by Tiana Laveen
That memory was one of thousands he cherished… little sprinkles of joy in his life. Soon, he heard the click of shoes against the floor, and the door open. He met eyes with Alexander.
“Heey! Why aren’t you relaxin’ after a job well done? Take a load off. Have a seat, Cain.”
Cain hesitated for a bit, then did as asked. He walked over to the small table covered in a white cloth and sat down.
“Want some water? Coffee?”
“Naw, I’m good.”
Cain leaned forward and clasped his hands. The big man sat across from him, a laptop and briefcase in hand. He set the items down.
“All right, I said for you to come on in here and wait because we wanted to wrap everything up but also to talk to you about somethin’ that’s come up.”
“And what’s that?”
“We, uh… we need to talk about Tapestry.”
“You ready to sign her?” Cain tried to be optimistic, but he didn’t like how the man was looking at him, and his body language was odd, too.
“Well, we’re in a bit of pickle. It’s a little dicey.”
“Make relish then.”
The man chuckled, but it was obvious he was now uneasy. Alexander’s face was turning red like those tomatoes in the paper bag being taken to Mrs. Chouteau.
“You see, she uh… she’s got a beeeeautiful voice! We like it a lot… and she uh, she’s a real nice lady, lovely too… but hmmm, how should I put this?”
“Look, just say what you need to say, please.”
The man looked at him for a spell while rubbing on his chin, then nodded.
“Cain, she doesn’t fit the image we’re lookin’ for.”
Cain looked at him long and hard, gritting his teeth and fisting his hands.
“What do you mean she doesn’t fit the image that you’re lookin’ for?”
“In today’s world, Cain, you have to be the complete package! I wish it weren’t that way because women and men like Tapestry could get the break they deserved—but they’re money suckers… people don’t buy their music ’cause of how they look. See… you’ve got it all.” The man threw up his hands. “You can definitely sing, you can perform well in front of crowds, you know how to work a room, you’re tall, you’ve got that whole rocker look down pat with the long hair, tattoos, and brooding eyes. The ladies love you, too…”
The man smiled at him as if that last line would make all of this okay… make it all right.
“What kinda horse shit are you sittin’ here talkin’ about?! You mean tuh tell me that you—”
“Now hold on, Cain!” The man pointed his finger at him. “To be honest, you’ve been a problem since you first stepped your foot in here! We’ve bent over backwards for you, and we’re not going to be bullied into doing somethin’ that will hurt our bottom line. I know you take this personally. She’s your friend, but—”
“She’s my girlfriend! That’s my woman! She’s got more talent than most of these crooners out here, and you want to sit there and tell me she’s too big? Have you lost your country-fried mind?!”
“I get it, Cain… all right? I understand.” The man put up his hands in surrender. “I’m not sayin’ she’s not attractive. She’s obviously a very pretty woman… hell, if I were single I’d date ’er but her face being lovely isn’t enough… What about her body? She’s just not what people go for nowadays, Cain. The days of the Etta James types, Billie Holiday, Aretha Franklin, and the like are over!”
“What about Jill Scott?! What about Adele?! How about Candy Kane, Megan Trainor, Emeli Sandé and Jennifer Hudson? And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. My baby is built just like Jill Scott, and Jill Scott is sexy as fuck. Fuck what ya heard! I mean, they could almost pass for sisters! And my baby has the chops of all of ’em I mentioned and then some! I doubt the producers of Kelly Clarkson feel like she’s a lost cause! She ain’t a size 2, either. Sittin’ here talkin’ about they’re out of style…” He clicked his tongue at the man, trying to not lose his composure even worse than he had. “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me!”
“It’s a no go for Tapestry. Sorry.” The bastard threw him a cool look, a ‘fuck you’ written clearly across his expression. “We can talk again in a year or so and reconsider if she’s lost significant weight. Maybe she should look into surgery or one of those boot camps for weight loss. I think that’s an option so she can at least be considered.”
“Consider this!” Cain flipped him off as he leapt from his chair. Bird shit was definitely not good luck. “I wanna talk to Spinely. NOW!”
“He’s not here. He’s in Tennessee on business,” the big bastard stated calmly.
“And you’ve got some fuckin’ nerve. You’re pushin’ 400 lbs., easily!” Cain stormed over to his guitar case and snatched it off the floor.
“I’m also 6’3 and a man… and not trying to get a record deal,” the man stated dismissively.
“Fuck you. I ain’t comin’ back up in here until I talk to him. Don’t you call me about that song, about shit else in the studio. Don’t you say another goddamn thang to me.” Cain stormed off. “I’ll talk to Spinely myself… you son of a bitch! I knew you wasn’t shit the moment I laid eyes on your troll lookin’ ass! Go crawl back under your bridge and shove that pinky ring up yer ass!”
“You’re under contract, Cain.” The man burst out laughing. “I wouldn’t do anything stupid, if I were you. It’s not our fault. It’s the way of the world, Cain! Deal with it!”
“I’mma deal with it all right.” Cain turned in his direction before busting out of this place, his finger pointed squarely at him. “And you’ve fucked over the wrong man… believe it. If it wasn’t for her, Spinely may have dragged his feet on me for a while longer. Tapestry is the one that got me where I am right now! How fuckin’ dare you!”
“Cain, you need to calm down before you say something you regret. Now, I’m warnin’ you, boy.”
“I ain’t cha boy!” Cain gritted his teeth. “And I don’t regret shit I’ve said to you, not one mothafuckin’ syllable.”
“She’s fat.”
“Just like your motherfuckin’ lip will be if you keep talkin’ slick ’bout my girl. Things in Texas might be bigger, but my ass is badder, believe that. I come from the swamps of Louisiana, you gaudy, pretend-rhinestone-cowboy son of a bitch! Folks from around these parts take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’! I’m from a long line of mothafuckas who keep on survivin’, time after mothafuckin’ time! Ain’t a bastard alive that can lick me! Not Hurricane Katrina, not depression, not a dead bitch named Frieda, and surely not the likes of you. You ’bout to remember the Alamo, motherfucker. Mark my goddamn words…”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
We’ll Understand it Better, By and By…
Tapestry held the microphone and slowly closed her eyes…
She tapped her foot as she heard the instruments playing around her and smelled the smoke in the room. Soon, she fell into the groove. Tonight, she had a multitude of musicians behind her.
Clad in a long black gown, her hair slicked back into a ponytail with a red rose in her tresses, she swayed her hips, feeding off of the energy in the crowd at Buffa’s Bar and Restaurant. She began to belt out, “Tears Dry on Their Own,” by Amy Winehouse. The audience began to sway and wave their hands in the air, singing along with her. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her boyfriend standing there, his long hair half draped over his face. He was cradling his guitar and fingering it as if trying to make it cum. She smirked and kept tapping her foot, patting her thigh to the tones that webbed within her very soul. Once she was finished, the place was jumping with applause.
“Thank you, everybody!” she spoke into the microphone, smiling wide, grinning through the pain of it all. Yes… pain. But he didn’t want to talk about it…
Something had happened at the studio, but he kept the shit bottled up. Instead, her baby poured it all into his music. He’d been up practically three days straight practicing,
making what was already great even more wonderful. She’d found a few cigarette butts smashed into one of his ceramic bowls, and a bottle of empty Jack Daniels in the trash. His apartment smelled of marijuana, and his appetite for her body had made her almost unable to walk into the place that night and perform. The sex was animalistic—a depraved creature was trying to suck the life out of her like a stray cat stealin’ a baby’s breath. He clawed and pinned her down, bit and sucked and licked, and his stamina was unfathomable… like that of a sex fiend possessed.
On a swallow, she shoved the thoughts out of her mind and took five—a little break before she sang the next tune. Sauntering over to the bar, she got herself a small glass of red wine and fiddled around a bit on her phone. Her man was so close but so far. He remained up there on that little stage during the break, moving about like some worker bee.
I know you feel me lookin’ at you, boy…
But he wouldn’t meet eyes with her. Soon, it was time to get back to work. Up she went, grabbing the microphone to croon, “Fade into You” by Mazzy Star. She looked at that man with the long black hair far too long as the lyrics rolled off her tongue…
Finally, he returned her gaze with those big, bold, blue of his eyes shining like two sapphire crystal balls, telling her past, present, and future. He rocked back and forth in slow motion, the black corded necklace around his neck swinging back and forth, the diamonds in the large skull pendant catching the twirling lights just so.
When it was all said and done, he mouthed, “I love you.” She smiled at him and took a bow as the crowd wolf whistled and clapped. They performed a few more songs that night, and when it was over, while they packed up, he was offered drink after drink. Much to her surprise, Cain refused them all. Sitting on the seat next to her, he removed the half-smoked pack of cigarettes from his pocket and cast it away in the trashcan.
She didn’t ask him anymore what the issue was, what was eating him up inside. He’d clammed up, but in some special way, he was allowing her to see bits and pieces of his darkness, until he found fragments of light to wrap himself around and hold on to. Loving Cain wasn’t easy…
He was complicated, moody, temperamental, and at times withdrawn. But once he told her that his heart was hers, she never doubted him. He was loyal. She didn’t wonder who he was screwing besides her—she knew the man only had eyes for her. He was kind, sensitive to her needs, and still a man’s man all in one. He fought hard, but loved harder. He was a naturally born empath, feeling the pain of others, as well as their joys. It twisted him up inside; all of that art and wonder, that humor to mask hurt, and that love for a good song made him who he was.
It’s almost a curse for one man to have all of that talent…
He reached over to her and wrapped his hand around her neck. Drawing her close, he kissed her, so passionately. The heat of his mouth sent lusty waves flowing through her body, from her head to her feet. She knew this was his way of telling her he was all right… and everything would be just fine, by and by…
…One week later
I brought that blue-eyed, White Creole man home to my Daddy…
Tapestry hadn’t taken Cain to her parents’ home. She’d considered it, but knowing her daddy the way she did, her consideration was short-lived. Daddy was a hardworking man, now retired, who wanted nothing more than to be left the hell alone. His words… not hers. He’d had a hard time in life and had a low tolerance for bullshit.
Cain insisted on breakin’ bread with the man, stating that they’d been together far too long at this point for him to have never set eyes on them. So she begrudgingly agreed to it, still feeling it was perhaps a bit premature. Not because she had any concerns regarding her and Cain’s future, but she hadn’t warmed her father up enough to the idea. In reality though, that toasting of the idea could take a whole ’nother lifetime.
They pulled up and she eyed the place, wondering what lay behind front door number one of the 2,080 sq. ft. house on Winners Circle. Cain got out of the car like a jolly bastard, his eyes shining bright, teeth showing from a confident smile, and eagerness in his step. He marched right up to the door like some delivery man with a birthday cake, leaving her behind as if she were some afterthought. She looked at him from behind as he rapped on the door. He was wearing a denim button down shirt which revealed peeks of his chest tattoos.
Lord have mercy… Mama is surely gonna have something to say about that…
Daddy snatched the door open as if he was about to give whoever stood on the other end of it a piece of his mind. He looked at the two of them for a spell, then offered a half smile as he stepped aside.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Mr. LeBlanc. I’m Cain… thank you for—”
“Come on in here…”
“Thank you, sir. It’s real nice to finally meet you!” Cain stated as Daddy closed and locked the door behind them.
When it slammed shut, the sound shook her a bit. Cain jetted out his hand but Daddy looked him over a time or two, then shook it with suspicion in his eyes.
Let me break the tension up…
“Daddy, Mama must be cookin’. Smells good!” She grinned a bit too hard, but she was barely keeping it together as it was.
“She is. She in tha kitchen. Go on in.” Daddy grunted.
She removed her shrug from around her shoulders, looped it over her purse, and headed down the short hall to the kitchen, with Daddy and Cain following close behind. There Mama was with her skinny, tall self, stirring a pot of something that smelled just right. She threw a look at them from over her shoulder. With her gold-rimmed glasses, she studied them, her gaze hopping from one to the other.
“How you doin’, baby?” she asked with a smile.
“Oh, I’m just fine, Mrs. LeBlanc!” Cain said with a grin.
Tapestry jabbed him in the side. “She was talkin’ to me!”
“Oh!” He chuckled. Mama giggled, too.
“I know I said I wasn’t cookin’, but I changed my mind. I was gettin’ a little light headed. You’re more than welcome to have some. It’s just some dirty rice and fish, nothin’ big.”
“I wouldn’t mind a plate.” Cain pulled a chair out and plopped down in it, still grinning like a big ass greedy feline that had swallowed a canary.
“That’s just fine. I got some cornbread and sweet tea, too. Want some?” Mama walked across the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, removing a big old jug of tea with what looked like a hundred slices of lemons, oranges, and limes swimming in it.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Cain clasped his hands together, still looking as eager and pleased as ever… It was driving Tapestry plum crazy. Boy, was he laying it on thick.
“Tapestry tells me that you’re a singer, and a guitarist… and a painter… and an artist… and a carpenter, too.” Mama laughed as she set the plate of freshly fried cornbread cakes in the middle of the kitchen table.
“Yes, ma’am, I am!” Mama turned back to her cooking and he reached over to grab a piece of cornbread. Tapestry slapped his hand. “Oww!”
“We gotta say grace first!” she whispered. “You act like you’ve just been let outta some cage!”
He smirked and withdrew his hand, resting it on his lap.
“Sounds like you keep busy.”
“I most certainly do.”
Daddy cleared his throat, filled a glass with tap water, and sat down next to Cain. He was still frowning, but of course, Daddy always looked that way so Tapestry struggled to read the old man’s mind.
“Daddy and Mama, guess what? Remember I told you some guys were interested in him? Well, now it’s official. Cain’s got a signed and delivered record deal!”
“Didn’t you say they were checkin’ you out, too?” Mama’s eyes lit up with joy.
“Yes ma’am, but his is already in the works!”
“Cain, Tapestry has always been superstitious about things like that,” Mama added. “She never wants to brag on herself or say anything.”
She leaned over and hugged the man, then kissed his cheek.
“That’s just wonderful!” Mama smiled as she filled up bowls with the dirty rice, then laid a piece of fried fish over each portion. She joined them at the table and they all held hands and bowed their heads.
“Father, we just wanna thank ya for all that you’ve done for us. Thank you for this dinner to nourish our bodies. Thank ya for family, friends, and fellowship. Thank ya for good health and good intentions and grantin’ me one mo’ day to be with my family. Amen.”
“Amen!” everyone said in unison. Moments later, the clatter of spoons and glasses filled the room. Tapestry calmed a bit as she watched Daddy eat, and his facial muscles relaxed ever so slightly.
“What do you play?” Daddy asked around a mouthful of food.
“Guitar. Electric, acoustic and bass… know how to play double neck, too, but don’t do that too often.”
Daddy nodded as if he were duly impressed. He even smiled.
“I play a lil bit of acoustic.”
“Do you? That’s great… See? We got somethin’ in common. How long have you been playin’?”
“Since I was ’bout ten… self-taught.”
“Well, shoot, we should jam together one day. In fact, I have an old one I always keep in my truck, just in case.”
“Isiah is good, but he ain’t played in years,” Mama cut in. “It’s been at least ten years, right?”
Daddy nodded as he worked his gums around a big piece of cornbread, then he reached into the bowl and bit off a piece of fish.
“It’s back there in the garage.” Daddy hitched his crumb-covered thumb in that direction. “I could dig it out.”
