Ain't No Wifey by Jahquel J.

Hell yea, you can come. Can I wear your Gucci clutch?”
    “Well , damn. Then I’m fucking coming, bitch. You know where the closet is.” Milan laughed and went to get dressed.
    “That’s more like it.” Shay went through Milan’s closet and pulled the clutch out, she sneakily pulled some other items and stuffed them in her closet.
    ***
    Milan and Shay were standing in front the studio. Shay was dressed like they were going to a club instead of a late night studio session which meant she was trying too hard. She had on Milan’s black dress with a pair of red pumps, a matching red jacket and a Gucci clutch that was Milan’s as well. Milan had on a pair of jeans, Jordan 5s, a tank top, and leather jacket with her hair in a ponytail and no makeup.
    “Why are we waiting out here?” Milan mumbled , annoyed. It was cold and they were waiting there for ten minutes.
    “I know he takes his cigarette break around this time so calm down.”
    “Bitch, I thought you said he was your boo.” Milan rolled her eyes. She didn’t want to be seen as a groupie.
    “I might have exaggerated a bit.” Shay smiled. Just as Milan was about to curse her out two men came out with cigarettes in their hands and leaned against the wall.
    “There he go. Told you, now watch me work.” Shay smoothed her dress and walked over to them. Milan followed behind her and leaned on a red Porsche watching Shay be a groupie while the man paid attention to her ass more than what was coming out her mouth.
    “Aye , why you leaning on my shit?” The light skin man walked over to Milan putting his cigarette out.
    “My bad, no disrespect.”
    “Nah , you good. What you know about a Porsche to be leaning on one?”
    “I don’t . I’m more of a Mercedes chick.” Milan snapped back.
    “You like the finer things in life , huh? What’s your name?” he enquired.
    “I don’t want, I have the finer thing s. And my name is Milan.”
    “My name is Donovan and that’s my man Yung Dee. Y’all wanna come in the studio? It’s a little cold out here.” Milan nodded her head and followed behind Donovan while Shay leaned on Yung Dee, who was watching Milan’s ass as she walked into the studio.
                  Donovan, Shay and Milan sat watching Yung Dee do his thing in the booth. Shay was acting like he was her man and kept saying his shit was hot, even when it wasn’t. Milan thought his track was too rough and needed some singing in it to balance it out. Yung Dee came out the booth and sat next to Milan. Shay whispered to switch seats and Milan got up and acted like she was getting another water so Shay could sit next to him.
    “What y ’all think about it?” Yung Dee asked.
    “That shit is too hot , boo. I could see myself going ham to it.” Shay kissed his ass.
    “It was cool . Not nothing I would jam to, but it’s Alright.”
    “What you mean?” Yung Dee questioned, a little offended.
    “You need some singing in it.”
    “And you sing?” Donovan intruded
    “A little something.” Milan smirked.
    “So let us hear something.” Donovan insisted. Donovan sat Milan up in the booth and gave her the chorus Yung Dee was rapping. He told her to sing it and , if she was good, he would put her on the track and compensate her. Milan agreed and was happy she did all those lessons her mother signed her up for to get rid of her.
    “I’m ready to die . Got the gun cocked, nigga, I ain’t about to hide. I’m readyyy.” Milan sang sounding mind-blowing. Milan shocked Yung Dee, Donovan and Shay.
    “Come out.” Donovan spoke through the speaker. Milan put the headphones down and came out . Yung Dee pulled her into a hug.
    “That was hot as hell ! Your voice is fire, shawty. I need you on this track and whole lot of other ones.” Yung Dee claimed.
    “Milan , I didn’t know you could sing you sound amazing gurl.” Shay hugged her. She was happy she would have a reason to frequent the studio.
    Three hours later , Milan had put down