“Jason wanted me out of the house a few days ago, but I asked him to give me a week.”
“I know, but don’t go.” I pulled him closer and brought his lips to mine. “I’m just getting used to you being around.”
“I’m getting used to you too.”
His CD started over again.
We stared at each other without words for the first two songs. Our hearts had started a fire that only passion could extinguish. Our lips connected, and our tongues raced to meet. He caressed my back gently. My hands fumbled from his forehead back to his neck. Our breathing was heavy, and our bodies were hot.
Somehow we untangled ourselves. My back was flat against the living room floor, and Tremel was on top of me. His hand traveled from my waist to my breasts, and that was all the incentive I needed.
My eyes rolled back, and I was ready to go into convulsions. I had to concentrate, think of something else, so that I wouldn’t look like I was having a seizure. I couldn’t believe the excitement I was feeling from his fingertips on the outside of my shirt. We had never been this close before; he’d never touched me like he was doing now.
Over the past few months, I started to think that he had something to hide, but according to the knot that was pressing up on me below, Tremel didn’t have a thing to be timid about.
Through the speakers, he was singing a song called “Have My Baby.”
I felt him all over me as I listened to the words of his song.
Let’s make love to make life, have my baby and be my wife. Tremel slowly removed my shirt as the speaker sang. No baby mama drama between me and you, no breaking up to make up like some others do. He littered me with kisses from my belly button back to my lips.
Lady, have my baby; let me put life inside of you tonight. Take this ring, let’s do this thing, help me do it right.
He seemed shocked as I tugged on his shirt and lifted it over his head.
If the test says no, then I’ll cancel my show, just to rush home and make life nice and slow.
Feeling his bare chest on mine and hearing him singing in the background was a dangerous combination.
Before long, we were both completely naked. I was suddenly afraid of what the next step would do to our friendship and new relationship.
“Sarai.” Tremel looked down at me. “Please believe that this isn’t all I want from you.”
At the moment, it didn’t matter, because all I wanted was him in any way I could. “I believe you.”
He lifted his body a bit, and when he brought himself down, slid right into me.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I felt like Goldilocks; he wasn’t too big or too small, he was just right.
Our bodies melded together like they were cut from the same cloth, and now here we were joined together to create a royal garment. Other than our breathing, my whimpers, and his groans, the only sound in the room was TreMelody crooning through the speakers.
When the music stopped, the sound of our bodies loving each other had an even better melody.
Out of the still of the night I uttered, “Stay with me.”
He plowed deeper into me again and again.
“Don’t move away. Stay with me.” I kissed him and moved my body to match his pace a little better. “Move here, Tremel.” I wrapped my legs around his thighs and grinded my pelvic area around in circles. “I have more than enough room here.”
Our bodies continued to gently slap against each other.
“Forget Daytona.” I rubbed his back. “Stay here.”
He pushed himself upward with his hands palmed down on the rug on both sides of me. “Here?”
“Yes.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“But I don’t even have the money to give you to start out,” he said. “I spent over nine thousand dollars in the studio, which was all—”
“Shh.” I pressed my hands into his hips. “Just give me you.”
He started moving again, and he didn’t stop until we were both speaking in tongues, sweating, and calling out each other’s names.
Tremel fell to my side, and I rested my head on his upper arm.
“So when can I move in, landlady?”
I was excited. “Well, you just put down the deposit.” I walked my fingers down his chest. “Let’s see what you’ve got for first and last month’s rent.”
We both laughed.
We started moving his things into the apartment the next day.
Within a week, Damian’s old office space was converted into Tremel’s new music room. It was nice to have someone around again, and Tremel being that someone was an added plus.
During my days, I not only booked flights, cars, and hotel rooms for Elite, I also called various record labels to gather information and mailed out Tremel’s demo to anybody who was anybody in the music world.
Over the next month, whenever there was an envelope addressed to Tremel, with our fingers crossed we’d open it together. The letters always sounded like this: Thank you for allowing Blah Blah Blah Records the opportunity to experience your talent. Though your work is truly amazing and unique, at present, our establishment is not in search of an artist of your genre. However, we wish you lots of luck in all of your future endeavors. Some of them returned the CD, others didn’t.
Each piece of mail we sent out included professional photographs, the CD, a lyrics sheet, and a memo selling Tremel Colten.
Before long, I started taking the rejections personally. I was his biggest fan. I believed in him and couldn’t see why we couldn’t find anyone else who did. Whenever I was discouraged, all I had to do was turn on his CD or listen to him sing while sitting behind his Casio, and I’d run to lick stamps or drive to the post office to dust myself off and try again.
It was early November when the phone rang.
“Sarai, I have a guy in Miami that wants a girl tonight. I figured I’d let you work this one,” Stefani said. “You have someone local that’s free? It’d be dumb to fly someone there on short notice. We’d be spending more to get them there. You think you can find somebody?”
“I’m sure.” I grabbed a pen. “Let me get his information, and I’ll make some calls.”
“Cool,” she said. “His name is Dwayne Cart, but he’ll be checked into the Marriott on Biscayne under the name Damian Carter. I took care of the transaction already. He spoke to Conrad, and they worked out a special rate because the girl he had a few months ago bailed early. Conrad will pay whoever you find directly, so this Mr. Cart character is getting a free ride.”
I almost dropped the phone. She had no clue that she had just told me that my ex-boyfriend was paying money for sex, when he was supposed to be in a relationship with my former friend.
“He’ll be checking in at six and wants her until midnight. We need someone there no later than seven. Okay?”
“Hold a second.” I clicked to my other line and listened to the dial tone, while my heartbeat forced itself to become regular once more. “You are a nasty bastard,” I said into the phone, wishing that somehow the lines would cross up and Damian would hear me.
I went back to Stefani and held back the temptation to scream. “Yeah, I’ll have someone there.”
I looked at the clock; it was a few minutes to four. “I’ll take care of everything.” And I meant just that.
I made four calls, the first one to Cherry. Since I hadn’t heard that R&B girl group’s name on the radio, I figured she’d probably needed a few extra dollars.
I assumed correctly.
Cherry knew exactly where the hotel was and agreed to be there at 7:00 sharp. I instructed her to wait on my next call, and I’d tell her what room number to go to.
The second call was placed to Damian around five. I called him using a calling card so that my number wouldn’t show up, and I also did a little to disguise my voice. “Mr. Cart, this is Michelle from Elite.”
“Hello, Michelle,” he said in a flirty tone. “How are you?
”
“I’m doing great,” I lied. “I was calling to let you know that Cherry will be meeting you at seven. Please leave a key at the front desk and tell them that your wife will be picking it up.”
“Okay. Thank you. Conrad and I already worked things out—are you aware of that?”
“Yes.” I wanted to curse at him. “Have a good time.”
He laughed. “Why don’t you come instead of sending someone?”
I bit my bottom lip. “I’ll be there in spirit.”
“Flesh is always better, though. Where are you?”
“I’m not into that part of the business, Mr. Cart. Have a good night.” I hung up.
My next call was to the hotel, confirming that Mr. Carter had checked in. Sure enough, the bastard was already waiting in his room. Cherry was informed to go straight to room 1412 and not to the front desk.
I placed my last call from inside my truck parked in the hotel garage. It was to a number that I thought I had forgotten, but when payback is a factor, you’re liable to remember anything.
“Hello?”
“Hi, India. How are you?” I asked.
“Sarai?” She sounded nervous and surprised. “What, what do you mean?”
“I mean, how are you?”
“Fine,” she said. “You?”
“Great.” I continued, “Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush and waste time. I was calling to find out if you’d like to have a drink or something. We need to talk.”
“Are you serious?” Her voice was filled with glee.
“Yes.” I faked it. “Yes, I am.”
“You, Nat, and me?” she said, probably too scared to be alone with me.
“Just me and you. We’ve got some talking to do.”
“Okay.” She paused. “Where?”
“Let’s see.” I pretended to think about it. “Let’s go to that restaurant inside the Marriott on Biscayne. A friend of mine said that they have the best pasta.”
“Cool. When?”
She fell for it. “Well, I have to be somewhere later. Is it all right if we do it right now?”
“Now?” she asked.
“Yeah. I’m really ready for us to get back on track.”
“Wow, I’m lost for words,” she said. “I’m already dressed. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
I had her hook, line, and sinker.
With Damian’s room key safely tucked away in my purse, I sashayed into the restaurant and told the host that I’d sit at the bar until my friend arrived.
From my stool, I watched Cherry in her sexy business suit enter the lobby and turn heads as she made her way to the elevator to entertain her client.
India was pretty, but Cherry was prettier. I had picked the right girl for the job.
My Merlot was doing the job. I was loose and ready for anything to happen. I ordered another glass, paid for it, and finished it before the bartender had a chance to place the bottle back on the shelf.
A dark, evil shadow overtook me, when I spotted India walking through the lobby doors. My blood was boiling like it was when I saw her curled up, hiding in my bathtub after she had just jumped off of my man. I had to breathe and try to think good thoughts, or security was going to have to call higher authority to handle me.
She was smiling, just as she had many times before while sleeping with Damian behind my back. The look on her face said that she wasn’t sorry. It was actually telling me she was happy that I finally came around and saw things her way. I was ready to rumble. I was Mike Tyson minus the “what-the-hell” tattoo over half of my face.
As she walked toward me, her steps became shorter. It took her forever to get to me.
I couldn’t hold back. “You miserable bitch.” I paused. “Why did you do this to me?”
“I knew this was too good to be true.” She stopped a few feet from me. “I said that I was sorry, Sarai. What in the hell else do you want me to do or say?”
“Just tell me why you did this to me.”
“Damian and I just connected. I didn’t plan on it, I just fell in love with him.” She looked me up and down. “He loves me too.”
“He didn’t love you, India—he was fucking you—He didn’t even love me. But if he loves you so much, then why is he calling me? Why is he still trying to get me back? Did he tell you that he sends me flowers, cards, and candy?” I took a breath. “He’s no good.”
Looking at her, I knew that she thought the words were just from a woman scorned.
She had the nerve to say, “Will you just accept the fact that we’re in love?”
“How can you fall in love with a man that was supposed to me mine? You were supposed to be my friend.” I was in her face.
She waved me off. “I knew that there was a fuckin’ catch.”
When she tried to walk away, I grabbed her hand. “You want a catch?” I took the key from my purse. “Go catch your man in room fourteen twelve showing another woman how much he’s in love with you.” I placed the key in her hand.
She giggled. “Whatever—Damian is in Shreveport. His flight gets in at midnight.”
“‘Midnight’?” I laughed and looked at my watch. “I guess he meant midnight in Iraq, because the brotha is upstairs. I can guarantee you that you and I will have a whole lot more in common, when you walk into that room and meet a woman riding your man’s dick.”
I walked back over to the bar and ordered another glass of wine, while she stared at me.
“Why in the hell are you playing with me, Sarai?”
“I’m not the one playing with you. It’s Damian that thinks you’re a toy.” I looked away from her. “Room fourteen twelve.”
As she started to walk away I yelled, “And don’t you ever say another fuckin’ word to me for as long as you live. This does not mean that we’re cool.”
I sipped from my new glass of wine, as I watched her walk to the hotel exit.
She paused then turned around and strolled to the elevator. My work was done.
Tremel was home; I could hear him playing his keyboard. I gathered the mail and opened the door to the music room. “Hi there.”
“Hey.” He gestured for me to come in. “How was your day?”
“A little crazy.” I giggled. “I’ll tell you about that later. We have mail to open.”
I sat on his lap and handed him everything with his name on it.
“I don’t want to go through mail today, baby.” He held me around the waist and put his head on my shoulder. “It’s so draining, one after the next. It’s starting to play with my mind. This can really drive a person crazy.”
“I know, but good news is only considered good news when you’ve had a little bad news first.” I tried to encourage him. “Come on, let’s open the envelopes and see what we have.”
One by one, we opened the four responses, and sure enough we had been had again. All four were bad news. I was ready to jump off of this Ferris wheel we were riding. We just kept going in circles.
“Something has to happen. This is my dream.”
I sat around the house the next day, wanting to throw out the letters that we’d received, but he insisted on keeping them, saying that in the future they’d keep him humble and appreciative for the one chance he was given.
Remembering Tremel’s words from the night before haunted me, and as I thumbed through the stack, I got an idea. I wasn’t going to just sit back and help, only to watch his dream sink.
“Jump Records, this is Julian Odom speaking.”
I was clutching the phone so hard, I was surprised it worked. “Hi, Julian. How are you?”
“Oh, I’m just fine. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?”
I didn’t know what he would say about me contacting him at a number he never gave me. I went through the Elite Establishment’s computer files to get it. “This is Sarai Emery.”
I could tell that he stopped doing whatever he was doing.
“Who?”
“Sarai.” If
he didn’t remember me, I was hanging up. “We met down in the Bahamas at the Atlantis, remember?”
“Ah yes.” Is something wrong?”
“No.” No, I’m not pregnant or calling to tell you to get tested. “Everything is fine.”
“Hold a moment for me, please.”
I listened to music produced by Jump for about two minutes, before Julian came back, “Are you there?”
“Yes, I am.”
“How are you doing?” I was surprised by his friendly tone.
“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” I was nervous. “You?”
“All work and no play, unless you’re in my area.”
“No, I’m in Florida.” I felt like an idiot. “Listen, I was calling to ask your advice, or to see if you could be of any assistance to me.”
“About your website?”
“No, my site is actually doing all right,” I said. “I’m calling because I have a friend who just finished a dynamic demo. However, we’re having a problem getting it past the receptionist’s desk at many record labels. The CD hasn’t been reviewed by anyone who matters. We’ve been getting back a bunch of form rejection letters, but I know that there is major talent there.”
“Is she fine?” he asked then laughed.
“He is very attractive.”
“Can he sing, though?”
I thought he’d never ask. I pressed play on the stereo and held the phone toward it for ten seconds. “What do you think?”
“Well, he sounds good, but I’ll need a copy of the demo so I can get a better listen and pass it on to the right person.”
“Thank you so much, Julian. Let me get your address at Jump.”
“Don’t send it here. A friend of mine will be down in West Palm Beach this weekend.”
“Who?”
“Dwayne.” He chuckled. “For old time’s sake, how about a little fun in exchange for doing you this little favor?”
“I’m sorry. I really don’t do that anymore, Julian.”
“Then I’m sorry. I really don’t work for Jump anymore, Sarai,” he said. “One good turn deserves another. I even guarantee you that I’ll get Martin Bonnet to listen to it, and if he’s deserving of it, I’ll give the man props.” He paused. “I know how hard it is to get into the music industry, and believe me, everybody that gets in knows somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody on the inside.”
Going Broke Page 18
