-- Athena Turner. 28. Black. From Harlem. Went down south for military funded schooling: four years Army, four years college, and now home. Home, and forget about Harlem, she's a journalism major -- it's Manhattan. She's dreaming about writing film criticism for the New Yorker, like Pauline Kael, but the job she pulls is at an early Rap magazine, call it Bass Magazine -- of course. It's her and the Three Colors -- the three colors are black, brown, and beige -- Arlen, Maurice, and Ed -- these are the writers; headed by the founder of the magazine, Mr. Michael Hill Jr., a real-ass revolutionary, a dark-shaded socialist, a man who sees rap as street poetry made to deliver political change. Kind of a dream to write for this man, except for that she finds out Mr. Hill is a massive sexist, and can't care about her thoughts compared to the male writers at the magazine. And here she is at the changeover in rap music from East to West, wanting to make a name as a writer, and this man, who she wanted for her mentor, has sized her up for sexual conquest or to run errands. It's a Philip Roth novel cut to NWA and A Tribe Called Quest.
-- One of the writers, Arlen, invites her to go with him to a club downtown to watch a new performer, Ak-74, and though she knows Arlen thinks it's a date, she goes anyway, thinking of stealing the story from him. They go to the show, and the entire scene inside and outside is wild, a killer show. And then the bullets fly. And Ak-74 is shot. They are swept up in the retreat, and get their asses out of the area. Athena and Arlen agree as they share a drink safely away from the club: Ak-74 never should have come to New York from Los Angeles.
-- Parallel open: David Tafter. 35. White. Sitting Downtown in a fancy restaurant at the same moment of this horrible shooting; he's sipping fine wine with the publishers of a high-end Vanity Fair type magazine of which he believes he will be given the editorship of at this very dinner. And he finds out otherwise; because David is a moneymaker, not yet a name, the powers that be have a different plan. They want him to take over this little rap magazine; a magazine that has started to sell to more than the black audience, and they're pushing Mike Hill out, and putting David in, to remake the magazine for the young white audience -- meaning the top tier advertisement money that comes with selling issues to the young white audience. He's in shock. He still listens to the Stones: what does he know about rap music? He can't pass up the offer, not from these guys.
-- So: He walks in to the offices the next morning with everyone at the magazine caught in the mad rush of the Ak-74 murder the night before, and David has to fire Michael Hill Jr., and introduce himself as the new boss. It goes poorly. Mike Hill exits the premise with all sorts of ugly language about plantations and capitalism.
-- David has one trick left to play; even as he flames out with the employees of the magazine, he calls Athena and Arlen into Mike Hill's office; they were there, then it's their story -- he gives them a name: Low Wolfie. Low Wolfie aka Lil Trickstr, a legendary MC from the eighties, but who David knew as Stephen Seargeant back in the old days, when they both worked at a city tabloid.. He gives them the name, and sends them out to find him.
-- And when Athena finds him, Wolfie is more than happy to game with her..
-- It's east coast/west coast?
-- Course not. That kid ain't West Coast; Ak-74's name is Avery Nicole, and he's a rich boy.
-- No one's found the shooter.
-- And they won't.
-- Why is that?
-- A ghost. A pale ghost dunnit.
-- A white guy?
-- Find who owns the club.
-- I'm not giving anything else away, but Athena does her detective work, and when she meets her new boss for a late drink, (without Arlen along), she knows the name of the owner of the rap club where the murder took place, and that name is a big name, and where first she had dreamed of writing a story of feuding rap crews, she now has a taste of what might become the ultimate NYC race, sex, celebrity murder mystery, and the story is hers -- that is if she can trust this David Tafter not to steal the credit from her -- he's looking like a short-timer on his first day; anything to get back with his; and if she can survive the other writers at the magazine from painting her up as a race sellout, but hey: they weren't interested in her work when Mike was in charge -- survival of the fittest, baby. David Tafter sees something in her that she agrees with; now all she has to do is see it through, find out the truth, and solve the mystery, even as this white dude tears down everything Mike Hill built, to sell ad space for Gillette razors. As Arlen would say: What black man uses Gillette razors? And the other tricky issue is this: David Tafter is one put-together guy -- she kind of likes him.
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