Love in the Limelight: Volume One

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Love in the Limelight: Volume One Page 19

by Brenda Jackson, A. C. Arthur


  “No dieting. I want what she’s already got spruced up, build her image from there. Got it?”

  No, Serene didn’t get it and neither did he, that’s why Jason was questioning his partner and longtime friend now.

  “What? We’re making this CD. What do you think is going on?”

  “I think you’ve got something else on your mind than this music, something that might interfere with us getting this CD done.”

  “C’mon, Jason. You know me better than that. Nothing interferes with my music.”

  Jason folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. “Tell me what you have in mind for her.”

  Akil didn’t answer as quickly as he normally would have. Another fact that concerned Jason.

  “Like I said last night, I think we should go old-school with her. Back to the roots of R&B and steer clear of the commercial BS.”

  Jason nodded. “The commercial BS is what’s made us rich over the last ten years.”

  “I don’t deny that.”

  “It’s built our reputation, made this label a number-one contender with anything Sony, Arista, Columbia or the rest of them have. We’re the hottest thing in the game right now. Why would you want to mess with that?”

  Akil sighed, sat back in his chair and glared at Jason. “Because I’m tired of it. I’m tired of putting out average CDs and calling it music. Tired of the gimmicky groups and half-assed singers we reform and glamorize then slap a label on them and put them on the shelves. I want to make real music, to listen to the real sound of R&B again. Can you relate to that?”

  Jason had to pause a moment at the words and the amount of money they stood to lose if this didn’t work. “You’re serious?”

  “As a heart attack after years of fast-food burgers.” He ran a hand over his face. “I think Charlene’s got real talent, Jase. I think she has longevity to make it in this business. But I also think that Playascape needs something fresh, something different. I don’t want us to be typecast, putting out the same product year after year. I want us to grow.”

  Jason nodded. “I see what you’re saying. And I hear you about Charlene, she’s not like the others we’ve worked with. But you know Empire’s got a lot of money invested in this. I don’t know that going against the grain right at this moment is financially feasible for us.”

  “It is,” Akil said adamantly. “Empire’s been distributing us for years. They know we’re perfectionists and that we bring the money to the table when it counts. They trust us. The question is, do you trust me?”

  It was a moment of truth, one of those times when friendship had to be the glue to hold things together. Jason had doubts but they were minimal compared to all the times Akil had come through. Just like he’d trusted his gut when he first heard Charlene sing and rushed to get her signed, he trusted that Akil’s vision was going to work. That they were going to make Charlene a success, a different kind of success.

  “Yeah, man. You know I trust you,” Jason said finally, reaching out to shake Akil’s hand.

  Akil stood, shaking Jason’s hand then pulling him in for a hug. “It’s going to be big. The biggest thing we’ve ever done, Jase. Watch and see.”

  * * *

  He picked up the phone again. Alone in his bedroom in the wee hours of the morning, Akil knew he should be asleep, gearing up for tomorrow’s session. But he couldn’t rest.

  Charlene’s powerful voice had brought back memories. Some painful and some happy—some that just need to be addressed once and for all.

  Dialing the number, he sat back on his bed, leaning forward so that his elbows rested against his knees. Looking down to the floor as he held the phone to his ear waiting for the call to connect, he wiggled his toes in the ultra-soft dark blue carpet. It lined the entire length of his master suite until it opened up to the deck, which was tiled with black marble speckled with a blue similar to the carpet. His walls were painted a subtle gray, his furniture, sparse, sleek and expensive. The entertainment center that spanned the entire left wall was state-of-the-art with Dolby sound and a sixty-inch mounted plasma. Music was his life and so it surrounded him wherever he went. Even in his bathroom there was a sound system, designed to match the black-and-blue color scheme in there, as well.

  He’d arrived, he thought as the overseas connection had finally been made and the line rang in his ear. He’d arrived at rich and famous, just as he’d always planned. And he liked it here, or so he thought.

  His childhood hadn’t been easy and neither had hers. But he’d made them both a promise, to get them out and to make them both happy. He succeeded in one area and drastically failed in the other.

  She hated him, had told him as much more times than he could count. Yet, he still loved her, still held a place for her in his heart.

  Charlene reminded him of that place. She reminded him of Lauren.

  “Centro di riabilitazione del Seminary di buona mattina,” a female voice answered, speaking quick Italian that Akil struggled to understand.

  “Ah, buona mattina,” he said, clearing his throat and sitting up straight as if the person on the other end of the phone could see him. “Lauren Jackson, please?”

  He hated that name, hated the way it rolled off his tongue with complete bitterness and contempt.

  “Chi è questo?”

  “Akil Hutton.”

  The line went quiet and he waited, heart pounding against his chest, palms sweating. He hadn’t spoken to her in more than three years. Not necessarily all his fault. He’d written to her a couple of times but had only recently found a number where she could be reached.

  “Ms. Jackson non è disponibile. Non denomini ancora,” she said and hung up without another word.

  From traveling all over the world on business Akil had picked up a basic understanding of most languages like Italian, French, hell, he even knew a little German because one of his artists was a big hit in Germany. From the woman’s clipped words he gathered two things: (1) that Lauren was definitely a patient at the Seminary Rehabilitation Hospital and (2) that she did not want to speak to him. The words not available and the stern do not call again sort of tipped him off.

  Lauren was in Milan and she was in a rehab center. That meant she was safe and she was getting the help she so desperately needed. That should have been enough for him.

  And he shouldn’t still be plagued with guilt. Yet he was and there was nothing he could do about it.

  Chapter 6

  “So how’s it going?” Rachel asked the moment Charlene answered her cell phone at a little after ten the next morning.

  “It’s going,” she replied, falling back onto the bed. She’d already showered and was dressed. They were starting at ten-thirty this morning and every other morning unless Akil said otherwise, that’s what Jason had told her yesterday. She’d had another restless night, unable to get the contrary man and his beguiling eyes out of her mind. But with the rising of the sun she’d tried to shield herself from that negativity, embracing the new day ahead. Hopefully it would work.

  “Uh-oh, that doesn’t sound good.”

  Rachel knew her too well, just as well as Candis did, and that was too well for both of them, Charlene thought suddenly.

  “What’s going on? You don’t like the songs? You know, if you call Sofia she can pull some strings, maybe get you another producer or something.”

  “No, it’s not that. I just mean that we got right down to business. Akil’s every bit as focused as we’d heard. I got a firsthand look at how much of a perfectionist he really is.”

  “Again, that doesn’t sound good. You don’t like him?”

  Afraid that the answer to that question was the real problem, Charlene closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I didn’t say that. He’s just different.”

  “Okay,” Rachel said, exaggerating the word. “So he’s different from all the other superproducers who wanted to work with you on your debut CD?”

  “No. I didn’t say it like that. You
know I’m grateful for this opportunity. Hell, I wouldn’t even be in this position without your pushing me up onto that stage.”

  Rachel chuckled. “Now why doesn’t that sound grateful to me?”

  “I am grateful, really. Jeez, you and Candis are really ganging up on me this week.”

  “You talked to Candis? Where is she this week?”

  “Paris.”

  “Lucky girl.”

  “You’re sort of lucky yourself with that hunky actor you’ve got feelin’ you,” Charlene countered.

  “I so do not want to talk about Ethan right now. This call is about you and how you’re making out. I think I might need to fly out there.”

  Charlene was shaking her head as she sat straight up on the bed. She knew that Rachel was in Hollywood on the set of Paging the Doctor, where she was makeup artist and wardrobe designer. The show was in its final weeks of taping for the season but Rachel had already taken a two-week hiatus when the story of her affair with Ethan Chambers had hit the press. She was almost positive her friend couldn’t just hop on a plane and come to Miami. But that wasn’t saying much. When Rachel put her mind to doing something there was usually no stopping her.

  “You definitely do not need to do that. I’m fine. The situation is fine. I don’t need you or Sofia getting involved.”

  “Good, because Sofia’s got enough on her plate. I swear, if that girl doesn’t slow down and start to enjoy life I don’t know what’s going to happen to her.”

  Sofia was Rachel’s older sister and Charlene’s agent. She’d known Sofia for as long as she’d known Rachel, but since Sofia was older by nine years they’d rarely hung out together. But the moment Rachel heard of Jason’s interest she’d volunteered Sofia as her agent. Sofia hadn’t minded at all; she loved her job as an entertainment agent and was waiting for the day she could take full charge of Limelight Entertainment. At the moment she was second in charge to Jacob Wellesley, the uncle who had raised her and Sofia after their parents’ untimely deaths.

  “She’s still working twenty-five hours a day, eight days a week.” That was a joke between her and Rachel. Sofia worked so much they’d started to believe that there were extra hours and days created just for her hectic schedule.

  “Is she? I’m almost ready to run in that house and tie her to the bed for a full month.”

  They both chuckled but Charlene could hear the concern in Rachel’s voice. She knew her friend was really worried about her sister. For that matter, so was she. Besides being her agent, Sofia was just like family to Charlene. “Let’s pray she comes to her senses soon. I definitely don’t want to see you and her going at it as you try to tie her down.”

  “You know you’re coming along for backup so don’t even try to get out of it.”

  Again Charlene found herself laughing, which was a good thing. She needed to be in as positive a mood as possible to deal with Akil today. Oh, dang it, Akil!

  “Girl, I am so late. I’ve gotta get going. Akil’s going to have a fit.”

  “Damn, he’s clocking you?”

  “Not like that. You know this is a job. I was supposed to be in the studio at ten-thirty. Talking to you, it’s now ten minutes to eleven.”

  Rachel was laughing. “Okay, go on. But I really don’t think he’s going to dock your pay.”

  “It’s about professionalism, Rachel.”

  “Girl, you don’t have to tell me. You know I live by those same rules. Tell Akil it was my fault and apologize profusely on my behalf. If that doesn’t work then maybe I really will have to fly out there.”

  “No, you stay right where you are. I’ll handle Mr. Akil just fine on my own.”

  Clicking off the call and tossing the phone on the bed, Charlene made a hasty retreat out of the room hoping she really could handle Akil, the superproducer with his manic mood swings, on her own.

  * * *

  “Do you need a personal wake-up call, Ms. Quinn?” was the first thing Akil said to her.

  A hot retort simmered at the back of her throat just itching to be released. However, she was late. And she’d anticipated his reaction all the way down the steps and the long foyer that took her to the west end of the house where the studio was located. He had reason to be angry, she knew, so she’d suck up her own attitude at his tart words and take it. “I apologize. I was on a call and—”

  He held up a hand to halt her words. “You will learn in this industry that time is money. And it’s usually somebody else’s money. So make this the last late appearance and we’ll remain on a good note.”

  What? Had they ever been on a good note?

  Charlene only shook her head, bypassed the live room and headed straight for the isolation booth. She wasn’t sure what song they were working on this morning but it didn’t matter, she’d read over the song sheets so many times she probably knew all of them by heart. Stepping inside the booth, she noted she was alone today. The music tracks had apparently already been laid for whatever they were working on.

  “Since you were wasting your voice talking on the phone, let’s go through some warm-ups,” Akil said through the speakers in the room.

  Casting a quick glance toward the live room, she tried not to frown or show that he was getting on her nerves. A fact that only aggravated the new conflict roiling through her. Despite all his negative traits she thought Akil Hutton was attractive. There, she’d admitted it to herself finally. Even now she found herself honing in on the dark tint of his skin, the rich brown color of his eyes. Eyes that held her captive each time she dared look at them.

  “You do know about vocal exercises, I presume.”

  She did. She taught them to her students every day. Taking a deep breath, she vowed to bite her traitorous tongue and squelch what she hoped was a minor attraction—or temporary bout of insanity.

  She simply nodded in his direction, attempted a stiff smile, then straightened her posture. Steady and sure of herself, she began to breathe. Slowly she inhaled and exhaled using her diaphragm, making sure she wasn’t forcing any air. This was a common error with novice singers, forcing their voice by breathing incorrectly. An experienced singer did not need to force their voice to produce a good strong sound; that caused too much pressure against the cords and could damage the voice permanently.

  She was in full work mood and nothing, not even the fine temperamental producer, was going to stop her.

  * * *

  She is perfect, Akil thought with alarm.

  A perfectly trained singer, he amended but still didn’t feel that was quite adequate.

  Even now as he watched her he felt there was something else—something more to her that seemed to touch him. That touch was both alarming and unwanted, new and familiar in a way that again scared him. Akil wasn’t afraid of anything. He’d grown up on the drug-infested streets of east Baltimore and didn’t flinch at the sight or thought of death. How could he when it was an everyday possibility where he’d lived? Those streets had made him the man he was today—the one who wasn’t afraid to take risks, to reach for what he wanted then hold on tight when he got it. Nothing tripped him up, nothing made him think twice about his goals, his aspirations. For as long as he could remember it had been that way, for better or for worse.

  Until now.

  Until Charlene.

  He had realized that the moment she began to sing yesterday. She’d rehearsed the song, that was the first thing that surprised him. For a woman who had buried herself in a school, surrounded herself with aspiring singers but hadn’t chased the dream for herself, she was surprisingly professional and on cue.

  She’d known the exact pitches to hit, even though this was her first time singing the song with music. Normally he had to rehearse a song with an artist for at least a day before they could begin recording anything, but at midnight last night he and Jason were remixing her voice over the music, blending the two together until they almost had a perfect recording.

  Her talent was amazing and Akil wished his attraction to
her stopped there.

  Unfortunately for him, the rest of Charlene Quinn was even harder to resist. From her infectious smile that reminded him of the few happier moments in his life to the fire he saw in her eyes when she sang, she was gorgeous. And while she seemed completely oblivious to it, she was sexy as hell. Take right now, for instance; here they were in the studio supposedly working. He’d given her the simple task of vocal warm-ups. He’d assumed this would be painless; of course a vocal teacher could do vocal warm-ups. He’d really just wanted to get her reaction to the order. Wanted to see if she would tell him she didn’t need to warm up, that she knew what she was doing. Instead she’d just done what he’d asked and now he was paying the price.

  His gaze was locked on her lips as she sang the scale up and then back down again.

  Her voice rose when needed, dipped when expected, flawlessly working the scale in a way he’d rarely seen or heard done.

  Her lips were a little shiny, both from the gloss he noted she’d worn when she came in and from the water she’d sipped just before starting the warm-ups. They looked soft and warm and he couldn’t help but wonder how they’d taste.

  At her waist her arms lifted until one hand centered on her belly. Her back was straight and he watched the rise and fall of her breasts as she sang. Voluptuous wasn’t exactly the right word for Charlene’s body—mouthwatering described it much better in his mind. Her jeans were fitting thighs he’d watched for the last two days and imagined were as soft as her mouth. The shirt she wore today wasn’t formfitting—a fact he had noted with most of her clothes—yet the soft fabric draped over the curve of her breasts in a way that had him growing hard the moment she had entered the studio. That was most likely the reason he’d snapped at her.

  Maybe if this were a different time or if he were at a different place in his life, wanting her physically wouldn’t bother him so much. But he wasn’t. Lately, memories had been haunting him, a sense of dread that he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager looking over his shoulder on the dark city streets crept down his spine. Something was about to happen, he just had no idea what.

 

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