“…please blame it on the Son of the Morning”
– Jay-Z
“I got into that summer program at Berklee,” Brandon said to his cousin while Lincoln sat on the lawn chair underneath the covered driveway at Snot’s house. He was speaking to Snot, but he knew that Lincoln was listening and he was hoping to see a reaction on Lincoln’s face.
“I’m excited, I get to learn from musicians already getting paid to do it, and show them what I can do. It should be good.”
Lincoln pretended to be occupied with his phone while Brandon talked, but he was listening and he was suppressing his annoyance.
“That’s good man,” Snot said. “I didn’t know you applied for something like that.”
“I didn’t want to talk about it and not get it.”
Lincoln took that to mean that Brandon didn’t want him to find out about it and risk them both applying and only Lincoln getting it.
“But this good for all of us,” Brandon continued. “This my band, y’all my band and whatever connections I make, I’m taking y’all with me.”
“That’s right cuz,” Snot said excitedly and he hugged Brandon and Lincoln. “We a family. We gone get rich and famous together. I wish we could go with you. Me and Lincoln just gone be working at the grocery store this summer. Seem like if we could’ve got in too, that would increase our chances.”
Lincoln snorted and contained his amusement at Snot pointing out Brandon’s dishonesty.
“I found out about it last minute,” he said, ignoring Lincoln. “I barely got my application in on time. But y’all can trust that I’m gone represent. I’m gone make it work for us. It’s real prestigious and I know it’s gone change everything.”
“What was the application like for this prestigious program?” Lincoln asked, looking out into nothing to avoid aggression if he looked at Brandon. “You submitted some music?”
“I had to record myself playing some stuff, mostly other people stuff.”
“You send them the mixtape?” Lincoln asked. They’d completed it and used it to enter local contests, and even performed at a few shows around Ladoga, some in Charlotte and Atlanta. They were mostly limited by a lack of money to travel for gigs that would give them a shot, but not foot the bill for them to appear.
“You asking like you mad, Lincoln,” Snot said innocently. Even though the two were his best friends, he seemed oblivious to their simmering rivalry and assumed that they were like any group of brothers who had good and bad times together that their bond could weather. He could have been aware of it, though, and consciously played the peacekeeper, using his sense of humor to ease tensions.
“Yeah I sent the mixtape,” Brandon said to Lincoln. “I produced the whole thing. They said I could send examples of my work so yeah I sent it.”
“I’m happy for you,” Lincoln said and stood from his chair to look Brandon in the eyes. “I’m glad you got it and I trust you gone do what you say. It’s true for me too, if I ever get anywhere with music I’m taking y’all with me. When I present our work to other people, I’ll be honest about who did what. I guess we need to be clear on that then, who did what.”
“I guess so,” Brandon said and stood taller as he and Lincoln faced off.
“We all make the music together,” Snot said.
“Yeah, you right,” Lincoln said, “we all do our part and make beautiful music together. Snot who would you say come up with the songs we make?”
“Well,” Snot said, shrinking under the glare of the two rivals, “I guess it always start with something Lincoln come up with…”
“Right,” Lincoln said, “cause I produce all our songs.”
“Come on man,” Brandon said like he was insulted, “I been reading music so much longer than you. I take our ideas and I turn them into songs we perform.”
Lincoln shook his head.
“I knew it,” he said. “You always gotta be the best, you want all eyes on you all the time and you get jealous of me because I’m out front and everybody know everything we is is me.”
Lincoln’s eyes smoldered on his beautiful face and it seemed that he attacked Brandon with his gaze, so much so that Brandon was shaken, almost afraid and overreacting to cover it up.
“Lincoln, don’t get it twisted, man, I recognize that you good as fuck,” Brandon said emphatically. “Don’t nobody rhyme like you do, and you can sing, but I help you turn the music in your head into songs. If not for me, you would just be rhyming on somebody else’s beats. You a artist, bruh, and you need a producer to help you make whole songs. That’s me. I arrange your shit too!”
Lincoln wanted to jump on Brandon, tackle him to the paved driveway and punch him until he realized that there was no band without him. But he just sighed, tried to let go of his frustrations. If the years with his mother had taught him anything, it was the lesson that his perception of a given situation could be corrupted by personal feelings that caused him to misunderstand, and he didn’t want to be the cause of unnecessary grief because he refused to see his own stubbornness that blinded him to the truth. Maybe his view of the work he did with Brandon was skewed because he wanted to believe that he was integral to the band’s sound.
“I’m sorry,” Lincoln said. “I’m happy for you, for real. I’m gonna head home.”
Lincoln worried that if he couldn’t learn to trust his band mates, their efforts would be dead in the water. As he walked home he tried to think about his feelings toward Brandon objectively. Was there cause to be so distrustful of him, or were his feeling based on rivalry? He did believe that Brandon resented the attention that Lincoln received around Ladoga. It seemed that any time they were recognized by fans in public, the fans were only interested in taking pictures with Lincoln and getting his autograph. And since the time that Snot’s sister complimented Brandon on writing lyrics for Lincoln after she heard the mixtape, Lincoln had been very on edge about him taking too much credit for their work.
When he got home, Lincoln’s father was watching TV in the living room and he sat next to him.
“How mama doing?” Lincoln asked as they watched the basketball game.
“She doing ok,” his father said with a sigh. “It’s always rough visiting her in a place like that, but it’s the best thing. She was so scared here…”
His voice broke and Lincoln knew that he was holding back tears.
“She good,” he said after a minute, and he nodded his head. “Your brother called. He wants us to come to his game this weekend. I was hoping you would ride with me up there.”
“Yeah, daddy,” Lincoln nodded. “I’ll go with you.”
“Maybe you’ll like it, Anthony says it’s a good school. And you’re smart, you could enroll.”
“Nah, daddy, I told you college ain’t for me. I’m gone make this music thing work. It might take some time, but I really think we got something.”
“I love your music son and I’m here for you however I can be to support you in that. I do believe in you, son. But college could be good for that career. You know I’m an educator, I’m always going to try to steer you towards it I guess.”
“I get it,” Lincoln said.
Lincoln liked living with his father and even though he would never say it, he was happy that his mother was no longer at home. He knew that she was taken care of, and he didn’t have to worry about her attacking him at unsuspecting times. Their home was peaceful.
The Morning played a few shows before Brandon left for Boston. Lincoln had buried his negative feelings toward Brandon and he busied himself looking for opportunities for the band after Brandon returned. One afternoon, after Snot and Brandon’s shift at the grocery store when the two were hanging out at Snot’s house, Snot cursed so loudly that it startled Lincoln.
“What’s up man?” Lincoln asked.
Snot was on his phone and there was music playing from it. Lincoln recognized it as the intro to one of the band’s songs, and he could tell that Brandon was playing it on an acoustic guitar. Snot gave him the phone and Lincoln saw Brandon playing and then he watched with the most intense rage in his eyes as Brandon rapped his verse. The video had millions of views.
“Maybe he was playing it for some people and somebody else recorded it and uploaded it,” Snot said, but even he didn’t believe it.
Over the next few months, as Brandon gained internet fame performing songs that Lincoln had written and allowing everyone to believe that he had written them himself, Lincoln and Snot weren’t able to speak with Brandon. He seemed to ignore their calls.
Lincoln was livid. He had never experienced anger like he felt seeing Brandon taking credit for his work. He wanted to expose Brandon, to reveal him for the fraud he was, but more than anything he wanted to make Brandon pay for lying to his face about their loyalty to one another. He didn’t even respect his cousin and Lincoln vowed cruel and unusual revenge.
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