The Come Up

by Nia Forrester

  There had been moments, when she permitted herself the fantasy of being in Jamal’s life for the long-term; and she imagined what it would be like to be in that circle of close-knit girlfriends with Robyn, Tracy and Riley. All of them untouchable, but at the same time down-to-earth and so … normal. She’d thought about introducing them to Devin, who still believed that to come up meant you inevitably looked down on someone. Those women proved that assumption untrue, and she’d been looking forward to having him see that, and realize that he could have success, and still be who he was.

  “Makayla, Devin … c’mon in.” Chris Scaife came from behind his desk to greet them, and Jamal who’d been sitting opposite him rose as well.

  Staring at him, Makayla tried to read his expression and body language. Both told her nothing. He didn’t look directly at her, but in her general vicinity. Chris shut his office door and indicated the loveseat in his sitting area. Taking an armchair, he waited for Jamal to get situated as well, then leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees.

  Looking directly at Devin, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about what happened to you, man.”

  Devin blinked and looked surprised, but quickly recovered and nodded. “Ahm … thanks,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “So here’s the thing. You don’t have a contract with SE. Neither express nor implied. Everything that’s happened up to this point has been more or less a trial run.”

  Makayla held her breath.

  “And there’s been some challenges,” Chris Scaife continued. “Some of them interpersonal …” He glanced at Jamal. “And some of them creative. But we wanted to meet with you, and with you Makayla to say that we don’t think those challenges are insurmountable.”

  Makayla exhaled and then looked over at Jamal, but he kept staring stonily ahead. And when she turned to see how Devin was taking it, she saw that he too, was completely stoic. What the hell was going on? She’d been sure that they were both about to get the boot, and now that they hadn’t, why wasn’t she … happier?

  “I want you to know, I don’t have any judgments about how people—grown people—choose to live their lives,” Chris said, staring Devin in the eye. “But there’s personal compassion and there’s business sense. And my business sense tells me that your lifestyle, and I’m not just talking about you being gay …”

  “I’m not …”

  “Devin,” Makayla said quietly, but firmly. “Just listen.”

  “The point is we don’t care.” Jamal spoke for the first time. “Our only business is making sure whatever you do doesn’t mess with Devin Parks, the product. Devin Parks the man is your concern.”

  Makayla looked at him, tears filling her eyes.

  “What we’re asking,” Chris said, “is whether you have the kind of … discipline that’s going to be necessary for us to market you effectively. And to be clear, we don’t even have to ask the question. We could walk away right now without consequence …” He shrugged. “Except for a few dollars lost. But we’d rather stick it out with you and take a gamble, if you’re willing to put in the work.”

  “And the work would be what?” Makayla asked quietly.

  “Are you here representing him? Like as his manager?” Jamal asked. “I thought you worked for me.”

  “I’m just …” The look in Jamal’s eyes silenced her. She said nothing more.

  “Look,” Chris sighed. “I’ll be candid with you. We can’t help you get where you want to be if you’re going to be sneaking out at night to fuck dudes in New York City’s parks and under its boardwalks, Devin. You feel me? That’s … incompatible with our marketing strategy.”

  Devin looked down at the rug and Makayla felt her heart ache for him. Jamal and Chris didn’t know him like she did, but Devin never looked down when anyone faced off with him. He never looked down and he never backed down. He was bad-ass like that. Usually. But the incident, and this meeting had … shamed him. He was ashamed.

  “I … I understand that,” he croaked. He sounded about twelve-years old. She knew, because she had known him when he was twelve, and even long before. “Can I … take a little while to think about it?”

  “Of course,” Chris said. “You take the next forty-eight hours and let us know.” He stood, so Makayla knew the meeting was over.

  Devin stood as well, and then she did. Only Jamal remained seated.

  “We invested in you and we don’t want to lose that investment,” Chris said. “We want to see you do well, and we want to do well. It’s a win-win. But you take a couple days and then you call Jamal and let him know your answer.” He opened the door and indicated the hallway, showing them out. “Thanks for coming in.”

  _______________

  Makayla felt sick to her stomach for the rest of the day. She didn’t know why, but there was a bilious feeling wafting around down there like she was going to throw up any second. All she kept seeing was Devin’s face. The shame etched about his mouth, the fading bruises still dotting his cheeks and around his eyes. She’d seen that look before.

  Putting her head down on her desk, she wished for six o’clock. No one left the building before six and most people left well after that. But today she was going to be out of here like a shot at 5:59 PM. There was a party tonight. Something for some magazine and everyone was excited because there were rumors that Prince might show. And even for people in the music business, sightings of Prince were elusive and far between.

  On any other day, Makayla might have been excited to see Prince, but today she couldn’t have cared less.

  Devin had left the meeting and asked whether she had money for a cab. A cab to get him home would set her back almost fifty bucks, but she went to the ATM and got it for him anyway, because she felt like she owed him that. At least that.

  The shame on his face. She’d seen it before. Not often. Only twice before in fact.

  Once when he was nineteen and finally confessed to her why he didn’t sleep with her anymore.

  And once when he was twelve and told her what his mother’s boyfriend Cyrus had done to him, and had made him do. Four years. That’s how long it took Devin to tell her about Cyrus. And it had taken her fifteen minutes to tell her Nana who in less time than that had threatened Devin’s mom, made her toss Cyrus out on the street, and called the police.

  What followed was a round of emphatic denials by both Devin’s mom, Claudine, and Devin himself.

  No, Cyrus didn’t live there anymore, and they didn’t know where he was.

  No, he had never touched Devin, nor had he forced Devin to touch him.

  No, no one was harmed.

  It was a lie, all of it, lies, and Devin was sorry he’d told them.

  Devin wasn’t angry that she’d told, but Makayla had seen it then—the shame. And that was when she knew that it wasn’t her secret to tell. If he was out of harm’s way, that was all she cared about. So from then on, it would be his secret to tell.

  And later, when he told her about the cruising, he sounded so confused, and so tortured by what he’d done and continued to do, that all Makayla could do was hold him and tell him it would be alright, and that she still loved him. He would never be a lover—and really, they never should have been—but he would be a friend, a brother, or something closer than either of those things.

  But now, she wasn’t sure whether all these years, she hadn’t hurt him more than she’d helped.

  “Makayla.”

  Her head jerked up. Jamal was standing at the doorway of her office.

  “I know your grandmother’s not well, but we need to talk.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

  “Can you stop by? Around seven? My place.”

  She nodded again.

  “If you need me to get someone to …”

  “No.” She waved away the offer she knew was coming.

  It wasn’t right to have him think or even care about who was looking after her grandmother. That was her responsibility. And she’d been manag
ing it just fine. She couldn’t start depending on him just because he made it so easy to do.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I’m sure.”

  “Okay.” Jamal stood there for a moment, tapped the palm of his hand against the doorjamb and then turned and went on his way.

  _______________

  He opened the door wordlessly when she rang the bell, and then shut it behind her.

  “I was just making something to eat,” he said. “You hungry?”

  She was. But she couldn’t imagine eating right now, so Makayla shook her head. It was strange, but up until this morning, she’d been afraid of just how angry at her he might be, and now she couldn’t be sure who should be angry at whom.

  Jamal headed for the kitchen so she followed. On the center island, he had all the parts of a sandwich laid out separately and neatly, waiting to be assembled. In general, Jamal lived a life as well-ordered as his sandwich fixings. No one would have thought that about him but Makayla knew it was true. His living space, his professional life and even his relationships— though there were a lot of women, he managed to navigate all that relatively unscathed by … messiness. This, with Devin, had to be intolerable for him. All that … mess.

  “I did the best I could for him under the circumstances,” he said, while he picked up a cold-cut and arranged it on a slice of bread. “And you two didn’t give me much to work with.”

  Makayla gasped, and all in a rush it was clear to her what had been bothering her, niggling at her and making her ill all day. “Is that how you see what happened? You did him a favor?”

  “What would you call it?”

  She shook her head in disbelief.

  “So is he going to take the deal? He’d have to sign this time.”

  “I’m going to tell him not to take it,” she said. And it was only once she’d spoken that she knew for certain that that was the absolutely right thing to do.

  “What?”

  “I’m going to tell him not to take it.” She looked Jamal directly in the eye.

  He was gripping the edge of the center island, leaning forward and staring at her with narrowed eyes.

  “Why the hell would you do that?”

  “Because you don’t give a shit about him. And neither does Chris. You’re telling him that you can make him a star. Maybe. Just so long as he agrees to hide, and suppress and repress who he is.”

  “Looks to me like he’s been pretty actively doing that for years, Makayla! And what was that shit in the meeting this morning? He’s not gay? What the hell …”

  “He’s messed-up and confused and damaged and has been for a long, long time,” Makayla admitted. She had never said that to anyone, not even to herself. “What you’re suggesting, that he pretend, with an entire multimillion dollar conglomerate complicit in his pretending … that would only make him more messed-up, and make him stay that way for as long as he was under contract with you, and probably beyond.”

  “I went to bat for you! I lied for you! I looked Chris in the eye and told him you didn’t know! Y’know what that could cost me?!”

  “No. Tell me. What could it cost you?”

  “I’m supposed to be the chief operating officer of Scaife Enterprises! I put in my time, and I worked my ass off, Makayla! I outperformed every motherfucker in this game! And you and your friend destroyed that with your lyin’-ass bullshit! But still I went to bat for you!”

  “You went to bat for yourself,” Makayla said, the tears filling her eyes faster than she could blink them away. “You were salvaging the deal. Because that’s what you do. That’s the Jamal Turner specialty. Difficult indie artist? Hire the best friend. Isn’t that what you do?”

  “Y’know what? Fine. If he doesn’t want it, then I can’t do shit with him anyway …”

  “Jamal, you’re not listening! He doesn’t even know if he wants it! He’s not in a place where he can even process all this stuff being thrown at him. He’s my friend and he needs me to step up for him, and …”

  “And I’m your man, and I stepped up for you!”

  “So … what? I should sacrifice my best friend so you still have a shot at being COO? Is that it?”

  “Is that what you think I’m asking?”

  “Not in those words, but … yeah.” The tears were streaming down her face now. Makayla put both her hands up and wiped them away.

  “That’s not what I’m asking, Makayla. I know what you want. Because I wanted the same things. I know what you want for Devin. And you’re not wrong to want that for him, even if he’s not in a position to want them for himself right now.”

  “But the difference is, I don’t want to come up like that. Not at his expense.”

  “It doesn’t have to be. You can get him some help …”

  “When? In between the sixteen-hour days and studio time, and personal appearances where he has to do his own little ‘fact-or-fiction’ photo ops? When would he get help, Jamal?”

  Jamal heaved a defeated sigh. Shaking his head, he braced both hands against the kitchen counter and looked down. “You didn’t tell me. I’m tryin’ to understand why you just … didn’t tell me.” He looked up. “All those days we were together, all those nights …”

  “Jamal.” She wanted to go to him, and put her arms around him, and maybe pick up where they’d left off.

  Where they’d left off before Devin’s call came, was in her bed. His arms were wrapped tightly about her, his face buried in her locs. She was asleep but aware of his presence. He slid his knee between her thighs, she pushed her butt back against his groin and he groaned vaguely, making her eyes flutter open for just a few seconds. And for just those few seconds, she felt completely at ease. And because he would never hear her, and not know the words had been said, she whispered them.

  I love you.

  They couldn’t pick up where they’d left off, because he hadn’t even known they were there. And besides, that place was way too far behind them now.

  _______________

  When Makayla opened the door to the apartment, Devin was sitting in front of the TV, wearing a t-shirt and boxers. He jerked upright as she walked in, studying her face, uncertain of her mood. Smiling, Makayla dropped her pocketbook and sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.

  “How’re you?” she asked softly.

  “Been better.”

  “Yeah. I know.” She put a hand up to touch his cheek. “How’s Nana?”

  “Went to sleep early.”

  “Okay. Good.” Makayla sighed. She felt terrible for thinking it, but she was relieved. She didn’t think she had it in her tonight to take care of anyone. Not even herself.

  “So,” Devin said after a moment. “Did you go see him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  Makayla shrugged. “It is what it is.”

  “So, you … you guys broke up?”

  “It was never that anyway,” Makayla said trying to swallow back the choked feeling in her throat.

  “Kay.”

  “Devin, it’s okay. Where was it going to go? He’s ten years older than me. He’s my boss. He’s riding high on top and I’m just a girl on the come up …”

  “No. You should …”

  “Let’s not talk about that.” Makayla sat up and turned so she was facing him. “I wanted to talk about that meeting.”

  “Yeah?” Devin looked cautious, wary of what might come next.

  “That offer they made you? That was bullshit. You shouldn’t do it.”

  Devin’s eyes opened wider and his lips parted in silent surprise.

  Shaking her head, Makayla took both his hands in hers. “It wouldn’t be right for you. All of that … image stuff that you’d have to do. They’d have you wearing clothes you hate, taking pictures with some … slutty pop star and pretending she’s your girl …”

  Devin laughed, but there were tears in his eyes.

  “It would just be … dishonest. Y’know?”

  He
nodded.

  “That’s not who you are.”

  “I’m not sure I know who I am, Kay,” he said, his voice faltering.

  “So we’ll find out,” she said. “Okay? Without all the … noise. And you can do what you were already doing. Playing your music to people who appreciated it and didn’t demand that you be … I don’t know … something that you don’t feel comfortable being.”

  Devin bit his lower lip and nodded, the first of his tears falling. “Okay,” he said.

  Makayla pulled him into a hug, holding him tight. “I’m sorry,” she said into the sleeve of his shirt. “I didn’t listen when you tried to tell me. I didn’t hear what you were trying to say.”

  “Nah,” Devin said. “You always listened to me. You’re the only one who ever did.”

  21

  “Jamal. Hey!”

  Madison looked different. Thinner, and with a haircut—a bouncy bob that stopped just at the curve of her jaw. But the snazzy attire was still there. Tonight it was a chambray suit with narrow pencil pant which only accentuated her new, svelte frame. There was nothing under the suit jacket except a seductive glimpse of her ample cleavage.

  “Madison Avenue.” Jamal grinned and gave her a brief hug and kiss on the cheek. “You look good. As always.”

  “Thank you. As do you, Mr. Turner.”

  They stood there, smiling at each other, unable to think of anything else to say. It was awkward to run into her like this, because they hadn’t spoken since that night in L.A. when he’d left her with a heart full of false hope, knowing even then that his own heart had been pulling him in another direction entirely. But Madison had always been a classy woman—an adult woman—and so he hadn’t heard from her since. No drunk dialing, no messages through third parties inviting him to be in touch; nothing. He had to admire her for that.

  “So what’re you doing here?” she asked, finally.

  “Here? At an SE party to celebrate one of our biggest artists? Well … I work here, so …”