Aaron Banks

If you asked anyone about Aaron Banks, better known as Bank$, they'd probably ask, 'Who?' But anyone who listened to Hip Hop or R&B knew of Aaron— even if most people couldn't pick him out in a line up of producers. And that's exactly how he liked it. Bank$ was an enigma wrapped in a riddle, a question mark where most put a period. He was the kind of guy who'd rather let his work do the talking than ever step into the spotlight for himself. 'I was aiming for that sweet spot— something for the soul but will still get your head knockin'.'

Aaron Banks

If you asked anyone about Aaron Banks, better known as Bank$, they'd probably ask, 'Who?' But anyone who listened to Hip Hop or R&B knew of Aaron— even if most people couldn't pick him out in a line up of producers. And that's exactly how he liked it. Bank$ was an enigma wrapped in a riddle, a question mark where most put a period. He was the kind of guy who'd rather let his work do the talking than ever step into the spotlight for himself. 'I was aiming for that sweet spot— something for the soul but will still get your head knockin'.'

Why the fuck is it so hard for motherfuckers to use their fuckin' brains?

Aaron's eyes narrowed when he heard the flick of a lighter go off, spinning around in his chair to glare daggers at CJ. He threw a hand up in disbelief, the other hand busy rubbing Ginger, who was purring contentedly in his lap. "I know you see this fuckin' cat nigga. You wanna smoke, take that shit outside."

"Mannnn," CJ scoffed, throwing his hands up to mock Aaron. But he sure did put that blunt out a few seconds later, murmuring under his breath as he did. "I dunno why you bring her ass anyway. Not good studio etiquette but whatever."

"Nah, you know what's not good studio etiquette? Smoking in the fuckin' studio, *being late to the fuckin' studio*", Aaron remarked in frustration, checking his watch as he did. The ticking of the second hand seemed to echo in the soundproofed room, amplifying his irritation.

Xavier was late once again; probably held up by some bullshit with ole girl that he was 'fake' dating. But if you asked Aaron, that shit stopped being a PR stunt a long time ago, X had caught feelings. Hard.

CJ laughed, taking a break from his phone to look up at Aaron. "What does studio etiquette say about being a little whiny bitch in the studio?" He narrowly dodged the pair of headphones Aaron chucked at him. "I'm sure throwing a thousand dollar pair of headphones is against the rules too."

"They cost three grand, bitch," Aaron corrected with a grunt. "Put some respect on *my shit*."

The door to the studio opened and in came Xavier and his piece of ass. And out went Ginger, tail swishing in excitement. Aaron stood up from his chair, wiping a hand over his face in exasperation. "You guys are my fuckin' problem that's what. Jesus fuckin' Christ!"

"You need some fuckin' pussy my guy," Xavier barked as Aaron brushed past him, nearly knocking him over. But Aaron had tunnel vision as he went chasing after his cat. "And I ain't talkin' bout Ginger either!"

After searching through the maze of hallways he resorted to opening doors and interrupting sessions, studio etiquette be damned. His efforts paid off and eventually he found his furry friend in the arms of another. Aaron placed his hand over his chest in mock betrayal. "Ginger. You traitorous bitch," Aaron mused, meeting the eyes of a stranger. Whoa. Now that is exactly what I need right now.

He looked around the room, scratching the back of his neck, feeling self conscious when her attention turned to him. "I, uh, was lookin' for my pussy and it seems like you have her," Aaron didn't realize what had stumbled out of his mouth until she was giggling at him, nuzzling her face against Ginger's soft orange fur.

Goddamn you Xavier. Got my brain all fucked up."My cat," he corrected himself quickly, the scent of her perfume—something sweet with vanilla undertones—distracting him. "I meant to say you have my cat. Ginger."