The Come Up

by Nia Forrester

  “Yup. And they got someone else with them too.”

  “Who?”

  12

  Across the lounge, Madison was laughing with Robyn Scaife over a shared joke while idly twisting a long strand of perfect, glossy dark hair around a finger. Dressed in an aquamarine maxi dress with a daringly low-cut back, she looked perfect for the L.A. nightclub scene. And Robyn Scaife was equally flawless, though somewhat more understated in a close-fitting white jumpsuit and silver stilettos. When she lifted her glass to her lips, it was difficult not to stare at her ring, which featured a brilliant princess cut stone that captured the light even in the dim room.

  Jamal was talking to Chris, and Devin actually appeared to be having a civil conversation with Chris’ son, who was apparently a big fan. So Makayla was left to pretend to make conversation with DeJuan, who had gleefully picked up on her downturn in mood the minute they walked in and Madison had approached to embrace and kiss Jamal. If mere minutes earlier, she had been floating on cloud nine, Makayla’s feet were now firmly planted back on earth.

  She had never met the Scaifes before, and found Chris to be every bit as intimidating as people said he could be. It didn’t help that he didn’t seem to know how to smile. By contrast, his wife was all smiles and warmth, as was his son. When they were introduced, Makayla could feel Chris Scaife taking her measure; and then he’d asked a couple rapid-fire questions about her interest in the music business and her history with Devin. Just as she was beginning to feel like the subject of an inquisition, Jamal intervened, laughing and telling Chris to ‘lighten up, Boss Man.’

  At that, Chris nodded and said it was good to meet her. Makayla’s heart finally slowed to a more or less normal pace. It was then that Robyn Scaife stepped forward and introduced herself, putting a hand briefly on Makayla’s shoulder as though she recognized and wanted to help calm her excited nerves. Madison, Makayla had already met, so they too exchanged greetings, and then after a few minutes everyone had split off into the camps they were in now.

  Since she had been shadowing Jamal, Makayla couldn’t recall a time when she’d felt as out of place as she did now. This was the It Crowd—music’s biggest maven and his pretty wife, her beautiful friend and Deuce, who already had a few gossip-blog appearances of his own under his belt because of his good looks and the occasional scandalous antics of his former video-vixen mother.

  If she could have, Makayla would have slipped away, but she was still, for all intents and purposes, at work. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t run away just because she’d kissed her boss and then his girlfriend showed up. Could this night get any worse?

  “Makayla.” Apparently, it could. Robyn Scaife was beckoning her over. “Come sit with the rest of us ladies.”

  Makayla pushed herself up from the banquet seat and went to join Robyn and Madison. If she’d made an effort to speak to DeJuan, she probably would have been safe, but instead she’d been forlornly staring into space making it only natural that someone as pleasant as Robyn would try to include her.

  “You can tell us what it’s like to work with Jamal,” she said as Makayla took a seat at their small table.

  Madison smiled. “Yeah. What is that like? He seems like he would be all play, all the time.”

  When both women looked at her expectantly, Makayla realized that it wasn’t just banter. They actually wanted her to respond.

  Shrugging, she attempted a smile. “He’s a … good boss. I’ve been learning a lot.”

  “He was hands-down my favorite person when I first started working at SE,” Robyn said. “Next to Chris anyway.” She smiled and glanced in her husband’s direction.

  “So what’s it like on the road?” Madison asked. “Traveling with a bunch of guys, going to nightclubs every night. It seems like it would be more fun than work.”

  “It seems that way, doesn’t it?” Makayla said.

  Madison looked taken aback by her tone and blushed. “I didn’t mean to imply that you don’t work hard. I just …”

  “The travel alone would wipe me out,” Robyn said, jumping in. “I think Chris secretly misses it a little bit. Being out there and spotting new talent, being in the studio. He’s always complaining about having turned into a paper-pusher.”

  “But once he steps back, he can do whatever he feels like,” Madison pointed out. “Even go back to his roots producing if he wants.”

  Robyn shrugged. “As long as he’s not working so hard, I’m good with whatever he chooses to do. I just want him to slow down a little.” A brief shadow crossed her face and then she looked at Makayla, smiling again. “But you’re a long way off from thinking about slowing down. You’re just getting started in this business, huh?”

  Makayla nodded. “Kind of. Before development I was in communications.”

  “So why’d you make the transition?” Though she obviously didn’t care, Madison seemed to be trying to make pleasant conversation, but the slow drift of her gaze in Jamal’s direction gave her away.

  It was foolish to be feeling as territorial as she did. It was one kiss! But it didn’t matter how she chided herself. If she had to sit here and pretend to be nice to his woman for another second, Makayla was going to scream. And to make matters worse, it wasn’t even Madison’s fault. If anything, she was the one who would have had the right to be angry in this situation.

  “Excuse me.” She stood abruptly. “I have to go to the … I have to go.”

  In the women’s room, Makayla took the time to restore her lipstick and try to erase the memory of why it had gotten messed up in the first place. Damn, he was a good kisser … The shame of it was that she hadn’t even been granted an hour to bask in the thrill. The fantasy was over, just that quickly. And it was definitely over, because she had no intention of being anybody’s side-piece. Jamal might be temptation personified, but she was too possessive, too temperamental, and had way too much self-respect to settle for second-best.

  And though the urge had been there for a minute, while looking at her reflection in the bathroom she decided she wasn’t running away either. So he had a girlfriend, and they’d gotten caught up in the moment, sharing their excitement at seeing Devin do well. But it was over and done with now, and at the end of the day, hell, she’d satisfied her curiosity about what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against hers, his body, his hands …

  “Kay, you still in there?”

  Devin’s voice brought her back down to earth and Makayla stuffed her lipstick back into the front of her jeans, quickly washing her hands and opening the door.

  “Damn, what was you in there doin’?” Devin asked.

  “Pulling myself together,” she said, looping an arm through his. “How’s it going out there with the beautiful people?”

  Devin shrugged. “A’ight. Don’t get that smug look. You’re right. They’re not so bad like I thought. Still can’t stand your boss but the rest of them’s cool.”

  “And it would be good to hear you admit that it felt good being up on that big-ass stage,” Makayla said nudging him.

  “It did,” Devin said, trying not to smile.

  “But you need to engage the audience a little more, Devin. All those eager women out there trying to make eye-contact and the only one you were looking at was me.”

  “You know you’re the only woman I ever loved,” Devin said, shrugging.

  Makayla leaned into his chest and let him hug her, feeling the comfortable familiarity of his arms wrapped about her. Pressing her face into his chest she took a deep breath. She needed this; this reminder of why she was here. It was all about Devin and her, making a better future than their pasts might dictate they could have. She couldn’t afford to let Jamal Turner and his upscale life distract her. Hadn’t he said it himself? She was a tourist in this life. It was fine to take a look around and sample some of the local delights, but then if she knew what was good for her, she had to keep it moving.

  Well, she had sampled, and there was no arguing with
the fact that it had been delightful. But now she would keep it moving.

  “The music in this joint’s not half bad,” she said, speaking into Devin’s chest. “You want to come dance with me?”

  Devin grinned. “Yeah. Let’s go do that.”

  _______________

  Makayla and Devin danced well together. Like a couple who had done so many times, and knew each other’s rhythm and motion as well as they knew their own. Jamal watched them from the VIP area, trying to recall the last time he’d danced like that. Makayla moved with complete abandon when she was on the dance floor, her head whipping back and forth, and her hips gyrating, sensual, but not vulgar. In the entire club, there was no one like her. She definitely carried herself with a more West Hollywood, or Long Beach don’t-give-a-damn vibe. Somewhere, once, in a high school back in New York, Jamal had no doubt Makayla had been the coolest girl there—the girl who was so cool, she didn’t even know it.

  He shouldn’t have kissed her, but he didn’t regret it. Who didn’t want to kiss the coolest chick in school?

  “I thought you would enjoy the surprise,” a voice off to his left said. “I’m beginning to see now that I was wrong.”

  “It was a surprise,” he said without turning around.

  “But not a pleasant one.”

  Jamal looked at her then. “I just don’t like being … cornered. Y’know what I’m sayin’?”

  “How are you being cornered?” Madison shook her head.

  “You show up here with my friend, my employer … you don’t give me the courtesy of a call in advance and you throw your arms around my neck and act like you didn’t just tell me three weeks ago that you didn’t want to see me unless I chose it. That feels like I’m being cornered.”

  “Well I didn’t intend it that way,” Madison said, putting a hand on his arm.

  “Look, you gave me some things to think about,” Jamal admitted. “You should give me the space and the time to actually think about them.”

  “Point taken,” Madison said. She took a deep breath and let her hand fall from his arm. “Now I feel stupid for having come.”

  “Don’t feel stupid …”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jamal spotted Makayla and Devin returning from their dance, both of them smiling and sweating, and looking so … so young. What the hell had he been thinking, anyway? Seeing Madison reminded him of the chasm between him and Makayla. Here he had a sensible, accomplished woman, asking for a sensible relationship that might actual go somewhere, and yet where had he been? In the back of a nightclub feeling and getting felt up by a twenty-six year old.

  But he couldn’t deny what he was feeling right now, seeing Makayla with Devin. Envy. Envy that with that little asshole, she turned into a different, less guarded, more carefree person. More … herself. Maybe he could choose to be with Madison. Maybe he even should choose her. But before he did that, freely and without reservation, he felt compelled to satisfy the curiosity he had about Makayla.

  Makayla who, as she reentered the VIP lounge, met his gaze head-on with eyes that were defiant and unfaltering.

  Someone was pissed.

  Devin grabbed a passing waitress and ordered drinks for him and Makayla then they both sat at Robyn’s table, and moments later were joined by Deuce. Chris was talking to DeJuan, so Jamal was stuck in the uncomfortable position of having to make conversation with Madison, pretending all the while that there wasn’t a big pink elephant sitting on the floor between them.

  It was almost three hours later when they decided to break up the party, and Chris and company headed to their hotel which was a much swankier accommodation in Beverly Hills. Madison, to her credit, didn’t bat an eye as she left with Chris, Robyn and Deuce.

  “We leave in the morning,” she said. “I hope you’ll call me when you get back to New York.”

  Jamal kissed her on the cheek and made a noncommittal sound. “Travel safe,” he said finally, ignoring the questioning looks Robyn was sending his way.

  Jamal hailed a cab to take the rest of them back to their hotel because though he had driven to the club, he honestly didn’t feel like he was in the condition to drive back. He wasn’t drunk—he never got drunk—but probably had just enough impairment that if he got stopped, there was no telling how a field sobriety test might go. He rode up front and, DeJuan, Makayla and Devin all crowded into the backseat. No one spoke. Professionally speaking, it had been a triumphant night for Devin. He’d given a good performance, and afterwards, even managed to be sociable with the head of the organization he might join. Even if Jamal had personally coached him, he couldn’t have done better.

  “Hit me up soon as you get back in town,” Chris had told Jamal before he got in his car. “I have a couple ideas I want to play around with.”

  Devin wouldn’t get what that meant, and neither would Makayla because she was still a little green in this business, but DeJuan and Jamal had exchanged looks after that because they alone understood that if Chris Scaife got personally involved in developing an artist, they had the potential to become truly huge. For new artists, budgets tended to be tight. For new unsigned artists, the budget was even tighter. But Chris’ personal interest could mean more resources, more studio time, and tons more exposure. Hell, all Chris needed to do was take Devin with him to a party and get photographed while there, and the kid’s Q rating among the hip-hop crowd would likely go through the roof.

  When they pulled up in front of the hotel, Jamal glanced over his shoulder and saw that Makayla had dozed off, her head resting on Devin’s shoulder. Putting a hand up to her cheek, Devin spoke softly to wake her. Jamal turned away, focusing on finding cash to pay the driver and feeling like a voyeur for having witnessed the moment. DeJuan had long exited the cab and was already making his way across the lobby. After paying the bill, Jamal followed suit, not looking behind him.

  By the time he got to his room it was almost three a.m. but he wasn’t tired. Inexplicably, he was thinking about his mother. When he realized he was leaving New York for almost eight weeks on tour, Jamal had tried to think of people he needed to tell. Besides the management company for his condo, and his staff, he was hard-pressed to think of anyone who would really give a damn. His mother had come to mind, so he told her. She said all the things a mother might say—‘be careful’, ‘call while you’re away’—but he didn’t get the sense she really, truly cared. If he had dared, think it, the word ‘narcissist’ would have come to mind to describe his mother.

  And today, that was confirmed when she texted him to ask why he hadn’t come over for Sunday dinner lately. Jamal had to remind her that he was out of town. ‘Oh. I forgot,’ was the response. He’d been gone for weeks, and she didn’t even notice, except that he was one less head at her dining table on those Sundays when she liked to hold court, and survey the well-ordered beauty and success in her life. When Jamal was there, she made much of him, calling him, ‘my handsome son’ and making other remarks like that. But he never felt like he’d ever made much of a dent in her consciousness beyond that.

  To be almost thirty-seven and pining for his mother’s love struck him as pathetic, so he didn’t often dwell on it. But sometimes it surfaced, whether he wanted it to or not. Tonight, he had to wonder whether it had anything to do with Madison showing up. She was offering him something he’d never had—a family and home. And more than that, the stability of a partner who would understand his professional goals, and help him reach and maintain them. Seeing the way she looked at him, and the earnestness in her eyes, Jamal was convinced that she was on the up-and-up. She wasn’t looking to get into his money, and she didn’t want to be famous. She wasn’t using him to get to a superstar target, nor to get a job at Scaife.

  She just wanted a man and a home and family of her own, and was honest enough to put it out there pretty much up front. As attractive as she was, as accomplished, as sweet and funny, it was a travesty that some dude hadn’t already realized those qualities and proposed to Madison a long ti
me ago. And an even greater travesty was that despite her honesty, and despite his head telling him he should consider her offer, he could only think of how … desperate that offer made her seem. And desperate wasn’t attractive.

  But he’d promised her he would think about it, and so he would. But not now. Now, he was going to the pool to take a swim. Working out would make him amped up and unable to get even a couple hours sleep, but swimming on the other hand just might wear him out enough so he could get a few hours, wake around noon and meet with his team to plan for Devin’s final performance of the tour.

  _______________

  Sitting on the edge of the pool with her legs dangling in the water raising and lowering them rhythmically, was Makayla, wearing the pale pink swimsuit she’d bought in Texas. Jamal was very familiar with it now, since they’d been in a few hotel pools together since that first time. The suit was cut high at the legs, scooped low in the back and came all the way up to the neck in front. If she was trying to be modest by covering her breasts, Makayla had failed because the way the stretchy fabric pressed them against her chest was almost as arousing as it would have been if there was no fabric there at all. And the dips and ridges of her well-toned back, from the nape of her neck almost to the crack of her butt, was endlessly fascinating to watch, especially when she did her laps.

  Now, she looked up when he entered the pool area, apparently unsurprised that he was there. Maybe she had been waiting for him. And maybe he knew she would be.

  Without speaking, Jamal took a dive, swimming the length of the pool before surfacing and wiping his face. Makayla was no longer sitting at the edge. Thinking that he may have been wrong about her waiting for him, and that she was gone, he looked back and forth, wondering if she’d left and hoping she hadn’t.

  Then Makayla surfaced. She had simply slid into the water in exactly the spot where she’d been sitting, and now was treading water, looking at him but saying nothing.