Then I hang up.
One moment he’s there, finally on the line like I’ve been wishing him to for the last two months. And the next moment, he’s gone, and I’m left breathing hard, like I’ve just run a marathon, rather than had a difficult but long overdue conversation.
“Prin?”
I turn to see Kasha and Sasha at the kitchen counter. I’d completely forgotten they were still in the room. Or that I was in the kitchen. Of our damn near brand new house. With the pristine cherry wood floors and the heated swimming pool that now works and a room that no longer has my mother’s last words written on the wall.
Jersey Prin fades…Lawyer Prin disappears…and then…there’s just me.
A woman too broken to love or be loved. Who somehow mistook Happy for Now as the Happily Ever After she’d been wishing for since she left for boarding school.
“Prin…” a voice says again. This time it’s Sasha.
I say nothing, just go upstairs to the new master suite which is decorated Bedouin-style in silky, rich-hued fabrics. Another surprise for the sheikh when I thought I might be able to convince him to stay a couple of weeks more after Ramadan for the twins’ graduation.
I drop down onto my bed and I cry and I cry. The way you hear about in those romantic dramas, filled with tubs of ice cream.
Then I fall asleep. And when I wake…
My head is filled with lyrics.
When I look back on it, I don’t remember going to our new music library. But I’m there. For hours. Then days. At one point, food starts to appear. Bagels and sandwiches…sometimes pasta dishes from the little Italian eatery where Sasha took a summer job, despite or perhaps because her college tuition has already been magically paid for by yet another man she can no longer trust. I never see it appear, but when I wake on the couch where I’m filling up notebooks, or use the bathroom, or look up from my writing, suddenly starved, there’s always a plate.
And then one day I wake up.
Sub-space? the ghost of the person I used to be with Zahir asks.
And his ghost says…absolutely nothing.
He’s gone…I scrawl this across the last sheet of paper in a notebook I’ve filled up.
Then I take a deep breath and close it.
“Alexa, what day is it?” I ask the smart speaker I got the twins as a graduation gift.
”It’s Thursday, August 2nd.”
“Alexa, what time is it in Jahwar?”
“Hey Kadin, it’s Prin, wassup,” I say in response to Zahir’s London-born secretary’s long and ornate announcement of Zahir’s office and title.
“Prin! I mean…Ms. Jones. I have instructions to put you through to his highness right away.”
“No thanks. Don’t want to talk to him. But I do want to talk to you. Real quick. You probably want to have a talk with your in-house legal counsel because you should have had me sign a non-disclosure form.”
“A non-disclosure form?” he repeats. Then his voice dips to ask, “Are you calling to threaten the sheikh?”
“No…” I answer, offended. But then I think about it and say, “Okay, sort of—you got me there. But this doesn’t have to get ugly. You really, really need me to sign an NDA before the sheikh’s wedding. And I totally will…on one condition.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“Well, Prin, this was certainly not how I expected to spend my August,” Asir says two days later when I open the door with the twins standing behind me.
“But you’re excited, right?” Kasha says, clapping her hands together.
“Yes,” he assures her with a charming smile. Then he holds his hand out to Sasha and says, “Hello, I’m Asir Zaman, the new official major shareholder of Majesty Records and I’m incredibly excited about producing your demo album.”
“Yay!!!! We’re going to make a real demo! We’re going to make a real demo!” Kasha chants, jumping up and down.
It’s like old times, but new.
“Did you get my list, Prin?” Asir asks when we’ve all gathered in the kitchen.
“It’s in the fridge,” I answer, nodding toward the double-door Viking fridge I didn’t even know they made until we were searching for something to match the new Viking-brand stove in our ultra-modern kitchen.
Asir opens the fridge and sees the large assortment of kombucha, bone broth, and various other health foods he maintains he simply can’t work without.
“All right, we’re all set,” he says grabbing a bottle of artisanal kombucha. “Are you ready to make the album that will have labels, including my own, vying to sign you?” he asks the girls with a devastating smile.
Even Sasha has a hard time not making puppy love eyes at him. It soon becomes easy to see why Asir was my first crush. He is so Prince Charming in every way.
We work together seamlessly, starting with the first song I sent him in advance, and breaking it down until it’s ready to record. He claims not to have touched a beat program in the five years since he was forced to start the combined BA/MBA program he just finished at Manhattan University. But the mixes and beats he comes up with for the songs I sent make it sound like he never put them away.
And the twins, unlike a lot of the singers we worked with during the His Majesty years, have pure, flawless voices that don’t need much auto-tune correction. Other than a few notes, harmony, and break changes, the twelve songs stay together as we individually imagined them apart.
“Still got it,” Asir says, high-fiving me after the twins lay down the first track over Asir’s beat in one super easy take.
By the end of the third day of recording, we’re done. Not quite the Beatles debut album 13-hour record, but pretty good for a writer/producer team who haven’t worked together in over half a decade and two 18-year-old singers.
“I think the only problem you’re going to have is whittling it down to five songs for the demo,” Asir says before he returns to his apartment in New York to finish the mix.
Asir’s right about every song being strong enough to put on a debut album, but five in particular stand out as the clear winners after we listen to the full mix a week later.
The rule of thumb for demos is that acts should always organize the song tracks from the strongest song to the weakest, in case a busy music exec can’t be bothered to listen past the first track.
So when Asir plays the five winners, it feels like I’m hearing my life played in reverse in perfect harmony. “He’s Gone…“Now Is Where We Are”…“Beyond Naughty”…“Contract” and finally, “Crush”—a happy little party jam with a well-known 80’s riff that Asir promises to license for me as a thank you gift for getting Zahir to sign Majesty Records over to him.
“I’ll sign you right now,” Asir says as soon as we’re done listening to the final demo order on the couches in the music library. “They’ll be calling you the twin Adeles.”
“Sorry, we’ve already promised to give Roxxy’s label, Roxx Nation, a first listen,” I answer with an apologetic wince.
Asir makes a considering noise. “Girls, do you mind giving your sister and me a few minutes alone?”
“What’s up?” I ask, after they leave.
For as long as I’ve known him, Asir has had a basic setting of completely pleasant, never confrontational. But the candid look he throws me in answer to my question is as close to a “bitch, please” as I’ve ever seen him.
“You really thought I would finish this project without asking about you and my brother?”
“Oh…” I say, sinking back into the couch, disappointed that Asir, of all people, decided to straight point out the elephant in the room. “Can we not talk about it?” I ask hopefully.
“He’s my brother, Prin,” Asir points out.
“Your brother who had no business marrying me in the first place—even if it was just to save face,” I answer.
“Is that what he told you?” Asir asks.
“Isn’t that what happened?” I shoot back, shaking my head.
Asir le
ans forward on the couch to level with me. “Okay, Prin, the way Jahwar media works, Zahir could have easily said the pictures were doctored. Like, the Russians we’re out to get him or something, and everyone would’ve had to believe him or at least said they believed him because he’s the sheikh. Marrying you rather than just banning you from the kingdom forever was the opposite of saving face.”
I crook my head, barely able to believe what he’s telling me. “Then why didn’t he just do that?”
“I don’t know,” Asir answers, so much more American sounding than his brother. “We had lunch a couple times when he was in New York with you, but he said, ‘the subject of my wife is off-limits’ before I could even ask.”
I chuckle, “That sounds like Zahir.”
Asir laughs, too. “But you know what? I’ve never seen that side of him, Prin. He’s been my serious older brother all my life...the next king. I never knew he had…” Asir looks off to the side, searching for a word, and then comes back with, “joy inside him. I never knew he could be happy. Those were good lunches. I liked seeing him that way, especially after what happened with his mother.”
I’m not sure what to say. In some ways hearing this makes all those feelings I put into song feel even worse. That he was actually as happy as I was while he was here, but chose to leave me behind anyway…
“Anyway, I thought you should know he didn’t simply hit it and quit it with you,” Asir says poshing up his accent on “hit it and quit it.”
I chuff. “Okay, Asir. Thank you, I guess?”
Asir sobers. “There’s something else I need to talk to you about, Prin. First of all, thank you for getting Zahir to give me the freedom to choose my own life path.”
I shake my head, cutting him off right there. “Asir, no one should be able to give anyone else the freedom to do anything. No person owns another person’s freedom. You own your life, and no other man but you should get to make your choices. That’s American History 101.”
Asir nods. “Those are beautiful words, Prin, and they might make what I’m about to say that much stranger to you. But this week, producing the twins’ demo has led me to discover what I want might very well be what my kingdom wants for me. I’ve very much enjoyed working on this demo with you. It was like old times, and the twins are incredibly gifted singers who I believe will go far in this industry, especially with you representing them. But making this album didn’t feel like coming home to me. I have to wonder if maybe my dad wasn’t right. Music was a rebellion for me, a way to escape what I thought would be the golden shackles of royal life.”
“But you don’t feel that way anymore?” I guess, leaning towards him, like he’s leaning towards me.
Asir shakes his head. “The truth is, I’ve liked getting my degree. I have met a lot of other Arabs from around the world and made some very good connections. Now that I’m done at Manhattan University, I’ve been thinking of calling Zahir to tell him I’m ready to come home and serve as Prince of Jahwar.”
I smile, genuinely happy for Asir. “I’m glad! It sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.” But then I frown because, “Wait, what does that mean for Majesty Records?”
He bounces his head from side to side. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about…before you sign with Roxx Nation.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Three Months Later
In the end, the twins don’t sign with Roxx Nation. They end up signing with me which is a huge conflict of interest—but hey, it’s good to be Her Majesty and bet I made sure they secured a great deal.
Really, you could say they signed with themselves since I’ve already decided to give them two-thirds of my shares in Majesty when they turn 35, provided they finish college and get some business and marketing experience under their belt. I have a feeling they will. Say what you want about the way things ended between Zahir and me, it feels like he gave them a seminar on how to be successful.
After seeing how much more productive they were when they woke early for Ramadan, the girls kept the habit of rising at 4:00 AM. They often get things like exercise and homework in before their first classes of the day at Manhattan University have even begun. And that gives them a competitive leg up on most college kids with big dreams. I have every faith they’ll be ready to take on the label by the time they’re 35.
As for me, I never did keep either of the promises I made to return to Liederman-Frankel. But as it turns out, I have even less interest in running the label Asir gave me than I do IP law. Plus, the people Dad put in charge are actually good at their jobs—especially now that there are accounting practices in place to make sure the person at the top isn’t embezzling funds.
I stay out of the day-to-day business of the company. But I’ve taken on a handful of songwriting jobs, and more and more acts have been asking to meet with me ever since the twins’ demo “leaked” ahead of their official late November full album release.
I can’t complain. It feels like my whole life fell apart back in March, but thanks to Asir and rediscovering my passion for music, it feels like I’ve taped up all the pieces.
It also helps that I never heard from Zahir again after our phone call in July. And our official late August divorce date came and went without a peep.
He let me go. That’s a good thing. I just wish it didn’t continue to hurt. I wish I hadn’t immediately entered another dating dry spell after our unexpected parting back in late May. I wish I didn’t still think about him instead of Jason Momoa when I’m using my vibrator. I wish I could forget the image he painted of us at the dinner table with our own kids.
But hey, I wish a lot of things I’m not going to get…and I’m okay with that. Like I said, I taped myself back together, and I’m good, even if it does sometimes feel like there’s a desert wind blowing in my chest.
I’m not a toxic mess. I am my own boundary. I am my own control.
“Wait this is where your listening party is?” I ask, my thoughts cutting off from how all-good-brush-it-off together I am when our Lyft pulls up to the Benton Grand Hotel a month after the label’s totally-on-purpose album leak.
When the twins invited me to their Friday night listening party, I thought we’d be going to the Majesty Records office. Or maybe a college bar. But this is the Benton Grand, and Majesty is no longer in the habit of throwing lavish parties for every hot new artist they sign. I find it hard to believe they’d sign off on this for a new act, even one that’s related to their majority shareholder.
“You’d be surprise what kind of favors a hotel will give you when you stay in one for over a month,” Sasha answers.
She’s right. I’m very surprised…and even more so when I see they’ve booked not a hotel room, or even a conference room, but a ballroom complete with a stage and lighting set-up. It’s filled with what has to be at least a hundred people.
“Okay, how did you get the Benton to do this again?” I demand.
“Ooh, look! There’s Luca! I can’t believe he came. Let’s go say hi!” Kasha suddenly says. Then the twins rush off as if they’re dying to speak to the mafia don who they wouldn’t even accept a car from a few months ago.
What the…?
I keep a mental tally of receipts as I go over to the—oh, my God! Seriously?—open bar.
But instead of asking the bartender exactly who’s paying his salary tonight, I end up gaping at the woman ordering a sparkling water in front of me.
“Amber???” I say, taking in her much-changed appearance.
“Prin,” she answers with a half-smile, turning to face me. She does that thing she only does with sighted people, fixing her eyes firmly in the direction of my voice.
“Hi!” I say, so glad she can’t see me. But she’s got to hear the shock in my voice as I hug her and say, “You look great. You’ve just made some changes. Big changes.”
“Stop,” she says, her voice hard as nails. “I don’t want talk about it.”
“Okay…” I say, bearing down hard to su
ppress all my questions as I switch the subject and try not to stare. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
“Well, it is a listening party and the twins Auntie Ambered me like they used to when they’d ask for another piece of candy from that bowl on my desk. Most kids don’t even bother, you know, and I have to whack them with my stick.”
I laugh, though you can never be sure with Amber. She’s a weird combo and not because she’s blind. She’s as beautiful as Tyra Banks but could put Daredevil in a chokehold, and her shit tolerance level is set at Judge Judy.
I honestly still can’t imagine her and Luca, the charming mafia don, hooking up, much less getting married.
The thought of Luca makes me wince. “Ooh, by the way, Luca’s here, too. So, you might want to avoid him…”
I trail off lamely because as it turns out, I inadvertently lied to Luca at Holt and Sylvie’s wedding. Not only had Amber paid attention to him when they both showed up to Sylvie and Holt’s co-ed baby shower, but they’d also gotten into a huge fight that I’m sure some of Holt’s Connecticut neighbors are still talking about.
Amber’s face blanches. “Luca’s here? But the twins said it was just going to be friends and family.”
“I guess they consider Luca a friend now,” I answer with a question mark in my voice. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little surprised they invited him myself.”
Amber opens her mouth to say something else, but whatever it is gets drowned out by someone tapping on the microphone.
I look up to see the twins on stage with…holy shit…a real band.
I pull out my smart phone and start a long email to the head of our events department, thinking I may have been too quick in my decision to stay hands-off after receiving Asir’s shares of the label.
“Thank you for coming to our listening party!” Kasha says. “We can’t wait to play the demo for you and maybe sing a few songs.”
The crowd cheers, going crazy for the two beautiful girls on stage.
Ruthless Tycoons: The Complete Series (Ruthless Billionaires Book 3) Page 43