***
Yo, it was that time of year again! Miles Carter rolled up to the Beverly Shores Thanksgiving Yacht Party like he owned the place, and honestly, he practically did. Dressed head-to-toe in a fresh white Dior suit, sharp as a razor, but laid-back enough to show he ain’t trying too hard. He moved with the confidence of a man who knew exactly who he was. His look was clean but with a street edge, white kicks to match, a diamond-studded gold chain that caught the light just right, and shades that hid his eyes but not his swagger.
Stepping onto the yacht, sunglasses on, flashing that million-dollar smile that made him a favorite with fans and paparazzi alike. Cameras clicked furiously as he greeted people, but he handled it like a pro, tossing a wink here, a peace sign there. To him, these events were as much about socialising with people as they were about showing off. He knew how to work a crowd, blending genuine charm with just the right amount of flash.
The scene was pure luxury, yacht gleaming under the setting sun, a crowd of A-listers mingling with the neighbourhood regulars, all against the backdrop of the shimmering ocean. Laughter and the clinking of glasses filled the air, mixed with the chill rhythm of live music. The night air was filled with the scent of gourmet food and the distant, salty tang of the sea. The vibe was electric, a mix of laid-back luxury and the cool liveliness that Miles brought with him everywhere he went. He grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, raising it in a silent toast to the night, the city, and this wild journey.
He dapped up a few fellow producers, exchanged nods with some A-listers he’d collaborated with, and cracked a joke with the paparazzi he knew by name. Miles was cool like that, never too high and mighty to forget where he came from. Sure, he’s rich, famous, all that jazz. But he’s still got that ATL street vibe running deep in his veins. It’s what gave him that raw, unfiltered energy that made his beats slam harder than a heavyweight champ. Despite the wealth and fame, Miles still had that realness, that ability that played a part in making him one of, if not the most successful producer in the scene
As he mingled, Miles couldn’t help but think about Santi, his client ad most importantly his boyy and homie. Rumors swirled about Santiago’s brother, Emilio, making a comeback. Man, he hadn’t seen Santi’s big bro in years, but after four years who would have expected that? Miles wondered how Santiago was holding up, if the rumors were true, what did that mean for Santi? Was he cool with it, or was there tea brewing?
Taking a moment to himself, Miles sauntered over to the railings, where the city lights danced on the water below. He lit up a spliff, taking a long drag and exhaling slowly, letting the stress of the day melt away with each puff. The music played in the background, a steady beat that matched the rhythm of his thoughts. Tonight wasn’t just about schmoozing and networking; it was a chance to unwind, it was about celebrating success, embracing the grind. Celebrating another year of hard work and hustle.
As he exhaled a cloud of smoke into the night, Miles knew one thing for sure: tonight was about to be fcking legendary, and he was right where he belonged.
@raviola Santi mentioned