Maya had set up an interview for me and Tashay with Vibe magazine. We were having lunch at Miramoso, an Italian restaurant on the West Side. The article was called “The Future of R&B.” They were profiling five people for the article. Tashay was supposed to be with me, but she hadn’t shown up yet. The journalist, Brenda, was a young, petite black woman with short dreads that were dyed brown at the tips. She had on a black suit jacket with a lacey white T-shirt underneath, and a short denim skirt and black knee boots. Her style was very different. We sat down and she turned on her tape recorder and started asking me basic questions like where I was from, who did I listen to growing up, and who did I think I was like who was already out. Tashay came up to the table and took a seat.
“How you doing? Sorry I’m late,” she said, brushing her burgundy curly weave out of her face. She was wearing a short pantsuit with a red belt and red shoes. She looked like she was about to do a photo shoot—big hair and makeup done up.
“Let me see them shoes. They are so nice. Are they Christian Louboutins?” Brenda asked.
Tashay turned her foot out and showed off the red bottom of her shoe.
“Yes, aren’t they cute? My boo bought them in L.A. off Rodeo Drive.”
“They’re nice, but now that is nicer,” the reporter joked as she pointed to the big fake-looking diamond bracelet Tashay had on. After she complimented Tashay on the bracelet she went back to her shoes.
“What separates you from the rest, Tashay?” Brenda said, finally getting back to the interview.
“Well, I’ve been writing my own music since I was ten, and I took vocal classes and dance. My mother was a singer and her mother was singer. I also play the guitar and I read and write music. I also sang at church in the choir since I was seven.”
Wow, that is so impressive, I thought. Brenda asked me the same question. All I could think to say was that I loved to sing. Brenda asked us a series of questions. Tashay answered effortlessly. I’d have to learn that skill. I felt like I was confusing my words and stumbling through answers. Tashay was what Tony was talking about camera ready and poised—the kind of artist a man wants to bed and a woman wants to be like. I had to step up my game.
I got a call from Peter’s secretary telling me to meet me at his office at six-thirty p.m. When I arrived, his secretary called Peter and he came to the door.
“Kendra, come in and have a seat. I’m finishing up some work.” His office was big. There was a book case and a long mahogany table. Plants were near the window. I sat and looked at the stacks of reports on his desk. I smiled as he offered me something to drink.
“I just wanted to let you know that if you ever need anything, I am available. You’re going to do great. Thomas has told me about your amazing voice. Actually I was just listening to it,” he said as he turned the volume up on the speaker and I heard myself singing “Amnesia.”
“Thanks.” I said.
Peter then came over to my chair and said, “Don’t thank me, you are the talented one,” and clasped my shoulder gently. “I just wanted to let you know if you needed anything don’t be afraid to ask. Sometimes you need to have someone higher up looking out for you. But if that person looks out for you, you have to look out for him, too,” he said. His hand brushed past my breast and then he let his finger circle my nipple. He was making me feel cheap and nasty. If he thought I was going to sleep with him for some extra favors, he was out of his damn mind.
“Mr. Sutton, if I need you I will ask. I’m going to leave. Okay?” I said as walked out of his office. I couldn’t believe that he had said that to me. Who did he think I was? I went home angry, shocked and in disbelief. I still felt his nasty hands on me. I felt like calling Marcus and John and having them come and kick his ass. But if they did that I would probably lose my deal. I wanted to tell someone, but who? He was the vice-president of the company. He probably did this all the time and I came to the conclusion that my best bet was to keep my mouth shut and act like nothing ever happened.
It was 11:00 a.m. the next morning and Bubbles sent me a text message asking me to call her immediately. Her butt should have been at school. I dialed her cell phone.
“What’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”
“There’s no school today. I just wanted to tell you that this girl called Smilie on the radio was dissing you this afternoon.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She has a picture of you off of this Web site, Wire Images, and she is laughing because she said her niece got the same outfit as you.”
“Hold up! Slow down. Who said this?”
“This girl named Smilie said her niece wore a dress you had on at a party to church. Did you get it from Target?”
“What radio station?”
“It’s the new hip-hop and R&B station. All my friends were calling me telling me she is talking about your sister. Right. She don’t be talking about my sister. ’Cause I know you have money and don’t have to buy a dress from Target. I should go up to that station and beat her up for lying.”
“No, don’t do that,” I said. I didn’t dare tell her that my dress was from Target.
“She don’t want me to go up there and hurt her talking about my daughter. She don’t know she won’t have a job,” my mom said as she jumped on the phone.
“Mom, it comes with the territory. Don’t worry about it.”
“I don’t care about no damn territory. No, that ain’t right. You trying to make something of your life and you got this chick talking about you on the radio, I’m going to beat her ass.” I didn’t let them know, but I was upset.
“Mom, did you check the account for the bill money.”
“Yes, I paid the bills yesterday.”
“Okay, mom please don’t worry about it. I have to go, I’ll talk to you later.”
How was somebody going to be talking about me? Fuck her, I thought. She don’t even know me. The good thing was that it was only a local radio station, so nobody out here would have heard of her. I got off the bed and I looked at my purple dress. To me it was still nice, but I guess I wasn’t allowed to shop cheap anymore. I don’t know why, since I wasn’t rich. I had a few dollars in the bank, but was I supposed to spend all my money on clothes and stylists? I didn’t have time for this mess. I got myself together, dressed and was on my way to meet Tony, Thomas and Beazie at the studio. I had fifteen songs recorded. All I needed was another five, Thomas would pick fourteen to go on my CD and I would be done.
Tashay was in the studio down the hall. Everybody was really jocking her hard. She had a nice shape and her face was just okay, but she must sing like heaven, ’cause they loved her. To be honest I was starting to get a little jealous. I hoped she didn’t sing better than me. My fears were immediately put to rest. I walked into the studio, and Beazie and Davis were laughing
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“All this hype around this nonsinging bitch,” Beazie said, laughing.
“What are y’all talking about?” I said as I placed my bags down on the floor.
“Nothing. You ready?” he said, flagging the air.
“Beaz, tell me,” I said still trying to figure out what was going on.
“It’s nothing. That chick can’t sing and was trying to get smart with me.”
“Who can’t sing?”
“Tashay. She can’t carry a note and she goes off on me. So I’m like, ‘Calm down, Ma.’ Then she was like she didn’t have to and all this and that. Getting smart, right? So then I told her to her face that she can’t sing and she started telling me what vocal training she had. So to make a long story short, she goes and calls Thomas. Then Thomas comes in and I told him I’m not working with that bitch no more. He put her in another studio and then goes off on me. So I’m off her project. Ain’t nothing, though. It’s not like she going to sell any units anyway,” he said, throwing a piece of balled-up paper into the trash.
“Damn! For real?” I said.
“You
should go listen to that nonsinging trick. Go to the end of the hall and just listen.”
“She can’t be that bad,” I said. Then even Davis, who was her biggest hype man, gave me the craziest screw face.
“But y’all worked with her before.”
“No, we didn’t. They were playing stuff she already recorded. This is the first time I’ve heard her live, and she is bad. She is going to fall right on her face. People recognize real. She can’t do no live shows singing like that. It don’t matter how good you look.” Beazie said.
I couldn’t believe it—I had to hear it for myself. I had to see for myself. I walked to the end of the hall, and I heard it with my own ears.
Her voice was a combination of a duck whispering and a sheep straining loud. And it didn’t help that she was flapping her arms around while she sang.
“Oh no,” I said as I ran back down the hall, laughing my ass off. We were laughing hysterically. I had my hand in front of my mouth. I couldn’t believe Tashay was sounding like that.
“That girl is tone-deaf. How did she get a deal? They are going to triple overdub that voice,” Davis said.
We were all still laughing when Tashay came walking in with this big hair and super-tight jeans on. She found herself somewhat stepping to Beazie.
“Is there any reason why y’all keep coming into my studio? Did y’all want something?” she asked.
“Naw, you got it,” Beazie said and started laughing again, right in front of her face.
“Is something funny?” she asked.
“Yeah, you bitch. You’re funny ’cause you mad at me because you can’t sing,” Beazie shouted as he started laughing again and playing my song “Amnesia” real loud.
“I thought you might want to hear what a real singer sound like.” He laughed.
Why did he have to put me into it. Now, that was not funny.
She walked out of the studio switching hard, saying, “Whatever.”
Chapter 19
Even though I didn’t want to get with Peter, I still wanted to play nice with him. I told Tony what had happened, just to get a man’s opinion. He said it was good that I’d resisted his advances, but I didn’t want to totally turn him off either. So I went to his office just to let him know I appreciated the opportunity to sing at his party but was not interested in anything else. I got to his office as his secretary was coming down the hall.
“I’m here to see Mr. Sutton,” I said.
“One minute,” she said. She went to her desk, grabbed her keys and bag and said, “He’s in there. You can go in.” She raced out the door and said, “Sorry, I have to pick up my kid from daycare. My husband’s stuck in traffic.”
I shrugged and walked into Peter’s office. He was sitting at his desk and a mop of black hair was bobbing up and down on Peter’s lap. His eyes were closed and his pants were resting around his ankles. The person was on her knees and wasn’t even coming up for air, she was going so hard. They were so into the act, neither of them heard me come in or leave. I tiptoed back out the door and shook my head as I replayed what I’d just seen. That’s when it hit me—the woman on the floor in front of Peter had been wearing shoes with red soles. It was Tashay. Oh my God! Wow! Now I see how she got her deal. I wasn’t with that shit. If that’s how she got down, fine. I’m not her, and I’m not doing what she does. I didn’t want any part of that. I walked out of the building like I didn’t see anything.
The next day Corey called and asked if could I meet him and Bella at six at his place so we could discuss the songs he wanted me on. I was going to sing the hook for Bella’s demo. She was not signed yet and Corey was trying to get her a big deal. He gave me his address and I took a taxi over. When I arrived his girlfriend, Aisha, answered the door. She had on jean shorts, a blue tank top and blue satin wedge sandals.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m here to see Corey,” I said like, Aren’t you going to let me in?
She looked me over and then said, “Oh, you’re that singer. How you doing?”
“I’m okay.”
“You can come in and have a seat.”
I looked around his place. He lived in a bi-level condo. His kitchen was on my immediate right and the living room was straight in front of me. There were hardwood floors and a kitchen with an island. His microwave, dishwasher and refrigerator were all stainless steel. His sofa was white leather with red pillows. There were pictures all around.
“Baby, the singer girl is here,” she said.
“My name is Kendra,” I smiled, correcting her.
“Oh. Sorry,” she said.
Corey told her to send me upstairs, and that’s when I found out he had a small studio set up in one of his bedrooms. I walked in said, “Hey,” to him and Bella. She was there, once again looking like little Thug Misses. Corey was looking good as usual.
“Your place is nice,” I told him.
“Thanks,” he said, as he began to play the music for the song he wanted me and Bella on.
“So, what do you think about the track so far?”
“It’s hot. I think the concept will work.”
He started playing a few other beats when Aisha walked in the room and said, “Core, I’m leaving.”
“Okay,” he said.
“You not going to walk downstairs and say goodbye?” Aisha whined, standing in the doorway.
“Give me a moment,” he said.
He started discussing the songs with us. When she came back in the room she said, “Core, you don’t have to walk me because I’m leaving.”
He finally got up and walked her downstairs.
“That chick is so needy,” Bella said when Corey left the room. I didn’t comment but I definitely agreed; her whiny voice was annoying. She seemed like she thrived off attention.
A few moments later he came back in the room and said, “Now that she is gone let’s get down to business.”
We went back and forth with ideas about the concept of my and Bella’s song for over an hour. Corey wanted us to get everything ready before we booked studio time.
“So when are you trying to get in the studio to record this?” I asked.
“By next week, I hope.”
Bella’s phone started ringing. She answered it and then she said she had to go.
“Bella, we have to do this,” Corey said as he tried to block her leaving.
“I got to meet my moms at the airport. Y’all finish everything up, and then tell me what the songs are about. I’ll spit my verses and that’s it. Corey I’ve been here for two hours. I have to go.”
Corey begged her not to leave but she left anyway. “I guess it’s just me and you,” he said finally. “So what do you think about the songs?”
“They’re okay.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just a little tired,” I said, yawning. “And a little stressed.”
“You need to get a massage,” he said as he attempted to rub me.
“I will when I get time,” I said removing his hand.
“I need one. I haven’t slept in three days and I’m getting tired. Can you give me one?” Corey asked.
“I’m tired too. So I’m going to get out of here. When you have everything ready let me know,” I said as I stood up to leave.
He stood and I followed him down the steps, and then he asked where my boyfriend was.
“He’s home in Philadelphia.”
“I guess he hasn’t learned his lesson yet. He is still leaving you alone in the big city.”
“I’m doing okay. He knows I know how to handle myself.”
“You do?” he asked as he moved uncomfortably close to me. I could feel his body. Only six inches separated us. “Whew, if I didn’t have a girl,” he said.
“I’m taken,” I said, reminding, him that even if he didn’t have a girl I wasn’t an option. He made the six inches into three inches.
“Right now I’m not thinking about your man or my girl,” he said as he began
to move even closer me. I tried stepping back, but he just kept stepping up. He finally backed me all the way against the wall. There was nowhere else to go.
“Don’t your girlfriend have a key?” I asked, hoping that would make him scared.
“She is gone for a couple of days.”
“Please get away from me,” I said as I felt my heart beat rapidly. I was trying to flee. I turned my back to him but that made him push his body up to mine. I asked him to back up off me and stop touching me.
“I’m not touching you. Do you want me to touch you?” he asked.
I wanted him not only to touch me but to take every part of me, to sensually devour me. I could feel his wet tongue going up and down my neck.
“Stop. Please, stop. Please,” I said.
I was right by the front door, but I didn’t want to leave. He was who and what I wanted at that point. But then the next thing I knew he began swabbing his round dick on my ass. I knew my pants were coming down. I tried to pull them back up.
“Get out of them,” he demanded. He was rough and I was loving it. He wasn’t even inside me yet and I was feeling him.
I was trying my best not to give in to temptation. I was wrestling away and telling him to get off me. “Corey, I don’t move this fast. Plus I have a boyfriend.”
He wasn’t listening to me. His focus was getting me out of my clothes and onto the floor. And I wanted to be on the floor. Just the thought of him prying my legs apart and tearing my insides up made me want to stop fighting. He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed so tightly I thought I was going to pop.
“What’s wrong? You’re not feeling me?” he asked as he kissed my neck. For some reason I felt like I couldn’t lie to him.
“Yes, I’m feeling you. But I have a boyfriend, and this just can’t happen.”
“We want each other. I see the way you been looking at me in the studio. We are grown and can do whatever we like.”
“No, no. I have to go.”
“You don’t really want to go, do you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Okay, I’ll stop,” he said as he pulled away from me.
All I Want is Everything Page 15
