1. Derek’s Destiny

DEREK

Derek ‘D-Truth’ Harris

The bass from the speakers hit like a sledgehammer, shaking Madison Square Garden to its core. A tsunami of sound crashed over the sea of fans as I slowly rose onto the stage from beneath, the set my team had built working its magic. Lights flashed in rhythm with the 808 on the track, illuminating the faces of thousands of people, their voices melding into one deafening roar. I stood center stage, taking it all in as I looked from my left to my right, feeling the energy buzz through me.

This shit never seemed real to me.

I remember being a kid, rocking the mic in my bedroom, a bottle of lotion as my stand-in microphone, rapping to an audience of one. She’d look at me like I was the star I am today, even though back then I was just a troubled teenager who only let his guard down around her. As usual, I saw her face in my mind’s eye when I closed them to take in the moment on stage. And when I opened them, I could see her in the crowd, that vision letting me know I was ready.

On nights when I couldn’t see her or feel her presence, my performances never hit the way I wanted them to. I needed her to fuel me, so that I could give the people what they wanted for two hours, to survive these grueling tour schedules across continents. I needed her to breathe. She was here, even if just in my imagination, but that was enough. I smiled at the mirage of her, ready to perform for her just like I did back in day.

“New York City, y’all ready to turn the fuck up?” I shouted into the mic, my voice slicing through the chaos.

The crowd’s response was immediate, a wave of screams and applause that shook the arena. As the music swelled, I launched into my latest hit, “Dollar & A Dream”. The lyrics flowed effortlessly from my lips as I moved across the stage with a practiced grace, each step a testament to years of grinding and perfecting my craft. My platinum and diamond chains glinted under the spotlights, and my tattoos seemed to dance along with the beat. Behind me, pyrotechnics erupted in a dazzling display, adding to the electric atmosphere.

This was the final stop on my latest tour, and though I was fucking exhausted, this was Madison Square Garden. This was my third time performing in this iconic venue, and I didn't take that lightly. Being on stage here was an honor reserved for the greatest, and to be on that list was humbling as hell. Standing under those blinding lights, hearing the roar of the crowd, it reminded me of how far I'd come from that kid in Juniper. This was the city that adopted me, and I was ready to give it everything I had left.

I gave every last bit of my energy to the people who came out and paid good money to see me perform songs that spanned ten years. I couldn’t believe I had that much time in the game already. I was a vet now and hadn’t even hit 30. A far cry from the young man from the small town nobody had ever heard of, who created such a buzz online between my music and my growing juvenile rap sheet that some big music execs came down to Juniper, scooped me up, and signed me to a $1.5 million deal, changing my life overnight.

But while my professional dreams were coming true, my high school sweetheart, my girl, my Destiny, and I were drifting further and further apart. Instant fame and becoming a millionaire overnight is challenging for any adult, so imagine us as kids. Shit was chaotic. She was focused on college, and I was in different time zones, working my ass off trying to record my first album, guest featuring with the biggest artists, shooting videos, going on promo runs, and not checking in for weeks at a time. And being out in the world, away from Juniper, now I was getting into a different type of trouble than I did back home.

Back in my hometown, the girls avoided me like the plague—I was that bad, always beating up dudes who even looked at me wrong. I had a temper that only Destiny could help me control. There were more times than I wanted to admit when I'd be in a fight, fists flying, the crowd cheering me on as I beat folks to a pulp. But then I'd hear her voice, screaming for me to stop. That sound cut through the chaos, stopping me in my tracks. I'd be huffing and puffing, blood pounding in my ears, but I'd make my way over to her, snatch up my bookbag, and follow her away from the crowd.

Everybody was scared of me—everybody except Destiny. She was the only one who could tame the beast inside me. She wanted me, loved me. Out in the industry, though, it was a different story.

Girls were throwing themselves at me left and right, and my immature mind was overstimulated by all the new attention and the lifestyle I was suddenly exposed to. I lost my way. I thought I was living the dream, but all I was doing was pushing away the one person who really mattered.

And then there was that night I called her from Berlin…

When life got quiet enough, I could still hear the sound of her wails as I confessed all the dirt I was doing, unable to live with the guilt anymore while I had a good girl waiting for me back home. Her cries filled every corner of my mind, a painful reminder of the love I was throwing away.

“You cheated on me, Derek? Are you fucking serious?” she screamed into the phone, her voice raw and broken.

“I’m sorry, Des. I be getting caught up out here. I promise I’ll stop, I just wanted you to—”

“I have a fucking final as soon as the sun rises and you call me at 1 a.m. to tell me this shit?” she screamed.

It was always like that. Half the time, I never knew where I was, what time it was where she was, or what she might be in the middle of doing. I just knew I had a free moment and wanted to hear her voice. But this night, I was making a call I didn’t want to but knew I had to. I loved Destiny, and I knew I had to be honest with her. I was trying to be a man about my bullshit. I couldn’t look her in the eyes when I got back home, knowing what I was out here doing.

“I’m sorry, baby. I promise when I get home—”

“I swear to God, I don’t ever wanna see you again, Derek!” she screamed into the phone.

My heart instantly broke in two. I knew I messed up, real bad. But I thought our love could survive this. Besides, all the guys I was hanging around, niggas whose posters were on my wall growing up, who were now my peers and friends, they got caught cheating all the time and their wives and girlfriends didn’t go anywhere. Did she not love me enough? My stupid ass trying to keep up with them, being in grown men's business when I was just a boy, and my actions were killing my girl. It hurt me to hear the pain in her voice.

"You don’t mean that, Des," I told her, trying to hide the fact that I was now crying on the other end of the line at the thought of her leaving me.

"I mean it, Derek. You’ve put me through so much since you up and left, but this is too much," she cried, her voice breaking.

"Baby, look," I tried to reason, "I’ma come home and get you. We gon move to LA, we gon get married, have babies. I’ll lace you in all the flyest shit. I’ll buy you whatever you want," I pleaded, trying to secure the future we always talked about while making it a little sweeter because that’s what all the guys around me did. Shopping trips, a new car, and whatever else their girl wanted always seemed to make her calm down whenever they did something out of pocket.

But Destiny wasn’t that type of woman, as I quickly learned.

"You think I give a fuck about your money? I haven’t asked you for shit, Derek," she reminded me, her voice cold and cutting through the phone.

She was at school on a full scholarship, and for pocket change, she was still working at the skating rink. I’d told her a million times I had more than enough to take care of her, but she insisted she didn’t need anything and refused to take any money from me.

I told her it didn’t look right for a rapper’s girlfriend to be working at no damn skating rink, but she shot back, “I’m not a rappers girlfriend, Derek. I’m Destiny.” Fair enough. But I still made her an authorized user on my credit card and sent it to her house. The only reason she agreed to keep it was because I told her it was for emergencies. She wasn’t fazed by anything I had going on or what I could do for her. She was real, grounded in a way that made all the glitz and glamour seem like just noise. She didn’t care about the money, the fame, or the lifestyle. She just wanted me, plain and simple.

Must’ve been a Juniper thing, 'cause I couldn’t even get my parents to leave that town. They refused to move and still lived in my childhood home. But I paid the house off, so at least that eliminated a major source of their stress.

Des, my family, and it seemed like everybody else in Juniper were so content with being there, living the simple life, while I couldn’t wait to get the fuck up outta there.

"Derek, you broke my heart. You think money can fix how sick I feel right now?" Her words were sharp, like daggers. "I wouldn’t even allow you to touch me if you were standing in front of me. You’re disgusting! I can’t do this shit.”

God damn.

"Des, please," I begged, the desperation in my voice clear even to my own ears. "I know I messed up, but I can’t lose you. You’re my everything."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. I could hear her soft, uneven breaths, could almost picture the tears streaming down her face.

"You already lost me, Derek," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "You lost me the moment you decided to step out on us with multiple women."

Her words hit me like a freight train, leaving me reeling. I had thought our love could withstand anything, but I was wrong. So fucking wrong. I went way past the limits, and I knew it was wrong even while I was doing it. But I was just so young and stupid. The guilt ate me alive, gnawing at me day and night. How could I expect Destiny to be cool with it when I couldn't even handle what I was doing? I was such a dumbass kid, thinking I could have it all and not pay the price.

In the silence that followed, I felt the weight of my actions crashing down on me. All the fame, the money, the women—it meant nothing without her. I was trying to live a life that wasn’t mine, trying to keep up with a lifestyle that had nothing to do with the love I had back home.

"I love you, Des," I said, my voice trembling. "I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right."

"You should’ve thought about that before," she replied, her voice hard. "Goodbye, Derek."

“Des, I’ll kill myself if you leave me!” I screamed into the phone, a desperate, pathetic attempt to make her reconsider. I didn’t mean that shit, though. Not really.

“Good! How 'bout you take the knife you put in my back and slit your own throat with it, motherfucker!” she shot back, her words cutting deeper than any blade.

The line went dead like a gunshot, piercing through my heart and mind. No! I tried calling her back immediately. No answer.

"Des, pick up, Princess, please," I left on her voicemail. "I love you, I love you so much! Call me!"

I spent the night calling her over and over, leaving countless desperate voicemails, begging her not to break up with me. Weeks passed with nothing from her. It was driving me crazy, turning me back into that hot-headed menace I was in school. The silence was a torture I couldn’t escape, and the guilt was a constant, gnawing reminder of how badly I’d fucked up. I was taking my pain out on everybody.

All I wanted to do was go home and say fuck all this shit, get my girl back, but I was contractually obligated to things. Life was moving so fucking fast. It went from weeks of not hearing from her, to months, to years. I would drink to drown out the sound of her crying, hearing it as if it was just happening.

Every bottle I emptied was a poor substitute for her love, every night spent with random women was a hollow attempt to fill the void she left. The industry swallowed me whole, and I let it those first few years. I let the fame, the money, and the chaos distract me from the pain. But every quiet moment, every solitary second, brought her back to me. Her cries, her words, her pain—it all haunted me like a ghost that wouldn’t let go.

Eventually, I found a way to survive, keeping her alive in my imagination. Nights like tonight, she was right there with me, her eyes shining with pride as I took the stage. In my mind, she was in the front row, smiling and rapping along to every word, her presence giving me strength. This was how I got through it, how I managed to pour my heart into every legendary performance. Because, in those moments, I wasn’t just performing for the fans. I was performing for her, and that made all the difference.

After the final song, I took a deep bow, sweat glistening on my skin, the crowd’s applause thunderous and unending. I wish she could see this, be here with me. I exited the stage, handing my mic to one of my assistants as I made my way through the maze of hallways to my dressing room. My security detail flanked me, parting the sea of admirers and industry insiders who tried to catch my attention backstage.

Inside the dressing room, luxury was an understatement. Plush leather couches, a fully stocked bar, and a table laden with gourmet snacks awaited me—all requested by my team on my artist rider. I didn’t need half this shit, to be honest, but I always had homies backstage who partook and ate and drank everything up. I wasn’t even touching alcohol like that these days. One DUI after drinking myself stupid on my 25th birthday was enough for me to get my shit together.

Those first few years without Destiny were tough. Real tough. Nights blurred into days as I drowned my sorrows in booze and women. But that DUI, I realized I was cutting my time short with all the excess I was into. The fame and fortune were a double-edged sword, and I was bleeding out from both sides.

I remember hitting rock bottom, looking at myself in the mirror and not recognizing the man staring back. I knew I had to continue living, not just existing. That meant shedding the shit that was dragging me down. Cutting out the drinking was the first step. I had to face my demons head-on, no more hiding behind a bottle.

The dressing room was a playground for my crew, but for me, it was just a reminder of how far I’d come and how much further I still had to go. I sat down on one of the leather couches, the noise from the concert still ringing in my ears. The applause, the cheers—it all felt empty without her. I leaned back, closing my eyes, trying to center myself.

As I toweled off, the door opened, and a group of beautiful women entered, their eyes lighting up at the sight of me.

“D-Truth, that was amazing!” one of them gushed, her hand lightly touching my arm.

I flashed a charming smile, the one that had melted hearts across the globe. “Glad you enjoyed it,” I said, my voice smooth as silk.

They surrounded me, their presence a mix of admiration and anticipation. This was my life—yet, as I looked into their eyes, a part of me felt the emptiness beneath the surface glamour.

One of the girls stood between my legs before dropping down to her knees in front of me, a smirk playing on her lips. She wore a tight little black dress, no straps, and it barely covered her ass when she was standing. I knew those cheeks had to be spilling out the bottom now that she was kneeling.

“You know what I would love right now?” she asked, her voice sultry.

Damn, she was beautiful. But I’d seen beautiful a million ways around the world. It wasn’t impressive anymore. It was just...common.

“If you let me suck the D in D-Truth,” she said, running her tongue over her red lipstick.

Her friends giggled. My crew looked on, holding back laughter, some just in shock at how bold women could be on these tours, shaking their heads.

“I’m good on that, Shorty,” I said, picking her up and standing with her. “I’m not on that type of time tonight.”

She looked disappointed, maybe even a little embarrassed because any other man would never refuse her.

“But—” she started, pouting.

“Nah, for real. I’m good,” I said, stepping back and giving her some space.

I could see the confusion in her eyes, the way she struggled to understand why I wasn’t taking what she was offering. But tonight, I just wasn’t feeling it.

One of my boys clapped me on the shoulder, a knowing look in his eyes. “Yo, D, you sure?”

I nodded keeping my eyes locked with hers. “Yeah, man. I’m sure.”

“I can take her off your hands for you,” he offered, grinning.

Red Lips looked him up and down, unimpressed.

“Don’t act stuck up now, ma. You was willing to suck his dick in a room full of people. Mine’s available. What’s up?” he pressed, leaning in.

I didn’t like where this was going.

“Man, chill out, Hakeem,” I said, shutting it down.

“I’m saying—”

“Leave her alone or get the fuck out!” I boomed, my voice cutting through the room and causing everyone to stop and look.

My word was law around this bitch. What I said went, and whoever didn’t like it could leave. Simple. My world was a Derek-tatorship. No room for negotiations. Disrespecting this girl, even though she was willing to possibly degrade herself, wasn’t happening on my watch.

Hakeem put his hands up in a surrender motion, backing off and mumbling something under his breath as he headed back to Craft Services where his big ass belonged anyway.

The girl’s friends pulled her away, whispering, probably talking about how they’d never seen someone turn her down. She glanced back once more, and I gave her a small, apologetic smile.

As they left, I sat back down, my mind drifting to another time, another place. I wasn’t the same wild kid anymore. I’d grown up, learned some hard lessons. And one of those lessons was not to let your crew do some shit that could potentially sink the whole ship.

“Matter of fact, everybody get out!” I announced as I thought about Hakeem’s antics, my voice cutting through the noise.

Everyone looked at me, confused.

“Did I stutter? What y’all looking at?” I asked, scanning the room.

“You heard the man!” my manager Marcy shouted, stepping into the room out of nowhere.

Marcy was a 5-foot Jewish woman from Brooklyn, scarier than any man in my crew. When she spoke, everybody listened. She’d been with me since Day 1, promising my Mama and Daddy she’d look out for my badass and take care of me in this industry. And she did, a damn good job too. Except, as I started becoming my own man, I found myself doing too damn much sometimes. The DUI, a couple of club fights—nothing too crazy, but enough to keep her on her toes. She always got me out of any jam I put myself in.

These days, I was practically a saint compared to the wild start of my career. Or at least, I liked to think so. But I knew if I ever stepped out of line, Marcy would be there to set me straight. She had a way of balancing the chaos in my life, keeping me grounded no matter how high I climbed.

I nodded a silent thank you to her as I sank further into the couch, manspreading as the adrenaline from the performance wore off. Just as I closed my eyes a few minutes later, Marcy burst back into the room, shoving my phone in my face, letting me know it was important.

“It’s Ant,” she quickly said before handing me the phone and leaving the room.

No matter what I had going on or what kind of mood I was in, I always had time for my parents and my brother.

“Everything good?” I asked immediately, my tone serious.

“Yo! You killed that shit, Lil Bro. Caught the stream,” Ant said excitedly.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d been on edge these days, worried about my parents. All was well; he just wanted to congratulate me.

“Thanks, Big Bro. Wish y’all were here. Shit was lit,” I said, smiling as I thought about my family and what it would have been like chillin’ with them backstage right now. The weight on my shoulders lightened a bit knowing they were proud and safe.

“I know, man. Gotta be here taking care of your stubborn ass parents, though,” he chuckled.

I smiled, grateful for my brother stepping in and stepping up when I couldn’t. Our father had blood clots in his legs which had caused a series of complications, and Mom, well, she spent all her time worrying about him, which sent her blood pressure up. She never wanted to leave his side. Those two were joined at the hip.

Ant still lived in Juniper, and he was over there every day, making sure they were taking their medications, eating right, and all that. Doing all the things I couldn’t do with all my travel and obligations. I don't know what I would have done without him. He stepped up in ways I couldn't, holding down the fort while I was out chasing dreams and making sure they never had another financial worry for the rest of their lives.

“I appreciate everything you do, man. You know that,” I said.

“I know, Bro. You do what you do out there, and I hold it down here. Don’t even worry about it,” he said.

“Word,” I said, shaking my head in understanding.

“You should come visit, though. Come see ‘em. They’re getting older and not able to move around like they used to. Can’t be hopping on and off those private flights with you no more with those blood clots in Daddy’s legs.”

“I know,” I said, running my hand over the back of my head, through my long locs.

I hadn’t stepped foot in Juniper since I signed my deal at 18, scared to face my past, scared to face Destiny. When she said she didn’t want to see me again, I took it to heart. That meant not stepping foot back in my hometown, which was fine because I’d typically fly my family to me, sometimes for weeks at a time. But shit was changing now that my folks were getting older. I let a girl a foot shorter than me run me out of the town I grew up in, and I took my punishment like a man.

“How, umm… how is she?” I asked Ant, knowing he knew exactly who I was talking about.

He let out a deep sigh. “She’s good, man,” he said gently. “She just got a big contract. The Mayor passed the Juniper Juneteenth Jubilee on to her event company. She’s seeing the whole thing through start to finish.”

My eyes lit up, my heart skipped a beat and shit.

“Damn, I know she’s happy as fuck about that, huh?” I asked, but I already knew. This was like Destiny getting the chance to plan The Grammys.

“Yeah, she’s over the moon. You should see her, D. She’s really making moves,” Ant said, his voice full of pride.

“I can imagine,” I said, my mind racing with thoughts of Destiny.

“Right now, she’s working on the performance lineup and having fun with that, although we ain’t got much to work with out here,” Ant chuckled.

“Oh word?” I asked, my interest peaked.

“Yeah.”

Suddenly, a bold idea hit me, dropping in my gut like a lead weight. What if... could I? Nah. But maybe, just maybe, I could. My mind raced with the possibilities. If I did this, I’d have to go over Destiny’s head to pull it off, and she might end up hating me even more. But I was ready to risk it. Fuck it. It was worth a shot.

“Ant, get me in touch with The Mayor,” I said, the determination in my voice clear.

“D, what you up to?” Ant asked, suspicion creeping into his tone.

“Just trust me on this one, bro. I’ve got a plan for Juniper, and it’s gonna be big.”

“Say less."

I hung up, a sense of purpose surging through me. It was time to go back to Juniper and pull off something unforgettable.

The smell of high-end cologne and gourmet food filled the room, but it did little to calm my restless mind. I thought about Destiny, the one person who saw me for who I really was before all this. She loved me when I was just Derek from Juniper, not D-Truth, the rap god. And I let her slip away.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision settle over me. It was time to go home and fight for what truly mattered. I was going home not only to see my parents, I was going to get my girl back.