Sweet Sessions
Jamallah Bergman
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, or other status is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever known, not known or hereafter invented, or stored in any storage or retrieval system. Exercising these rights without written permission of the author is forbidden and punishable by the fullest extent of the law
Copyright© Jamallah Bergman 2017
Editor: Leanore Elliott
Cover Artist: Anya Kelleye
Book Design& Graphics: Wicked Muse
Dedication
I want to say thanks to all of my fans who have stood by my side over the years. Without your constant support, I don’t know how I could have been able to keep doing what I’ve been doing all these years.
Prologue
The limo came to pick us up at eight o’clock that morning and when we arrived at the studio, it was around eight forty five. Anthony took me by the hand when I got out and we walked into the building. This wasn’t my first time going to a studio as I had been to plenty of them. But for some reason, even before I got behind the mic to record, I was a nervous wreck.
We were met with my agent Esmeralda, who indeed reminded me of the character from the Disney movie with thick, long jet black hair, beautiful blue green eyes and smooth tanned skin that made her look younger than her actual age, in her fifties. “You guys must have got stuck in traffic like I did, huh?” She gave me a hug first before giving Anthony one.
“You know how it is around here because traffic is always bad in the morning,” Anthony joked.
She smiled. “Well, I’ll let them know you guys are here already.”
We both went to sit down on the leather loveseat in between some potted plants. His touch, when he took my hand in his, was soothing especially when I was nervous. When I gazed into those dazzling blue eyes of his though, every bit of anxiety would leave me and I would be calm for the rest of the day.
“Don’t tell me you are nervous still?” he asked.
“You know I’m always nervous before I go to the studio.” I rolled my eyes.
He took my hand to softly kiss it. “I’ll be right in the room with the guy along with Essie, listening in while you’re recording like always. You have nothing to worry about baby.” His lips pressed lightly against my temple, nuzzling softly against my cheek.
His touch did make me feel calmer. He leaned toward me to give me a kiss when we heard someone cough. We both looked over.
Esmeralda stood there smiling at us. “They’re ready for you Melanie.”
I looked over at Anthony. “Can you hold that kiss for me until later?”
He chuckled and kissed my nose. “I promise.”
We got up and made our way towards a long hallway, lined with gold records and pictures of famous recording artists. I knew one day, that my gold or even platinum record would be along a wall.
We were met by two men, one who wore some worn out black jeans and a grey turtleneck. He looked like he could have used a shave as well as a haircut. His hair looked like he had just got up from a yearlong sleep and those black rimmed glasses of his reminded me of Buddy Holly’s. The other man who stood next to him looked like an executive while wearing a navy blue suit and tie. His dark brown hair was slicked back and he had a sweet smile on his face when he saw me. “Why hello Melanie, I’m Randy and this is Jacob, he works in the studio and does our recordings. He’s one of the best around, besides Anthony of course. Why don’t you go on in the room with Jacob and Melanie, I’ll show you where to go.” He motioned for me to follow him while Anthony, Esmeralda and Jacob went on their way.
“You can put your coat and purse over here. Would you like some water or I can have some hot tea brought to you?”
“I think some hot tea will be good with some sugar.”
“Fine, I’ll have Kira bring you some in then and I’ll just leave you here in the booth to get comfortable.”
When he left me alone in the booth, I took my jacket off and put it up on the hook along with my purse. Walking over, I grabbed one of the headsets.
Jacob spoke into the set, “Now I want you to let me know if the volume in the headset is too low or too loud for you.”
I nodded as I put them on and I was thankful the volume was low. A knock on the door came and a lady came into the room with a small tray holding a white cup, a small silver teapot, some sugar packets, and a small bowl of cut lemons. “I’ll just sit this down over here for you, ma’am.”
“Thank you, I really think I’ll need this for sure.” I smiled and proceeded to make myself a cup.
“You can take your time Ms. Taylor and let me know when you are ready,” Jacob said in my ear as I sat down in the tall bar stool to drink my tea.
You are probably wondering how I got here?
How I ended up in a studio about to record on a first album?
Well, to tell you my story, we must start at the beginning….
Chapter One
Three Years Ago…
“I am telling you Melanie, if you want someone who really knows what they’re doing as far as recording and doing demo tapes right, Anthony is the guy.”
My friend Sara and I were sitting outside at a local coffee house during our lunch break. Sara was the one who had gotten me the job as a receptionist at the doctor’s office she was working at over a year and three months ago. Even though it was a job and it helped with paying the bills, it really wasn’t what I’d wanted to do with my life.
I wanted to sing.
“How did you hear about him?” I asked her.
“My roommate Aliana let me listen to her demo tape. I asked her who did it cause it was great and she told me about another friend of hers in the music business who suggested this guy name Anthony. She recorded six songs and he only charged five hundred to do it. How many are you going to do?”
“Probably just six too.”
“I’ve also heard that he works with you to improve your work. Give you pointers and everything on how you sing.”
Even though I didn’t like tooting my own horn, I never really thought that I needed any help. I considered myself a natural but when I was growing up but my mom decided to have me hone in on my talent by taking singing lessons in which I excelled.
“I can call Aliana up and get his number for you right now if you want.”
“Of course I want you to, if you say that he’s as good as he is, then of course I want his number.”
With that, she grabbed her phone to call up her roommate as I grabbed mine when I heard it ringing. “Hello?”
“Hey there hon, how are you?” It was my mom, she would call me up during my lunch break sometimes to check up on me.
“Doing just fine as usually I’m having lunch with Sara.”
“Tell her I said hello, I was calling to see what your plans were for this weekend?”
“Um, I don’t know, why is something going on?”
“Well, there is a lovely sermon going on at church this Sunday and we invited some folks to come to the house for Sunday dinner, thought you’d like to come join us as well.”
“Now you know I couldn’t pass up going to church with you and Dad, much less could I pass up having Sunday dinner too. Do you want me to meet you at the church or maybe we could just drive together?”
“Spend the night over here on Saturday and that way, we can all go together.”
“Sounds like a plan, I’ll see you Saturday then. Love you mom.”
“Love you too baby, goodbye.”
That was when Sara slid over a piece of paper after I had watched her write down the number. “Here is his number. Aliana said that you can call him anytime except during the weekend. He has gigs during the weekend so even if you leave a message, he won’t get back to you directly.” I glanced at the number before slipping it into my purse as we continued on with our daily gossip going on around the building.
The weekend couldn’t have come any sooner and I needed Friday night. After dealing with annoying patients day after day, time for me was what I desired the most. Even though I could have gone out to the clubs during the weekend, which I did from time to time. Mostly, I would stay at home with a glass of wine and my thoughts of music, because as always, I would have a song rambling in my head. I always had to wait until I got home to write it all down. On the weekend, I would turn off everything from the phones to the television, so I could have complete quiet in my apartment. These were the moments I treasured most of all when I was able to create songs from ideas. Mostly, my songs dealt with love, acceptance of self from others along with other things, depending on my mood. Usually, it would take me between two weeks to two months to complete an entire song.
But with this one it seemed like it was coming along much slower. I didn’t know why, maybe it was because I had been so busy with things like work and family. Or maybe it was just because my heart wasn’t in it. Staring at the matte colored pages of my leather bound book, all I had were words, phrases and sentences. If anyone else would have looked at them, they would consider them as nothing more than nonsense, but for me, they were words to a song that just wasn’t complete yet.
“I guess you just don’t want to come together until you feel like it, huh?” I put the book down before grabbing my wine glass to take a long sip. Looking around my four walls, I realized I needed to get some fresh air to help clear my mind. Maybe some inspiration would come my way while I went for a walk around the block. I grabbed my bohemian satchel bag that I often carried with me when I wanted to go for a walk, putting my book and pen along with my wallet because I knew I would want to grab something along the way.
Whenever I got the chance to go out for my walks, I always took my time, taking in everything and everyone around me. I always took them in the park, the most peaceful place I knew of. Sure, there were kids playing around and everything but I had a particular spot to where I could sit back and reflect on my thoughts. There was an old oak tree set off to the side of one of the trails. No one ever bothered it and there was no telling how old the thing was but it still stood there strong and tall with its branches reaching out into the sky. I had even given it a name…Walter.
But Walter as well as the park would have to wait another time because I planned on enjoying my time out.
Chapter Two
Whenever I went to my parent’s, my mom always made one of my favorite meals and she did this only when I was at home….pot roast with gravy and homemade mashed potatoes with roasted veggies.
No matter how many times my dad would beg her to make it for him, she never dared to because she knew it was my favorite dish. “There’s my baby girl,” she said when I walked in through the side door which lead into the kitchen.
The smells of her pot roast on the stove simmering was a welcome smell for me as I went up behind her to give her a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Everything smells good.” I looked over in the oven and saw the rolls that she would make from scratch to go along with the honey butter. “I swear momma, you need to open up a restaurant.”
“You know Mrs. Wesley told me the same thing when I was going to the store to get everything for Sunday dinner tomorrow. I’ve often thought about opening up my own place but I don’t know…”
“Why not, I mean you have dad to help out as well as Aunt Roslyn who is also a great cook. Hell, you’ll have most of the family backing you up for sure, including me.”
She smiled while wiping her hands on her apron.
“Heck, if you ever decide let me know because I know someone who’s into commercial real estate who could probably find you a reasonable spot to start off.”
“I’ll think about it baby and let you know.” Which in Mom speak meant, “I’ll put it on the back burner for later thought.” “Do you mind helping me out once you put your bag in your room by setting the table?”
“Sure thing momma.” I walked over to the living room where I saw my dad sitting in his recliner with his feet up and dead asleep. I didn’t even bother to mess with him as I made my way upstairs, down the hallway towards my room. This was the place where I grew up, had plenty of slumber parties with my friends, listened to music on my stereo or writing out lyrics to songs.
After putting my bag in my room, I went back downstairs, seeing my dad still reclined in his chair. I went over and gave him a sound kiss on his forehead, watching him as he stirred a bit in his sleep.
He slowly opened his eyes to look up at my smiling face. “Why, hey there, Butterbean.” He grabbed my face to give me another kiss.
I giggled. Butterbean was the nickname he gave me when I was five because when I had tried butterbeans for the first time, I nearly gagged on them. I didn’t try them again, until I was eleven and by then, I had a taste for them. So Butterbean was what he called me from then on out.
“When did you get in?”
“Just a few minutes ago, I went to put my things in my room. I saw you sleeping here but didn’t want to wake you up.”
“Always wake me up when you come into the house, no matter how deep into my sleep I am. So how is work going?”
“Oh, just the same thing every single day as always, but I did find someone that can do a demo for me.”
“Really, who is it?”
“There is this guy Sara had suggested for me to talk with because her roommate had him do a demo for her as well. I plan on calling him on Monday to see about setting up a time for us to start.”
“Have you figured out which songs you’d like to sing?”
“Probably, just six songs but I don’t know which ones I’ll sing. I want to do a bit of variety you know.”
“How about that one song you sang in church that time? Everyone enjoyed it so much.”
I had written a song for church called, ‘Joy Comes with His Words.’ I had sung it as part of the fiftieth anniversary of our church. I had the choir accompany me and it brought tears to some of the members. They even told me that afterwards, how they were deeply moved by not only the lyrics of my song but just the message itself. It made me feel good that I had gotten such high praise from my congregation. “You know I just might do that, plus I have another I want to sing and then add some favorites of mine.”
“Can I get a little help here with setting the table please?” my mother called from the kitchen.
We both got up to help her out.
Out of all the places that gave me comfort and joy being at church was on my top five of my top ten. Our family had been a part of Gospel Light Baptist Church for a number of years. I was even baptized there at just a month old. I went to Sunday school and was part of the Kid’s Choir until I got of age to be in the Church Choir, where I often sang a solo or was accompanied by someone else. But today, I would be a part of the congregation since I hadn’t been to practice in about a week. They had started off singing ‘Oh Happy Day” which really lifted me on high and even more so when our Reverend Samuel Nelson started to preach. Whenever I would hear him preach, it seemed to go right through me, filling me up with such joy that all the pain and frustrations I had dealt with over the week seemed to go along with my tears.
After services were over, we did what most of the congregation did…meeting up in front to meet up with people just to chat it up or share the local gossip.
“Why hello Sister Emma, how are you feeling?” my mom asked Mrs. Fredericks who was a good friend of the fam
ily since I had been five.
“Doing much better since I had that surgery a month ago on my back. I swear, I was so scared but I put it all in the good Lord’s hand and he helped me through all this.”
My mom went and kissed her on the cheek, giving her a small hug as I walked around to some of the others as I saw someone that I hadn’t seen in years standing with his parents, talking with the Deacon’s wife Mrs. Lincoln. “Charles, is that you?”
Charles Dobson also known as ‘Lil’ Pud’ by yours truly was my best friend since we were three years old. His parents lived about five houses down from where I lived where he was a constant familiar face in my parent’s home. He was either eating breakfast, lunch or coming over for snacks. We would ride our bikes in the neighborhood and he often was my savior when some of the kids would pick on me because I was chubby. Even though later on when we were in the ninth grade, he would tell me something that would cement our friendship forever. We had been playing video games in my room, which was always norm for us on a Saturday afternoon while we waited for pizza to be delivered.
“Melanie, I wanted to talk with you about something.”
I’d noticed that Charles had been acting kind of weird for a few days. I had asked him several times whether he was feeling all right, but he always came back with, ‘I’m fine’ even though I knew he wasn’t, so I didn’t press him any further. But today he looked so concerned, like he really had something on his mind that he needed to tell me, so I went and paused the game. “Sure what’s going on?”
He looked so apprehensive about talking.
I knew Charles felt anxious about something because when he got nervous, he bit his lower lip. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know how to tell you this Mel but I know we’ve been friends for a long time now but I had to tell you before I told anyone else, especially my parents.”
Sweet Sessions (Sweet Treat Series Book 3) Page 1