“All right, you remember how Dad was thinking about building a gym so that the employees could just use the facilities here?” Hendrix asks as we walk to the right.
I nod, remembering how my father was on a health trip a couple of years ago after he had a heart scare. I know in most families the mother is what keeps the household together, she’s usually the driving force behind things and holds down the front while the father busies himself with work and other things, but in our family our strength is my father. In my eyes he is anyway, and I realized it the day Hendrix called to tell me that Dad had been taken to the hospital because of shortness of breath and chest pains. It happened in Los Angeles so I got in my car after I got out of a Micromanagement class I was taking and drove straight over there.
On my way to see him so many things flashed through my head. Would I be okay if he died? Did I feel like I told him everything I needed to? Would I feel the way I felt when I lost my best friend Ryan? I knew the answer to that question was hell no because I didn’t see my father enough for his death to affect me in that magnitude. As sad as it sounds, and even I realize it’s a terrible thing to say, but the loss of my best friend was definitely more hurtful to me than the loss of either one of my parents would be. I’m certain about one thing—if my father died, I would have absolutely no relationship with my mother.
“Yeah, I know he built a nice gym in here. I saw the plans,” I respond just as Hendrix stops in front of a glass door, pulling it open and letting me step in first. Even though I had seen the architectural plans for the gym, seeing it in person is much more magnificent than I could have imagined. All of the walls are glass so you can see the machines and the people working out regardless of where in the gym they are. When I walk to the back, where the treadmills are, my breath leaves my body for a moment. The view of Manhattan is breathtaking from here.
“Wow. I would totally work out here.” I breathe as my eyes scan over the Empire State Building and Central Park.
Hendrix chuckles. “That’s the idea. This way, employees can get here early, or come during break, or even after work. Between you and me, I think Dad built this to make the studios more enticing to work in, not that anybody is going to want to work out while they’re recording, but whatever.”
“Hen,” I say, putting a hand up. “You’re killing my vibe. Let me enjoy the view for five more minutes without all the blabbing.”
“You’re such a brat,” he says with a laugh. “What do you think your view is going to be like from your office?”
My eyes widen at that and I turn my head to look at him, trying to gage whether or not he’s serious. He only nods, which makes me giddy but I contain it, only offering him a smile.
We walk around and then move up to the floor above, which holds twenty recording studios. It’s big enough to have double that, but that’s what makes Studios Forty-Four exclusive. Well, that and the fact that it’s in the Harmon Records building. Artists from all labels love to record their projects here in hopes of running into others and possibly collaborating with them.
We see a couple of familiar faces and wave as we walk the halls before taking the elevator up one more time. When the doors open again, we reach the floor of Hendrix’s office and my new place of employment. A sense of pride washes over me when I see the big silver letters on the wall behind the receptionist that read: Harmon Records. My dad may be a jerk, but he’s built an empire that nobody can touch or tarnish. And for that, I respect him. I smile at the girl behind the desk. Her jet-black hair is teased up into an Afro that is shaped like a snow cone. Her eyes are big and brown and the eyeliner around them enhances their almond shape. When she stands and sorts through the papers on her desk, I notice that she’s wearing an outfit similar to mine, except her top is teal and enhances the color of her dark skin.
She smiles a welcoming smile as she extends a folder to Hendrix.
“Mornin’, Hendrix,” she says. Her voice is husky and smooth. She sounds a lot like Beyonce when she speaks. “Here are the files you asked Bradley to get for you.”
“Thank you, Kina.” Hendrix smiles at her and takes the files from her hand. “You’re looking extra pretty today. Special occasion?”
“Husband’s birthday,” she explains with a shy smile. “Going to lunch with him on break.”
“That’s nice. Be sure to wish him a happy birthday from me,” Hendrix says as he turns to me. “This is my sister, Brooklyn. She’ll be working here for a while. I already showed her most of the place, but I want to show her this floor so she can get acquainted. Is Stacey in yet?”
Kina looks at me and smiles warmly as she replies to Hendrix. “She should be in her office. Pleased to meet you, Brooklyn.”
“Likewise,” I say, offering her my hand. “Have a good lunch,” I call over my shoulder as Hendrix and I walk away.
For some reason my brother’s interaction with the receptionist makes me happy. One thing our father taught us was to always be kind to others and treat them, whoever they are, with the same respect you would want to be treated.
“You never know when your ladder is going to wobble or break,” he would say. “So no matter how high up you are, you need to be mindful of the ones holding the legs on the ground. They have the power to pull you down or help you if you fall. And more importantly, you never know when you’ll be the one at the bottom of that ladder, because that happens—tables can turn quickly in life.”
Hendrix walks me down a long corridor that I know well. At the end of the hall is my father’s massive office. To the right of my dad’s office is Hendrix’s, but instead of turning that way he walks the other way and goes into Stacey’s office. Stacey’s blue eyes immediately pop up and she smiles. Her smile brightens when she sees that I’m standing beside my brother.
“Brooklyn! So good to see you. Hendrix told me you would be here for a while,” she says, walking over to me and throwing her arms around me.
Stacey is one of the few people that can get away with hugging the crap out of anybody. She just has that friendly, but not so overly friendly that she’s creepy vibe to her that makes people instantly comfortable with her. She’s short and a little on the heavier size for her height, but she’s gorgeous. She’s in her mid-thirties and has been a friend of the family since we were kids. Now she has her own kids, one of which Hendrix and Sarah are godparents of. Stacey is also one of the only people that can put up with our attitudes. My father’s, Hendrix’s, my mother’s and mine—because we all have terrible attitudes sometimes. Save for my mother, she always has a bad attitude. Stacey has a gift in how she deals with us, though.
“So good to see you too! How’s Zach? How are the babies?” I ask.
“Zach is good, the babies are great! You have to go by and see them sometime now that you’re here for good.”
“I will!”
“Stace, I need you to send Kina’s husband a gift. I just don’t know what … fuck … maybe tickets to the Jets game this Sunday?” Hendrix says distractedly as he sorts through the file in his hand.
“Sure. The opener?” Stacey asks as she rounds her desk and takes a seat again.
“Yeah, I guess. Good seats, though. I don’t want him sitting nosebleed,” Hendrix specifies.
Stacey rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”
“Good. See you later. Hold my calls for the next half hour, I gotta show Brooklyn some stuff.”
We walk to the office beside his and he opens the door. He doesn’t need to switch the light on because the sun that bathes the room is perfect. I hear myself gasp as I take it all in. It’s not the size of the office that I’m amazed by because it’s much smaller than my father’s and Hendrix’s. It’s not even the view, which is absolutely stunning, just as he promised. The office must be directly below the wing of the gym that I was looking at earlier because I get the same view of Central Park and the Empire State. The floors are dark wood and the desk is a modern white with a matching chair. It looks totally girly but chic, and I wonder
whose idea it was to throw this together for me. There’s a chandelier suspended from the ceiling that reminds me a lot of one I had in my childhood room. To the right there’s a big wooden shelf, and that’s what really takes my breath away. The shelf must hold hundreds, if not thousands of vinyl records, which is what gives the room a mix of wood and a scent that I can instantly correlate to my father and the times he’d lay my head on his chest while he listened to his old Marvin Gaye albums.
In this moment I realize how much small things matter because no matter how many hurtful things that man has said to me in the past, something that he may not have thought was such a big deal like this, makes me feel like I’m home. And for once home doesn’t feel like such a bad place, after all.
“So you mean to tell me that you have no going out clothes?” Nina shouts, so loudly that I have to hold the phone away from my ear.
“Geez, will you simmer the fuck down?” I groan.
“You simmer the fuck down! No! You pipe the fuck up, actually! It’s seven o’clock right now. You still have time to go to the store and buy a little black dress. DO. IT. BROOKLYN.”
I let out another frustrated groan, throwing my head back. I placate her by telling her that I’ll go as soon as I shower and hang up the phone. Nina’s been talking about going to a club all week. She insists that it has to be today since she rarely gets weekends off and her “kind of nude, but not really” play just wrapped up. She’s using the end of my first week of work as her excuse to get me to go with her, which is fine, but I really wish she would be okay with getting a drink at a low key bar instead. As it is, I have to go check out a local band at a hole in the wall bar tomorrow because they impressed me on a video I caught of them on YouTube the other day.
In reality all I want to do is have some wine, kick my feet up, and watch old Curb Your Enthusiasm episodes. I relax into the dark leather recliner and pop up the foot stand, covering myself with the Lakers fleece throw that Hendrix adorns his couch with as I snuggle into the headrest. As soon as I close my eyes, my phone rings again and I want to die. I begrudgingly open my eyes and stretch my arm to look at it. When I see that it’s Allie, I swipe my finger over the screen with a smile.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hey, you. You busy?” Allie asks.
She has one of those childlike voices, like her vocal chords didn’t develop past age six. I used to think it was annoying when I first met her, but over time I began to find it endearing. It’s cute and it suits her tiny little frame.
“Nope, just lounging.”
“Cool. Hendrix is over here, right?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
Hendrix left for LA last night to meet with a client. He’s bringing Melody back for the week, which I’m really excited about. I already Googled places to take her to play, explore, and eat. It should be fun having her here.
“I’ll have to call so I can meet up with him and send you some stuff. No big plans for tonight? It’s your first weekend there, I’m sure Nina has something up her sleeve,” Allie says with a laugh.
Allie is very familiar with Nina’s antics from our younger and wilder days. Allie and I grew up. Nina did too, but in a different way. She still lives her carefree life. Allie married her high school sweetheart, Craig, and I … well, I’ve just been floating around trying to survive.
“Yeah, she’s … she wants me to go to a club with her, so no big deal. I’m kind of glad that Hen isn’t here tonight because he probably wouldn’t even let me go out,” I say, exhaling. “I swear, he thinks I’m a child.”
Allie snort laughs. “He wouldn’t not let you go, Bee! He’s probably just worried about you. You put him through a lot, you know.”
I groan, knowing she’s right. “Al, that was years ago. The other day he seriously asked me if I drank wine with Nina. Fucking wine, Allie!”
Allie’s laugh gets louder and her snorts get more repetitive as that sinks in.
“You done?” I ask, annoyed but smiling.
“Yes, sorry,” she says as she winds down. “Anyway, so you know that Sinatra microphone you designed—you wanted to know if we could get them on stands?”
My eyes are wide as I nod excitedly even though she can’t see me. “Yes, yes, yes. What about them?”
“I’m sending one with Hendrix so you can approve it.” She squeals the last words, knowing how much this design means to me.
I screech and clap my hands wildly, dropping my phone in the process. “Ohmygod! You’re kidding! That was so …”
“Fast?” she finishes. “I know! I’m so freaking excited for you to see this one. You know who’s going to want one? Shea! For freaking sure. This is such a Shea mic!”
“Yeah, I think so too. I think he’d like it,” I agree quietly.
“Bee, he’d love it. You have to send him a picture of it.”
“Ha … funny thing about that … he’s supposed to come visit soon.”
The words hang between us for a moment, like I knew they would.
Allie exhales loudly into the line. “So you saw him the other day and he told you he wanted to see you again?”
“Yeah. But it’s not like that. He just wants to talk business, I think.”
“I can’t even … I can’t even tell you what I think about that. He’s a good friend, he’s a good guy, but you know he’s no good for you,” she reprimands softly.
“I know.”
“‘Kay, girlie, I’ll talk to you later. Go have fun!”
I smile widely. “I will.”
Hours after Marcus drives me to a few stores, I finally make it back home with three short dresses: two black and one teal. The black ones are both short and form fitting, but the teal one shows more skin because it’s cutout in Vs where my ribcage is on either side. I decide on that one and a gold pair of heels. I leave my thick dark hair to cascade down my back. I sort out the loose curls that hit the small of my back and apply my makeup. Once I’m finished, I walk to the standing mirror outside of the bathroom and do a turn, feeling good about how I look. The combination of the gold eye shadow and teal dress make my emerald green eyes look bigger and brighter, and I love the way the dress fits. I just hope my feet survive the night in these heels. They’re the most uncomfortable pair I own but they’re too perfect not to wear.
When I hear the doorbell ring a dozen times in under a minute, I grab my clutch and run downstairs. By the time I hit the first floor, I am totally regretting these heels, which is not a good sign.
“Holy crap,” Nina says as I swing the door open. She’s wearing a short little black dress that I doubt covers her entire ass and black stilettos. “You look hot, Bee!”
“So do you,” I respond.
“You really wanna wear your hair down?” she asks as twirls a loose curl around her fingers before tugging it. I’m constantly straightening my naturally curly hair, but today I decided not to tame it much. It’s not a mess, it’s mostly straight except for the tips that curl, which is much better than the way it looked before the gazillion straightening treatments it’s been through. Either way, the more you touch it, the worse you make it.
I shoo her hand away. “Stop. Yeah, worse case I’ll put it up,” I say with a shrug as I lock the door. I look at her and shoot her a confused look. “Your hair is down too.”
Nina presses her lips together to contain a smile. I roll my eyes, knowing what’s coming before she even says the words. “Yeah, but my hair isn’t as long … and it doesn’t get frizzy like yours.”
“God, you’re a dumb bitch. Why do I even hang out with you?” I mutter, walking past her toward the elevators.
“Because you looove me,” she croons.
“Yeah, whatever.”
Marcus drives us to the Meatpacking District, which is where Provocateur is, the nightclub Nina has been raving about all week. She’s on the phone the entire ride there, talking to a friend of hers that’s getting us in through the VIP entrance. Marcus drives around the front of the nightclub, a
nd I shake my head at the amount of people in line waiting to get in. I’ve never had to wait to get in anywhere and I don’t think I would if I had to. I stopped coming to places like this when I was nineteen. I’d been going to them since I was sixteen, so I guess I had enough of the nightlife by then. I prefer house parties, even big ones. Partying in dim lighting with sweaty bodies around me isn’t really something I’m interested in anymore.
I do love to dance though, and I love hanging out with my cousin. One night of this nonsense isn’t going to kill me. Marcus parks and goes around the car to open the door for us when we reach the side entrance, helping us hop down before telling us he’ll meet us inside. We don’t really need him hanging out with us, we’re nobody, but Hendrix being the hen that he is, gave Marcus instructions to not let us out of his sight. We flash our smiles to the security as they check our IDs, and Nina starts yapping about how she’s going to get Marcus to leave us alone for the night. I tune her out as we walk into the dark hallways and shiver at the difference in temperature from the outside heat.
“This place is jammin’,” Nina shrieks as she sways her hips to the latest Pitbull song. “Let’s go find Sky!”
I shrug, letting her lead the way. I can’t say I’m not curious to see which one of her uber-artsy friends would have connections at a nightclub like this. Nina says it’s one of the most impossible places to get into unless you’re somebody, know somebody, or have loads of money, which in turn means you know numerous somebodies. I bob my head side to side as I pick up my feet in a sort of dance/walk behind my equally bouncy cousin. I look around the place, which really is jammin’, as she called it. There are people everywhere, dancing, drinking and grinding under the glowing purple haze that the lights emit.
“We got here at the perfect time,” Nina shouts over her shoulder, her brown eyes giving off an up-to-no-good gleam I know all too well. I raise a questioning eyebrow, wondering what she’s alluding to. She steps beside me, bumping into a leggy blonde dancing behind us as she wraps her arm around my shoulder. “A bunch of hot guys just stepped into the VIP,” she shouts in my ear.
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