by JN Welsh
“How?” he scoffed. “I just called you.”
She got a good look at him and dampness rimmed his open collar and his hairline. “Never mind that. Why are you all wet?” she asked.
“I needed to cool down. Cold water helped.”
Nyah felt her forehead crinkle. “I try to keep it at seventy in here because of the instruments. I can open a window to cool it down a bit—”
“The temperature’s fine in here.”
Her mind felt like it had just been pretzeled. If it was fine in her apartment, then why—oh! His eyes lingered on her with desire she couldn’t mistake, and her throat parched to the point where she croaked her words. “Let me get you a hand towel.”
“I used the one in there. Hope that was okay.”
“Of course. You all good?”
“Yeah, thanks.” He hesitated and looked up and down the corridor they were in.
There wasn’t any real reason for him to stay any longer. Given that she’d been hesitant to let him up in the first place, she should just let him be on his way, but she didn’t want him to leave. “Want the penny tour?”
He smiled with his eyes more than his mouth and that made him even more adorable than she could take at the moment. “Sure.”
“You saw the bathroom. This is my bedroom.” She widened the door and he peered in. Beside the bed, a few small watercolor canvases decorated the walls.
She leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms. “It’s not a portal to another dimension. You can step inside.”
“I’m good.” He adjusted his glasses by the rim as he scanned the room. The pale pink tufted headboard leaned against the cream-colored walls. Her bedroom always offered her a secondary sanctuary in her apartment. Perhaps Tommy would toss her against the gang of pillows on her white duvet any minute.
“It’s cute.”
You’re cute. “Thanks.”
“These are spectacular,” he said.
Photographs of her with her family and friends, as well as other stills her mother had taken, many of Nyah, surrounded her with love. Another of her and Gladys after they’d performed and a selfie of her and Trinket at Rebel when they’d first met.
“My mother took many of them. Some I took. The pictures in color are professional ones from my classical performances. I like having photos of the people I love around. The rest sort of document my life. Why have them on a gallery on a website when I can reminisce while I have breakfast or create music.”
“And your Queen Roe images?” he asked.
“I keep those on my computer or on her website.”
“Too bad you can’t display them with all the rest. I bet some of them are phenomenal.”
“They are. I project them on the TV on flip mode when I’m alone or Trinket comes through. They get seen.” She might hide her DJ life from others but she gave it the respect it was due.
“I vaguely remember your mom talking about photography at Pete’s party, all those years ago.” He continued evaluating her space. “I had a different focus.”
“Same focus if you ask me.” His ambition had always been a staple of his personality. All these years later, with all his success, she only saw his ambitions had grown.
“You gonna take this moment to bust my balls?”
“Not ball busting.” She held up her hands in surrender. “Just stating the obvious. Follow me, sir.” She took two whole steps behind a small partition. “Here’s where mama makes her magic.”
He stepped before her, zeroing in on her instruments. “You play all these?”
“Some better than others, but yeah.”
He touched the end of the keyboard before his hand floated reverently to the bocal of the bassoon. He craned his neck to look at her. “Bassoon, right?”
“You are correct.”
His body followed his head and he faced her. “Interesting instrument.”
“Woodwinds have their own technique but BB-Bae here—”
“BB-Bae?”
He might think her naming convention ridiculous but these were her babies. “I name them all based on the first letter.
“KK-Bae for the keyboard?”
“Yes. Exactly.” His response delighted her more than it should.
He squinted toward the ceiling. “Well if BB-Bae is for the bassoon then what do you call your bass?”
Excitement puffed her chest. “I’m so glad you asked. My bass is my first love. She chose me. I call her Big D.”
His laughter resonated in her extremities and she hugged herself. “Big D, huh?” He licked his lower lip and his thumb swept over it.
She must have been horny as all get out because his level of sexy increased with every move he made. “Like I was saying about woodwinds, a lot of the work is from the breathing and...” She pulled out the reed and “M’d” it into position. She blew puffs of air between the double strips of bamboo, and a loud, high-pitched noise sounded. “As well as blowing and tonguing.” She regretted the words as soon as they fully left her mouth.
His humor ceased and his eyes dropped to her mouth. The ventilation from her off the shoulder shirt did little to cool her blazing body. Her last romp had been with a barista from her neighborhood coffee shop that she’d dated for two whole weeks, eight months ago. They’d parted ways when she could barely grab a cup of coffee with her schedule. Shortly after she invested in high-end mechanics to satisfy her urges. She did, however, miss a warm body in her bed.
Tommy’s warm brown eyes shined. “You’re exceptional.”
She felt naked—not in a someone-just-pulled-the-shower-curtain-back kind of way, but free and holistically authentic. The way his gaze landed on her made her feel both valued and seen by him in a way that completely freaked her out and exalted her at the same time. Her heart pounded so hard and fast in her chest, he had to hear it or feel its vibration. Her neck muscles strained when she swallowed and no response came. How was she supposed to respond? She tried to clear her throat and it sounded like she had a sputtering pipe that needed work. “I try.”
He glided toward her in what felt like slow motion and lightly touched her chin. “You are, Nyah.”
“Thank you.” She couldn’t release her eyes from his. She thought they were his best feature, in addition to his lips, his hair, his style, his... He had a military bed type ass she longed to bounce a coin off of. She craved his lips for one kiss, maybe more, but when he dropped his hand and broke their connection, her hopes were obliterated.
“I should get going.” He walked toward the door before she had a chance to catch her breath.
“Hey, hold up.” She shook out of her trance. “Before you go, can I ask you something about tonight?”
“Shoot.”
“Did something happen with you and Mike tonight? It looked like you two were, well...had a disagreement.”
His tongue rested on his top lip for a few seconds as if mocking her. “We did.”
She waited. “Would you like me to write you a letter and wait for a reply or...”
He scratched his eyebrow with his thumb. “We had a conversation about respect.”
“Not cryptic at all.” She frowned. “Was it something to do with me?”
His silence affirmed her suspicion. “I just needed to clarify for Mike what is and isn’t appropriate. It’s squashed. No hard feelings.”
“Oh. Okay,” she whispered.
He opened the door and spoke to her from the other side of the threshold. “Think about his offer.”
She shifted her weight. A plea for him to stay sat in the center of her chest.
“We should hear from Artistique soon.”
Right. Her reason for living. “Great.”
“I, uh, I’d like to put some things on your calendar. Like when I’m out of the country and when I’m back in New York.”
“Why?”
“Sometimes it’s good for you to know so we can be in sync and if you need me what the time zone difference is or when we can meet up.”
“Oh.” She thought about it. “I guess it’s cool. Just don’t fuck up my shit.” She smiled.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He walked to the door. “We’ll be in touch. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” She closed the door and leaned her back against it, wondering which of them would cave first.
* * *
Tommy gave his reservation to the hostess at Up Thai on the Upper East Side to meet Luke and Leona for dinner. It had been a week since he’d been in New York and a few weeks since he’d seen his friends. At that time he’d been sulking over his Sunburst rejection.
He felt someone squeeze his traps from behind and then slap his back, and immediately recognized Luke’s signature greeting. Tommy turned to his client and friend. “It’s about time your ass got here. I’ve been waiting for almost half an hour.” Tommy slapped hands with Luke and gave him a pat.
Luke frowned. “Really?”
“Nah, I’m messing with you. I just got here,” Tommy jested.
Luke twisted the dark patch of hair just below his lower lip. “I see the type of night we’re going to have.”
“You’re looking oh so fresh. I like those kicks.” Tommy pointed to Luke’s light gray sneakers with white soles.
“My lady likes it.” Luke popped the collar on his jean jacket and pulled the dark gray hoodie off his head.
“Speaking of... Where’s Leo?” Tommy searched the distance behind his friend.
Luke jutted his thumb behind him. “She’s finishing up a call, she’ll be right in.”
What a difference a year made. Back then, Tommy had been the one keeping the lines of communication open because Luke and Leona had a tumultuous start to their manager-client relationship. Now Luke and Leona were as solid a couple as they came. Luke had moved to New York to be closer to her, even though he kept his San Francisco home, and they spent time touring for his performances. As his manager, Leona still did the best for Luke’s career.
“I heard this place is supposed to be pretty decent. How’re your folks? You stayed with them the last time you were in New York, right?” Luke asked.
“Yeah, they’re doing great. I’m going to try to make it a habit to stop up there when I come into town. Sometimes it’s hard to do but it’s worth the effort.”
“Cool.”
The doors to the restaurant opened and Leona Sable walked in.
“Hey, Tommy.” Leona embraced him. The side ponytail, a departure from her normal tight and high bun, rested on her shoulder and cushioned his chin when they hugged. She held him at arm’s length and gave him a once-over as if she checked his health. Satisfied, she let him go.
“You look lovely, Leo.”
“Thank you.” She grinned.
Luke reached for his girlfriend’s hand, drew her into his arm, and kissed her temple. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Leona said. “I just had to confirm your call time for the spotlight you’re doing for Maxim because I heard three different times, so I went up the chain to get a solid confirmation. It’s all good.”
Tommy fanned his nose. “Where are you guys coming from? You smell like booze.”
“We just came from having drinks with Izzy. She would have totally come, but she has a work dinner. She says hi.”
The mention of Isabelle Fisher caused a less visceral reaction than Tommy expected and a mental image of Nyah staring at him with those lustful eyes the night before might have had something to do with his tempered response. “How’s she doing?”
“She’s good. You guys should meet up while you’re in town. I know you’re busy, but try. Okay?” Leona urged.
His and Izzy’s passing fling started out as casual as all his other interludes. It had long been over but that hadn’t stopped Leona from trying to cultivate a more substantial friendship between them. Tommy wasn’t sure that was what he wanted. He’d seen little of Izzy since their tussle between the sheets. He wasn’t mad about the way things ended between them. He’d had an inkling that he was short-term fun for Izzy, but the rejection when he suggested he wanted something more still stung, no matter how dull the point had been waxed over.
He informed the hostess that their party had all arrived. They were seated immediately at a corner table. “I’m hungry as hell, so let’s just get all the curries,” Tommy said.
“Your eyes are bigger than your stomach,” Leona chided. “Let’s share some dumplings before you and Luke devour the actual menu.”
“Me?” Luke shrugged. “I didn’t even say anything.”
“You nodded.” Leo knew them both well, which is why Tommy didn’t complain about her accusation.
“She gets me beyond words,” Luke teased as he shook out of his jean jacket.
“What’s been going on, Tommy?” Leona asked. “You’ve been here more often.”
“I have a new client,” Tommy announced.
“Oooh. Tell us more.” Leona leaned in, her eyes gleaming with interest.
“She has a lot of potential but she’s convinced that she doesn’t need or want an agent or manager.” Tommy continued, “I did convince her that she should at least have one. I’m going to do both for her because she has a lot on her plate.”
“Like what?” Luke twisted to hang his jacket on his chair.
“She’s managing too many projects and needs a better strategy to keep things low-key.” Tommy wasn’t sure how much he should say because Nyah didn’t want anyone to know that she was Pete Monroe’s daughter and Queen Roe the DJ. He could trust Leona and Luke but for now he’d hold on to that information.
“Keeping things low-key?” Luke crooked an eyebrow.
“Yeah, she wants to DJ but she’s too good to do the run of the mill wedding, prom or anniversary. She’s from the underground,” Tommy added.
“Hmm...” Leona eyed him like she gathered evidence.
“So, I’ll be representing her and managing her as best as I can until I can get her to even agree to a meeting with Wallace Entertainment.”
Luke and Leona exchanged glances at his last statement.
“Let me get this straight.” Leo tapped her chin. “You found a super-talented artist you want to develop but she wants to stay, well, fairly unknown but known enough to have a career as a dance music DJ. She doesn’t want to be represented by an agent or a manager but you convinced her you’d do both.”
“When you say it like that it sounds unwise but it’s not.” Tommy tried to defend himself but among his two friends he didn’t stand a chance. He’d taken on a situation that in the past he’d have sprinted from. He’d worked his ass off to cruise in his wheelhouse, now he’d have to roll up his sleeves to have any chance of getting Nyah to Sunburst.
Leona and Luke again shared voiceless thoughts.
“Have you asked her why she doesn’t want stardom?” Luke asked at length.
From Nyah’s father’s notoriety, to her wanting enough time for her classical career, Tommy had his assumptions about why she shied away from stardom, but that’s all they were. “No.”
“Maybe you should.” Leona straightened her already straight flatware that was rolled in a napkin on the right side of her place setting. “So what’s her name?”
“What?” Tommy asked.
“The girl that’s got you doing all these things that are totally not you.”
“What do you mean?” Tommy pretended he didn’t know what his friends were talking about and feigned confusion.
A waiter interrupted them briefly to pour water into their water glasses.
“Boombox. You couldn’t wait to hand over managerial responsibilities to Leona when she came on,” Luke said, reminding him about
his shortcomings as a manager.
“Also, you’re a star-maker. You see talent and you can’t help yourself. You have to develop it. When you see the artist’s potential, you’re really good at charting a path for them. You’ve got a golden touch. You, talking yourself into one, managing and two, downplaying someone’s talent are just not you. You’d only do that for someone you had feelings for. Someone special.” Leo gave him her best dazzling smile. “We just want to know who she is. Right, babe?” She deferred to Luke.
“What she said.” Luke pointed at Leona.
“Smartass.” Tommy shook his head. He longed to share more with his friends but even without Nyah here, he needed to earn her trust.
The hostess came by and Luke ordered a bottle of red for the table. Given that Luke owned a vineyard in California with his sister, the wine selections naturally reverted to him, even though Tommy had a set of wine skills, too. They each ordered a specialty drink for their pork and vegetable dumplings.
“What are you drinking, baby?” Luke asked Leo.
“I’ll have the lychee martini, please,” Leona ordered. “Tommy?”
“Thai Old Fashioned,” he said.
“And the lemongrass, lime, and Thai basil mojito, for me. You can bring the wine with our dinner,” Luke instructed.
“Got it.” The waitress scribbled on her notepad. “I’ll bring that right out.”
“You know, the short ribs are supposed be really good here. I’ve also read in the reviews that their specials are phenomenal.” Tommy rattled on in the hopes that his friends would forget about their previous line of questioning.
“Nice try.” Luke guzzled his water.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, Tommy,” Leona comforted him.
“No it’s not,” Luke complained. “I want to know who has you so whipped that you’re making all these exceptions for.”
“First of all, she doesn’t have me whipped.” Tommy stopped abruptly when the waitress returned with their drinks and appetizers. He dove into the row of dumplings and Luke smacked his hand.
