“Here’s the deal,” Chris said, cutting to the chase. “You need to go with them. You can’t send our newest artist …”
“Potentially our newest.”
“Yeah, exactly. We don’t even have him yet. So we can’t send him out there with a communications intern and a junior staffer as his only counsel while we’re trying to groom him.”
“She’s not a communications int …”
Chris gave him a look.
“Okay, fine. I could send Harper, or Dean …”
“Any reason you can’t go? You afraid to fly, Turner?”
Jamal sighed. “That’s a long time to be out of the office,” he tried as a last-ditch effort.
“When you’re close to the finish line that ain’t the time to slow down, man,” Chris said, heading for the door. “Anyway. Let’s go see what Robyn’s got goin’ on out here for lunch.” Chris stepped over the baby’s playthings and left Jamal alone in the office.
Finish line? Now how the hell was he supposed to interpret that?
On the one hand, ‘the finish line’ could be a reference to the COO position. Or it could mean he shouldn’t jump ship before he’d successfully brought Devin Parks to harbor. But either way, it looked like he was going on the road.
Taking a deep breath, Jamal pushed himself up from his chair and went to join everyone out by the pool.
_______________
Madison Palmer was the kind of woman Jamal was supposed to want. Not for an evening, not for a few weeks or months, but for a lifetime. He couldn’t fault Robyn’s choice, nor her assumption that he might be interested, because there was absolutely nothing wrong with this woman. A former model, she’d gone back to school when she realized that her career trajectory in fashion might not be as long as she wanted. Yeah. Robyn had gone out and found him a model-lawyer—the perfect blend of beauty and brains.
About five-foot nine, Madison still bore traces of her former occupation. Her posture was flawless, her walk graceful, her clothing choices tasteful and well put-together. Her long, jet-black hair was sleek and perfectly straightened whenever he saw her; though she wore a lot of makeup, Madison managed to make that look tasteful as well. And if Jamal wondered what her perfectly arched brows and precisely-lined lips looked like when her face was free of enhancements, he decided that was only because he was trying to find fault with a woman who, at least so far, looked like she didn’t have many.
Other than a couple of dinners with the Scaifes, he’d taken her out three times, and each time enjoyed her company. She was easygoing and funny, and had beautiful eyes that were catlike in shape, and most often full of mirth. That, and her killer body made her more than eligible for a few fun romps in the bedroom, at least. But that wasn’t why Robyn had introduced them—his friend was on the hunt for his wife. And as any good friend would, she’d taken into account just about everything Jamal could have wanted—Madison appealed to his intellect, his humor as well as his more shallow, masculine instinct toward the visual.
“How you doin’ out here, Madison Avenue?” Jamal asked, lowering himself into the Adirondack chair next to Madison’s. He’d given her the moniker the first night they met, when he was complimenting her head-to-toe Marc Jacobs look; and since it produced the very first smile she’d given him, he decided to let it stick.
“I’m doing really well,” Madison said, smiling at him now. “Could’ve used a little more of your company this afternoon though.”
Jamal nodded in the direction where Chris was taking a steak off the grill. “Tell it to the slave-driver over there,” he said.
“Yeah, I’ve heard he’s a pretty intense boss to work for.”
“Oh yeah? Who’d you hear that from?” It was one thing for him to make a passing quip, but Jamal didn’t like the idea that someone else might be out there talking smack about what it was like to work for Scaife.
“His wife,” Madison laughed. “And she didn’t say anything bad, of course. Just that he demands nothing less than one hundred percent at all times.”
“True enough. Always worked fine for me.”
“Does it?” Madison played with the edge of her blue swimsuit, which was a one-piece number with asymmetrical cut-outs at the hip and waist that exposed just enough deep brown skin to make Jamal want to see even more of it.
“I can’t give anything less than that.”
“Really? In all areas of your life?”
“Yeah.”
Madison twisted her lips and lifted her glass to her lips as though forcing herself not to say something.
“Got something on your mind?” Jamal prompted.
“I do.” Turning in her chair, Madison looked at him. “Did Robyn tell you that I asked to be introduced to you?”
“No. She didn’t,” he said, surprised.
“Well I did. I’ve seen you at events for years.”
“And we never met?”
Madison shrugged. “There was no reason that we would. But I did notice you. And I was … interested. But you were always with someone. And always a different someone.”
Jamal laughed. “I’m a very sociable type of brother.”
“Yes. You are. Did you give a hundred percent to all those women?”
Grinning, Jamal nodded. “Yeah. I did. When I was with them, they got all of me.”
Madison leaned back in her seat. “Now you know doggone well that’s not what I mean,” she said shaking her head.
“So tell me what you mean. You asking me to go steady?” he teased. “We only been out a couple times, Madison Avenue.”
“Of course that’s not what I mean,” Madison said, her expression becoming somber. “I just like to know who I’m dealing with. Someone who’s into games, or someone who’s open to something more?”
What the hell? Were they having that talk already?
“I don’t play games. When I’m with someone, she knows what time it is. And if she doesn’t, all she gotta do is ask, and I’ll give it to her, straight, no chaser.”
“So I’m asking,” Madison said. “What are you looking for? Robyn did the intro and you were a gentleman. And you could’ve left it at that. But we’ve been out since then, so now I wonder … what’s your deal? What’re your … relationship aspirations?”
That cross-country trip with Devin Parks was looking more attractive by the minute.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Madison put a hand on his forearm as though restraining him. “That I’m just another needy woman trying to dig her claws into you prematurely. But I promise you that’s not it.”
Laughing, Jamal looked at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Robyn was watching them, her expression warning him to be on his best behavior. “Okay, so what is it?”
“I’m thirty-seven years old,” Madison said. “I’ve done the thing … that thing where I date a guy and it’s going really well, and I figure that if I’m reading the tea-leaves right, it could be leading somewhere. Somewhere long-term. And then come to find out, all he was doing was having a good time with a woman he’s … fond of. I’m not mad at that. I just would rather not waste the time on a brother who’s just looking to kick it with a woman he’s fond of. Not at this time of my life. So I’ll ask you again—what are your relationship aspirations?”
The lawyer in her was coming out. Her question sounded like the beginning of an inquisition and he was definitely not in the mood. Less than a half hour ago, he’d learned that he was going to have to rearrange his life for the next couple of months and go on a jaunt across the country to babysit a performer with an attitude problem. Now he was being asked to answer what was sure to be a trick-question about his “relationship aspirations.”
“That’s a simple answer: I have none.”
Madison leaned forward. “Excuse me?”
Jamal shrugged. “I hear where you’re coming from. I really do. But as far as ‘relationship aspirations’ … I don’t think like that. I only have career aspirations. The rest of it
I just let flow.”
Pursing her lips, Madison said nothing.
“I don’t rule out ‘permanent’ but I’m not planning on it right now either.” Jamal clasped his hands between his knees and made sure he was maintaining eye contact as he spoke. “If one day I wake up next to you and it feels right, I could say, ‘Madison Avenue, let’s take a trip to the courthouse and do the damn thing.’ If that’s what I felt, I wouldn’t run from it. But I can’t promise you that either.”
For almost a minute, she said nothing at all. Then she smiled. “So that’s it? Straight, no chaser?”
Jamal nodded. “That’s it.”
Madison took another sip of her drink and then looked out across the pool. Finally, she smiled. “Then I suppose that’ll have to do.”
_______________
“Oh … oh … yes … yes!”
“Shut up,” Jamal said, lowering his head to take Madison’s nipple in his mouth once again. “You’re making me think I’m good at this or somethin’,”
Madison laughed through her moan, pressing her pelvis forward, so the fulcrum of his hand was pressed against her mons as his fingers slid deeper inside her.
“You shut up,” she said, her breaths ragged and uneven. “You know you’re good at this.”
Despite their talk at the pool that afternoon, Madison had been the one to suggest that she come with him to his place and “get the tour”, and Jamal had been more than happy to oblige. Any man over the age of eighteen knew that ‘the tour’ was code for ‘I’m-willing-if-you’re-able’. She’d asked for honesty and he’d given it to her; and so now she was in the Territory of the Grown-Ass Woman. Anything that happened between them from here on out, only happened in the wake of her having received full and complete disclosure, just like she’d asked for.
So when, after only ten minutes of walking through his two-thousand square foot fly-as-all-get-out apartment, Madison had grabbed him by the lapels and pulled him toward her, Jamal was pleasantly unsurprised. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, and her arms went up and around his neck. Madison tasted like barbecue, pineapple and rum. She had been drinking daiquiris all afternoon; maybe that was responsible for what came next.
Reaching for his belt, she made short work of loosening it, and pulling his pants open.
“That’s not very ladylike,” Jamal said against her lips. “I barely know you, Madison Avenue.”
“We’re about to get to know each other really well,” she returned, pulling his lower lip between her teeth.
“I sure as hell hope so, since you have your hand down my pants.”
Madison giggled. “You better stop.”
“You sure you want me to?”
Jamal lowered his head and was working on that spot between her neck and shoulder that drove most women a little bit crazy. Madison was no exception. She responded with a brief pelvic thrust, which was invitation enough to hike up her maxi-skirt and go looking for the magic button.
“I really like you,” Madison sighed when he found it.
“I really like you, too.” Jamal backed her up until her calves collided with his long brown leather sofa, and lowered her onto it.
That’s where they were now, getting hotter and heavier, with Madison beneath him and squirming about like an eel.
“Oh yes,” she said yet again.
“You’re not gonna come all over my hand,” Jamal said as he kissed her chin.
“It sure as hell seems like that’s what you want me to do,” she said between gasps.
“Nah. I want you to …” Jamal whispered something in her ear and Madison sighed in response.
“Oh god, your reputation definitely doesn’t do you justice.”
Much later, after they had made their way from the living room to his bed and spent a considerable amount of time there, Jamal filled his Jacuzzi tub and brought them both glasses of wine and set the bottle aside, chilling in an ice bucket. Madison watched him as he lowered himself in across from her; her eyes were sleepy and content as she took her first sip of chardonnay.
“I better take it easy after this one. No way am I going to be able to drive home if I keep up all this drinking,” she warned.
Earlier, she’d met him at his place and parked her car in the building’s garage so they could drive out to Chris and Robyn’s together.
“Why would you go home?” Jamal asked, leaning back and taking one of her feet in his hands, massaging the instep. “It’s late.”
Madison looked at him for a few moments. “Wouldn’t you want me to?”
She had pulled her long hair up and back. A few loose, dark strands stuck to her cheek and neck. All traces of her makeup long gone, she looked sexier than Jamal had ever seen her. As good as she looked barefaced, it was a puzzle that she plastered on the war-paint like she did. Women.
“Why would I? We had a good day, didn’t we?”
She shrugged.
“So you sayin’ you just gon’ use me for sex and leave me here feeling all cheap?”
Madison blinked and shook her head. “Jamal …” she sighed.
“What?” he laughed.
“You shouldn’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Be all …” She stopped, sighed and shook her head again. “Nice.”
Jamal prided himself on knowing women, like really knowing women well. But the one thing that never failed to confound him was this: sometimes, when you treated them right, they viewed that as emotional cruelty.
Making love to Madison—because that was how he saw it, not as anything less than that—was to her the declaration of a promise he had no intention of keeping. And though she might have been able to move on from the sex, his attentiveness afterwards was confusing to her. Him drawing her a bath, bringing her wine, massaging her feet and wanting her to stay the night only deepened that confusion, so that as far as she was concerned, it felt like game.
But it wasn’t.
He liked her. He wanted her to spend the night. And in the morning he would make her breakfast and make love to her again. And if they felt like it, maybe they would spend the day together, talking and laughing—because he liked doing that with her too.
“You’re thinking way too much,” Jamal told her.
“Can’t help it.” Madison shrugged, and offered Jamal her other foot when he reached for it. “Occupational hazard.”
“But you’re not at work right now. So stop thinking.” He ran his hand along her inner thigh. “All you gotta do right now is just … be present. Right here, right now, with me.”
“You’re such a sweet-talker.” Madison smiled, and her eyes fluttered shut.
7
Outside, the air was thick and muggy, the weight of the Georgia summer not letting up though it was well after dark. Makayla took a deep breath, relieved nevertheless to be outside and inhaling something other than the stale, boozy air in the club. Wiping her hands on her thighs, she also lifted her elbows, flapping them like wings, hoping to stir a breeze that would cool her damp armpits.
Devin was back inside, onstage and was rocking the crowd as usual. That was pretty much the only time Devin was certain to be on point—when he was performing. And the trip down here had proven no exception since he’d complained almost the entire way. The gig was in a small nightclub in Atlanta called Reasons, and was the first stop on the promotional tour. In Georgia, they were going to hit a half-dozen venues before moving on to New Orleans, three cities in Texas and then out west. As travel went, the short flight from New York wasn’t at all taxing, but the stress of leaving her grandmother for several weeks had disturbed Makayla’s sleep in the days leading up to their departure.
Knowing that her cousin Candace was staying at the apartment wasn’t much comfort. Candace tended to be a little less patient than Makayla liked, and was not one to stay home for very long without inviting a few friends to come over and kick it with her. Only by reminding herself that her new job would benefit Nana as well was it possibl
e for Makayla to get on that plane. But the sleepless hours were catching up with her, and being in a noisy nightclub was not enough to keep her alert and awake.
“You a’ight?”
Spinning in surprise, she saw that she was not alone. Jamal was outside as well, leaning against a wall near the entrance to the small venue, one eye on the face of his phone, which he appeared to be using to read or send email. Makayla hoped he hadn’t witnessed her embarrassing arm-flapping display.
Opening her mouth to respond, Makayla instead issued a loud yawn. Jamal looked at her and smiled.
“These tours are no joke,” he said. “Sixteen-hour days … on and off a plane. Takes some getting used to.”
“No, I’m fine,” Makayla said quickly. The last thing she needed was for him to think she couldn’t cut it. She was already beginning to suspect as much herself. The entire development team was so much more seasoned than she, even though no one—with the exception of Jamal—was much older. DeJuan for instance, who was along for the tour, could talk circles around her when it came to this business, and didn’t shy away from making her feel stupid every chance he got.
“Your boy’s doing good in there.”
“Yeah, he is,” she said shrugging “But he always does great onstage. This is definitely his thing.”
“You get something to eat earlier?” Jamal came closer and stared at her in a way that made it clear she probably looked as crappy as she felt.
And no, she hadn’t eaten. The per diem money was going to come in handy for other things, so she would try to stash most of it away and eat only when the team got together for group meals. When it became clear that on those occasions Jamal would foot the bill for their entire table, Makayla decided to make it a practice to order something that she knew she couldn’t eat in a single sitting, so there would be leftovers for a second meal later.
The Come Up Page 6