Rockstar Savages (Forbidden Chords Book 3)

by Ja'Nese Dixon

  “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Carmela rolled her eyes for good measure, as Jamal struggled to hold it together. “I need an office, so I can have some privacy.” she yelled for Nicki to hear.

  “Where you go, I go.”

  Carmela cocked her head to the side and made the universal sign of hanging herself and that’s when he loss it. His laughter drowned out the rest of Nicki’s colorful retort.

  He cupped Carmela’s beautiful face in his hands, brushing his fingers along the roots of her locs, and lowered his head. He could smell her sweet skin and imagines of her beneath him flooded his mind.

  “My place tonight.”

  Carmela nodded, turning her mouth up, her lips dangerously close to his. “I think we should get this first one over with.”

  Jamal brushed his mouth against hers, happy to oblige. He’d dreamed of her full lips, and then Carmela nipped at his bottom lip. “Open up sweetheart.”

  His kissed her. The sweet fusion of her smell and a hint of citrus on her tongue held him captive, unable to think of nothing but tasting her. His mouth covered hers, exploring softly, caressing leisurely as if he had nothing better to do, in the world, than sample her.

  Carmela closed the last inch between them draping her arms around his neck, pressing her full breast, against his chest. He’d never been a man that believed in fate, or destiny, but she made him wonder what if. What if they were meant to met…to kiss…to have this brief reprieve from it all?

  Then, shoot yo shot kid. He parted her lips and their tongues mated, brushing his hands down her tiny waist and over her full hips to cup her plump ass.

  Jamal knew they had to stop, that this could compromise his reason for returning to New Orleans. The only thing that could stop him was her. Then she moaned cupping the back of his head, and it nearly sent him over the edge.

  He wanted this woman.

  Jamal placed her back against the wall, pulling them further into the darkness of the hallway. Carmela wrapped her long legs around his waist, pressing her body against his.

  He gave, she took. She demanded, he answered. His only goal was to please her.

  The ticking of the sewing machine down the hall, the rapid breathes coming from Carmela, all catalogued in his mind. All witness to this sweet surrender.

  Damn, this must be what heaven feels like.

  “What the hell are you doing? Have you loss your mind?”

  Jamal broke the kiss, reluctantly opening his eyes. Her annoyed groaned brought him back to the hallway and an unwanted interruption. The reality that he could get lost in this woman, thrilled and frightened him. He’d never experienced such intensity with another woman. Just kissing her had him unable to think of anything else. He had to have her.

  “I plan to enjoy getting to know you too.” He said before kissing her neck. Jamal lowered her to the floor, then he glanced at the intruder responsible for cutting his exploration short and the need to protect edged the desire to the background.

  “To be continued….” She whispered.

  “Absolutely.” He turned back to her, pleased to see he wasn’t the only one effected. Her maple brown eyes were in a sexual haze, telling him the attraction was mutual.

  “Marcel, nice of you to join us.” Carmela stepped forward crossing her arms over her chest. “Jamal Washington this is my brother and manager Marcel Franklin.”

  Jamal extended his hand and Marcel stared at it before shaking.

  “Hey Jamal, give us a moment to talk.”

  Jamal glanced between them, then kissed her softly on the forehead. “I’ll see you back in the dining room.”

  Jamal excused himself as the sibling had a hushed talk in the hallway. He manages numbers not emotions, not relationships. He returned to the dining room slash conference room clearing a space for his laptop. He booted it up and opened a base spreadsheet. He would review the details for her music and Crescendo.

  Jamal sat down and started with filling in the basic details, he stopped for a moment examining the artwork hanging on the walls. He wasn’t much of an art aficionado, however, he collected pieces on his travels.

  He stood walking over to the framed piece. The medium looked like acrylics with a nineties theme. The focal point was a large boombox, the size of the brick project buildings, and it sat on a basketball court. The box was colored in hues of gray, shading the people as they danced.

  “I call it ‘For the People’.”

  “You painted this.” Jamal glanced back at Carmela pointing at the picture, then he looked at the painting seeing it with a new perspective. The coloring around the boombox was vibrant yellows, as if the music was the light source and all else faded to black.

  “It’s how I keep my emotions in check.” Her somber tone captured his attention again.

  “How’d it go with Marcel?” Jamal recalled passing Marcel in the hallway the first night, but thought nothing of it since he didn’t expect Carmela would reach out to him.

  “It went. Look, I have rehearsal. I’ll be gone three hours tops. Marcel is working in the bedroom down the hall, Nicki is in the sewing room, and you have my number.”

  “What to talk about it?” Jamal sat on the edge of the table assessing her face, the slight frown, the tight jaw.

  “We can talk later. We’re still on for tonight?”

  “No doubt.”

  Her energy shifted. In the little time he’d known Carmela the nervous tugged at her sleeve, and playing with the thumbhole was a sure sign. She was like chocolate covered caramel, firm on the outside, smooth and creamy on the inside. She played tough well, but her eyes and fidgeting gave her away every time.

  Jamal tried to think of a word of advice or something to put the light back in her eyes. This really wasn’t his lane. He was the silent, task oriented member of his group. He tried to summon all he’d learned from his mentors to help the beautiful queen trying like hell to take hold of her throne.

  “Come here La.” Jamal wrapped a hand around her waist. She stopped standing between his outstretched legs. “All businesses go through growing pains. But you have the opportunity to make this the jump off point for your business to thrive, for your music to exceed your wildest expectations. And I believe you can do that.”

  “How can you be so sure?” She played with his button before looking up. “You’ve known me less than a week.”

  “And I’m not a Carter.” He teased.

  Carmela smacked him playfully on the chest. “My bad, but I apologized for that.”

  Jamal laughed pass the sting of her initial rejection. He was slowly getting to know her. Carmela was a complicated woman.

  “You’re a star Carmela. I don’t have a musical ear like Cameron or Bruce. I don't sing like Marques. But you have the ability to move the room with just one word.” He smiled remembering the show. “You said, bay-bay,” mimicking her New Orleans accent, “and the energy in the room could light the path towards a very successful career for you.” He kissed her, unable to resist those lips. “Set your goals, explore your options, then don’t stop until you make it happen.”

  “Thank you. The stage is the easy part, its the before and after I’m trying to get ahold of.”

  “And that’s why I’m here.”

  “Thank you.” Carmela leaned into him, kissing him softly. This time taking a moment to explore.

  “Enough of the lip-locking, I’m on the clock.”

  “Yes, sir.” She snapped with a goofy smile, tossing her hair back.

  “What made you loc your hair? It fits you.” He held one between his fingers, they were about the size of a marker with brown tips.

  “I wanted to irritate Richard.” Her eyes danced when she smiled. The light was back.

  “You? A wild streak?”

  “Yes. I had a wild streak. I was under his thumb, doing everything he said, and he wouldn’t listen to me about anything.” She laughed, resting a hip against his leg. “Richard wanted to have me with weave down my back, fitted cl
othes, the whole nine. But I refused. I mixed my love for the late Aaliyah and Lauryn Hill and had Nicki create this look.”

  “Hence the baggy pants, crop tops, and the locs. Are all of your tops custom made? You seem to always have a thumbhole.” He pinched at the fabric at her wrist.

  “No, I just prefer this style.” She glanced at her arm for a while. “The look fits me. I feel more like one of the guys and less like I’m on display.”

  “Sweetheart, you don’t look like any of the guys I know.” He ran his finger down the valley of her six pack.

  “What happened to business hours?” She traced the outline of his goatee on the edges of his mouth. “I like this.”

  “Good to know. I’m thinking about growing it out.” He pulled at the hair on his chin.

  “I bet it will look good on you.” Their eyes held, hers darting back to his lips.

  “I think you better get going before I forget I have a job to do.”

  “I guess I should before I let you.”

  Jamal nodded. Carmela didn’t move, neither did he. He wanted to ask her why she called her father Richard. Did she always want to be a rapper? Jamal hoped he’d have more time to learn why he felt so drawn to Carmela.

  “Go on La, have a great rehearsal. Call me if you need me and I’ll see you tonight.” He stood up taking her with him. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

  “Oh, and don’t forget to give Marcel the invoice for the rehearsal hall.”

  They talked until he opened the door of her SUV. She loved movies. Her favorite color was purple, after watching Purple Rain. She’s never been on a plane. Her favorite food was spaghetti with no meat and extra cheese and a closed second was gumbo with extra shrimp. And she loved loved loved bread pudding.

  Jamal etched the animation of her face and the extra loves she added when speaking of food. Then he stepped back and watched her leave until she was no longer in sight.

  “I think you and I need to get a few things straight.”

  This dude loves popping up. Jamal turned around. “I’m listening.”

  Marcel stepped outside the house. Jamal waited.

  “How about you go back to wherever you came from?” Marcel leveled a squinted glare at Jamal. They were about the same height, but Jamal had at least thirty pounds on him.

  “Despite Carmela’s wishes?”

  “Carmela doesn’t know what she wants. The last thing we need is you and your guys snooping in our business. Go now, and I’ll tell her you had more pressing matters to see to.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “Rich boy, this ain’t your scene. You heard me.” His nose flared.

  “I ain't been a boy since the day I was born.” Jamal smiled, not phased by this clown. “Either you help me, or you don’t. But I’ll get to the bottom of your business and I ain’t leaving until Carmela says the words.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Marcel stomped off, slamming the screen door behind him.

  Jamal shook his head staring at the door. What the hell are they trying to hide? And what the hell had he gotten himself into?

  Jamal turned to watch the cars pass taking a deep breath. Staying would only get worse if Marcel had something to hide. And did Carmela know? The screen door slammed behind him and he spun around ready for round two.

  “Thank you.” Nicki stepped closer. “I finished the alterations so I can help.”

  “Don’t tell—”

  Nicki held up her hands stopping him. “I won’t tell La, it would break her heart.”

  “And I don’t want to do that.”

  “I knew you was more than a pretty face.” Her smile was genuine. “How about I fix lunch and you get to work?”

  “I like the sound of that.” Jamal opened the door for her. “After you.”

  “And you got manners.”

  “How do they survive with both of you?”

  “Survive?” She huffed, “They’re damn lucky we tolerate their trifling asses.”

  Jamal laughed so hard he cried. Nicki headed to the kitchen and he went back to the dining room. He glanced down the hall thinking about his kiss with Carmela and a feelings of pure lust rushed over him.

  His eyes moved to the closed office door next. The tension with Marcel didn’t sit well with him. Maybe the aggression stemmed from Marcel trying to look out for Carmela and Jamal was an outsider. He’d get to the bottom of it.

  Jamal opened his laptop. He needed that report from Damian ASAP. The first order of business, find what had Marcel’s panties in a bunch?

  Chapter 14

  Carmela entered the rehearsal hall thinking about Jamal. Escaping her life for a brief moment with him was a moment she wanted again, even if it meant pissing some people off.

  Now, she was back to the real world and her real life, namely Richard. He was known to take his mini-trips. He’d disappear for a few days, but never without calling her. Carmela hoped she didn’t push him too far this time. The last time he fell off he came back worse than when he left. He left as her father and came back Richard—a colder version of the man she loved. The thought of him become more distant made her ache in ways she couldn’t express.

  “Gabriel,” she called once she cleared the doorway, making her way to the stage. The lights were low inside, she blinked to adjust to the contrast. The first thing she noticed was the silence. She tapped her watch, and the screen showed a quarter til one.

  “The dancers should still be practicing.” She mumbled. She waited for a response but still heard nothing. She rounded the corner expecting to see the few dancers she kept after the last show, the stage was empty.

  “Gabriel.”

  “They went to lunch.” She jumped.

  “Richard, you scared me.” She froze, placing a hand covered her racing heart. Speak of the devil and he will appear. He stood from a cushioned seat ahead in the front row. She walked to him stopping at the end of the row. “How was your trip?”

  “Fruitful.” They hugged, then he pulled a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket. He waved it around like a winning lottery ticket. “I told you I would take care of it.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I visited a few men I met at the last festival. I have a plan Baby Girl.”

  Carmela shook her head, tired of hearing his grand plans. Plans were never the problem. Richard was a good manager, he was a natural charmer, which went well with connecting with people. The problem was execution. He created these master plans and it sent her and Gabriel globe trotting for months on end only for the number to never add up.

  “Carmela, don’t give me that look. This is what you’ve always wanted. A multi-city sponsored tour.” Her chest tightened. “See, we don’t need help. You are fresh meat and those guys know a good thing when they see it.”

  “What are you talking about Richard?”

  “You! They know you are a star Carmela. They want to get on board and take what we’ve worked so hard for. We need to keep their greedy hands off your work.”

  “Dad—I mean Richard,” his glare stayed her. “Listening, I called them. It wasn’t the other way around. And what would it hurt to have someone come in and help us get ahold of this situation.”

  “Ahold of what? I got it under control.”

  “No, Richard, you don’t have it under control.”

  “See they’re already getting in your head. Carmela, when you work with those types you’ll sell your soul.”

  “Those type of people? What are you talking about?”

  “Those suit and tie niggas. Those rich niggas. Always think they’re better than us.” His face twisted in disgust. “We ain’t nothing but some field niggas for them to cash in on.”

  “You’ve lost your mind. I’m done with this conversation.” She had to get ready for a show, she walked pass him.

  “I’ve lost my mind? What about you? You let a nobody come in asking to look at our books.” He followed her. “You don’t talk to me, your manager. You don’t talk
to Marcel, your manager. Just fuck your management, huh La?”

  “It’s not like that?” Carmela stopped, facing him. She let out an exasperated breath. Here we go again, the same ole’, same ole’.

  “What is it like?” His cold eyes bore into her.

  “Listen Richard,” she lowered her voice, this was escalating out of control. “I apologize if you think I went behind your back. That was not my intent. I would never intentionally hurt or disrespect you. But what was I supposed to do? This problem is not new. This is not the first time I’ve tried to get a handle on our money problem.”

  “Why’d you pay for Marcel to get that fancy degree if he can’t use it?”

  “I kept asking questions and both of you act like I don’t get it.”

  “He knows what he’s doing. We have a system. You stick to the music.” He thrust a finger in her direction. “And we stick to the business. You done let that suit nigga get all in your head and now he know betta than your family, right?”

  Carmela felt two feet tall. The line of division always came to stick to the music La. You don’t understand business La. Let us handle it La. But she knew he wouldn’t hear her. Not right now.

  “Listen, ain’t nobody out to get us. No one is in my head. Wait, where are you going?”

  He spun around, she stumble to keep from crashing into him. “Are you sleeping with that nigga?”

  “Richard?” Carmela stepped back.

  “Carmela are you?”

  “That is none of your business.”

  “All of this is my business.” He swept a hand around the room. “You, your career, our bank account is all my business.” He stopped inches from her. Richard stood so close she could smell the cayenne on his breathe.

  “Now you’ve gone too far.” She whispered.

  “That’s it huh. He done turned you out. Got you feelin’ yourself. Now you’re ready to turn your back on your family.”

  Her head snapped back as if he’d slapped her. “How dare you? I do everything for this family. I bust my ass for this family. All I want is—”

  “To sign a fat contract and leave us in the dust just like yo mamma.” His words cut like a rusty knife.