Yeah, right!
‘How do you think the shoot’s going?’ she asked, attempting to take her mind off the little stabs of agony as Beverly plucked away.
‘It’s rollin’. You gotta love that raunchy beat.’
‘Do you know Slick Jimmy?’
‘I know ’em all,’ Beverly replied. ‘We hang at the same clubs.’
‘That must be fun.’
‘Yeah, Jimmy’s a cool dude. This is his big break–that’s if he doesn’t blow it.’
‘I’m into his music, not his lyrics,’ Liberty said, getting used to the pain. ‘I told Damon P. Donnell that.’
Beverly stopped what she was doing. ‘You told Damon you didn’t like the lyrics?’ she said, raising an eyebrow.
‘Why?’ Liberty asked innocently. ‘Isn’t that okay?’
Beverly laughed as if she didn’t quite believe what she was hearing. ‘Nobody tells Damon anything. That man is king.’
‘Well,’ Liberty said casually, ‘he asked my opinion, so I gave it.’
‘He did, huh?’
‘I told him I liked the beat, and that the lyrics were way too sexist. So’s the video, with all those girls stickin’ their boobs and butts in the camera. What kind of a message is that sending out?’
‘It’s what the industry wants,’ Beverly pointed out. ‘Those in-your-face, sexy kinda videos sell mucho records.’
‘Too bad.’
Beverly resumed plucking. ‘What’s your deal, music wise?’
‘I’m a singer-songwriter, more like, you know—’
‘Who? Diana Krall?’
‘No, she’s jazz and, anyway, I hate comparisons. My mom was a singer,’ she added wistfully, remembering the times Diahann was actually singing. ‘Growing up, we always had music around. I was totally crazy about Sade.’
‘Ah…“Smooth Operator”, now there we have a classic,’ Beverly said. ‘Is that your kind of sound?’
‘Yes and no. I hope I’m an original. I told Damon–I can call him Damon, can’t I?’
‘Dunno,’ Beverly said, with an amused expression. ‘Can you?’
‘I don’t see why not.’
‘Exactly how long were you talkin’ with him?’
‘Long enough that he gave me his card, suggested I bring him my demo.’
‘You’d better watch out,’ Beverly warned. ‘They all want one thing, an’ us girls know exactly what that is. Damon might be king, but underneath the bling, he’s no different from all the other horn-dogs out there.’
‘I know that,’ Liberty said. ‘He’s married, right?’
‘Only ’bout as married as a dude can get. And his old lady–in the biz we call her Spenderella–girl, you do not want to mess with that woman. No way.’
‘I’m not planning on doing so.’
‘Tashmir’s a piranha,’ Beverly warned. ‘If she catches you with her man, she’ll beat your ass raw with her eight-hundred-dollar Manolos! And, hon, I am not kiddin’.’
As soon as Cindi got a break, she grabbed Liberty by the arm and hurried her over to the Craft Service table.
‘I’m starvin’,’ Cindi complained, grabbing a handful of potato chips and a can of Coke. ‘All this damn dancin’ is sappin’ my God-given energy.’
‘You’re doing great,’ Liberty said encouragingly. ‘You look better than any of them. You’re the sexiest one out there.’
‘How big does my butt look?’ Cindi demanded, stuffing potato chips in her mouth. ‘Too big? Or just right?’
‘I’m telling you, it’s hot. The guys on the set are drooling big-time.’
‘I bet they are,’ Cindi said, reaching for a sticky Danish. ‘Girl, what happened to you?’ she suddenly exclaimed. ‘You’re lookin’ way different.’
‘Beverly plucked my eyebrows. You like?’
‘Damn! Big improvement,’ Cindi said, biting into the Danish. ‘D’you think she’d do mine?’
‘Forget about my eyebrows, I have big news,’ Liberty said, and proceeded to tell Cindi about her encounter with Damon.
‘Oh…my…God!’ Cindi exclaimed, mouth dropping open, sugar decorating her chin. ‘I knew this was gonna be a righteous day!’
‘Yes,’ Liberty said dreamily. ‘He didn’t have his shades on and, Cindi, he has these great eyes. Kind of penetrating and sexy.’
‘Huh?’
‘You heard.’
‘Oh, man!’ Cindi said, taking another bite of Danish. ‘I don’t dig the way you’re soundin’. Face it, girl, the dude is married, an’ you know we got a rule–married men are a way no-go zone.’
‘I’m not thinking of him in that way. I’m just saying he has very soulful eyes. They kind of look right through you. Y’ know what I mean–intense.’
‘Sheeit!’ Cindi groaned. ‘You’re fallin’ in love.’
‘No, I’m not,’ Liberty protested.
‘Hmm…’ Cindi said, taking a swig of Coke. ‘Wait till Kev finds out you met Mr Big.’
‘I’m not telling Kev.’
‘How come?’
‘’Cause I’ll take Damon my demo, see if anything works out and if it does—’
‘Oh, it’s Damon now, is it?’ Cindi teased. ‘Whatever happened to Mr Donnell.’
‘Don’t screw with me, Cindi, this is serious stuff.’
‘Poor Kev.’ Cindi sighed.
‘Why poor Kev?’
‘’Cause you got it bad an’ that ain’t good,’ Cindi sing-songed.
‘Damon P. Donnell is business,’ Liberty said earnestly. ‘He can help me.’
‘Oh, sure he can, with his big soulful eyes and his big soulful dick.’
‘You’re such a bitch. It’s not like that.’
‘It’s always bin like that, little cous’–from the first day you set your baby greens on him you were wham-bam hooked.’
‘That’s only because I admire his talent. He’s special—’
‘They’re all special when they’re standin’ there with a hard-on.’
‘Get off it, Cindi.’
‘I will if you will.’
In the afternoon, Vanessa, the current hot girl in several hit videos–including one with Usher, which she made sure everyone knew about, arrived on set.
Vanessa was Puerto Rican, a sexy dark temptress, with waist-length hair, a curvy body and major attitude. She thought she was a star, and acted appropriately. Her job was to slink all over Slick Jimmy, while the so-called fat girls, in various stages of undress, undulated around him.
‘That ’ho’s a bitch on wheels,’ Beverly confided. ‘I won’t touch her. She travels with her own make-up crew, let them have the pleasure.’
Clad in a scarlet slash of a dress, Vanessa was all over Slick Jimmy, who put up no objections.
After a couple of takes, Vanessa really started playing the diva. Stepping forward to confront Maleek, she began to spew a litany of complaints in a harsh Brooklyn accent. ‘Dude, I ain’t down with the way things are goin’ here. I hate how you shootin’ me–the mothafuckin’ lightin’ is shit. We gotta start again.’
Maleek was not pleased. He stood for her complaints for a while. Then, when Slick Jimmy started getting into it, he blew, and informed Vanessa that if she didn’t like it, she could walk.
She walked.
Maleek immediately called a break, went off in a corner and got on the phone.
A few minutes later he came straight over to Liberty. ‘You were the girl talking to Damon earlier, right?’ She nodded. ‘Liberty, that’s your name?’ She nodded again. ‘Okay, Liberty, seems you got yourself a gig.’
‘’Scuse me?’
‘Damon wants you in the video.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you.’
‘Doing what?’ she asked blankly.
‘Replacing Vanessa.’
‘I–I’m a singer, not a dancer.’
‘You’re callin’ Vanessa a dancer?’ he said, with an amused expression. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘But—’
> ‘Listen to me,’ he said impatiently, ‘all you gotta do is the same as her–drape yourself around Slick Jimmy an’ look smokin’ hot. You can do that, huh?’
‘In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got a sprained ankle and a burned arm.’
‘We’ll cover your arm, an’ no movin’, just drapin’.’
‘Look, I—’
‘Bev, Fantasia,’ Maleek yelled, cutting her off. ‘Get over here. Damon wants this girl to look hot. She needs make-up, hair extensions–the works. Fantasia, see if she’ll fit into Vanessa’s dress, an’ I wanna see some kinda fur wrap coverin’ her arm. Work it, ladies, we’re way behind.’
Liberty shook her head. Now her day was totally surreal. What exactly had she done right?
And yet–why not? Hadn’t she been wishing for a break?
Beverly whisked her back into the make-up room and sat her down in the chair again. ‘See what happens when you get your eyebrows plucked,’ she quipped. ‘Girl, I am gonna make you look fine.’
‘This is crazy,’ Liberty said, shaking her head. ‘How did it happen?’
‘Damon says jump, everyone jumps,’ Beverly replied, stepping back for a minute and studying Liberty’s face with a critical eye. ‘Guess you made some impression. Did they tell you how much they’re payin’ you?’
‘We didn’t get into that. Should I ask for the same as Cindi?’
‘Forget it,’ Beverly said, beginning to apply a creamy make-up base to Liberty’s face with a damp sponge. ‘Tell ’em you want a thousand bucks ’cause you’re a feature player.’
‘A thousand?’ Liberty gasped. ‘They’ll never pay that! It’s a fortune.’
‘You want me to tell ’em?’ Beverly said, working away. ‘I’m tight with those guys.’
‘Could you do that?’
‘Sure, an’ when you’re a big singin’ star you can hire me as your personal make-up artist. Oh, an’ if anyone asks–you’re a member of the union.’
‘Is that okay to say?’
‘Man,’ Beverly said, shaking her head, ‘somebody’s gotta teach you how to deal. How old are you?’
‘Nineteen. I can deal. I’ve been around.’
‘Nineteen, huh? You’re still a baby. An’ big bad Damon’s shinin’ his light on you, so watch out–you gotta be real careful.’
‘Of what?’
‘I told you once, I’ll tell you again. Damon is a major player,’ Beverly said, applying pale copper eye shadow to Liberty’s eyelids with her finger. ‘A big fat major player.’
‘As long as he likes my demo.’
‘An’ if he does, what you gonna do?’ Beverly asked, standing back to survey her work. ‘You gonna fuck him an’ hope that lands you a recording contract? ’Cause if that’s your game, you’d better remember to make him wait until after you sign a contract.’
Liberty shrugged. ‘I have no plans in that direction.’
‘Maybe you don’t, but you can bet your ass Damon does.’
‘Like you said, he’s married.’
‘In the hip-hop world being married means nothing,’ Beverly announced, producing a soft beige lip gloss. ‘Those guys are like athletes–screwin’ around is their national pastime. Man,’ she added, rolling her eyes, ‘I could tell you stories.’
‘You sound so jaded.’ Liberty sighed. ‘I’m sure they’re not all like that.’
‘Sure, babe, believe what you like, but I’m givin’ you the real truth.’
‘If that’s the truth, then it’s sad.’
‘Allow me to tell you what those guys do,’ Beverly said. ‘They nail a beautiful girl, use her for as long as it amuses them, then the fuckers move on. Oh, yeah–an’ if the wife finds out, they zip down to the jewellery store an’ buy wifey-pie another ten-carat diamond ring. What the fuck? It’s only money.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘’Cause you’re new, and you’re a genuine beauty–especially now I’ve dealt with your damn eyebrows!’
‘Oh, thanks, this is all happening because of my eyebrows, right?’
‘Listen t’me an’ learn. Damon always goes for the beauties. Like Prince, his bag is to score the prize. An’ right now you’re it.’
‘Y’ know, Bev, in spite of what you think, I have been around. Working as a waitress you get to know exactly what most guys want. Besides, I have a boyfriend. I promise you–I can look after myself.’
‘I’m sure you can, hon, only you’re movin’ into a whole different league now, so all I’m sayin’ is, watch it.’
‘I will.’
‘Do not believe the hype an’ the promises, an’ make sure, whatever they promise, see your own lawyer an’ get it in writing.’
‘Thanks, that’s good advice. I think.’
‘Free, too,’ Beverly said, applying a dark contouring blush to Liberty’s cheekbones.
‘Trouble is, I don’t have a lawyer,’ Liberty said ruefully.
‘Hmm…’ Beverly responded, with the hint of a smile. ‘Now why am I so not surprised?’
Chapter Twenty-Six
When Jett arrived at the video shoot, Beverly was still busy working on Liberty’s face. ‘Hang around if you want,’ Beverly said, stopping to give him a quick peck on the cheek. ‘I’ll be through soon.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Rap’s not my thing. I gotta get moving.’
‘At least say hello to Liberty while you’re here.’
‘Who’s Liberty?’
‘The new girl on the block,’ Beverly said, winking at Liberty. ‘An’ she’s sittin’ right here, babe.’
‘Hey,’ he said, giving Liberty a quick look through the mirror.
‘Hey,’ Liberty responded, equally casual.
The fact that they barely exchanged glances surprised Beverly, because she’d thought Jett would be all over the exotically beautiful girl. Hmm…perhaps he was in love.
‘Did you call that number?’ she asked, still working on Liberty’s face.
‘Tried it a few times, no answer,’ he said, cracking his knuckles. ‘Guess I’ll havta wait until Monday.’
Then it occurred to him that on Monday Gianna would be in New York. Man! Nothing was ever easy.
‘You want a coffee, anything?’ Beverly offered.
‘No, thanks, Bev. You’re busy, so I’m takin’ off. I’ll call you later.’
He left the studio, and on the way to Sam’s apartment he started to feel guilty that he hadn’t contacted his mother. As soon as he got to Sam’s, he picked up the phone before he changed his mind. ‘Mom?’ he said, when Edie answered.
‘Now that’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time,’ Edie responded, sounding relatively sober.
‘It’s Jett,’ he said, immediately groping for a cigarette.
‘I guessed it was, since you’re the only person who calls me Mom and you are my son. Not that I’ve heard from you in a long time,’ she added reproachfully.
‘I’ve been living in Italy,’ he said, wishing she could sound a little happier to hear from him. ‘You knew that.’
‘Where are you now?’
‘Back in New York. I, uh…flew in for a few days.’
‘What for?’
‘To meet with Red,’ he said, knowing that piece of information would not go down well.
‘That bastard,’ she said bitterly. ‘Why would you want to meet with him?’
‘He kind of summoned me. Sent me a ticket.’
‘Oh,’ she said, pouncing. ‘He summons and you jump.’
‘Yeah, Mom,’ he admitted. ‘I guess I jumped. But he is my dad, and Lady Jane insisted it was important.’
‘You spoke to her? That phoney witch.’
‘She’s the one who called,’ he explained. ‘And when they arranged for the ticket, I thought I’d take advantage of a free trip. Y’ know, get to see you an’ all.’
‘No such thing as a free trip, Jett,’ Edie said ominously. ‘You’ll end up paying, one way or the other.’
‘Maybe,’ he said, i
nhaling poisonous smoke.
‘Your father’s never going to change,’ Edie said flatly.
‘I know that.’
‘When do I get to see you?’
‘Do you want to?’ he replied, remembering that the last time he’d seen her they’d had a huge fight. He couldn’t even remember what it had been about.
‘You could drive out to the house tomorrow,’ she suggested. ‘I’m here. I never go anywhere.’
‘I dunno, Mom,’ he said. ‘I gotta meet someone at the airport, then I promised Max I’d drop by his rehearsal dinner tomorrow night.’
‘Max?’ she said. ‘Since when are you close to him?’
‘He invited me, I thought I’d go.’
‘Why?’
‘Hey,’ Jett said, getting off the subject of family, ‘any chance of you coming into the city?’
‘For what?’ she snapped. ‘I hate the city. I hate being any place where I’m forced to breathe the same air as Red Diamond.’
‘Then we should try to get together next week.’
There was a long silence, finally broken by Edie. ‘Have you seen him yet?’ she asked.
‘Who?’ he said, playing dumb, although he knew exactly whom she meant.
‘Who do you think?’ she said, sounding peeved. ‘That son-of-a-bitch I was married to.’
‘Uh, yeah, I saw him,’ Jett replied, trying to keep it light. ‘He turned up at Max’s bachelor party.’
‘What is this–family-reunion time?’ she said, a familiar slur creeping into her voice. ‘All of a sudden it’s Max this and Max that. I’m your family, not those half-brothers.’
‘I know, Mom.’
‘Is Chris there too?’ she asked, taking off on a fact-finding mission.
‘Yeah, he’s around.’
‘I’m sure you’re aware it was him who paid for you to go to Italy, get into rehab and straighten yourself out.’
‘Who’d you hear that from?’
‘I have my sources. You should thank him. I’m positive Max didn’t put a hand in his pocket. Tight bastard,’ she added disdainfully, ‘exactly like his father.’
He heard the clinking of ice in a tumbler–another familiar sound from his childhood. Edie had always started the day drink in hand–it was among his earliest memories. ‘You doing okay, Mom?’ he asked, treading carefully. ‘You’re not drinking, are you?’
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