“You’ve known her that long?”
She was surprised. And more surprised that her mind immediately went to back when she and Brian were a couple. Was he attracted to Ella then? Did he sleep with her?
“Yeah. We reconnected at a mixer here in the city one Thanksgiving and bonded over our mutual dislike of the work we were doing. She was at a firm downtown, I was clerking … And anyway, after I left for Albany, that led to a lot of late-night calls, just fantasizing about what we would do if we had the choice. And …” He shrugged. “One day we decided to take the leap, and formed the Youth Justice Campaign, both of us scared shitless that we were ruining our lives.”
Riley smiled politely, something hot burning in the center of her chest. It almost felt like this “Ella” had stolen a little piece of the life she always thought she would have, as a social justice warrior.
“We were one year into the non-profit work when it turned into a different kind of partnership,” Brian said, smiling, his eyes a little distant as he remembered with fondness how he had gotten together with his wife.
“Do you have a picture?” Riley asked. “Maybe that’ll jog my memory of her.”
Fishing out his phone almost eagerly, Brian played with it a while, swiping back and forth, and then finally handing it to her.
Riley stared at the picture of Brian on a beach in a white linen jacket and tan linen pants, cuffed at the ankle, barefoot, laughing. His arm was wrapped around the waist of a slender woman in a white spaghetti strap dress of crumpled cotton. She was laughing as well and tossing a bouquet of bright tropical flowers into the air. Her skin was dark and smooth. She had high, prominent cheekbones and a wide forehead, and her hair was short “baby locs”. She looked Nigerian, but it felt like too irrelevant a question to ask.
“She’s beautiful,” Riley said truthfully.
Brian beamed. “Yup. That’s my girl.” He took his phone back and leaned to the side, so he could stuff it back into his pant pocket.
“I don’t think I remember having met or seen her before,” Riley added lamely.
The server brought them tea, and the shredded lamb and hummus with pita for their starter. Brian immediately reached for and tore away a piece of the bread, dipping it into the hummus and scooping up a generous dollop. Riley did the same and felt her taste buds come to life.
“This is good,” she admitted.
“Isn’t it?” Brian said, his mouth full.
They chewed for a while, and he poured them both cups of the peppermint tea. Riley felt herself relax a little for the first time since he sat down.
“So, about Literati not being as profitable as Polis,” Brian said, as though that was what they had just been discussing. “I think I have a great idea.”
“You’re going to tell me how to save my magazine?” Riley said, and then was immediately remorseful about how condescending that sounded. “I mean, I’ve been working that problem for ages, so maybe … who knows? Maybe just a fresh mind on the case …”
“Merger,” Brian said. “Merge it with Polis. Call it Literati Polis or Polis Literati, whichever one is correct and include in it a few of those high-art pieces that people like me have trouble understanding.”
Riley froze for a moment.
“Oh my god,” she said. “That idea actually doesn’t suck.”
Brian laughed. “You’re welcome. I mean, don’t tell me you haven’t ever considered that. Or that none of those well-paid people you have on staff have never suggested it.”
“No. No one has. And to think about it, I’m kind of annoyed about that now you mention it. I mean, it seems so obvious.”
Brian shrugged. “Tunnel-vision. Happens when you stare at the same thing too long. You lose sight of the other angles.”
Riley stared at him, remembering.
“We always were able to do that,” she said. “Help each other see alternative angles.”
Brian’s smile was slow, and nostalgic. He nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “We made a great team.”
And this time, when he reached out to put a hand over hers, Riley did not pull away.
7
Smooth, there’s a chick downstairs says she’s with you. You expectin’ anybody?”
Exhaling a heavy breath, Shawn looked around as the door opened and one of SE’s staff stuck his head in. He was sitting in the control room in one of Scaife’s studios, with Jamal Turner, listening to a new kid Turner had personally handpicked. Checking out SE’s new talent was a hobby for him, just like it was Turner’s. Because now that Chris had stepped aside, the new CEO had no business spending his limited and precious time in this kind of activity.
“What’s her name?” Shawn asked, though he suspected he already knew.
“Olivia something.”
“Bring her up.” Turner answered for him.
“Man, this chick,” Shawn said, shaking his head. “She wasn’t kidding when she said she was shadowing me. The second I woke up, I had two texts from her.”
“Kincaid is thorough,” Turner said, shaking his head and grinning. “She’s a good friend to have in this business.”
Shawn looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Why you all smiley and shit whenever you say her name? Kincaid,” he drawled. “You fucked her, didn’t you?”
“I plead the Fifth.”
“Is there anyone is this city you ain’t smashed? I don’t know how your fiancée can stand your ass.”
Turner laughed. “I didn’t mess with that young girl. Almost fucked her. But no. She’s from that generation that thinks you have to blog about what you ate for breakfast. I don’t need no parts o’ that.”
Shawn scoffed. “So how do you almost fuck somebody, Jamal?”
“One time I was on the road, right? Like a few years ago. Before Kayla. Kincaid was following the tour. So she sends me this text message, right? Talkin’ ‘bout do I want to hook up later? Now I’m thinkin’ she means to talk about the artist, right?
“Turns out my old ass completely misinterpreted that shit. I’m thinkin’ she means let’s ‘meet up’ not ‘let’s hook up hook up’. So yeah. That was …” Turner whistled through his teeth. “Worst part is, I almost made myself fuck her anyway, just to avoid the awkwardness.”
Shawn laughed. “How the hell you gon’ misinterpret …”
“In my defense, it was the time of night she sent it that threw me off. It wasn’t like booty call hours or nothin’. It was like eight-thirty or some shit!”
“You stupid, man.” Shawn shook his head.
“I know! Meanwhile she was probably barely twenty-one at the time, so nah …”
“Right. And how old is Makayla again?”
“Shut up. She’s well over the age of majority, and all woman. So, you watch your …”
“Did you ditch me on purpose, or was that an oversight?”
The door opened again, and Livia Kincaid came breezing in, once again wearing the same cut-off jeans shorts she had been wearing when Shawn first met her. With it, she wore another black t-shirt with one word in white serif font across her chest: Nope.
Shawn couldn’t help but smile. Somehow it seemed to suit her personality.
“Nah,” he said. “Just didn’t think you meant you wanted to come to every meeting I have. I was planning on calling you later.”
“Of course, if there’s a sensitive or confidential meeting, I wouldn’t expect to be included,” Livia said, falling into a chair next to Jamal’s. “But I doubt that a meeting with this guy would qualify as that.”
“Hey!” Turner said. “Nobody told you? I’m hella-important these days. My entire life is confidential shit.”
Livia nudged him in the shoulder. “Okay. Whatever. So, how long have you all known each other? I guess I knew you played ball on weekends, but how far back d’you go?”
“Are we being interviewed?” Turner asked, sounding amused.
“I assume that everything is on the record unless you say otherwise.” Livia shrugged.
“Wow, that’s way back. But you know what they say,” Livia sang. “You can’t make new old friends.”
“Is that something ‘they’ say? Or something you made up?” Shawn asked.
Livia blushed. “I swear, I’ve heard that said before.”
She had a cute smile, her mouth doing exactly the opposite of what most mouths did when smiling. Instead of spreading across her face, opening to expose teeth, her lips drew in on themselves, forming something like a pucker. It could have looked prim, or repressed, if her lips weren’t so full, so thick. Instead, she looked like someone about to blow a kiss.
“Anyway, I wasted enough of my time today with you, Turner,” he said. “I’ma break out and head over to the office for a minute.”
“Head over to the office,” Turner scoffed. “They prob’ly won’t even recognize you over there. Stop showin’ off just ‘cause we got company.” He inclined his head in Livia’s direction.
“Whatever, man.”
Shawn stood, and Livia followed his lead as he exited the studio. They didn’t speak until they were in the elevator, and she was the one to break the silence.
“Is your driver outside?” she asked idly.
“I call him when I’m ready,” Shawn said. “He knows where I am, and he shows up quicker than Uber.”
“Have you ever even ridden in an Uber?”
Shawn thought for a moment. “Once. Yeah.”
It was on Southampton, when he and Brendan had gone to a party a few miles away from Chris’ house. Their wives left early, taking the car and they had stayed almost till dawn, finally calling for an Uber with Brendan’s app at almost five a.m. While they drove home in the back of some stranger’s car, Shawn had looked out over Shinnecock Bay and for a moment felt like he could be anyone, not K Smooth, but any dude, leaving a party for home half-drunk and feeling no pain. That was a good night. A good feeling.
She shrugged. “I just wondered. I mean what would that be like? To have one of the planet’s biggest rap stars jump into your Uber?”
“I don’t know that I’m one of the planet’s biggest rap stars.”
Livia looked at him with a partly-open mouth. “Yeah right.”
“I mean, it’s been a while since …”
The elevator hit the ground floor and they both got out. Shawn looked around and then pulled out his phone, sending a quick text message.
“It’s been a long time since I was public about music. Done a lot of things the past few years, but music …” He shrugged. “That’s been back-burner.”
Livia smiled, humoring him. “Okay.” Then she peered outside. “What if we just … walked instead of getting into your tinted SUV?”
“Why?”
“Just for the hell of it. Just to see what happens.”
He smirked. “I didn’t say I was unrecognizable.”
“It’s all relative though, isn’t it?” Livia said interrupting him. “I mean, these days it all depends on what’s right in front of people’s faces. That’s what’s most important to them. We’re the Snapchat generation. Things we saw just minutes ago disappear from our consciousness. We’re all about immediacy.”
Shawn grinned. “Is that the kinda stuff you write in your blog?”
“I’m not a blogger,” Livia looked offended. “I’m a journalist. Just because the medium is different doesn’t make what I write less valid.”
“Calm down there, Kincaid. No one said your stuff was ‘less valid’.”
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, pulling the strap of her messenger bag higher on her shoulder.
“Did I hit a sensitive spot?” Shawn asked.
“No. Not at all.”
“Okay, c’mon, let’s walk,” Shawn said. “You want to see what it’s like if I walk down the street? Let’s do this.”
Pulling out his phone, he texted his driver again, and let him know that he would be walking around the block, and to meet him on the corner of E. 4th.
The moment he stepped out onto the pavement and saw the raised eyebrows of a woman walking by, he regretted his decision. But there was something about Livia Kincaid that made him not want to disappoint her. She was like a chipmunk—just a little too cute for her own good.
The first half-block was fine. Except for that one woman who kept on about her business, no one seemed to give them a second glance. New York was riddled with stars—movie-stars, Broadway stars, sports stars, television stars, musicians. People tended not to lose too much of their cool. And for a while, Shawn thought it was going to be one of those days. Then just as he and Livia reached the corner, someone across the street shouted his name. Not his name, but his handle: K Smooth. It was a male voice, and one that carried.
Out of instinct, Shawn turned in that direction, just in time to have some guy lift his cellphone and take a picture or begin recording. That action, someone recording with a cellphone, made other pedestrians stop and look to see what they might be missing. And then there were three or four more cellphones being held aloft and pointed in his direction.
“That didn’t take long,” Livia said with a laugh.
“Let’s pick up the pace,” Shawn said, putting a hand on her shoulder to urge her forward.
He could feel his heart-rate increase, and the primal surge of adrenaline that every mammal on earth experienced when they feared they were about to be chased. A few people were turning and beginning to walk in his direction, and one or two had even begun to cross the street, hoping to get closer. Horns blared as one girl almost stepped into the path of an incoming car.
“Shit,” Livia said. “Okay, so maybe …”
She and Shawn began walking more briskly, and he grabbed her forearm as she made a motion like she was about to run.
“Don’t,” he said, sharply. “If we run, they’ll run.”
At the corner, two young women and a guy headed them off, and were talking to each other, talking about him, as though he couldn’t hear them, as though there was a bubble around him that sound didn’t penetrate.
It’s him.
Ohmigod, it’s him, right?
Is it him?
K Smooth. Oh my …
I can’t believe, K …
Shawn’s heart was beating faster now, and he wanted to grab his phone and send a message to his security guys. They didn’t always go with him to the studio because it wasn’t necessary. He got dropped off out front, and picked up in the same spot, usually.
As they rounded the corner, Shawn saw the black SUV at the end of the block, like an oasis.
“That’s us,” he told Livia, leaning in to speak against her ear so their pursuers wouldn’t hear him.
A half-dozen people were trailing him and Livia now, and he hadn’t released his hold on her arm. He could sense from her muscle tension that she was barely holding at bay the urge to make a dash for the car, trying desperately not to panic. He didn’t look back but sensed from the ever louder murmur of voices that the crowd had begun to grow. He could feel the presence of a mass of people just behind them.
Halfway to the SUV, the back door opened as if by magic. He saw part of his driver, Dennis’ arm, shoving it wider. The path was clear now and they had a target of safety.
“Let’s go,” Shawn said, leaning in to speak close to Livia’s ear.
And at that, he released her, so they could both run. A scream of excitement went up behind them as they increased their pace. Shawn let Livia go ahead of him and she ran like someone vying for a medal in the hundred-yard dash, taking an impressive dive into the backseat. When he got there moments behind her, he slid expertly inside, and slammed the door behind him. Before the first of the gawkers could get closer, Dennis locked the doors, and they peeled away from the curb.
Still breathing hard, Shawn took in a few gulps of air. Turning to look at Livia he saw that h
er eyes were wide, almost terrified, but excited as well. Her color was high, her nostrils flared. She glanced behind them out of the rear window and Shawn followed her gaze. Even though it felt like they were being pursued by a mob, he could now see that it had only been a little over a dozen people.
Livia grabbed his arms, gripping it hard.
“God,” she breathed, her chest still heaving. “How the hell can you live this way?”
The reaction when Shawn entered So Def’s offices with Livia Kincaid in tow was only marginally less frenzied than it had been when they were downtown. People leaned out of their offices and cubicles and a few openly gaped as he walked by. It was his fault that he still got this kind of response in his own place of business, because he was so rarely there.
Livia, walking alongside him, said nothing until they were in his corner office, and he’d indicated the small sitting area where she could take a load off.
“I’m guessing you don’t come here every day,” she said dryly.
Shawn was about to respond when Brendan came in, loud as usual.
“Well, well …” he began. “Word was the man himself had entered the building, so I had to come check it out for myself.”
“Man, don’t let me have to tell you to …”
Brendan laughed, and paused when he spotted Livia, leaning in to extend her a hand.
“Hey!” he said, greeting her like she was an old friend. “You still hangin’ around?”
“Two days and counting,” Livia said. “True, I’ve practically had to stalk him to get that much time in, but I think we’re beginning to bond.” She shot a smile in Shawn’s direction.
“Stalking him, huh? Welcome to my world,” Brendan said. “You want the tour while you’re here?”
“Would love the tour.” Livia stood.
“Shawn, I’ma have some papers brought around for you to look at while I give your little shadow the grand tour.”
“Have someone send around some food too, man …”
“In-house café menu’s in your desk drawer,” Brendan said. “Call in whatever you want.”
“You have an in-house café?”
“Yeah.” Brendan looked at Livia again. “It’s something we added last year.”
Four: Stories of Marriage Page 5