The Come Up

by Nia Forrester

  Tracy shook her head. “You two are crazy. If you act a fool on camera, you’re probably a fool off camera too. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Is it comforting to live in a world of such absolutes, Tracy?” Riley asked.

  “Yes,” Tracy said. “As a matter of fact it is. You should try it. A lot less exhausting than all those mental and moral contortions you put yourself through.”

  Riley pushed herself up off the rug. “I’m so not in the mood for this debate tonight. I’m going to find the men and tell them where their wives are hiding.” She playfully stuck her tongue out at Tracy as she exited the room.

  “And I’d better go get Landyn for his last feeding,” Robyn said getting up as well.

  For a few awkward moments, Makayla and Tracy sat in silence until Tracy cleared her throat.

  “I’m sorry if I sounded a little argumentative,” she said. “Force of habit. Riley and I have been having variations of the same debate for about fifteen years now. Love her to death, but she’s such an … over-thinker.”

  Makayla smiled.

  Robyn came back in, now cradling a baby who was latched on and enthusiastically nursing. “Sorry,” she said. “This is the second time we’ve met and now I’m exposing you to the sight of my bare breast. Motherhood has a way of doing that. You kind of forget about some of the usual social boundaries.”

  “Speak for yourself. The only person who sees my boobs are Brendan, my OB/GYN and Layla,” Tracy said.

  “I think I’ll go find Jamal,” Makayla said getting up. Now that breastfeeding and babies had become the topic of the moment, she was fairly certain she could afford to miss what was left of this little private gathering.

  Robyn smiled at her as she took her seat. “Of course. Thanks for hanging out with us, Makayla.”

  Tracy waved from her chaise, and as she made her way down the hall, Makayla heard her voice, slightly lowered.

  “I actually like her,” she said, as though it was surprising.

  Downstairs, Makayla weaved her way through the crowd, looking left and right, hoping to spot Jamal. Hanging out with Robyn and the women who were clearly two of her best friends had given her a little more confidence, but when she thought of a night off, it wasn’t the thought of meeting new people that had gotten her excited, it was the idea of spending real, quality time with Jamal. The distraction of the party had for a while taken her mind off their shower session earlier that evening. But now, it crowded everything else out of her mind.

  She’d never experienced anything like that before—having a man so in control of her body he was able to make it sing, scream and beg all at the same time. But good sex was one thing. She wished that was all it was. It sounded so cliché, but Jamal didn’t ‘have sex’ with her, he made love to her.

  When he was touching her, he didn’t go to that place some guys went to, disappearing in their own pleasure and almost unaware of her presence. He was with her for every second, every touch, every stroke. Just thinking about it gave her the urge to squeeze her legs together and close her eyes, reliving it. But it shouldn’t have been surprising that he was an amazing lover. What was his reputation about if not that? Which meant that what he’d done with her, for her, probably wasn’t new for him. He probably made every woman he was with cry when she came.

  Taking a deep breath, Makayla reminded herself to get a grip. He was hers for the moment. For the moment. That was what she had to keep reminding herself. And so when it was over, she would have been expecting it, and could roll with it.

  “I just thought about something.”

  Makayla spun at the sound of his voice, her face breaking out into an involuntary smile.

  “What?” she asked.

  “About how stupid an idea this was,” Jamal said.

  “How stupid an idea what was?”

  “Taking you here, to this party.”

  “Why was it stupid?”

  “Because we don’t need to dress up and be around a bunch of people, most of them people we don’t even feel like talking to, to have a good time … I mean, that’s what we do for work, right?”

  Makayla gave him an exaggeratedly enthusiastic series of nods. “Yup. I would definitely agree with that.”

  Extending a hand, Jamal grasped hers. “So let’s go.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. But let’s grab some food on the way out though.”

  Makayla laughed. “How the hell are we going to ‘grab some food’? That is so wrong.”

  “Like you never left a house party with a plate before.”

  “Jamal this is not just your average … house party. I think I just saw Babyface! I’m not going to …”

  “Okay, let’s do this. Here’s the claim ticket. You go get the car and I’ll meet you out front in ten minutes.”

  “What’re you going to..?”

  “Don’t worry about what I’m doing. You’re the scaredy-ass that won’t help me do it. So you just drive the getaway car.”

  “Robyn was really nice to me. I don’t want to …”

  Jamal laughed. “What you think I’m about to do? Jack her chef or somethin’? Just get the car and quit worryin’. I’ll meet you out front.”

  Makayla looked at him skeptically but took the claim ticket, turning to head for the front door, then pausing. “Shouldn’t I go thank Robyn and tell her that …?”

  “No, Makayla. You don’t need to do all that. Just get the car.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “You’re a terrible influence. Got me lying to rappers’ wives and …”

  “That was one time. You still on that?”

  “Fine. I’ll meet you out front in ten minutes.”

  Although it took her awhile to figure out how to adjust the seat once the valet pulled it around, Makayla was sitting behind the wheel when she saw Jamal finally emerge, taking the steps two at a time to get down to the driveway. And in his hands, he had … Tupperware. Tupperware.

  Makayla rolled her eyes and watched as he greeted a couple who were entering just as he was leaving. The man pointed out the plastic containers in Jamal’s hands and shook his head, looking every bit as incredulous as Makayla felt.

  When he slid into the passenger seat next to her, she looked at him. “I can’t believe you did that,” she said. “How did you …?”

  “I did what you do at any party where you want to take home some food. I went to the kitchen and asked.”

  “Oh my god, I’m embarrassed for you,” Makayla said. “Tell me you didn’t really go into …”

  “I did,” he said, grinning. “Are you so embarrassed you don’t want any of this food?”

  He opened the container on top where what looked like five or six beautiful lamb chops were resting on a bed of couscous. The aroma wafted out, causing Makayla to involuntarily moan.

  “Or any of this?” The second container had lollipop chicken legs with some kind of glaze.

  “Okay, that looks delicious,” she admitted. “But I’m still glad you went in and did it and not me.”

  “Yeah, yeah, leave me to do the dirty work. Now drive.”

  “You actually want me to drive the car?” Makayla said. “But … what if I wreck it? This is a really nice car, Jamal.”

  Letting his head fall back, he exhaled. “Will you just drive, woman? I’m hungry and I’m tryin’ to eat this half-naked in front of a television not while sitting in traffic from Jersey, so let’s go.”

  Shaking her head, Makayla pulled off as instructed.

  18

  He was actually restless until the front desk rang to let him know she was on her way up. A week in L.A. had gotten a lot accomplished but while he was there, Jamal missed the tar out of that girl. So just before flying back to New York, he called and arranged for the home health-aide to relieve her for the night then called and asked Makayla to meet him at his place a couple hours after he landed.

  A little eager, are we? she teased him.

  Just make sure your ass is over the
re by nine, he said in return and smiled at the sound of her laughter on the other end.

  In a weird way, the time in L.A. had been for the best, because otherwise, Jamal might have begun to wonder if what was going on with her was mostly about the buck-wild sex they’d been having. He was no slouch in the bedroom, but she had him wanting to do it like three times a night. And that was all well and good, but that much sex sometimes came at the expense of other things, like, say … conversation.

  But while he was away, that was all they had. Phone calls and text messages, and yeah, there was that one time he talked her into playing with herself over Skype—just once—but for the most part, they did a lot of talking. And what all the talking did was solidify something he already knew—he liked her. Not just as a woman he was doing the deed with on a regular, but as a friend, as person.

  He liked that when he tried to get her to narc on the rest of the team while he was away, she flat-out refused. She wouldn’t even bust DeJuan, who he knew she didn’t care for.

  He liked that when she talked about her schoolwork she sometimes got so carried away with how interesting it was to her, she forgot how boring it might be to him.

  He liked that the first thing she always said when she heard his voice was ‘how’re you doin’ out there?’ like it really mattered to her what the answer was.

  He liked that even when they’d been talking for hours, and she clearly needed to sleep, she fought it, just so she could stay on the phone with him for a little while more.

  And most of all, he liked that even though she was definitely feeling something for him, she didn’t know enough to even try to hide it. At first she’d held up her front pretty well, giving him the ‘round-the-way girl toughness befitting a true homegrown New Yorker. But now, Makayla couldn’t seem to help herself, so that when he called, she picked up sometimes on the first ring and said things like, ‘I was waiting for you to call me!’ or ‘I was thinking about you all day.’ Things that the women he was usually with would never say for fear of looking pressed, even though he and they knew doggone well that they were.

  So now he was standing at his apartment door, waiting for her, and eager. When the knock came he smiled, and opened it, just a crack before she shoved it the rest of the way and bum-rushed him, jumping up and wrapping her legs about his hips so he staggered backwards.

  “Damn!” he laughed. “Give me a second! Where’s your bag?”

  “I don’t have one,” she said, pecking kisses all over his face.

  “Why not?” Jamal kicked the door shut.

  “Can’t stay the night.” Makayla lowered her legs to the ground and started unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Wait … why?”

  “Nana’s not feeling so good. I don’t want to leave her overnight.”

  “What’s wrong?” He pried Makayla’s arms from about his neck and tried to meet her gaze. “Something to be concerned about?”

  She shrugged and wouldn’t make eye-contact, so he knew she was worried. “I took her to the doctor and he said nothing’s changed. Nothing’s better, nothing’s worse.”

  “You didn’t tell me any of that on the phone.”

  “Who wants to hear about stuff like that when …”

  Jamal gave her a chiding look.

  “I mean I don’t want to talk about it. Even though I know you would have been fine with listening,” she amended.

  “You want to try another doctor?”

  “I don’t think that would make a difference, Jamal,” she said looking him in the eye for the first time. “She’s comfortable, she isn’t complaining of pain or anything. But she’s just slowing down. Getting quieter, eating less.”

  Jamal didn’t want to say it, but that sounded a lot like his own grandmother when she got close to the end. She began to withdraw into herself, interacting with this world less, as if in preparation for the next.

  “But if you want to. Take her to another doctor? I’ll take care of it, okay?”

  Makayla nodded. “Thank you.” And then she smiled again, and wrapping her arms about his waist, pressed her face into him, inhaling deeply. “This smell … this chest, these arms …”

  “So if you can’t stay, lemme pack a change of clothes and we’ll go to your place.”

  Makayla pulled back and looked up at him. “Really?”

  “Yeah. No point you being here even for a few hours if you’re just going to wind up being anxious. So let’s go over there. That way you can check in on her during the night if you want.”

  “You are … amazing,” she said, letting him go so she could look at him properly. “Have I ever told you that?”

  “Once or twice while we were fucking, but I’m not sure that counts,” Jamal said turning to go into his bedroom and pull out an overnight bag.

  While he was rummaging in his closet, there was no sound from the living area so he called out to her.

  “Is your grandmother going to be cool with me staying over?” He couldn’t even believe he was asking that question. Him—an adult—wondering if his girl’s grandma would disapprove of him spending the night in the same bed.

  “She’ll be asleep when we get there,” Makayla called back.

  Jamal rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He was officially back in high school.

  “You a’ight out there?” He called out again when after a couple minutes, he realized how silent the apartment was

  “Yeah.”

  But she sounded noncommittal, so he stuck his head out then went down the hall to check on her. Makayla was sitting on his sofa, looking at something on his iPad, biting one corner of her lower lip, her brows furrowed. She was so engrossed, she didn’t even notice him. Trying to figure out what it was that could have … Then he recalled what had been onscreen when he left it there.

  Jamal turned and went back into the bedroom, throwing the last few items into the bag and then going back out. This time Makayla heard him coming and just a couple seconds too late, dropped the iPad next to her, her face a little sheepish at having been caught looking at it. Dropping his overnight bag near the front door, Jamal went to sit next to her.

  “Before we go,” he said. “Let’s play a little game.”

  He picked up the iPad and held it up so they both could see the screen.

  The picture displayed was one of many that had been taken in the past week, of Vanessa. In some of them, he was there too, with his arm around her waist, or about her shoulders. In most of them, he was smiling, and Vanessa was too. They’d hired a photographer for most of them, planning to shop them around to trade publications.

  When an artist was new, like Vanessa was, or middle-of-the-road in popularity, paparazzi weren’t interested in them and they rarely got any earned media. So shots were staged to look candid, buzz had to be manufactured when it didn’t generate on its own. That’s what these shots were, and Jamal was reviewing them just before Makayla got there, figuring out which ones presented the starlet in her best light.

  Now, with Makayla watching, he swiped through them quickly.

  “A game?” She narrowed her eyes.

  “Yeah. It’s called ‘fact or fiction?’”

  “Not following.”

  Jamal opened the browser and typed in a couple search terms, and when the results loaded, he switched to the images. Immediately, there were dozens of pictures on the screen of him at various events with different women.

  Makayla made a snorting sound. “I can already tell I’m going to hate this game.”

  Tapping on the first image, of him with an actress, he nodded. “Fact …” He swiped to the next image, of him with a singer. “Fiction.” And another, “fiction …” and another, “… fiction. And this one …” swiping again, “fiction. Fact. Fiction. Fiction. Fiction. Fact. Fiction, fiction … and hell nah. And this one …”

  Makayla clamped a hand over his. “Okay, stop. I think I get your point.”

  “Do you? What’s my point?”

  “That sometimes it’s
not what it looks like.”

  “Yeah. Exactly. I get photographed with a lot of women. And most of the time it’s not what it looks like. And granted, sometimes it works to their benefit and mine for people to think it’s personal.” Jamal tipped Makayla’s chin upward so she’d look at him. “But most of the time? It’s about business.”

  “That doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable,” she said. “I mean, I don’t know, would you like it if I was …”

  “Hell nah,” Jamal pushed her back against the sofa cushions and covered her body with his. “I would hate that shit. I would bust into every party you were at and tear the head off a motherfucker.”

  Makayla laughed while he kissed the exposed skin of her shoulder. “No you wouldn’t,” she said, leaning her head against his.

  “Okay, maybe not. But I would want to.”

  Turning so that their lips could meet, Jamal kissed her. Her lips were soft, yielding.

  “Well …” She sighed. “As long as you would want to.”

  _______________

  He couldn’t sleep. And it wasn’t only because the bed was smaller than he was accustomed to and a lot less comfortable.

  Makayla definitely hadn’t been sleeping. Though she would lie down for a few minutes, or as long as an hour, soon she would get up and go check on her grandmother, coming back and crawling in next to him, apologizing for rousing him once again. So finally, the last time she got up, Jamal decided to do the same, heading for the small living room where he sat watching television with the volume turned down low. The room was decorated as an old woman would decorate it, with plastic flowers in vases that looked ancient, and doilies underneath.

  On the walls were yellowing old photographs of people who vaguely resembled Makayla. One of them appeared to be her grandmother, much younger, and very pretty. There were a few more recent pictures scattered about the room, and even one of Makayla and Devin Parks. In that one, Devin was a bushy-haired preteen with a face that looked sad, and Makayla was next him, hugging his waist and smiling determinedly into the camera as if to compensate for Devin’s lack of a smile.