The Takedown

by Nia Forrester

  Prentice turned to look at Devin with narrowed eyes. “Goddamn. That’s you, bruh?”

  Raking his fingers through his hair, Devin shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah,” he said.

  “Goddamn,” Prentice said again. “Then you gots to get in on the action, man! Ain’t no sittin’ on yo’ ass when you a bonafide musical genius and shit. C’mon lay down a little somethin’ fo’ me.”

  Hesitating for only a moment, Devin relented and followed Prentice into the live room.

  “What you want, man? Vocals? Guitar? ‘Cause from what I heard you do it all.”

  “Vocals could work,” Devin said, his voice hoarse.

  He didn’t do too much collaborating with other artists. He knew himself well enough to realize that his temperament didn’t allow for that process to go too smoothly. He worked with a very small group of musicians he’d known for a long time, and who were accustomed to his exacting standards. Other than that, he wasn’t interested.

  But having now heard Prentice and his crew, he was curious.

  “You know Mali Music?” Prentice asked.

  Devin nodded, smiling, pleased that Prentice had chosen an artist—one of the few—that Devin actually had mad-respect for.

  “How ‘bout we cover ‘What You Done’? You think you can handle that?”

  Devin nodded, recognizing that he was being challenged.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I can handle that.”

  The song required extraordinary range, and soul. Although nowhere near as timeless, it was a number akin to Bob Marley’s ‘Redemption Song’ or Earth, Wind & Fire’s ‘Reasons’ in that it was better left alone by anyone other than the original artist.

  Prentice’s boys took a few minutes to warm up and find the right pitch before they began to play in earnest. Devin shut his eyes and rocked for a few moments until he heard his entry point. His first note was a little rough, but it was alright because the song demanded raw, almost unpolished vocals. He sang the entire thing through without pause, and only opened his eyes when he was done.

  Prentice stared at him, wordless for a few beats and then came toward him, hand outstretched, palm open. Devin similarly extended a hand and Prentice grasped it, thumb hooked into Devin’s.

  “Bruh,” he said. “Bruh.”

  ~7~

  Madison flipped her bangs away from her face, and Jamal grinned as she blushed under his scrutiny. Reaching for her napkin, she unfurled it and spread it across her lap, then looked up at him again, smiling.

  “You look beautiful, Madison Avenue,” Jamal said.

  It was true. Madison had added a few pounds to her once-slender frame, and cut her hair even shorter than it had been when he’d last seen her almost a year ago. Now it wasn’t as severely straightened, and the pleasant waves, bobbing about her chin, softened her features.

  She was also wearing a lot less makeup than she used to. Overall, she looked like a woman much more comfortable in her own skin. That, more than anything else, made her much more attractive.

  “Thank you,” She blushed again, and glanced needlessly down at her lap.

  “So, who’s the lucky dude? And why the hell did he send you to New York unaccompanied to meet with the likes of me?”

  Madison laughed her delicate tinkle of a laugh.

  “His name is Jake, and he’s an attorney, like us.” She laughed again, still sounding a little flustered, and was unable to look him directly in the eye. “And I don’t think he would have sent me here unaccompanied if he knew what a flirt you are.”

  “Just me being me,” Jamal said. “And all that passes these lips is truth. You look damn good.”

  Was he flirting? Jamal wasn’t sure. Maybe it was just a habit, or maybe it was because Madison had always been so easily thrown off balance where he was concerned. Thinking back to the days they’d been together, Jamal remembered a woman who quivered, and was incredibly responsive when he touched her, whose breathy sighs had a way of keeping a brother ready for more.

  But, better not to walk down that path on memory lane. This was probably exactly the kind of reminiscing Kayla feared when she found out about this little get-together in the first place.

  “How’d you and Jake the Lawyer meet?”

  “Through work,” Madison said. “I was pretty much a recluse when I moved back down there. Didn’t have any plans to date for a while, and then, poof. There he was, like magic.”

  “Sometimes, that’s how it is, right? We plan, and God laughs.”

  “That how it was for you?” Madison asked. She had reached for her menu and had taken on the tone of someone straining to sound casual.

  Jamal had known that her curiosity would probably get the better of her sooner or later. But he had banked on it being ‘later’.

  If he had a dime for every one of the women he used to kick it with who wanted to know what magic Kayla had worked, he would double his already considerable salary. The thing was, there was nothing he could tell them that would satisfy that curiosity. He wasn’t sure himself what happened. All he knew was that for as long as he could remember, he was his own safe harbor. Everyone’s friend and confidante, but with no one who could be those things for him.

  In some ways, he didn’t just manage performers, he was a performer himself. Always on the move, always up for a good time. When he slept, it was with a bedmate almost as often as it was by himself. And yet, he never felt less than alone. Never lonely—he was too busy for that—but alone.

  Makayla studied him with her warm, brown eyes, sometimes staring at him when she thought he wasn’t aware of it. And Jamal could tell she wanted to know not just the face he showed the world, but lay beneath. But unlike other women, unlike Madison, she didn’t force it, she just let it happen. Before he knew it, she was behind the walls.

  “Didn’t know what hit me,” Jamal said to Madison, shrugging. It was a cliché, and one he hoped would shut down all talk of him and his woman. What he had with Kayla was the most private and sacred of spaces in his emotional world. And there was only room for two.

  “I was surprised when Robyn told me who it was. I wondered whether … Why don’t I just come right out and ask.” Madison straightened her back and looked him in the eye. “Were you and she involved while we were?”

  Jamal took a breath. “That’s a difficult question to answer.”

  “Actually, it should be a very easy question to answer, I think,” Madison retorted. Her eyes still rested squarely on his.

  “Is this where we ‘settle all family business’?” Jamal asked, taking a sip of his water.

  A waiter hovered close by and Jamal shot him a quick look, shaking his head to indicate that they needed a little more time to make their selections.

  Madison shrugged. “Whatever you’d like to call it. I just wondered,” she said. “Whether my memory of what a good guy you were is faulty or not.”

  “I was never sleeping with you both at the same time,” Jamal said, trying to be as frank as he knew she needed him to be. “But when you left me with that proposition that time … that’s when she and I got closer. Nothing …sexual ever happened, until …”

  Madison held up a hand. “I don’t need more detail than that. I just wondered, that’s all.” She shook her head and looked down at the menu again, seemingly embarrassed now about asking the question in the first place.

  “Hey,” Jamal said. “Look at me.”

  She raised her head.

  “It was never anything about you that made us not work, Madison. We just …” It was his turn to shrug.

  “If there was one thing you had to say, about why you and Makayla do work, what would it be?”

  Jamal laughed. “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”

  “Can’t think of anything?” she teased.

  He could think of several things.

  “It wasn’t right away,” he admitted. “But after a while, whenever I was away from her, even if it was for a day, and then came back? The first thing I thought,
the first thing I felt when I saw her was … home. That’s it. She was my home. She still is.”

  Madison’s expression was inscrutable, but finally she smiled and looked down again. “That’s beautiful,” she said quietly. Though that’s what her mouth said, there was a tinge of hurt in her eyes.

  He hadn’t planned to go there, but she’d asked for it.

  “I can’t remember, what’s good to eat here?” she asked, her voice full of false brightness.

  When the waiter returned, they were ready with their orders, and while they waited to be served, talked only about general subjects—the weather, politics and the never-ending traffic-versus-pedestrian problem in Manhattan. Then, when the food came out, Jamal filled Madison in on how he was adjusting to his new role now that he was much further in, how the Scaifes were doing, and some of the industry gossip.

  “Remember Devin Parks?” Jamal asked as he cut into his roasted chicken with red romesco sauce.

  “Yeah. Of course. And funny you should mention him because that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Jamal paused and looked across the table at Madison.

  “You know he didn’t sign with us, right? He’s still independent.”

  “I know. But he’s friends with your … with Makayla, right?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  Madison sighed. “This is kind of delicate.” She pursed her lips.

  At that, Jamal set down his knife and fork, giving her his complete attention. “What’s kind of delicate?”

  “I’ll … First tell me what you were about to say about him.”

  “Just that I saw him perform the other night. And I was thinking about how good he is. Even without our help, he’s getting better. I hate to see that opportunity slip away just because of some … personal issues.”

  “Well that’s the thing.” Madison speared a cherry tomato from her seared salmon salad. “Those personal problems may be bigger than you know.”

  Aw crap. Jamal knew what was coming; or thought he did, but forced himself to keep his expression impassive. Devin Parks’ personal issues had been the thing that had ultimately killed the deal he was hoping to strike for SE. And those issues had almost killed his developing relationship with Kayla as well. Because she knew, and had neglected to tell him that Devin Parks had a psychosexual problem that had him cruising at night, picking up partners for anonymous sex, often in semi-public places.

  And if that wasn’t bad enough, those sex partners were male. For an artist SE was prepared to sell as a heartthrob for women, that was more than just a glitch if it became public. It would be darn near unworkable. But before Jamal had even attempted to work around that problem, Parks opted out, at Kayla’s urging.

  Because of that, Kayla and Parks were still tight, SE had lost out on a potentially huge new acquisition, and Jamal was reminded of that loss on a fairly regular basis. Like just this past week, when he walked into his apartment to see Devin Parks with his dirty shoes propped on his coffee table, sitting mere inches away from Jamal’s wife-to-be.

  Despite the parting, Jamal had never shared the details of Devin Parks’ life with anyone except Chris Scaife. And telling Chris something like that, was akin to sharing it with a priest. He wouldn’t breathe a word of it to anyone, not even to his wife, unless she needed to know.

  “I have a client,” Madison continued. “Or at least, he’s my firm’s client. Not mine personally. A young man, a little unscrupulous, a little grimy. He says he has a story to sell.”

  “What’s the story?” Jamal asked. He picked up his knife and fork again, cutting a piece of chicken and then chewing as though unbothered.

  “He’s claiming that he had a sexual relationship … well, not a relationship. Let’s call it a … tryst, with Devin Parks. Seems he saw one of Parks’ shows recently. Some amateur-recorded clip on YouTube and got all excited because of their … Anyway, he posted a comment that alluded to their hook-up and someone complained that it was potentially slanderous, and had YouTube take it down.”

  Jamal shrugged. “So, problem solved.”

  “Not quite. That made our client angry. And now he’s turned all self-righteous, and says that ‘people deserve to know the truth’ …” Madison paused to make air-quotes with her fingers. “The usual BS people say when they’re about to make their play.”

  “And what’s his play?” Jamal reached for his water, already having an inkling about the answer to the question.

  “He wants to reach out to Parks and his backers, to get them to acknowledge the truth of his statements, and then compensate him for non-disclosure of what he knows.”

  Jamal gave a short laugh, and shook his head. “That’s blackmail.”

  “Maybe. Unless it’s true. But the point is, he could still make money from telling his story. Whether he makes it from Devin Parks or someone else. So, I don’t know. Whether it’s blackmail or a structured gratuity, I thought I’d pass it on before it becomes a … thing.”

  “Sounds like it’s already a ‘thing’, Madison,” Jamal said, narrowing his eyes. “You work for him, right? Or at least your firm does. So, are you here as his counsel, or as an old friend giving me a heads-up?”

  Madison leaned in. “The latter. I can’t believe you’re asking me if I’m here to shake you down.”

  Shrugging, Jamal put his utensils down again. “First of all, ain’t nobody shakin’ me down. Devin Parks is not my problem, because he isn’t signed with SE. Just seems strange, though. Because if you’re not here representing him, you’re breaking attorney-client privilege. For which you could be disbarred.”

  Madison exhaled a sharp burst of air and put down her utensils as well, leaning back in her chair.

  “Are you seri …?”

  “Dead-ass,” Jamal said.

  “I guess no good deed goes unpunished, huh? I’m here to …”

  “To feel me out. You think I was born yesterday?”

  Giving a thin smile, she shook her head. “Okay, I’ll level with you.”

  “Please.”

  “I’m here as both. Your friend giving you a heads-up, and a lawyer in the firm that represents this person. And here’s the real deal: my sense of him is that he could be made to keep his mouth shut for a fairly modest amount of money. He’s a hustler. One of those guys who live on the fringes all their lives, and will consider almost anything a big score.

  “Does his threat to expose this constitute blackmail? Maybe. But I’d prefer to think of it as an opportunity for Devin Parks to make a potentially damaging story go away. So, I wanted to give you the chance to get ahead of it, whatever the hell ‘it’ is. Because I don’t think Devin, or for that matter, your fiancée would want to see her friend’s name smeared all over the music trades for anything other than his music. Especially when, as you say, he’s probably got a great career ahead of him.”

  “You sound sure that it’s true, what this—what’d you call him? Grimy hustler has to say. How do you know he isn’t just hustlin’ you, and your firm?”

  At that, Madison smiled and shook her head again.

  “I don’t know that. So maybe you need to talk to Devin Parks and find out. And if it is true, maybe you can apprise him of the risks to his career if he decides to ignore this guy.”

  Jamal said nothing, taking a few moments to cut yet another piece of chicken. He put it in his mouth, chewing slowly and deliberately.

  It was delicious. He would have to remember to take Kayla here for dinner one day soon.

  “Apprise him of the risks,” he repeated. “You sure sound like you’re here as a lawyer. But like I said. Devin’s not really my problem.” Jamal stared directly into her eyes, playing it cool. “But if you’re asking me for a favor, to do some initial outreach to him, I might be able to do that. For old time’s sake.”

  “This isn’t the kind of thing I wanted us to have to talk about,” Madison continued. “After not seeing each other for so long. But believe me when I tell you, I want this to work
out, in a way where no one gets unnecessarily hurt.”

  Looking up, Jamal shook his head. “Madison Avenue,” he drawled, not bothering to conceal his sarcasm, “did I mention how good it is to see you?”

  ~8~

  “Oh. Hello.”

  Jamal startled at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, and stared at the young woman, speechless for a moment. He had come home early, still preoccupied by his lunch with Madison, and unprepared to find a stranger sitting in his kitchen. He hadn’t registered her presence at all until she spoke.

  Wracking his brain, trying to figure out whether he’d met her before, he finally accessed a memory that made sense.

  “The wedding planner,” he said, extending a hand and advancing toward her. “You must be …”

  “Claire,” she supplied, taking, and shaking his hand. “And yes, I’m fortunate enough to be planning your wedding.”

  “Fortunate, huh?” Jamal shook his head. “That’s because you don’t know disorganized my girl is. And … by the way, where is she?”

  “She stepped out,” Claire said. “Had to go meet a friend? I think his name is …”

  “Devin,” Jamal finished for her.

  “Yes, I think that was it. She said it was alright for me to hang out here for a while just to finish up.” Claire pointed to the large white binder that was sitting in front of her on the center island.

  Peering over her shoulder, Jamal saw that it was filled with what looked like swatches of fabric, cut-outs from magazines and printouts from online.

  “I know,” Claire said, laughing a little. “Old school. I generally use my iPad for organizing but this is something that Makayla started a while ago, so I figured I would work the way she likes to work.”

  Nodding, Jamal took a step back, and turned toward the refrigerator, reaching in for a bottled water.

  “Cool. Just don’t let her put me in a pink tuxedo or some craziness like that, Claire.”

  From behind him, Claire laughed.

  Perusing the fridge, Jamal realized there wasn’t much in there to begin with, other than the water, and fruit. He and Makayla cooked infrequently, so it was sometimes slim pickings when he was of a mind to make a meal.