigating his way into the industry.
"Alright, J," Tyler said, his voice firm. "But we keep it clean. No shady business, no shortcuts. If you're gonna work with me, we do this legit."
Jamal's grin widened. "I can roll with that. I'm done with the streets, man. I just want a shot at somethin' real."
Tyler extended his hand, and Jamal shook it firmly. "Then let's get to work."
As Jamal left the apartment, Tyler stood by the door, staring after him. He didn't know if this was the right move, but something told him that having Jamal in his corner could be the edge he needed.