The Other Three Little Words -- part ONE

[t r e]

"Are you serious? How long are we going to just SIT out here?", Rebecca Zachary-Stewart tried desperately not to whine. She also failed. "It's almost 2 AM! When I agreed to a late dinner and a movie it was only because you left out the fact that we'd cap off the night by sitting in a running car in a VERY bad part of the city for over ten minutes!"

Cassidy's black BMW sat idling, glistening in the light rain. Eyes trained across the street on the bustling entrance of what was clearly a "happenin'" establishment, Cassidy barely heard his wife.

"Seriously, Cassidy", she pleaded. "Who are we waiting for?"

Cass didn't blink, only squinted slightly. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cellphone, jabbing in a preset.

"We're waiting for Tre", he said. "I want answers."

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Inside the club. More accurately, inside the club's mens room. The bass thumped, sound bumped; the mirror on the wall violently vibrating. He stood alone at the urinal, the sole occupant. He is Ice Tre.

Dressed in a one-tone, ROYAL BLUE suit and tie, Ice Tre took a moment to "shake things out". With a zip and a pivot, Tre turned and began to wash his hands. Without warning, Tre's iPhone ringtone began to chime. And what a coincidence, the ringtone is Tre's own "If It Ain't Ice Tre", the first single from his upcoming album. Tre smirked, shoulders instinctively bouncing to the beat. Drying his hands of rhythmically, Tre finally reached for his phone and spied the caller ID.

"Aww, sheeeee-iiiit", he eloquently declared. "Cassanova!"

Tre bruskly hit the off button, forwarding the call to voicemail, before thrusting the phone back in his pocket.

"No time fo' dat", Tre told himself in the mirror assuringly. "He just gon' slow you down. You makin' MOVES, G. You on the RISE, fo' sho'. Do yo' thang, playa. Do yo' thang."

Tre nodded before donning the matching ROYAL BLUE fedora. He snapped the brim, ever the pimp, and turned towards the door -- the beat calling him.


------- ------- ------- ------- ------- -------

"Why are you calling him? What's this all about?"

Cass took a deep breathe before finally pulling his eyes off the door and turning them towards her. He managed a smile, awkwardly.

"I realize you wanted to have a nice romantic evening, but ... I got a text message from one of Tre's ... peoplez ... telling me that he was HERE, NOW. He's been avoiding me, baby. Not returning my calls, avoiding scheduled photo-ops and signings. Whatever's up his ass ... it's interfering with business."

Rebecca arched her eyebrows. "And...?"

"And ... he's holding something back on me. Something to do with the school. With your father ... and Mason", Cassidy glanced back towards the pulsing club, then back to his wife. "I mean ... your father was in the office last week; you should have heard him!"

"He told me about the light that was out", she interjected with a smile.

"Yeah, well ... did he tell you that Tre is a "liability"? That he had once put Tre "in his place" with just three words", he threw up his hands. "I don't know what's going on. I just know I have to get to the bottom of it, sort it out, and move forward. You know I love your father but ... come on."

She nodded, frowning. "I know how he can be. But I have to believe that he and Mason have your best interest in mind", she assured him.

Looking out the window now, Cass was free to roll his eyes with abandon.

"I just need to talk to-- TRE!!!", Cass yelped. He reached for the handle and lunged a kiss at his wife's cheek before bolting out the door, the rain cold and piercing. "Sit tight!"

He took three steps across the damp street before halting, turning, and motioning to Rebecca to lock the car doors. She already had, of course. She reached over and thumbed the windsheild wipers on, eyes straining to monitor her husband, her stomach going tight with anxiety.

"...this had better be worth it", she muttered to herself.

Settling into the seat, Rebecca finally relented, turned on the Sirius and fingered through the channels ... all the while with her eyes fixed on Cass as he neared the entrance.

"...this had better be worth it."

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Tre stepped outside and checked himself. Swagger? Check. Stylo? Check. Charisma? For DAYS. He paraded through the bubble of smoking kids, under-age kids, and under-age smoking kids with a spring in his step and a song in his heart. Top of his game, top of the heap.

Untouchable, He Can't Be Faded.

Stepping to the curb, Tre lit a Menthol and unlocked his phone.

"...I know this ain't gon' be worth it!", Tre muttered quietly. He spoke surprisingly clearly into the receiver, putting the phone to his ear. "Call; CASSANOVA."

Tre flicked the cigarette then cocked his fedora, lips pursed. He saw Cassidy out of the corner of his eye just before he registered the voice.

"Who's spinning tonight, Tre?", Cass asked, brushing his wet blonde hair from his eyes.

Tre bristled for a moment. "Say what?"

"Who's on the ones and twos?", Cass repeated. He quickly followed up with the same tone. "Why have you been avoiding me, Tre? Ignoring my calls? Texts? Emails? What's the deal?"

Tre refused to make eye contact, instead his eyes darted in every direction.

"I'm doin' my thang, Cassanova. I ain't hard to find", Tre spit. He gestured to the space between them. "See?"

Turning to walk away, Tre returned his attention to his smoke -- Cass wouldn't have it.

"Tre", he began. "Why does Vin Zachary think he knows you?"

Ice Tre froze, solid as his name implied. He took one long, slow and final drag from his cigarette before dropping it to the ground with a muffed sizzle. He turned, face emotionless.

"Why is EVERYONE at the School telling me to steer clear, that you're not worth my time?" Cass could see he was getting somewhere and poured it on. "You train at The VZ, Tre? Involved with the Blackshire mess? Are you Vin's bastard kid? What IS it, Tre? What's the big f_cking secret? Tell me!"

Tre spoke now, his voice broken and meek. He took his hat and gripped the brim in his hands. "He talked to you ... about ME?"

Cass blinked. "Who? ... Vin? Yeah, he did. And he said--"

Tre threw a hand up, disgusted. Suddenly his defenses were back up, swagger in tact. His fingers formed the shape of a handgun, acting on instinct. "I ain't even HEARIN' IT, 'nova! Why you comin' at me wit' this right now, huh? What do YOU care?"

"Vin--"

Tre's face lit up, furious. He stepped to Cassidy, arms wide -- an aggressive stance to be sure.

"What's it to YOU, Stewart! Why you always makin' our bid'niss PERSONAL? Always in my sh_t. You think I'm PROUD of what happened? I carry that wit' me, yo! You don't wanna get me started on that old man and what I think of him. You tell Vin Zachary, Mason X, and err'body else at that rundown SHACK that I'm OVER IT. I live BEYOND that noise, G! I'm BIGGER and BETTER ... and ... and ..."

Tre sputtered, staggering backward. "Man ... F_CK Y'ALL!!!" With that he made a dramatic exit into the mist of the falling rain. Fade in with the accompanying dramatic music.

Cassidy stood in the rain, helpless. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out to Tre, who'd disappeared in the darkness -- likely to his ride.

"...YOU'VE GOT A PROMO SHOOT NEXT WEDNESDAY! ... AT NOON! ... AT THE SOUNDSTAGE!", he yelled out self-consciously.

Ignoring the stares and strange looks, Cass trotted back across the street and quickly ducked back into the warmth and safety of his car. Rebecca turned the radio down and sat up.

"...well?"

Cass shrugged his shoulders. "Well ... I think I made things worse."

She sighed and Cass felt the chill.

"We're going home now", she stated plainly. There would be no debate.

Cassidy simply nodded his head. "We're going home now."