In Harmony

by JN Welsh

  “We agreed that I could present a gig to you that in my professional experience might be a good opportunity. Oh Ship is not a large event, per se.”

  She gave him a quick up and down. “That’s where we disagree.”

  “You can only hold so many people on a ship and it’s not a festival-sized event by any means, even if it has a festival feel.”

  “Throw in some more glow sticks at Rebel and we got ourselves a festival feel,” she said with hands on hips.

  “It’s a great appearance that pays very well. You’ll also have some networking opportunities.”

  “With people who will want me to do bigger events. I’m not a novice, Tommy.”

  “So what’s the problem, here?” he asked.

  She threw out a random response. “I have to play the philharmonic.”

  “We’ll have you back in plenty of time for your performances. My research on that has already been done.”

  She scowled at him.

  “I assumed you’d have questions,” he said.

  She liked having things in their neat compartments and Oh Ship sounded like it wanted to test those boundaries. Wasn’t this what she needed Tommy for, in addition to Artistique? “I don’t know, Tommy. That’s not really my thing.”

  “Nyah, if you wanted to just play music you can easily do that behind closed doors or do house parties. No offense, Trinket, you’re a special case.”

  Trinket deadpanned, no doubt wondering how she even became part of their conversation. “Uh...none taken?”

  Tommy continued, “You could be a hobbyist but you want to perform...need to perform to an audience. It doesn’t have to be a main stage at a gigantic festival, which is why I’m proposing something like this.”

  She tossed a few more cups into the trash. She must be an open book, because his words were true. Whether she performed with the orchestra or on the Rebel stage she needed an audience. Just because she didn’t want the big stages didn’t mean that she couldn’t say yes to some of the other invitations. There had been a time when she’d wanted all that and to be challenged to new levels in her DJ career. Now she worried that one wrong move could catapult her career into the vortex of viral sensations, and the next big dance music DJ, gracing all the magazines. She wanted success, loved to be successful, but if things got out of hand and her identity found out, then people could show up to her orchestra performances and ruin things for her. She didn’t want that. She wanted both and would do whatever she needed to have both and keep each of her identities safe. “I’ll think about it. No promises, though. It’s my choice.”

  “And your choice alone. I appreciate you taking the time to consider it.” A slight bite nipped on the heel of his words. Surely she wasn’t the only one who challenged him to think a bit more outside the box. She still had control over where and when she played, no matter what Tommy’s title was, per their signed agreement, or how charming he was. This was her career and she’d fight tooth and nail to keep control. She needed to get her head out of her pussy and remember that.

  “I’m into the teamwork you guys got going on,” Oscar sang like a kid who’d opened the door on his friends during Seven Seconds in Heaven as he moved furniture back into place.

  “Fuck off, Oz,” Tommy threw at his cousin.

  “You kiss Tia Judy with that mouth?” Oscar returned.

  Tommy fanned him off and they finished cleaning up for Trinket.

  Trinket’s doorbell rang. “Pizza’s here!” She rushed over to open the door and grabbed two pie boxes from the delivery woman.

  “Allow me.” Tommy pulled out his wallet and a few bills.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Trinket said as she put the boxes on the table. The scent of hot pizza in cardboard flaunted through the living area.

  “It’s the least I can do.” Tommy gave the bills to the delivery woman. “Thank you,” they both said at the same time before he closed the door.

  “I appreciate it, Tommy.” Trinket smiled.

  “I was wondering if you were going to feed us this time,” Nyah said. “I would have been fine with it if you didn’t, but you know.”

  “Pizza is always a crowd pleaser at this time of night,” Trinket said, organizing the pizza boxes close by. “Dig in, guys.”

  They plopped on the couch and chairs in her dance floor returned to living room and shared late-night pizza and beer.

  “Mmm.” Nyah’s mouth found the tip of the slice and she took a bite that was more appropriate for private consumption. With a mouthful of hot melted cheese, and herby sauce that nearly burnt the shit out her tongue, she said, “So good.”

  Oscar and Trinket both went silent as they devoured their own slices.

  “Have some, Tommy,” Trinket encouraged.

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Pizza too good for your refined palate or what?” Nyah teased.

  “No, I’m lactose intolerant.”

  “Whaaaaahhht?” Nyah said mid-chew.

  “It’s true,” Oscar chimed in. “Growing up being lactose intolerant was brutal on him because it didn’t stop him from having mad dairy.”

  The color splotched the tops of Tommy’s cheeks and he avoided her eyes. “I think you can spare the ladies the details, cuz.”

  “Was it a...shit show?” Nyah winked at him. Both Oscar and Trinket snickered.

  “You’re funny,” Tommy tossed at her.

  “Oh man. I’m sorry, Tommy. Had I known I would have ordered something without cheese,” Trinket said.

  “And punish us all? Nah, he’s all right,” Oscar said.

  Tommy threw a used cup at Oscar. “It’s okay. You didn’t even know I was coming.”

  “I can make you something. I’m sure Trinket has some ingredients you can have,” Nyah offered.

  “I’m okay. Really. I had dinner with a client earlier. I’ll take a beer, though.”

  Nyah tossed him a cold beer from a cooler that still had a few bottles inside. Tommy grabbed it midair. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Nyah made space on the couch next to her. She wanted him to feel welcomed. “Wanna sit?”

  “You guys want to hear anything special?” Trinket asked. With pizza-filled cheeks, Nyah and Oscar held down the cricket crew.

  “‘Queen Tings’,” Tommy requested, his eyes never leaving Nyah.

  Nyah’s head whipped to Tommy and she caught the pizza slipping from her hands just in time.

  “The Masego track?” Trinket asked.

  “The very one.” Tommy smiled.

  “Smooth,” Nyah heard Oscar say under his breath.

  “You got it.” Trinket beamed and Nyah worried her friend’s face might fossilize with that brimming smile.

  As the groovy track oozed through the speakers, Nyah swayed to the music. The sound and lyrics penetrated and inspired her to her core. She sang the words of the song Tommy had chosen for her through constricted lungs. His musical request shifted something in her. He kept her guessing about who he was and her ideas about what he really wanted.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tommy wanted to solidify Nyah’s attendance at Oh Ship! On top of that he had to somehow keep Herman engaged on a Sunburst spot without confirming anything. No small feat when he had to travel and work on closing deals for his other clients. His talent was in high demand and booked out through the next year. That didn’t stop them from getting endorsement deals and collaborating with their publicists on magazine spreads and interviews.

  The white space with deep orange posts brightened the office even with the setting sun. He wished he could be thankful for the little time he had to twiddle his thumbs, but the memory of Nyah against him scorched his body like the tattoo on his upper back and arms. His tank of willpower ran extremely low. Had he even another day in New York, he’d have found any excuse, a lost cuff
link he didn’t wear, the watch he’d left in her bathroom, anything to find his way back to her apartment. He’d be back in New York next week with Yaz and already counted the days.

  His team gathered casually around a circular conference table that shared a space with Tommy’s glass desk. The nutty aroma of MCO roasted coffee and the yeasty fragrance of baked bread and butter-rich pastries welcomed him back.

  “Nice.” Tommy pointed to the matcha latte, his favorite, placed in front of the empty seat at the table.

  Patrick Beckham, his lawyer, pointed to Yasmin.

  “You’re coming to the meeting, hot off the plane. I thought this would be a treat for you.” Yasmin tucked her large dark curls behind her ear.

  “Thanks, Yaz,” Tommy said as he shook Patrick’s hand. “Patty, still formal as usual.”

  “Someone has to be.” His friend smiled and gave Tommy’s jacket-less, tucked in white shirt and his charcoal and gray slacks a thorough appraisal. “You’re slipping. You could have at least worn a vest. Get it together, man.”

  “You wish.” Tommy chuckled and looked over the dark rim of his glasses at Patrick’s full vintage Glasgow brown tweed suit.

  “Break it up, kids.” Remy Keyes stood up and hugged him. His accountant’s low-cut curly hair was a few shades darker than her skin, and the ends were copper-dusted. “It’s good to see you, Tommy.”

  “You too, Remy. How’s Cam?”

  “She’s doing well, thank you.” Remy spoke of her wife of five years. Tommy had been friends with Remy since high school and when his business as an agent grew, he’d only trusted one person to work with him. Since then, Remy had been a trusted member on his growing team.

  “I hope you’ve got all good news for me.” He released her.

  They all looked at each other.

  Tommy froze and wondered what turn he expected his day to take once Yaz caught him up.

  “I told you he hasn’t seen it,” Remy said.

  “Seen what?” he asked.

  “Clyde has another artist at Sunburst,” Yaz said through a sour face.

  “Another one?” Tommy’s voice boomed. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

  “Well, the good news is our clients are doing great. Clyde is in his wheelhouse with scouting talent. You haven’t scouted like that in while,” Patrick offered.

  “Why the hell do you think I’m traveling to New York so often?” he snapped.

  The room went quiet and Yaz chewed her lip.

  “Shit. Sorry. I’m just...a bit frustrated.” He huffed out a force of air. How the fuck did Clyde keep beating him in this area? Tommy rubbed his face. He was working on getting Queen Roe to perform but maybe he wasn’t aggressive enough. Instead of spending time requesting songs for her, he should focus on doing his fucking job.

  “How can we help?” Remy asked.

  “I’m working on it but keep your ear to the ground. Thanks for telling me.”

  Yaz arched a brow.

  “No, really. I know I’m...passionate about the news, but shit like this just reminds me to stay focused. What else is going on?” Tommy wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  “Last note on Sunburst, some invitations came for you, more specifically from Herman for their honoree ceremony.”

  “Cool. I’ll check it out eventually. But if it fits my schedule go ahead and RSVP. You can even be my plus one.”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  “Thanks, Yaz.”

  Tommy settled into his seat and Patrick slid a few papers his way. “This is just an update on where all the contracts are in the process and what’s coming down the line. Yaz has been on top of it even with her new client.” Patrick, an audience of one, applauded in Yaz’s direction.

  “You really have been able to find a nice balance between your job here, holding down the fort while I’m traveling, and handling your first client. Great work,” he said to Yaz, who beamed.

  “It hasn’t all been crisp pickles. I knew there’d be stumbling blocks along the way, but I’m getting to know my client. I think we’ve found some unique opportunities. I can’t wait to go to New York next week.”

  “It’ll be our first meeting at Wallace Entertainment.” Tommy sipped on his iced latte and the leafy vegetal flavoring, the creaminess of oat milk, and a slight sweetness brightened his taste buds.

  “So while I’m here I’ll be in LA and Vegas, I’m also scaling back on the international travel until later in the summer unless I’m on the Oh Ship cruise with Queen Roe.”

  “How’s it going with Queen Roe, anyway?”

  “Slow,” Tommy said. The statement was loaded in all sorts of ways, but the news about Clyde bugged the shit out of him.

  “Are you sure she is who you should be pursuing? You’re a talent hound dog, Tommy, but it kinda sounds like you might be putting all your eggs into one basket,” Remy said.

  He hated to admit that Remy had a point. “My gut tells me she’s worth it.”

  “Then we have your back,” Patrick said.

  Tommy half smiled but his mood had shifted. “Let’s cover the rest of the agenda and call it.”

  They adjourned and Tommy slipped behind his desk to start tackling his inbox. His confidence in his skill wavered. Maybe he’d overshot with this goal to get Queen Roe to Sunburst. He sat up in his chair. “You gonna let one artist denounce a career of success?” Fuck that. He had the skills to court any artist and Queen Roe was not different. He had to devise a new strategy.

  As he scrolled through his emails, his eyes stopped on an email from Izzy. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he sighed. Isabelle Fisher was the last person he needed to hear from and made another ding in a dud of a day. The message contained a brief sentence, asking him how he’d been doing. She then cut to the chase and inquired about garnering an audience with Candy and Velvet from Bedazzled Beats before ending her message with a closing full of Xs and Os.

  That’s how they’d started out. Working on booking together. At that time it was to get Luke for her magazine. Their attraction shot off the charts, and their banter was lively and flirtatious. He had wanted to pursue something long-term with her until she made it clear that she was a Boy Toy Huntress and enjoyed her life just as it was. Even as the thought crossed his mind, he recalled that Nyah also had no desire for commitment.

  They had history, however brief, but the signs were there. His pulse racing when he was next to her, his interest in learning about endless layers. He’d love to take Leona’s advice because despite the warnings, he was falling for Nyah and fast. Problem was they didn’t want the same things. Most of the women he’d casually dated hadn’t been shy about what they wanted from him. Sex, access, and advancement. Over time, he’d actually been able to spot them from a mile away and they had indulged themselves for the short ride. After Izzy, he decided that he was tired of tether-less romps, and ready to find something real.

  Nyah gave him a glimpse of a future together and he wanted to chase that vision all the way home. He wanted what his Aunt Carmen had groomed him for and what he longed to be to someone. If he let his feelings for Nyah get away from him...

  He cut the thought off. When his aunt had died, the loss was devastating. He hoped he’d never lose someone he loved again, but life didn’t work that way. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head. Confusion over what he wanted and respecting her boundaries had him both clearing everything in his path to chase her and throwing up walls against her powerful allure. He was hot and cold, and sending a mixed tape of messages.

  Nyah.

  That evening, Tommy’s empty loft-like apartment greeted him with the blue evening skyline of downtown LA. He didn’t need artwork for half his apartment, given the aerial views offered by the floor to ceiling windows. Thankfully, his cleaning service came twice a month or his green palms would be brown and dying of
thirst. He rolled his luggage and left it by the couch. On his way to his bedroom, he rounded the island into the kitchen to fill a kettle with some water.

  He took a quick shower to wash off his travel. Tomorrow he’d head to Vegas. He liked to show up regularly at his clients’ performances, even with their manager present, to witness firsthand how things were going. Reminding organizers and handlers who represented his artists had its benefits. Despite his travel to New York, he had other clients who needed him and he wanted to make sure he continued to do his best for them.

  Exhausted from the fight, his flight, and a day of work, he called to his home pod. “Play Giovanni Bottesini Double Bass Concerto no. 2 in B Minor.” The voice confirmed his selection and the music began to play. As the deep sound of the double bass filled his loft, the image of Nyah onstage almost materialized before him. He inhaled his lungs to capacity as if it was the first time he’d breathed since leaving New York. She would have finished her philharmonic performance by now and might be out with her friends or at home making music. He imagined her in the queen-sized bed he’d seen that night in her apartment and him in it with her. His erection poked against his boxers and, without waiting for him, grew through the front slit, exposed and shiny with precum. “Nyah,” he sighed. “Look what you do to me.”

  Stroking his girth and length until he jerked himself to satisfaction, he envisioned her small breasts in his palms, his mouth kissing the soft skin of her inner thigh, her long legs wrapped around him as he filled her. His imagination couldn’t settle on a position, because she’d be lovely in any one. His mind’s eye zoomed in on the beads of sweat on her neck, he heard her pant his name in Dolby surround sound and he exploded in his hand at that thought. Could he have her and, if yes, at what cost?

  He needed to hear her voice and called New York. She played the hall tonight and should be home. Perhaps if she relaxed enough she’d see the Oh Ship was a great opportunity.

  “I can’t talk right now,” Nyah said.