“Lucky ass,” I muttered as I took a long swig of my sweet tea, another delicacy I hadn’t indulged in in far too long.
In fact, I was already thinking about what kind of healthy alternative version I could craft later when Gabe interrupted my thoughts to ask, “So tell me, is it all it’s cracked up to be?”
“Is what all it’s cracked up to be?”
I watched as he pulled the napkin from his lap, scrubbing at the corners of his mouth while he explained, “You know, the fast life, being the mega-superstar, dining in private rooms to avoid the paparazzi and fans. Is it really worth it?”
“I mean, I guess. It’s fine,” I answered with a shrug as I took another long sip from my straw, long enough to hear the bubbly slurp of my glass being emptied. And it wasn’t long before it was already being exchanged for a fresh glass, a short smile given the server’s way being enough to show my appreciation.
Gabriel seemed caught off-guard by the urgent attention, something I didn’t necessarily expect, but had definitely grown used to. Still, that wasn’t enough proof to stop him from insisting, “You didn’t sound too sure about that.”
I could only release a heavy sigh, trying to find the words to explain the real pros and cons of what was truly a rare circumstance. Fifteen minutes of fame was unique, but there was nothing that measured up to being a spectacle of the public eye for almost a decade. There was nothing that compared to beginning an adult career, making adult decisions, as a pre-teen. And there was no explanation other than true dedication and maybe a dose of insanity for being able to actually keep that career afloat.
Since Gabe didn’t strike me as a bullshitter, I decided to give him the truthful answer he was looking for when I started, “It’s just, I’ve sacrificed a lot to get here. Regular friendships and relationships, regular life milestones like high school graduation and prom, the regularity of being able to take the dog for a walk down the street even though I don’t own a dog. I’ve been up since 4 A.M. and I didn’t get to bed until 2 A.M.. So is it worth it? Depends on when you’re asking.”
“How about right now?”
“Well, I’m exhausted, my body is aching in weird places, and my mother is blowing up my phone as we speak because I skipped out on some random, last-minute, scheduled appearance to eat lunch with you. But I’m finally doing some music I can actually be proud of. So right now, yeah, I’d say it’s worth it.”
“Skipping shit just to grab a bite with me? Should I feel special?” he asked with a hand against his chest and a smirk I wanted to etch into my memory.
But I also couldn’t help myself in knocking it right off his face when I held my glass in front of my lips and nonchalantly answered, “Not really. I mean, I would’ve ate regardless. You just happened to be around for me to invite.”
He immediately let out an astonished, “Wow. So it’s like that?” Making me laugh loud enough to draw the attention of my main bodyguard X who was taking a short break to devour his own plate of food.
Many plates of food.
“You’re kinda sensitive, Gabe,” I teased as I watched him peel back the wrapper on his slice of pecan pie that instantly made me jealous since I couldn’t have one of my own.
And as he sectioned off a small piece with his fork to take a bite, he muttered, “Says the girl who was all ‘fuck you, Gabriel’ when I told her the music she didn’t even like herself was trash.”
“I can say it! You can’t. That’s like someone talking shit about Grayson versus you talking shit about Grayson. It’s just different,” I replied, hoping my explanation made sense considering I didn’t really have a sibling of my own to know if the comparison rang true.
But my play on associations wasn’t the focus I thought it’d be when Gabriel took another bite of his pie and asked, “So what made you show up to my crib even after I dogged you?”
Now that was a good question, especially since I had sworn off ever putting myself in the position to be embarrassed the way I had been that night at The Black Market. But I suppose I was so attracted to him - his skills - that nothing was going to stand in the way of making things happen. So as I reached across the table to steal a bite of his pie with my fork, I told him, “For one, I’m not as sensitive as you meaning I can take a few jabs and still get back up. For two, I do what I have to do to get what I want.”
“And you wanted me?” he asked, leaning up from his seat to take the bite from my fork, savoring it in a way that was unreasonably erotic as my hand continued to hover over the table. It felt as if I was suddenly frozen in place, stuck on stupid as he closed his eyes and released a groan of appreciation for the flavors that I was back to missing out on. Groans that definitely had me “wanting him” in ways that weren’t even realistic.
But before I could get too lost in the moment, I brought things back to reality when I quickly reached down to snag a new bite and clarified, “I wanted your sound. The way it captured me that night, I had to find out who was behind it.”
“And then you had to get me on your team?” he asked, finally opening his eyes back up to discover the missing piece that I was already shoving into my mouth.
While my groans weren’t nearly as soul-stirring as his had been, I could tell they got his attention by the way he licked his lips when, through my chews, I replied, “Exactly.”
“Well I’m glad I was worth the trouble,” he said with a smirk as he stabbed at the final piece of pie. But instead of shoving it into his own mouth, he extended it my way with a nod that insisted I could have it.
He’s already giving me the last piece of food?
I tried not to overthink it as I slowly leaned into the table, fully prepared to enjoy the bite that featured the most crust, my favorite part. But just as my lips were getting ready to wrap around the tip of the fork, Gabriel snatched it away and slipped it between his lips, overemphasizing his chews to purposely annoy me.
“Asshole,” I whispered as I fell back into my seat, my insult prompting him to dramatically lick each of his fingers as I watched in envy. And once he was done putting on a show, I checked my face in the camera on my phone as I told him, “You being worth the trouble is yet to be determined. Still gotta run it by the big bosses. You’re coming to the meeting next week, right?”
The question seemed to make him uncomfortable, his eyes shifting and his smirk falling from his lips. “Uh… nah. That’s your thing. I just make the beats.”
I dropped my phone from in front of my face, hoping to catch his eyes when I insisted, “Come on, Gabe. I wanna be able to introduce the mastermind behind my future album to the people who will be writing the checks.”
I thought a little stroke of his ego would be just the thing to convince him. But it only seemed to increase the sternness of his answer when he snapped, “I said no, aight?”
His sudden attitude made me grow one of my own, rolling my eyes and returning to my phone for a second look at my face as I told him, “Fine. Just make sure you tell your girlfriend you’ll be expecting a call that day, cause I will definitely be blowing your phone up with the good news.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he muttered, his voice low and his eyes tight as if the mention had annoyed him even more.
While that should’ve been enough for me to drop the subject, I couldn’t help myself in pressing, “Well, your ‘used to’ girlfriend. You know, the one whose texts you keep checking under the table but not responding to. Which one of y'all are in the hot seat?”
It wasn’t that I was bothered by Gabriel being involved with someone, nor was I bothered by him checking his phone since I had done the same a few times throughout our lunch. But there was something about the uncertainty of his love life while he was also so openly flirting with me that had me prodding for an explanation.
An explanation that he obviously wasn’t interested in giving when he only replied, “That’s none of your business, Zalayah.”
“So it must be you who messed up then. What’d you do, Gabe?
Come home too late the other night? Leave the toilet seat up on your way out this morning? Cheat on her?” I asked, hoping his answer would give me more reason to stop being interested in him.
But my interest was only amplified when he finally replied, “Actually, since you wanna be so damn nosey, she’s the one who cheated on me.”
“Oh wow. I… I’m sorry to hear that,” was the only response I could muster without turning the conversation into twenty-one questions. But naturally, there was still a list computing in my head.
Someone really cheated on your fine ass?
How’d you find out?
Are you heartbroken?
And if so, can I mend your broken heart, bae?
My thoughts were interrupted by his nonchalant shrug when he replied, “Don’t be. It is what it is.”
It is what it is.
Was it really that simple?
Or was that just a defense mechanism he used so that he wouldn’t have to deal with his real emotions about the situation?
I mean, getting cheated on was a terrible feeling no matter who did it, when it happened, how it happened. Then again, that couldn’t have been the full truth for Gabe and his ex considering, “The other night, in the studio, you two are still…”
“Not anymore,” he clarified, his eyes tight as if he was daring me to say any more about it.
But the only thing I could say now that I had apparently gotten it all wrong was, “Oh.”
“Oh? That’s all you got, superstar? I finally gave you an inch and now you only wanna take a centimeter? Or maybe we should flip the script and talk about your love life since you’re so curious about my shit,” he insisted, turning the spotlight my way as if he expected me to be as forthcoming as he had been.
And while I honestly wished I would’ve had something recent to share, the truth was, “I don’t have a love life. Discussion over.”
The smirk returned, though it was one filled with more disbelief than anything when he said, “That sounds boring as hell, Rose.”
“Well I’d rather be boring than be out here getting cheated on,” I fired back defensively, though I really had nothing to be defensive about because, well, it was boring as hell.
Being so invested in my career left little time for anything outside of it, including relationships. And after dealing with the drama of Liam, anything more than a little tune-up down below seemed like way too much work. But I knew if I could guarantee the work would actually be worth a damn, I’d be more than willing to make it happen. Yet all of that still didn’t make it right for me to use Gabe’s honesty about his experience against him.
So just as quickly as I had snapped at him, I was offering an apology, my tone softened when I told him, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, I just…”
“It’s all good. I can take a jab every once in a while too.”
I nodded, happy to hear he wasn’t as offended as he could’ve been, but also not really convinced once I realized how thick the air between us still remained after the fact. But instead of becoming consumed by it, I decided to clear it out when I changed the subject to a topic more neutral.
“So tell me, what made you start doing music if you really had no desire to make it big?”
There was nothing light or easy about the question, but it was far too relevant not to ask. And considering how talented Gabriel was, I was dying to make sense of his disinterest in the music business, though I knew I had my own qualms about it.
I worried I wouldn’t get my question answered when he released a heavy sigh, clasping his hands in front of him on the table before peeking up at me with eyes that weren’t as hardened as I thought they’d be. And then a more thorough explanation than I was expecting began to pour from his lips. “My mother was a singer. Had a major deal and everything, couple hit records. So she’d always keep music on around the house and shit like that. Eventually I started picking up on a few things, different instruments and what not. Then my brother became interested in rapping, so I taught myself how to make real beats, invested in some equipment, and here we are.”
“Wait. You said your mother had a few hit records. What was her name?”
“Constella,” he answered as if he was just tossing out any old name.
But for me, the name lit a fangirl fire as I shouted, “Get the fuck out of here!” Catching the attention of X before lowering my voice to ask, “Your mom is really Constella? Thee Constella? I sang one of her songs at my very first talent competition.”
I remembered it like it was yesterday, getting on that stage in front of a mix of my peers, their parents, and talent scouts at the performing arts elementary school I was enrolled in and belting out her hit song, “Galaxy Love” as if my seven-year-old self had any idea what I was singing about. But I suppose I sounded good enough to land a series of commercials and acting roles that propelled me into the singing career I had today, making it all worth it.
Still, Gabriel seemed surprised that I even knew who he was talking about when he said, “No shit? That’s wild. I mean, her music is… old.”
“When music is good, it doesn’t age. And that debut album of hers still gets played every now and then. But then again, that’s the only thing of hers I could ever find growing up. Why’d she stop making music?” I asked, hoping I’d get some juicy inside scoop like an episode of Unsung.
But I only got a withdrawn Gabriel as he fell back against his seat, gnawing at his lip before he finally peeked up at me and answered, “She got pregnant with me.”
“So you’re to blame for us never being blessed with a sophomore album from Constella? I think I might hate you a little bit now,” I told him teasingly, hoping to lighten the mood.
And it seemed to work just slightly, his expression softening as he explained, “Nah, I’m not the only thing to blame. I mean, she had some other issues going on around the same time, and he… the label dropped her because of it. So if anything, you can blame them.”
“Is that why you didn’t wanna be in the industry? Because of how they treated your mother?”
“Amongst other things, yeah,” he answered with a shrug.
But regardless of his nonchalance, I couldn’t help but smile when I told him, “You know that makes me feel special, right? That you went against your own reservations about the music business to help me out?”
“You shouldn’t. I mean, I would’ve made the beats regardless. You just happened to be around to sing on them,” he replied with a smirk and a wink that made my heart jump.
And while I knew it was in my best interest to wait until later to really process my feelings about it, I was sure to take a moment to compliment him on his comeback, nodding with a smirk of my own as I told him, “Well played, Gabe. Well played.”
Gabriel
I was nervous and I wasn’t even there.
I knew today was the day Zalayah would put the fate of her new album in the hands of the executives at the record label. And while I shouldn’t have cared either way considering my job was done and the check had already cleared, after getting to know her a little better and hearing her motivation behind this particular project, I wanted to see her win. I wanted to see her happy with her career. And hell, I honestly wanted to get back in the studio with her so we could create some more magic.
While I had never been interested in a real career in music, something about the aura Zalayah and I had manifested in the studio was honestly addictive. She was a hard worker, she knew her shit, and she wasn’t above a little critique even though it was coming from someone like me with far less experience. But she trusted my opinion, valued it even, and a mutual respect for each other had blossomed because of it.
Truth be told, a mutual respect wasn’t the only thing that had blossomed between us. I was… attracted to her, I liked her, found everything about her dope as hell including her determination to take a money-making career in a different, more fulfilling direction when the easy thing to do would’ve been to follow the
money. But the fact that she was willing to sacrifice that for something she believed in was… admirable, completely voiding the shallow opinion I initially had about her. In fact, my opinion about her had done a complete 180, turning me into just as much of a fan as Grayson claimed to be.
But I wondered if he still had me beat when he was hit with the same epiphany he had randomly been announcing for the past week. “Can’t believe my nigga was on the Snap looking comfortable as hell in the studio with my Woman Crush Everyday.”
“Woman Crush Everyday?” I repeated, clicking a combination of buttons on my controller that made me dunk on the video game we were playing, putting me up two points with ten seconds left on the clock.
And as Grayson kept his attention focused on the screen, bringing the ball up the court for a final shot, he answered, “Every damn day. Wednesday ain’t enough for her fine ass.”
“Yeah, you right about that,” I muttered more to myself than him as the buzzer went off simultaneously with the ball bouncing off the rim.
“Damnit,” he hissed as he tossed his controller on the table before he continued, “Well I’m glad to see you finally get it. I was starting to worry about your eyesight, G.”
I gave him a pat on the shoulder that was more about rubbing in my victory than anything when I insisted, “Nothing to worry about, bruh. Little mama is fine, talented as hell, everything you said she was and more.”
“And more? What do you know that I don’t? You holdin’ out on me, G?”
I shook my head, knowing there was no way in hell I was giving Grayson the information he was trying to get. Considering he hadn’t even been able to keep the work I was putting in at the studio a secret from Shy, I could only imagine how he would react if he had any idea how I was feeling about Zalayah. So instead, I played it down when I told him, “Nah. I just… she’s cool peoples.”
“Cool peoples? You got a crush on her, don’t you?” he challenged with a smirk as if he already knew the answer to his question. And since I couldn’t have him being so sure of his little theory, I was quick to brush him off.
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