“It doesn’t. Not until you do something stupid like get in a fight. What if …”
“Dude was asking for it. And he looked a lot worse than I did. Believe me.”
“Devin, we are not in New York. You need to use a little more common sense. This is George W. Bush country, stupid-ass! You want to see the inside of a Texas jail?”
Devin rolled his eyes and resumed his drumbeat. Makayla reached over and clamped a hand over his.
“Stop doing that!”
“And you stop worrying. He’s not gon’ fire you or anything. He’s just waving his dick around so we remember who’s in charge,” Devin said shaking his head. “Arrogant-ass nigga.”
“I never forgot who’s in charge. You’re the one who needs to fall in line. Don’t mess this up for yourself, Devin. And don’t mess this up for me. I’m serious.”
“Ain’t nobody tryin’ to mess you up. I was just mindin’ my own business when I ran into dude downstairs putting his woman in a cab. His mind should’ve been on her instead of …”
“His girlfriend was here? But she was just in …”
Makayla stopped herself before she started sounding like the green-eyed monster she was. Jamal’s woman—whom he’d introduced to everyone, so it had to be serious—was pretty, and intimidating and perfect for him. Together they looked like members of an African master race, destined to populate the planet with perfect black and brown babies, tall and beautiful like their parents.
“Kay, don’t be getting’ all …”
“All what?” Makayla said, looking at him with eyebrows raised, daring him to call her out.
But he didn’t need to. She was already giddy like a fool over Jamal Turner. How he didn’t see it was a miracle. For weeks now, she’d been chiding herself, warning herself, and even ridiculing herself for being yet another woman who had fallen victim to the charm, the smile, the swagger and legendary good looks of this man. Telling herself each morning that he wasn’t all that, and she should conduct herself like an adult instead of a love-struck schoolgirl worked only until they had their customary morning team meeting over breakfast in whatever hotel they were staying in.
While they went over their schedules, talked about local publicity and other details in advance of Devin’s performance, Makayla mostly sat quiet, taking notes and trying not to focus too much on her boss, sitting across from her, usually shoveling in eggs, taking generous gulps of coffee, and carving out pieces of a breakfast steak all while handling his business.
Jamal Turner ate the way he seemed to live—voraciously, and unafraid. Depending on the city they were in, there were always interesting accompaniments to the scrambled eggs he habitually ordered—spicy salsa, avocado, chorizo, and in one place, Cajun crawfish. No matter what was offered, he accepted. Yeah, gimme some of that, he’d say to the waitperson, sounding positively craven for any new taste. But at least where women were concerned, he had been pretty content at least since this trip to have the taste of only one. Madison. Makayla would have found it far easier to stand if he had been living up to his womanizing reputation.
“Here he comes right now,” Devin said, nodding toward the entrance.
Makayla forced herself not to turn and watch as Jamal made his way toward them. No matter where he was, with his wide, purposeful stride, posture erect and shoulders square, he always managed to look like he owned the place. The other reason she didn’t look was that she knew Devin was expecting her to do just that.
“What’re we eating?” Jamal pulled out a chair and sat, immediately reaching for the menu and beginning to look through it.
“We didn’t order,” Devin said. “Can’t do nothin’ without the boss’ say-so, right?”
Lowering the menu, Jamal looked at him from beneath furrowed brows. “You really want to start off like that?”
“No,” Makayla said hastily. “We don’t. Devin and I talked about this and …”
Holding up a hand to stop her prepared speech, Jamal stared at Devin. Devin stared back. For a few moments it was touch-and-go, because Devin wasn’t one to punk out for anyone. But finally good sense prevailed and he sighed.
“Look, man,” he said. “I’m not tryin’ to start nothin’. I appreciate this opportunity, and …”
“For real? It sure don’t look like it. All I been gettin’ from you since day one is attitude, son.”
Devin shook his head. “Don’t call me ‘son’.”
Jamal made a scoffing noise and leaned back in his chair, shooting Makayla a look that seemed to say, ‘I told you so’.
“If you want me to respect you, you have to respect me,” Devin continued. “I ain’t nobody’s damn ‘son’. I’m a grown-ass man.”
Makayla held her breath.
“Okay,” Jamal said finally. “Fair enough. I need to treat you like a partner in this thing. But in return I need you to act like one. That means you need to defer to my knowledge about what it takes to make a tour like this successful. And if I say that means no drinking and carousing and getting into fights, then that’s how it’s gotta be.”
Folding his arms, Devin leaned back and said nothing, clearly balking at the idea that Jamal was claiming the roll of shot-caller. Foolish, stubborn Devin. It took everything in her for Makayla not to lean across the table, grab him by the collar and shake the living daylights out of him.
“Look, it’s one thing for you to mess your own shit up. But you’re messin’ with hers too.” Jamal nodded in her direction. “If you ain’t nobody’s son, then stop putting her in a position where she has to act like your damn momma.”
“Kay, you want to give us a minute?” Devin said, not breaking his stare.
Hesitating, Makayla glanced at Jamal who gave her a brief nod. Reluctantly, she pushed back from the table and stood, walking toward the hotel lobby. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Devin had pulled close to the table once again and was leaning in, his face serious as he spoke.
Finding a comfortable chair in the hotel lobby, Makayla waited.
So far, she liked San Antonio. The limited free time she had, she’d spent on the River Walk, taking pictures with her phone and sending them to Candace to show her Nana. This was the first place she’d been this trip that she thought her grandmother would have enjoyed, and reminded Makayla of stories she used to tell her, about Venice, Italy. When she was a kid, it sounded fantastical—a city where some of the streets weren’t streets at all, but canals?
But Nana had assured her it was true. And when she was old enough to go to the library, Makayla had checked out a large coffee table book, filled with pictures of Venice, and taken it home to show her Nana. She still remembered how delighted the old woman had been, almost as though Makayla had presented her an airline ticket to go see the city in person.
One day, I’ma take you to the real Venice, Nana, Makayla remembered telling her at the time. When I grow up. I promise.
Well, it wasn’t a promise she was likely going to be able to keep. Nana’s health was failing fast, each problem compounding the previous one. Once, when Makayla expressed her frustration at the constant setbacks, Nana had likened herself to an old car: Like a ol’ Buick. Just when you fix one thing, here come another one, breakin’ down.
You got a lot more miles in you, Nana, Makayla said, hoping as she said the words that they were true.
Thinking about her grandmother being so far away and in the care of her irresponsible cousin was almost panic-inducing, so she tried not to think about it and restricted her calls home to three a day. First thing in the morning, another in the mid-afternoon and the final call just before Nana’s customary bedtime to make sure Candace got her nightly cup of peppermint tea, and helped her with her bathroom rituals, and getting a bath before bed.
Shoving thoughts of her grandmother out of her mind, Makayla instead looked toward the restaurant, hoping that Devin wasn’t in there blowing everything for them both. Over the last couple weeks, besides being drowned in the tide of her attraction to
her boss, she had actually been learning a lot. As promised, Jamal allowed her to shadow him to meetings with local promoters, radio station hosts and recording executives. Introducing her as “my colleague, Mack” he never hinted to anyone how junior she was in the business and often invited her opinions on whatever was being discussed, addressing her as an equal so that others did the same.
As she watched and followed him, Makayla learned more than a few things about Jamal Turner: that to maintain his focus, he sometimes put in ear buds even though there was no sound being piped into them; that he drank coffee all the time, but only decaf; and that he had a dozen different smiles, many of them not an indication of amusement or mirth at all.
To the casual observer, he was happy-go-lucky, easygoing and somewhat of a jokester. But Makayla now knew that on occasion, Jamal used all of that to his advantage and at the drop of a hat, could transform from a minnow into a shark. Well, maybe not a minnow. He’d always been a shark, but more like the kind that just swam around looking intimidating, not the kind that actually took a bite out of folks.
But today he’d definitely bitten her. And hard, too. It was one thing to be chided by your boss for not performing, but the way Jamal lit into her felt personal. Not on his end, but on hers. Wanting to do a good job wasn’t just about wanting to advance her career anymore. She wanted his respect, too. After Madison put in her first appearance in Dallas, Makayla had given up wanting more than that. Now, she just wanted him to look at her and think of her as more than just the most recent, greenest member of his team., but as someone who had the potential to be a real player in this business.
Fat chance of that happening with Devin in the mix. His immaturity and impulsivity would be imputed to her. Every stupid thing he did would become her fault. Makayla could only hope that whatever transpired back in the restaurant wouldn’t result in her taking a plane back to New York tonight, tail between her legs and hoping to get her old job back in the communications department.
Sighing, she glanced in the direction of the restaurant again. Unable to see much more than the hostess’ station from that vantage point, Makayla stood and wandered closer, almost bumping into an old man who was slowly making his way across the lobby with a small roll-aboard suitcase. Mumbling a quick apology, she turned to head back to the chair she’d just occupied, and sat with her hands on her lap to prevent herself from fidgeting.
It was only a few minutes later that Devin came striding out of the restaurant, his forehead creased, eyes squinting in anger, and mouth set in a tight frown.
“Devin!”
Still walking quickly, he ignored the sound of Makayla’s voice and kept going, heading toward the elevators and likely to his room. Just as Makayla stood, intending to go after him, Jamal emerged from the restaurant as well, but by contrast, he looked perfectly relaxed. Looking at him, Makayla tried to read his eyes. Maybe he was comfortable because he’d just sent her and Devin packing.
“C’mon,” he said, smiling at her, his voice perfectly affable. “Let’s go find somewhere else to eat. Not sure I feel up to the same old hotel burgers and fries for lunch today.”
Makayla opened her mouth, intending to ask him what he’d said to Devin, but she wasn’t sure she cared. What mattered was that she hadn’t been fired; and Devin, though he was sulking, probably wasn’t going anywhere. So, all was right with the world, especially now that Jamal was smiling her again.
10
Before dawn, the hotel gyms tended to be deserted, with the first wave coming in around five a.m. Makayla developed her own on-the-road workout routine when she realized how difficult it was for her to fall asleep in hotel beds. And she couldn’t quite get used to the fact that she had no reason to wake up three times a night, since her grandmother wasn’t in the next room awaiting her medication, needing help in the bathroom, or wanting a cup of tea.
Occasionally, Devin would stop by her room and they watched movies together, talked and ate—though never room service; that was way too expensive. On those evenings, Devin would fall asleep around midnight and Makayla arranged her body next to his, comforted by the presence of another person in the sterile strangeness of her rented room. But whether Devin was there or not, she was wide awake by four a.m., buzzing with energy, and needing to move.
Hotel gyms were mostly small, but had the essential equipment—a few free weights, an elliptical machine, and a treadmill. Some hotels had pools and saunas. Here in Texas, the pools were outdoors, so Makayla general avoided swimming, not wanting to disturb other guests with the sound of splashing water as she dived in, or did laps.
But this morning, she wanted to swim. A swimsuit hadn’t been on her packing list when she left New York, but she did have a bodysuit that would do the job. The only thing that distinguished it from a swimsuit was the snaps at the crotch, and no one was going to be catching sight of that area. So, getting up and sitting on the edge of the bed, Makayla shed her tank and underwear and walked naked over to her open suitcase. She never unpacked when they got to a new city, only bothering to take out the items she planned to wear the next day.
Finding the bodysuit, she pulled it on, fastened the snaps and adjusted the garment twice before realizing what was wrong. It was loose. Once fitting her like a second skin, it was now gapping at the leg openings, and in the front. Hopefully, it would tighten up once it got wet, because this was not a good look. Shaking her head, and muttering to herself, Makayla decided it didn’t matter. No one was going to see her, anyway. Only another crazy person would be out there at this hour.
She was wrong.
As she approached the pool area a few minutes later, towel wrapped about her waist, Makayla saw a couple, sitting on one of the chaise lounges, entwined in each other. The woman was partly reclined, the man next to her was leaned over, and they were kissing. So engrossed were they in the activity that they didn’t register Makayla’s approach and she was forced to pretend she didn’t see them at all, beginning to remove her towel and finally clearing her throat.
The woman sat up immediately, and laughed. The man frowned in Makayla’s direction and then they both stood, pausing for a moment as though deciding where to go to continue their make-out session, and then walking away. Sighing, Makayla went to the edge of the pool and sat, lowering her legs into the water. It was warm. From where she sat, she could see the entrance to the gym. The pool was in an open courtyard, surrounded on three sides by ground-level rooms, and on one side, the gym. Through the glass doors, she saw that it was empty. Maybe swimming had been a stupid idea, and she should just go back up to her room, put on her sweats and a t-shirt and sweat it out on the treadmill. Besides, she was going to have to wash the chlorine out of her hair if she swam, since she didn’t have a swim cap.
Just as she’d made up her mind to go back upstairs and change out of her oversized makeshift swimsuit, a familiar figure emerged from the corner where the elevators were. Jamal. And he was dressed to work out, in a snug black t-shirt and grey sweats. His back was to her as he used his key card to get into the gym. Because the pool area was dimly-lit, but not dark, if he turned, he would see her. Makayla used her arms to shift herself off the edge and lowered into the water soundlessly. She could do a few quiet, slow laps and then head back upstairs to prepare for the day. Or she could get out of the pool altogether and hope to put on her towel and slip away undetected.
But why? She and Jamal had been back on good terms since the blow-up a few days ago, and there wasn’t an ounce of strain in their interactions. So why did she feel so reluctant to see him? Maybe it had something to do with the unflattering garment she was wearing.
“Stop being an idiot,” she whispered to herself.
Though he would probably complete his workout and return to his room without seeing her at all, it gave Makayla a weird thrill to know that somewhere, in separate parts of the hotel, they’d had the exact same impulse at the exact same time—to get up and move, to expend some of the energy that prevented them from sleepin
g until a reasonable hour like normal people.
Glancing toward the gym once again she saw that Jamal was standing on one of the treadmills and doing something with the console. Because the room was well-lit, his face was clearly visible. And since she could do so without him knowing, she studied it. He was different when he was alone; more serious. Like a comedian who had a moment when he wasn’t expected to be “on”, but could be completely himself. In this quiet mood, it was easier to pick apart each feature—the eyes, nose, full lips and slightly dimpled chin—but Jamal was no less handsome.
Once he began to run, he looked more serious still, almost aggressive. Makayla realized she’d been staring and had not swam a single stroke. Forcing herself to turn away, she began her laps. She did the first two slowly, hoping not to be spotted, but soon she relaxed and let herself enjoy the smooth silkiness of the warm water, the gentle lapping noises it made as she moved, and the relative quiet of the courtyard. This was what she’d been craving.
Swimming was something she didn’t get to do very often back in New York, so as she felt her muscles begin to ache pleasantly, Makayla decided that it would become her new exercise. In every city where they stayed in a hotel with a pool, she was going to swim. That meant she should probably be on the lookout for an actual swimsuit. Later, she would venture into the city and find a place, since the selections in the hotel store were likely to have a crazy-high markup.
Turning onto her back, she did a couple lengths of the backstroke, and turned expertly, spinning again onto her stomach to do a couple breaststroke laps, and then finally, to float, staring up at the immense Texas sky. Closing her eyes, Makayla let herself drift, allowing the water to control her motion, arms outstretched, a smile involuntarily spreading across her face. For a little while at least, she hadn’t a care in the world. Work, school, her grandmother’s illness, bills … they all disappeared and there was just her, the water, and far above her, the stars and inky-black sky.
The Come Up Page 10
