by Tiana Laveen
“Shit. Hold that thought, baby.” He answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is this Mr. Cain Johnson? Wanna make sure I’ve got the right number.”
“Yes, what can I do ya for?”
“A meeting, that’s what. My name is Dennis Spinely and I’ve been watching you perform for a long time, Mr. Johnson.”
Cain’s heart skipped a beat. He picked up a shrimp tail off his plate and tossed it at Tapestry, getting her attention.
“Why’d you throw that at me?!”
He placed his fingers to his lips while she scowled at him. He put the call on speaker phone so she could get in on the action.
“I saw a show you did with a young lady whose name I came to discover as Tapestry LeBlanc, correct?”
“Yes, I performed wit’ my girlfriend, Tapestry LeBlanc, at The Three Muses.”
“Yes, and you two really impressed me. You fascinated me on your own, Mr. Johnson, and I was going to call you anyway, but that right there was an amazing performance. You two have a lot of chemistry, and now that I know she’s your girlfriend, it all makes sense.”
Tapestry squealed silently. He smiled at her reaction.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Spinely. I ’preciate that.”
“So, what I want to do, Mr. Johnson, is get you over here to Nola Notes Studio on Valence Street.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I wanna get you in on… let’s see…” He could hear the man flipping through papers. “Next Friday at 1:00 P.M. Does that work for you?”
“I’m sure I can work my schedule just so.”
“Good, good! I want you to know in advance that this meeting is to discuss producing your music as well as possibly purchasing one of the songs I heard you perform one time at the Maple Leaf Bar.”
I was there ’bout two months ago… I didn’t even know he was in the joint.
“Mr. Johnson, you said you’d written it yourself and I think, well, we’ll get into all of that later… but it has a lot of potential and my partner and I are interested.”
“Of course, yes, we can talk about that. Um, you want me to bring Tapestry too though, right?” He reached across the table and gripped her hand. “I mean, I know I don’t have to talk ’er up, but you heard her sing… ain’t nobody got chops like that. She’s a star already.” He winked in her direction.
“There is no denying that Ms. LeBlanc is in a league of her own. In fact, discussions have been underway about her as well and I definitely want to meet her. However, for this first meeting. I want just you, and then, should you like what we’re offering, the second meeting will be with Ms. LeBlanc, too. Sound like a plan?”
“Yes, that sounds just fine… just fine.”
“All right then, Mr. Johnson. I will see you next week. If you have any questions, please let me know.”
The man proceeded to rattle off his personal phone number and email address. When the call was over, they simply sat there looking at one another, their mouths open like frogs trying to catch flies. And then, they exploded at the same damn time with joyous laughter. Tapestry jumped up from her seat and began to spin around and dance. He joined her, twirling her all about like a spinning top.
“Baby, this could be it!” He grabbed her in his arms and squeezed her tight.
I’m bringing a lawyer, too. I’ve learned from my past mistakes…
“See? I told you that your ship would come in, Cain. Just gotta be patient!” The woman believed in him when it seemed nobody else did. He never told her how disappointed he’d been in not hearing from the man, but somehow, she always knew what was going on inside of him, even when he’d clam up and silence his inner screams. “How ’bout we go to my bedroom and celebrate?” She tossed him a saucy grin.
“Aww, girl, you ain’t even got to ask!”
He guided his arm under her ass and swooped her into his arms. Hoisting her off the ground and high into the air, he was met with a raucous scream. She still wasn’t used to him taking her into his arms with the greatest of ease. He then raced with her to her bedroom, the two being silly and laughing all the way.
If I get this deal, me and this here woman are gettin’ married… we’re going to get a house together, make some music, make some babies and some great memories, too…
The cloud over his head was lifting, and the sun began to shine once again. He laid her down on the bed and kissed her perfumed neck. She was sweeter than decadent chocolate cake…
She ran her fingers against his calloused palms as he caressed her face. He imagined his rough skin from hammering and sawing all day then playing his guitar all night must’ve felt like rose thorns…
Thoughts of all she’d done for him and to him swallowed him whole. Being eaten alive by love never felt so good…
His heart beat hard and fast when he recalled reading a love letter she’d written him, long before they’d admitted to one another that they were falling in love. Fast and deep they fell, and it touched his soul’s soul, and the soul of another lifetime, too.
“I finally met my giving tree… just like in the children’s book by Shel Silverstein,” she said between moans as he undressed himself with one hand and sucked on her neck with the other.
“What are you talkin’ about, baby? I ain’t familiar with that,” he said breathlessly, wanting nothing more than to be balls deep inside her pussy.
Hush up with all that silly talk and let me get in dem draws…
“You were getting your life dream granted, Cain, and you didn’t just think of yourself. When he got done talkin’ to you, you asked him about me. You said what about your girlfriend… you’re a giver, and I’m a giver, too. I’ve given my heart to the wrong men in the past… takers. I finally met someone like me this time around… my soulmate… a man who wishes to do me no harm. You are the water in my garden, baby…”
He understood now. Her truth dove deep inside of him…
Oh… I understand what she’s saying now…
“We are givers, aren’t we, Tapestry? Love ain’t just about what you can get outta somebody and how they make you feel…” He slid his tongue all along her cleavage, then peeled her bra away, releasing his most favorite part of her body. “It’s about what you can give that person, and then you sit back and watch what they do wit’ it.”
“That’s right… like are they gonna squander it, or make it magic? Make it into somethin’ real? The garden in my heart is well tended by you.”
She shuddered when he entered her and gave her deep and demanding thrusts, his need for her strong. He strained to keep afloat. She felt so good, so warm, so wet…
“But I don’t just water you, baby; you water me, too. Like a beautiful rose with thick, prickly thorns, delivering beauty, pleasure, and pain. All you and I wanna do is see one another grow…”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A Song to be Sung…
Cain sat on the left side of the long table in a place that looked as if it was made of nothing but windows. Framed photos of musicians, some of whom he’d seen blossom over the years, lined the walls of the boardroom, framed in gold. Spinely stood in a corner of the room talking to two men dressed in suits. One of them had a bald head and a huge diamond pinky ring. He could see the huge thing even from a distance.
He sucked his teeth as he sat there in his black slacks, button down black shirt and silver necklace with a guitar charm. Across his neck too was a blood red choker featuring a faux Voodoo Priest skull with a top hat.
His right hand was covered in black onyx rings, and his hair hung in a long black braid flowing down his back. He’d contacted an attorney beforehand who let him know it would be unnecessary for legal counsel to attend this preliminary meeting, but he warned him to not sign anything until he reviewed the contract with a fine-tooth comb. Tapestry had given him a much-needed pep talk and a little mornin’ lovin’ to start his day off right.
“All right, Mr. Johnson.” Spinely approached with a smile on his f
ace and sat across from him. “Sorry to keep you waitin’.”
“No problem… no problem at all.” Cain sat back in his seat and clasped his hands together. The bald man remained in the corner, now on his phone while the other man, who was significantly shorter than the other two, made his way out of the door.
“All right, so, as we’ve made it quite clear earlier today before I left to take a call, we want you in our Nola Studio family. You’ve got a unique sound, Mr. Johnson, and it’s what we’re lookin’ for.” The man then opened up a black leather portfolio, looked at the contents, then turned it in Cain’s direction and slid it across the table.
“Here is where the rubber meets the road. This is the contract. This first page gives information about our company, the history, so on and so forth.” Cain nodded in understanding as the man reached over and turned the page. “These next five pages detail the costs we’d cover for you, such as studio time, equipment, concert and tour expenditures, obviously production costs, things of that nature. It states what percentage you’d receive from each download of your first album.”
Cain read the words on the first page real slow, making sure he didn’t miss anything.
“Now, please bear in mind that this is a two-album contract. We want to lock you in for at least eighteen songs, spread out over a three-year period. Down there on the bottom is where you’d sign, and then you’d go to the next page.” The man turned the page once again. “These two pages are specifically about the song we want to purchase from you for another artist of ours to perform. The song in question is titled, ‘Intuition.’ That’s correct, right?”
“Yes… that’s what I had named the song.”
“All right. Over here just stipulates that we can change the name of the song if we purchase it from you. It doesn’t mean that we necessarily would… just gives us that leeway. Additionally, what we’ve got here is the Production Agreement. This would be further detailed in a Licensing Agreement, the song we want to purchase from you, which we have separately drafted up. This will all be in an independent contract, and the terms will be subject to whatever clauses we negotiate from the original publishing contract. Additionally, it will be registered with ASCAP. It’s just mentioned in passing here so that you’d understand that you’d be properly credited and receive royalties for each time it is played on the radio, downloaded, performed by the artist, so on and so forth.” Cain nodded in understanding.
The man went on and on, and he listened with ears working like a bat in a cave. Even though he had a legal team waiting to go over this whole deal, he wanted to understand it for himself, not depend on someone else to break it down for him in laymen’s terms. The other man with the bald head soon joined them, sitting right next to his business partner. Cain took notice that his smile was much like Spinely’s, only slightly crooked.
“Hey there, Cain!” The man had a thick Texan accent. He extended his hand and Cain reached over and shook it. “My name is Steven Alexander. I’m sure Spinely already gave you information about me, but he and I work hand in hand.”
“Yeah, he told me about you. Hey… how’s it goin’?” Cain propped his elbows on the table and linked his hands. He didn’t like the man’s vibe but did his best to sport the best poker face he could muster. Spinely came off as genuine, while this guy seemed to be trying to run a big ass dog and pony show, the kind that promised glitz and glamour but only delivered heartbreak and crusty, old manure.
“I’m good! Better now that you’re here! So, as you can see there,” the man said, pointing down at the portfolio. “We’re offering you a real generous package…’cause we don’t want to dilly dally and drag this out… We want you, all right? We know you’ve been in the game a minute, worked the circuits in Louisiana for a good long while, so you’re seasoned… ready to jump!”
He burst out laughing. Cain did not.
“Well, I’m not ready to jump on just anythin’ that moves though, Steven. See, the one leap I’m doing is a leap of faith, but only under the right circumstances and trust has to be earned, never just given. Like you said, I’ve been workin’ this for a long while, doin’ my thing, but I’m not desperate. I’m motivated, but I’m not going to just give myself away, either.” The bald man leaned back and clasped his hands. “Now, you may think this is a generous package.”
Cain looked down at one of the pages then back into the eyes of both men. “But I know what the goin’ rate is for comparable guys of my caliber and expertise, and this ain’t enough. This is about 4.8% shy of the goin’ rate and the song deal is a lowball, too. I know that there’s another separate contract with all of the details, but I can see clear as day where this is goin’. I’m not sellin’ a song that I believe could make you all millions in the right hands, and only get about fourteen thousand dollars before taxes. I can count just fine, and these chickens ain’t addin’ up. I will never sell a song outright and let go of my rights. You can license the damn thing, give me my due, then we’re talkin’.”
Cain swiveled the contract around and scooted it back in their direction, then crossed his arms over his chest.
The guys’ smiles turned stiff.
“Mmmm, all right.” Spinely cleared his throat, reached to adjust his blueberry colored tie, and blinked a few times. “Well, everything is negotiable, Mr. Johnson.”
“Call me Cain… just like your uh, business partner.” Cain smiled and pointed at the bald man. “Mr. Alexander here took the liberty of doing so.”
“All right… Cain it is. So, what do you think would be a fairer proposal?”
“What you offered plus 4.8%. Then we can talk about the song—separately.”
“Well, you see, Cain, that type of rate is actually for singers who’ve already been performing in the public, in the media. That’s for artists who—”
“With all due respect, I’ve been performin’ in the public for over two damn decades, startin’ back in elementary school. I’ve been not only on local television shows but a YouTube video taken of me performing ‘Kiss the Sky’ by Jimi Hendrix went viral. Go anywhere in Nawlins or Mississippi and they know my name. I don’t book without fifty percent down and there’s a waitin’ list goin’ out two months to get me in a hole in the wall, local dive, a swanky high falootin’ joint, or even your mama’s living room. I’ve written songs for the likes of some of your favorite country, pop, and blues singers.
“I’ve got over ten signed contracts right this second ’cause I don’t step foot into any place without some money up front and somethin’ in writing letting me know how much I get, with or without a drink purchase minimum. I run that type of tight ship. I’m no newborn baby; I’m in it to win it and I learned the hard way, got my teeth knocked in so to speak as I was teethin’ on this here music life. I’ve had my work stolen from me,” He began to count off his fingers. “I’ve had my equipment nabbed and the bastard turn ’round and play my own stolen guitar right in front of my damn face and dare me to say shit about it. Needless to say, I sure did say somethin’ about it but I’m no longer allowed in that juke joint again due to an assault and battery…
“I’ve had a lot of stupid stuff happen because I wasn’t watchin’ my back and didn’t know what I was doin’… and I was too trusting, too. But now, because I am seasoned and been around, as you say, I know exactly what the deal is, and what you offered plus 4.8% is a steal for me.” Cain pointed at himself.
“And you and I both know it,” he continued. “You think you’ve got the upper hand, but I promise you on my mama and my unborn child that I will walk up outta here without a damn thing, go right back to the Spotted Cat earnin’ jar money, coupons for a free appetizer and unlimited drinks, and be just as content. It ain’t my dream… but I’ll make it sooner or later, with or without you. I believe in myself just that much, and I refuse to sell my 6’4” ass short. Now please don’t do this… it’s insulting. I wasn’t born last night and didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. I suggest you two discuss it amongst your
selves…”
The two men’s complexions turned ashen, like white ghosts. He knew they believed he was some backwoods country idiot—a guy from Sulphur, Louisiana who’d dragged his despairing ass all the way to Nawlins in hopes of makin’ it big, like so many before him.
Time ticked on by, and the two men excused themselves for a spell. Back in the corner they went, huddled up like a small football team. Cain whipped out his phone and began to play a game; their football cluster got him in the mood. A few minutes later, they returned with broad, happy smiles on their faces. They sat down at the table, and the Texan burst out laughing.
“Mr. Johnson… you’re an interesting guy! Wow!”
“…So are you.” Cain grimaced, no longer in the mood to play pretend with the boulder headed fool. This wasn’t Aunt Freida’s funeral. He was fresh out of fucks to give.
“Well, we’re two interesting guys then. Ain’t that special?” The man leaned forward, his eyes darkened. “You drive a hard bargain, Cain… What Spinely and I are prepared to do is offer what was originally offered, along with a 4.6% increase. That is only 0.2% less than your original asking price! Let’s do this! I believe—”
“4.7 %.”
“Cain, this isn’t an auction where you just call out numbers.” The man smirked and rolled his eyes. “4.6, all right?”
“It’s not an auction but you treated it like one when you had the audacity to waltz out here and start at the bottom but we’re not here. 4.7% is what I’m agreeing to. I already dropped it 0.1%, but I’m not going to drop it another. That 0.1% is important to me but a drop in the bucket for you. Call my bluff. I know my worth. I’m a rose with a lot of thorns, but I smell the best in the whole damn garden.”
The big man rolled his eyes. Leaning in close to Spinely, he whispered something and the guy whispered back. The two turned back towards him and extended their hands.
“Mr. Cain Johnson, you’ve got a deal.”
“Now let’s talk about that song, shall we?” Cain grinned and shook both their hands…
