Oh God, Jamal. You know women better than that. All that meant was that she wanted you to show some effort, some sign that you would fight for her.
Jamal said nothing, feeling for a moment like an asshole.
And you didn’t fight for her, so I guess that speaks volumes right there, Robyn said finally. Too bad. Because I thought she’d be really good for you.
Jamal didn’t know how to respond to that, because he’d thought so too. He still thought that. There was nothing at all wrong with Madison, but whatever it was she had, it didn’t even compete with the homie-lover-friend vibe he had going on with Makayla. Almost laughing out loud, he shook his head. She had him so twisted up he was comparing her to the lyrics of bad R&B songs now.
“What’re you over there grunting about?” Makayla asked.
“Work,” he lied.
“What about it?”
“Thinking about that thing next week. You know the stuff out in L.A. with Vanessa.”
“Oh.” Makayla turned to look out the window once again.
Vanessa was one of SE’s artists in their new Latin music division. She went by one name, like Cher, Bono, or Selena. Jamal didn’t know squat about Latin music and wasn’t even part of the team working with her but he had lots of L.A. contacts and was going to be out West, taking Vanessa out to see and be seen by the people they wanted to notice her. She was a virtual unknown with lots of crossover appeal, and a bangin’ body.
And a pretty good voice as well, apparently.
All week in the office, as they planned for his trip, Dean and DeJuan had been making suggestive comments about Latin women and their reputations for being ‘wildcats’ with men. Apart from being ethnically insensitive and sexist (which Jamal duly chided them for, though he was guilty of the same transgressions on occasion) the comments started to get to Makayla. She got fidgety in her seat when they talked about all the events and meetings he was taking Vanessa to, probably recalling how being on the meeting and press circuit had a way of throwing people together in close quarters for long periods of time. After all, that was part of the reason they had gotten together. But he didn’t realize just how much the trip bothered her until once, when he stuck his head in her office to ask a question, and she’d quickly closed a window on her browser, but not before Jamal saw that she was perusing photo galleries of Vanessa online.
“Not looking forward to it to be honest,” he added now about his trip, in case she misinterpreted.
“No?” her voice sounded cool, and a little insincere.
“No. I’d ask you to come with me, but …”
Makayla’s head whipped around at that. “You’d want me to come?”
“I’m your mentor, right? It would be a good experience. Most artists aren’t as much of a … challenge as your friend, Devin, so maybe you’d see how it’s supposed to work instead of the worst case scenario.”
At that she laughed. “Excuse you. I don’t think Devin is the worst case scenario.”
“How would you know?” he teased. “You just got into development fifteen seconds ago.”
“Whatever,” Makayla muttered.
But he could tell from her tone of voice that she’d loosened up a little. Good, because he wanted her to enjoy the evening. Chris and Robyn’s parties were always worth going to, with precisely the right blend of upscale and laidback. Never formal, their events still tended to be peopled with names from magazines, television and the Billboard charts, but Jamal was hoping that seeing some of these folks socially would humanize them and make it easier for Makayla to deal with them professionally as well. And if she was going to be with him …
With him. That was what this was. No matter how he cut it, they were … together. He let that realization marinate for a minute, considered it from a couple angles and decided it was okay. No need to overthink it, or make plans. He would just … let it ride.
About half an hour later, they pulled up to the gate of Chris’ enormous house with the high wrought iron gates out front, leading to the circular cobblestone driveway. When they stopped, Makayla sat a little more upright in her seat. Jamal glanced at her and saw that her eyes had opened wide.
“Where is …”
“This is the Scaifes’ house,” he said as gates creaked and then swung open. Pulling in, he looked at her again.
“Jamal.” Makayla sat forward. “You didn’t tell me we were coming to …”
“It’s just a party. There’s going to be lots of other people here. No one’s expecting you to do anything but have a good time. Relax.”
“Relax?” she demanded, her voice shrill. “You take me to the home of the man who owns the company I work for without giving me any warning and then tell me to relax?”
Jamal pulled up to the door and a young man in a white jacket stepped forward, going around to the passenger side to open Makayla’s door, but pausing with his hand on the handle when he noticed the animated conversation taking place inside the car. Nearby, dozens of other luxury cars had already been parked and the front door was open at the top of the entryway steps. The view of the large vestibule, lit up and decorated with flowers was clear from outside.
“I thought you said we were going to have fun,” Makayla said. “This isn’t going to be fun, it’s going to be stressful.”
Jamal hesitated. Shit.
Makayla wasn’t Madison. She wasn’t a mature and well-traveled professional, exposed to the finer things in life on a regular basis. She was twenty-six and lived in a small outer-borough apartment with a broken elevator and hallways that smelled like garlic. And he had taken her to a party where most of the women would be wearing shoes that cost twice as much as her rent.
Shit.
Leaning over he put a hand at the back of her neck and pulled her toward him, nuzzling her neck, which he knew always melted her.
“I’m with you though,” he said, lowering his voice and speaking against the shell of her ear. “I won’t leave you unless you want me to. Not for a second. And if it’s still stressful, later on, when we get back to my place, I’ll make sure I get you all good and relaxed again.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah, baby. I got you,” he said.
Then the valet opened the door, and they were off.
_______________
If Robyn hadn’t swept in and grabbed her almost as soon as they walked in the door, Jamal would have kept his promise. But Robyn was a force of nature and talked right over his protests, pulling Makayla with her by the hand, insisting as she walked away that there was no need for him to “hover” all night. That was about forty-five minutes ago, and Jamal hadn’t seen either woman since. Granted, the house was huge and they seemed to have given their guests the run of the entire first floor, but it was strange that he hadn’t even bumped into them even accidentally.
There was full bar, a carving station with five different meats, sushi and a vegetarian table that was resplendent enough to convert a dedicated carnivore. And among the hundred or so guests, lots of women who looked as delectable as the food. Beautiful eats, beautiful people and plenty to drink; but he was wandering around searching for Makayla.
“So you couldn’t help yourself, huh?”
Jamal turned to face Chris. The master of the manor was dressed down for the party, in jeans and a white polo. At the office, he rarely did that any longer, having morphed into a genuine adult over the past seven or so years. And if his comment was any indication, he was about to urge Jamal to do the same.
“She’s a good girl,” Jamal said.
“According to Robyn, Madison was a good woman.”
Jamal shook his head. “Not you too. You tryin’ to help me manage my personal life?”
Chris shook his head. “You know I couldn’t give a shit about that. Robyn might not like it that her friend’s feelings got hurt, but all I’m interested in is that SE doesn’t get hurt. You brought her in because she’s close to Devin Parks …”
“Yeah, but she has her ow
n merits as well,” Jamal said, balking at the implication that Makayla was just a token ‘best friend of the talent’.
“Maybe so. But if this thing you have with her goes sour …” Chris shrugged.
“I don’t see that.” Jamal almost didn’t believe he’d spoken those words. But it was true.
What he had with Makayla might reach its natural termination point, but he couldn’t see it ‘going sour’. He almost always managed to end relationships without a lot of mess and drama, but occasionally there was a chick who just would not go quietly. It happened infrequently, but it did happen and it wasn’t always easy to spot beforehand the ones who would make a ruckus.
But Makayla, she was … different. He almost smiled just thinking about her.
Chris raised an eyebrow. “You forget who you talkin’ to? Man, in our immediate vicinity I see about five women you been with, so …” He opened his palms as though that observation spoke for itself.
“Speaking of women I’ve been with. Is Madison here?”
Chris laughed. “I don’t know. I let Robyn handle all the … party invitation politics. If I had my way, I wouldn’t be here.”
“That’s probably why she brings the parties to you instead of trying to get you to go to the parties.” Riley Gardner approached Chris and wrapped her arms about his waist, hugging him from behind.
“Who asked you?” Chris mumbled.
Riley laughed. “No one.” She looked over at Jamal. “I just met your date upstairs with Robyn. Beautiful skin. And that amazing hair … And so, so smart.”
So that was where she was. Robyn had probably detected Makayla’s anxiety and taken her away from the crowd and into a less pressured environment. That, or she was grilling her to get the scoop on how serious the relationship was. Funny how they all went there—“how serious is it?” Makayla hadn’t. Though, like most women, she wanted and expected monogamy, she didn’t seem to have any agenda beyond that.
“Who else is up there?”
Riley shrugged. “It was just us. Robyn, me, Tracy. We were having a little hen session.”
“Well … would you mind going to get her for me?”
“She’s fine,” Riley said, reassuringly. “If she wants you, she’ll find you. She’s an adult.”
“Barely,” Chris said.
Jamal laughed. “I know you ain’t one to talk. Remember the summer of Destinee?”
Riley squinted. “What’s that?”
“That’s the summer Chris was … er, dating a nineteen-year old singer. I think that was what? Just two years before you and Robyn got together? So don’t be throwing no rocks in your glass house, Boss Man.”
Chris shrugged and grinned. “Can’t say I miss those days. Young girls are a lot of work. In more ways than one.”
“Ugh.” Riley grimaced. “Is this about to devolve into some disgusting man-talk? I think I’ll just go get something eat.” She released Chris and headed in the direction of the sushi station.
“I’m not kidding, man. You know how high-strung these young chicks out here can be. Don’t let this mess up the business you got goin’ with Parks. That kid is high-strung enough his damn-self.”
“That ain’t no lie. Throwin’ tantrums during photo shoots. I don’t know, man.”
“You havin’ second thoughts about this deal you offered him?”
“The talent is real,” Jamal said. “But the attitude … Even with Makayla, he’s hard to handle. Before we get in even deeper, I guess I need to know how committed you are to signing him.”
“Committed. He’s blowin’ up even more.”
“Yeah, but that’s because of us, though. I mean, we’re making that happen. There’s no telling whether without us it would …”
“Don’t tell me you’re losing your mojo, Turner.” Chris looked at him searchingly. “Either that, or you want to clear the artist out the way so you can focus on the woman, instead of the way it should be.”
“How should it be?”
Chris looked him directly in the eye. “Clear the woman out of the way, and focus on the artist.”
_______________
Robyn Scaife was the most down-to-earth multi-millionaire’s wife Makayla had ever met. Not that she was aware of ever having met a multi-millionaire’s wife before.
As soon as she and Jamal walked into the house, and before Makayla even had a moment to absorb the awesome size of the place, Robyn swept in and greeted them both with kisses on the cheek, then took Makayla’s hand and spirited her away.
“I call this a party,” she said as they walked off, “but I’m under no illusions that the men won’t spend most of the night talking about business. So you’ll thank me later, believe me. Once you realize what these things are like.”
Then she’d taken Makayla to get a drink, and led her up the wide staircase to the second level of the house where a long hallway led to what appeared to be a private sitting area. Two other women were there, one of them immediately recognizable as Riley Gardner.
Dressed in a rust-colored shirt and white jeans, she was wearing simple brown sandals on her feet, and sat on the Persian rug, legs folded beneath her. She smiled warmly when Robyn and Makayla entered and introduced herself. The second woman, Robyn introduced as Tracy. She was eye-poppingly beautiful; the kind of woman that made other women shrink from the sheer intimidation of her looks.
With cool amber eyes, she surveyed Makayla openly, taking her in, assessing her from her place on what looked like an antique chaise. With her regal bearing, wearing a pale blue dress, and the obvious vintage pedigree of the chair, Tracy looked like … an ice princess. At least those were the words that sprung to Makayla’s mind.
“Here comes the world’s worst hostess,” Tracy said, amusement tinging her voice. “How can you be up here with us, Robyn, when there are a gazillion people in your house downstairs?”
“They’re entertaining themselves just fine. But when I went down to get my drink refreshed, I ran into Jamal and Makayla who he was probably about to subject to a night of talk about sales ratios, airplay and streaming percentages.”
“So you’re with Jamal?” Tracy said narrowing her eyes. “But I thought …”
“Tracy,” Robyn said, warningly. “We’re not going to talk about the men. That’s the rule.”
“I didn’t realize there were rules tonight,” Tracy said dryly. “I feel like I have enough of those as it is. What to eat, whether I can work out, not lifting grocery bags … Brendan’s been a real pain lately.”
“Tracy’s pregnant,” Robyn explained. “Though you can’t tell. Sickening that you can look like that when you’re five months gone.”
“Because I’ve been throwing up every single day, duh,” Tracy said.
“Makayla, make yourself comfortable,” Riley said indicating the other chairs in the room, and the space on the rug next to her.
And it was only then that she realized she’d been standing there awkwardly, silent and with the glass of wine in her hand. Taking a place on a chair directly opposite Tracy’s and next to Robyn, Makayla tried to think of something to say. This was precisely what she’d feared about this party when she realized where Jamal had taken her—that she’d be out of her depth and self-conscious.
“So … Makayla grew up with your new crush, Riley. Devin Parks is her good friend.” Robyn announced.
At that Riley’s head whipped around in Makayla’s direction, her eyes wide. “Are you serious? You know him?”
Makayla couldn’t help it; she laughed out loud. K Smooth’s wife was impressed that she knew Devin. “Yeah. He’s my best friend.”
Riley sat forward. “And amazingly talented. Tracy, have you heard him?”
“You know I’m musically disinclined,” Tracy said, sounding bored. “I like whatever my husband says I should like.”
Riley rolled her eyes. “Anyway. So Makayla, tell me everything. I think I have a crush on him because he reminds me of Shawn.”
“I heard a little abou
t how your husband started in the business actually,” Makayla said, clearing her throat.
“Really? From wh… oh! Jamal. Yeah. He and Chris were the ones who spotted him in that thing in Baltimore.” Riley nodded. “No one’s better at that than Jamal. I don’t know how Chris is going to replace him on the development stuff if he makes him …”
“Riley, that’s not exactly public,” Robyn jumped in. “No one is supposed to …”
“Oh!” Riley clapped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry! I thought.”
Robyn looked at Makayla. “You won’t say anything, will you? Chris would skewer me if he thought I was going around gossiping about his business decisions.”
Makayla shrugged. “Of course not.” She wasn’t even sure what it was she’d supposedly heard.
After that the conversation meandered along the way they do when a bunch of women got together, and gradually Makayla allowed herself to loosen up. The weightiest subject was a new reality show that someone they knew was thinking about participating in. Robyn, Tracy and Riley were all uniformly against it and joked about how they were going to have to avoid the woman’s calls in case they wound up unwittingly the subject of conversation on a television show.
“I actually think it’ll be more interesting to see whether she’s exactly who she is on the reality show as she is in real life,” Riley said.
“Well, it’s called reality for a reason,” Tracy said. “Of course she’ll be herself. The camera doesn’t lie.”
“Actually …” Makayla said, though she was hesitant to contradict Tracy who thus far had been slowest to warm up. “Reality TV is more like hyper-reality, don’t you think? I mean, it sort of … amplifies people’s personalities. So it’s not a completely true reality, it’s like … Technicolor or something. More … vivid, but definitely not more real.”
For a moment the room fell silent and then Tracy took a slow sip of her drink. “Wow,” she said. “Riley Gardner, meet your soulmate.”
Robyn and Riley laughed.
“Never mind her,” Riley said, smiling at Makayla. “She’s always teasing me about over-intellectualizing everything. And by the way, I think you’re exactly right.”
The Come Up Page 21
