by JN Welsh
“I have to start packing, too, since we fly back when we dock at Cape May,” she rattled off. “Maybe I can get in another hour or two of practice later, since I feel really good about my set this afternoon. When I get back to New York I’ll have to jump right into rehearsals. I want to play well for Martin.”
He didn’t know whether or not the last bit of information had been for him or part of a list she needed to remind herself about. “Take it one performance at a time. You’re far away from New York and the demands on you there. You practiced already. Go eat and enjoy the brunch. Put classical you to bed for a few hours.”
She sniffed in air and blew it all out. “I know. I’m good.”
“If it’s any consolation, you look nothing like Nyah,” he teased.
That inspired the same laugh from her that he needed to tempt from her more and more often.
“Let me walk you to the elevator.”
“Don’t you have to get to your meetings?”
“It’s on my way,” he lied.
“You act like I don’t know the layout of the ship, sir.” She nudged his arm with hers as they walked, causing him to sidestep.
The guests were active and already filling up the various pools and buffet lines, and music came from everywhere. “Are we going to talk about last night or keep pretending that that shit didn’t go down?” She shot straight to the point, and though he liked it, he didn’t know what to say about last night.
He encouraged his feet to keep moving forward. “It definitely went down.” He licked the corner of his mouth, remembering every detail of how she made him feel. “You have the brunch and then you have your show at three. Talk later?” They arrived at the elevator and he pressed the down arrow on the panel. Part of him thanked all the gods when the doors opened immediately, the other part wanted to slip inside the steel box with her and make her “sex messy” again.
“Sure.” Her simple response as she stepped inside the elevator gutted him. If she thought he was avoiding the conversation, she was right. The dynamic conflict of emotions within him wasn’t helping him open up about their incredible night and what that meant for their future, professionally or otherwise.
He kept the door pressed open with his body and tapped her chin. “I’ll meet you at the pool deck. I’ll be there, checking to make sure that everything is set up for you and that there aren’t any problems. Even if you don’t see me, I’m there, okay?” He needed his words to make her feel protected and cared for, because his actions were failing. “I have to go.”
“Yeah, get outta here,” she said as nonchalantly as possible.
“Good luck, Queen.” He held her by the shoulders, the simple touch magnetizing them where they connected. She offered her lips, but he kissed her on the forehead instead and she stiffened before easing out of his hold.
“Thanks.”
He focused on why they were here. To get her to perform and build up her muscle for performing to larger audiences that would hopefully end with her in the lineup for Sunburst. Anything else would lead to inevitable pain for him when she’d decide their bedroom fun was over. He needed her more than she needed him.
He hurried away while she stayed planted where she stood. “See you in a few,” he said just as the doors closed. Tommy left to go have his meeting with Herman.
* * *
Tommy shook Herman’s hand. “Still avoiding me?” Herman tapped his watch to reveal the time. “You’re late.”
“I wasn’t avoiding you. I didn’t know you were on the ship or I would have scheduled something with you.” Tommy settled in a seat across from Herman. “I had to check things out for my artist before showtime.”
“I’ll buy it. I’ll come back around to that,” Herman said. “It’s good to see you, man.”
“You too. I see you cut some off the top,” Tommy teased his balding friend, and Herman gave him the finger.
A waitress came by with a beer and set it down in front of Herman.
“I’ll take one of those and water, please,” Tommy said to the waitress, then returned his attention to Herman. “What are you doing on the ship anyway? You’re a festival organizer and your event is ramping up.”
“I came to check out some of the talent in Rize’s crew. So far, I’m not terribly impressed but there’s still some potential among them. Rize is definitely in. His set was savage. Did you catch any of it?” Herman asked and then took a long swig of his beer.
“A little bit.” Tommy had been with some industry folks when he’d heard the last half hour of Rize’s set the night before. He’d found Nyah afterward, and the rest unfolded in the most amazing dream he’d ever had in real life.
“Tommy?” Herman called.
“Yeah?”
Herman scoffed. “I asked what you thought of it.”
“Rize was clutch.” Tommy swallowed cottonmouth and wished for that beer. “You’re right to be interested in him for Sunburst.”
“The new organizers are really pushing into the creative aspect with a heavy hand. I’m going to need you to get an artist there this year. I don’t know what the festival will look like next year.”
“I can’t believe you’re giving it up.”
“It’s an eight-figure payday, my friend. Plus, it’s time. I’m trying to get my hand in something else that I can build from the ground up.” Herman wiped the moisture from his beer glass on his blue and white checkered shorts.
Tommy leaned back against the seat rest and evaluated Herman’s features. His friend’s color was a few shades lighter than Nyah’s after a bout in the sun. There she goes again. Tommy knew how fucked he was when Nyah came up as he looked at Herman’s mug. “I’m interested. Tell me more.”
“Cool your speedos, dude. It’s in incubation, but I’m trying to create a new experience. These festivals have everything now. I’m trying to get it back to the music but in new ways. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
Knowing Herman, he already had a good idea about what that looked like and Tommy wanted in. “You better. I’m down to see what genius you create this time.”
“No doubt.” Herman nodded. “From what I’ve heard you’re here with a new client.”
“Queen Roe.”
Herman’s hand palmed over his low-cut fade. “She’s got a small following here on the ship and you’ve been setting the grapevine on fire.”
“It’s my job.” Tommy’s beer arrived and not a second too soon. He took a healthy drink of the cool fizzing drink, the slight hint of orange coming through the vibrant hops.
“You’re talking to me, Tommy.” Herman sipped his beer, the slight foam sticking to his mustache before he wiped it clean. “This Queen Roe any good?”
“Haven’t you checked her out online? You used to be more thorough, man.”
Herman returned a Fuck you. I’m still the shit glare. “I don’t have time for this YouTube shit. That’s why I hire the talented to do that part. I can’t get a real sense of someone from watching them online. It’s decent, but I want to be there and feel the vibe. We’ve been burnt when that excitement didn’t translate in person. Another small fact, I didn’t know you were going to be here. You normally make a bigger splash when you announce a new client. What gives?”
“She’s different. I’m managing her, too. We’re just putting some feelers out.” Tommy had spent most of his time on the ship campaigning for Queen Roe to get an interested showing at her performance. He knew he walked a spider-web-thin line between his ambition for her and what she wanted.
Herman slapped his knee. “You? Not possible. How long are you going do that for? You’re too hungry for this snail’s pace shit. Tell me the real story.”
“What? I work for my client, not the other way around.” A chunk of Tommy’s ego liked having Herman out of ‘the know’. That’s how his friend made him feel every time he rejected his cl
ients for his festival.
“Boombox. Cut the shit.”
Herman had him pegged from the moment he’d sat down with him, but Tommy had already decided that he’d let Queen Roe’s performance do the rest. As the clock neared time for her to perform, his nerves for her grew.
“No shit to cut, man. She’s talented and has a lot of potential. Bottom line.”
“So what? There are a lot of talented people with potential. If you’re vouching for her, I want to know her superpower. Reveal.”
“Her set is getting ready to start. I’ve got to go.” Tommy dodged Herman’s inquiry like it was a right hook to his face.
“If you think you’re leaving me here, you’re kiddin’ yourself, dude. I want to see her in action.”
Hooked. Line and sinker. “Sure, man, let’s go.”
“Does she know who I am?” Herman asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“Well, don’t tell her. The last thing I need is some newbie slobbering all over me for a spot at the festival.”
Tommy scoffed at Herman’s ego, even though Tommy had witnessed the slobber fest firsthand. “Not a problem.”
As Tommy walked to the pool deck with Herman, their party grew as both he and Herman were well-known and used their strides to catch up and jot notes and dates on a calendar. Even with a whole day on a ship, networking never ceased.
Tommy made his way to the stage to find Nyah handing her laptop over to the techie. The light hood connected to her tee shirt draped over her Afro puffs and her makeup was bright yet fierce for the occasion. She followed the techie up onstage and hovered over him like a helicopter mom. At first, he thought their interaction might be on the hostile side of things as she communicated with the nodding young man. She tested her equipment and then gave him the thumbs up. They slapped high fives and Tommy immediately felt left out. He should have been here already, encouraging her and being the go-between for her and any possible problems. He’d been doing great agenting for her, but a piss poor job managing at the moment.
She ran down the steps and Tommy hurried toward her.
“Hey, everything all right?” he asked.
“Yeah. Why?” Her shoulder dripped with icicles as she surveyed everyone around them. If her response was any more dismissive, he’d have been communicating with the back of her head.
“I saw you with the tech guy and wondered if something—”
“I got it. I’m used to handling my performance details.” Her statement stung the shit out of him. One thing he knew from his upbringing and from the women he’d been with was that whatever bugged her, he’d caused it. He should have wrapped things up with Herman sooner and been here for her.
Their entourage chatted with other popular DJs scheduled to play on the ship and gathered in the VIP area. Herman had caught up to him. “You must be Queen Roe.” He introduced himself.
Nyah eyes slid from Tommy to the man and back again. “Queen, this is Herman Elliot.”
She shook Herman’s hand, and smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
“You’re a tall drink of water, aren’t you?” Herman stated more than asked.
“Why? Are you thirsty?” she teased back.
“Gorgeous and witty.”
“Excuse me?” She glared down at Herman.
Nyah was already tight. The last thing Tommy wanted was for her to take it out on friendly and unsuspecting Herman.
“Forgive me. It’s just that online I didn’t realize you had so much height. This your first Oh Ship?” Herman asked.
“Yeah.”
“Nervous?”
She pinched her thumb and index finger together. “I think a few nerves are good.”
“I like that,” Herman said just as someone called him over. “Knock ’em dead, Queen.”
“Thanks.”
In a few minutes, Herman had done everything that Tommy himself should have done for Nyah.
“Have a good sh—” was all he got a chance to offer before the MC interrupted him. If Tommy pushed in to wish her luck, he’d likely annoy her further and she needed to focus on her performance. He did the only thing he could do, yelled the loudest when the MC announced Queen Roe, to make sure she heard every cheer.
Chapter Eighteen
I’m about to body this set. Nyah drew her energy from the crowd who looked to her to dazzle them. They whistled in anticipation of her first sounds. Her nerves tingled with excitement of what she hoped would be a great show.
She moved her fader and when static and feedback blared from the speakers, Nyah froze. The audience closest to her got it the worst and their hands flew to their ears accompanied by massive growls. She hastily started to fiddle with the wire, making it worse. “Fuck!” She’d just gone over this with the techie. She cut the beat and the crowd groaned. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed. In the past, this would be the moment where she’d fall into herself and focus on the mechanics of deejaying and then fail. She clapped her hands overhead and encouraged the fans to do the same. When they joined in she held tight to the fact that they hadn’t yet completely given up on her. She unplugged all the wires and redid the hookup herself and tested it.
She had something to prove every time she got up onstage. She wanted to demonstrate to the shamed version of the Nyah living inside her, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth in humiliation, that Queen Roe had her back, front, sides, tops and bottoms. Nyah’s alter ego put her arms around her and promised to never let either of them get booed away from the stage ever again.
She sweated under the sun and adjusted the tee shirt that hung loosely where her butt cheeks and thighs met. The fishnet stockings she wore added more edge to her outfit while keeping her cool, and her knee-high black and white Converse sneakers would provide the comfort she needed. She stretched for the two-hour workout ahead. Tommy had exhausted her last night but the anticipation of her current performance filled her up again on another level. She felt good, and despite not being in the familiar club setting, she had this. Her intention, however dangerous, was to draw everyone on this ship within listening distance to her.
She began her work on the dials and the full-bodied sound of her bass hugged her and everyone on the pool deck. The sound rippled over the open air. That got their attention. Let’s see how they like this. She pressed one of the sound buttons on the dials, and her fingers flicked the fader. The slightly higher note of the bassoon fluttered over the bass. Memories of Tommy mimicking the tonguing technique on her finger, her nipple, and her clit rushed back, even though she was pissed at him. The thoughts blazed hotter than the overhead sun and infused her with intoxicating energy she had to release and share.
She listened in her headphones and turned the knobs to speed up the fluttering instrument, teasing the listeners in an attempt to bring them to the bursting point. The crowd cheered and their hands lifted to the sky. She had them right where she wanted. She let loose the melody and the crowd exploded. The bikini and trunks-clad cruisers splashed in the pool and tossed balloons around. She danced onstage like she performed high-impact aerobics. That’s right...come with me. We have places to go. Her hands mimicked the same welcoming gesture as she jumped up and down and bounced from side to side. She smiled and as she looked into the faces for as far as she could see, they smiled back. Her eyes landed on a familiar face. “Irwin,” she called and blew him a kiss. That should make you the envy of your crew.
On and on she went, mixing in the songs she’d prepared for her set. Tommy had inspired her in many ways. He’d been fucking up all day. Just because they were boning buddies didn’t give him license to stop doing his job. She’d jabbed him enough times for him to recognize her particular varietal of saltiness. She didn’t see him or know where he hid, but she intended to draw him out. She mixed “Queen Tings” by Masego into her track—the song Tommy had requested Trinket play at her frien
d’s house party—and turned the song into a souped-up club-banger. Her energy multiplied as her long legs alternated high knee-kicks around the stage. She touched the hot keys on the controller to enhance the song with effects and sang to the songs she played. She exhausted her body, giving everything she had to her performance. These music lovers deserved her best and in that moment with them, she didn’t think of disguises or consequences, of media or the drones flying overhead. She’d move the crowd at all costs.
The crowd that had gathered for her had swollen to concerning numbers and the immense pool deck now felt too small. At the end of her set, she saluted Bedazzled Beats’s hot summer collaboration “Love Me Love You” and slapped a brand spanking new and unexpected drop. The crowd went wild, their dancing feet vibrating the ship. Nyah worried that the massive vessel may have lost people overboard. Perspiration drenched her shirt but her Afro puffs were still tight. Her edges, on the other hand, might be less snatched and more a hot mess of curly, drenched baby hairs. Her makeup normally withstood her performances but the smudge stains on her light shirt revealed that she’d sweat some of it off. Her saving grace? Breathless, she peered through her tinted shades at the jubilant crowd who mirrored the magic of the moment. Yes!
“Thanks for having me, Oh Ship! You guys have been great!” She closed out her set and the MC voice boomed through the speakers.
“GIVE IT UP FOR QUEEN ROE, SLAUGHTERING THE BEATS FOR YOU MUSIC MONSTERS OUT HERE ON THE SIZZLING POOL DECK!”
Nyah’s eyes stung from the perspiration and makeup seeping into her eyes; still, she waved to the new additions to her kingdom. They roared and clapped back, happy and spent.
You did well, Queen.
She skipped down and off the stage, and followed her post performance routine, posing for pictures, shaking hands, and speaking to bloggers and vloggers. She put her hood attached to her tee shirt over her hair, but when she tried to squeeze to the bar, she was bombarded. Industry people congratulated her and questioned her about where she’d play next. Several people asked her to connect with her, shoving cards in her face. Her glasses got knocked and she adjusted their crooked feel. She wanted out of the claustrophobia the smothering crowd created around her. She plastered a shaky smile on her face and pushed through with more aggression.
