Chocolate and Italian Wine (Music and Mayhem Book 1)

by Lili Porter

  “She’s famous and she could never be an ‘Ndrine wife. Never. She’s black. He’s going to be Don.”

  “Do you hear yourself? You’re marrying them off? Have you given up? Then it is pointless for us to make the trip to Napoli. She’s won. Go take the dress off,” her mother said, flicking her wrist.

  “Mama!” Maria Elena cried, alarmed.

  “What? You’ve given up. I’ve done all I can to help you,” her mother said.

  Maria Elena and her mother stared at one another.

  “Are we going to Napoli or not?” her mother asked her calmly.

  “We are,” Maria Elena said, determined.

  “Then get your coat. We have a long way to travel.”

  18

  Hair and makeup were hard at work. Karisma smiled and looked at her own beautiful visage briefly, but her thoughts were about what Ray and Valerie had said about Paolo. She just had to ask him, even if it would be tough to do. Still, she didn’t want to insult him with the question; it seemed like such a stereotype.

  “Stop frowning,” Maya, her make-up artist, said.

  “Sorry,” Kari replied. She picked up her phone and smiled. Time to get in the zone! She took a selfie and posted it on Twitter, #bouttogetbusy.

  “You are the bomb, Maya,” Kari commented as she inspected her makeup, turning her face from side to side.

  Not to be outdone, Tomas said, “You’re always fierce, Miss Kari! The fiercest, baddest heifer on the planet, bar none!” he exclaimed.

  She grinned at his mirrored reflection. “With a whole lot of help from y’all,” she said, pointing at all of her assistants. Mikki walked in, ready to take on Naples.

  “I’m ready to get it on!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands and sashaying over to air kiss her cousin’s cheek.

  “Hold up, Mick,” Karisma said, as she took a picture of herself and Mikki, #readytogetiton.

  “Turn around,” Karisma said to Mikki, inspecting the gold one piece bathing suit with the fringed butt that was designed by Nia Simone, an up and coming black designer from Paris. The women of Goldust had her commissioned to design their wardrobes for the Gen X Tour. And while their outfits were all similar, Karisma’s costumes were always adorned a little more elaborately, giving her a little extra pop.

  “Ready to put this on, Kari?” Lyric asked.

  Karisma asked, “We done here?” to Maya and Tomas.

  “I’m finished,” Maya said.

  “I’ll need to help you so you don’t mess this mane up, you little lioness. Uh huh,” Tomas said.

  Tomas and Lyric helped her into the curve-hugging golden catsuit that glittered and sparkled underneath the bright lights of her dressing room.

  Zipping her up in the back, Tomas said, “Ooh chile, I want one of these. You are too bootylicious for your own damn self!”

  She gave herself the once over as Mikki admired the catsuit that showed off Karisma’s hourglass figure. “This is gorgeous,” Mikki said, touching the fabric.

  “Nia Simone has done it again,” Karisma added as she was helped into her thigh high black leather boots. All the while Tomas fussed with her hair.

  A stagehand came in, and upon seeing Karisma and Mikki said, “On in 10 minutes, ladies. The band is heading toward the stage now.”

  “Okay, thanks,” Karisma said. Turning to Mikki she asked, “Where’s Tessa?”

  “Still in hair and makeup.” She paused. “She’s been drinking.”

  “What?” Karisma asked loudly. She was angry and panicking. “Is she drunk?”

  “No,” Mikki said, “but she’s had a few.”

  “Shit!” Karisma cried. “Let’s go get her. Please don’t let her be drunk.”

  As they headed out in search of Tessa, she was walking out of her dressing room with her assistant. Surprised to see Karisma and Mikki headed her way, she stopped. “What’s wrong?”

  “You okay?” Karisma asked.

  Tessa smacked her lips and looked at Mikki. “Wow, Paula Revere, really? You told her I had a few cocktails?” Tessa said.

  “A few too many from what I saw, but I did say you weren’t drunk,” Mikki said.

  So you both came to look at me and what?” she asked, putting her hand on her hip.

  “Would have depended on whether you were drunk or not,” Karisma said.

  “You’re one to talk,” Tessa said, hand on her hip.

  “Tessa—”

  “Listen Miss Karisma of the dilated pupils, you need to take care of yourself!” Tessa hissed.

  Karisma stood rooted in place like she wanted to say something more, but changed her mind. Walking away, with a wave of her hand, she said, “Let’s do this.”

  Their full entourages seemed to appear out of nowhere, as the ladies of Goldust made their way to the stage entrance…

  As the lights went down on the crowd, the sound of cheering became deafening.

  “Ready, Miss Montgomery?” a tall blond stagehand asked her.

  She nodded as he and another assistant walked her to her spot on the pitch-black stage. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw her bandmates were already in place. It was time. As the announcer told the crowd to turn off cell phones and not to take pictures, Todd, or Toddy T, as he was known on stage, waited to give the count.

  Then it began. Toddy T began beating his drumsticks together. The crowd went wild.

  “Ciao, bella Napoli!” Karisma’s voice boomed into the darkness right before the stage lights went on.

  The rest of the band joined Todd in his musical celebration through their hit song, We Come To Party. Karisma sang lead on the upbeat tune about letting loose, and having a good time. The crowd, though boisterous and loud, was mesmerized by the force of nature that was Karisma Montgomery. She bumped and gyrated and shook her ample booty to the rhythm of Toddy T’s beat, all the while singing the lyrics so smooth, with Chris, and the girls moving with her, singing background. Ted was grooving, slapping that bass.

  Paolo was in the front row with his parents, siblings, including Father Armando, as well as other family members. The Montovanis had come out in mass to meet the iconic lead singer of Goldust. Paolo stood along with the crowd, swaying to the hard driving beat of Toddy T’s drums. Paolo had always enjoyed watching Goldust perform. Lately, however, the sight of Karisma dancing and moving her body in seductive choreography brought about feelings of discomfort. She was a beautiful woman. He knew that. Hell, every man there knew it. But she was his and the lust that he saw in the eyes of others often brought about profound feelings of possessiveness. He watched her. She was lost in the music. His Karisma was a goddess queen and the throng assembled there, her loyal subjects.

  “The music’s loud!” his father yelled, bringing him out of his thoughts. He leaned in to be heard over the impossibly loud music.

  Paolo yelled back, “Yes, it is, Pop!”

  “How can she stand it up there? I’ll need a hearing aid after tonight!” Raffaelo said, smirking at Paolo. “She is a beauty, Paolo.”

  Paolo nodded. “That she is,” he said, looking toward the stage.

  Karisma was walking toward center stage. All lights were shining down on her as the first piano chords struck.

  They say time will heal all wounds

  That make you weep,

  But there are wounds that

  Cut you far too deep

  She sang the lyrics to the song, which had been a number one hit for them, with just as much heart as she had when recording it at the studio.

  On Paolo’s right side, his brother Armando said into his ear, “So, little brother, that’s your lady, eh?”

  “Yeah, that’s Karisma,” Paolo said, never taking his eyes off of her. “She’s mine.”

  Armando elbowed him. “Good for you,” he said. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

  Paolo looked at his brother. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means, you’re going to have your hands full, brother,” Armando said casually. “Ye
p. She’s going to drive your jealous ass crazy.”

  Paolo looked at the stage. Kari was shaking her booty. “I’m not jealous,” he frowned, never taking his eyes off her apple bottom.

  “Yes you are, and how the hell does an Ndranghetisti like you get a babe like that?” Armando leaned in close to his brother, looking at Kari’s ass, too.

  Paolo smirked at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Father Jackass?”

  Armando shrugged. “The Bianchis might think you’re flaunting your relationship with her,” he yelled, the music suddenly deafening.

  This time, Paolo shrugged. “What does that tell you?” he asked Armando with a smug look.

  “It tells me you probably don’t give a shit,” Armando laughed, looking at Kari again.

  Paolo shook his head. “That albatross is gone,” he hollered.

  “I’m surprised you did it. Marriage arrangements aren’t usually broken without repercussions,” the priest said.

  “With the right incentive, anything is possible,” he looked back to Karisma, on stage, wearing a black top hat with her arms outstretched, twirling in place.

  Armando watched her as well. “I know you’re a big boy, Paolo, but be careful. She’s a woman desired by millions. And you carry a lot of baggage.”

  “The same baggage that you ran away to the priesthood to avoid. But as far as your advice is concerned, thanks, but it’s too late for that. I’m all in with this one, Mando. No turning back for me. YOLO, right?”

  “What’s YOLO?” Armando asked.

  “It means you only live once. How come you don’t know that?” Paolo asked with a confused look on his face.

  His brother shrugged. “I live with nuns.”

  “Bet they know.”

  They both looked back toward the stage. “And you know I didn’t run far,” Then he looked back at the stage. “Shit Paolo, if I wasn’t wearing this collar, I think I’d have to fight you for that one.”

  “Are priests supposed to talk that way?”

  “Our vow is to God but we can appreciate beautiful things, too,” Armando replied.

  Paolo loved his brother. No matter what, he knew Armando always had his back.

  There was a sudden commotion to their right. They looked over at the same time to see their guards involved in some sort of altercation. Raffaelo was also looking at the scene playing out in the aisle. Maria Elena stood with her mother and bodyguards, insisting that she speak to Paolo. Paolo watched this with a sense of mild amusement. Desperate was all he could think of when he looked at Maria Elena. She looked at him and mouthed his name. He caught the eye of his personal bodyguard who understood the silent communication. He began speaking to her bodyguards in rapid Italian, telling them that Paolo would not engage in conversation with her. They were asked to leave. It didn’t work. Now Donna Bianchi requested to speak with Don Raffaelo personally to plead her daughter’s case. She was denied, too. All of the Montovanis were now curious and wanted to know what was being said. Craziness had broken out, enough so that Raffaelo signaled for a guard.

  “This is becoming a scene. What’s going on?” Raffaelo asked his bodyguard.

  “Donna Bianchi and Maria Elena would like a word with Paolo,” his man replied.

  Paolo leaned over. “No more talking with Maria Elena, nothing more to say,” he commanded.

  “Get rid of them. Tell La Signora that now is not the time,” Raffaelo said.

  The bodyguard turned around and delivered the message. It was not well received. Donna Bianchi flew into a rage, prompting stadium security to come over to see what the problem was. When they realized who they were dealing with, security immediately left. The stage lights came up after Karisma’s song ended. She could see the ruckus with the Montovani entourage and wondered what was going on. Paolo made eye contact with her. He air kissed her and she smiled back, already diving into the next number.

  For the next two hours, Goldust gave the sold out crowd their money’s worth, singing all the hits from the Grammy award winning X album. For the last number, Karisma wore the black thigh high boots again, paired with black “Daisy Dukes,” a white blouson sleeved midriff that hung off the shoulder and a wild lion’s mane, she took lead on the final song of the night. Still Mine was one of the dozens of number one hits churned out from the Adams-Montgomery hit machine. A hip-hop song with lots of R & B infusions, it was made for dancing. They finished the concert with five encores, as the crowd wasn’t ready to leave. Every time they left the stage, their enthusiastic Italian fans kept calling them back. Finally leaving the stage, the group bid “Buona notte, Napoli!”

  ***

  Backstage, they made a circle and held hands, raising them and looking toward the sky, still hearing the roar of a satisfied and lingering crowd. They all began to move in separate directions, to their dressing rooms. By that time, Paolo was already waiting in Karisma’s dressing room for her, along with a dozen yellow roses tipped in red for his beautiful girlfriend.

  A half hour passed and Paolo still sat waiting for Karisma. “Baby, you look fine, let’s go, they’re waiting,” he said. His arm was flung over the side of the sectional sofa of her elegant, white dressing room, his leg crossed at the ankle.

  Maya had thoroughly cleansed and removed all traces of the makeup Karisma had worn in the show. Now, her makeup was light, with just a little mascara and a soft pink gloss. Tomas had toned down the hair and removed the clip in extensions. He pulled her hair into a ponytail that accentuated her lovely features perfectly.

  She blew out a nervous breath. “How many people did you bring with you?” she asked with a slight frown, looking at Paolo through the mirror she was facing.

  He cocked his head at her. “I’ve told you three times already, Kari. There are fifteen of us, including me. Come on, woman. You can’t possibly be stalling on meeting the Montovani clan. What? You just sang and danced, half dressed, I might add, in front of like, a hundred thousand people!”

  “That’s different. And you know it,” she said, slicing her gaze in his direction. She stood up and walked over to him. “What if they don’t like me? Why didn’t you just bring your parents, Paolo?” she whined.

  He stood up and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Calm down. My family members are not only fans, but they speak as though they know you already.”

  “What do they say? Do they say it in English? I don’t speak Italian. Oh, Lord, this is going to be a disaster,” she rambled, burying her head in his chest. “How about you tell them I’m sick or something, and I’ll meet them another time?”

  He kissed her. “Listen sweetheart,” he said in a soft soothing voice, “you’re still wound up from the concert. I understand. But you are meeting the family tonight. They’re going to love you, baby.”

  “They don’t know me, how can they love me?” she asked, working herself into a panicked frenzy.

  “Are you sweating?” he asked, pulling out his handkerchief and wiping her face.

  “I’m nervous,” she said.

  “You must be. You’re shaking, too,” he said, holding her close. “Are you really that nervous about meeting my family?”

  “I’m sorry, baby. It’s just that you have fifteen people out there waiting to meet me with far more critical eyes than the fifty thousand people that were in the audience, you know what I mean?”

  “Okay, so it wasn’t a hundred thousand, I get it babe. If you want to make it another time, then we will,” Paolo conceded. She breathed in and hugged him tight. “You feel better now?”

  She nodded, and felt the gun tucked into the back of his pants. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this on you,” she said, patting the gun lightly. She sighed. “Alright, let’s go. Translate everything,” she cautioned and then pointed at him for emphasis.

  “Shit,” he said, “I hope I can keep up. Fifteen excited Italians talk fast.”

  “Very funny, baby,” Kari said, smiling at him.

  “And very tru
e,” Paolo replied.

  Finally, Paolo and Karisma emerged from the dressing room with their arms around each other and her entourage reappearing as if by magic, close behind. Wolfe walked alongside to her right, as Jamil lagged behind. And with Paolo’s men trailing as well, there were a lot of people about to come face to face. Paolo stopped them in front of his family members, who were waiting in the gathering room for Karisma’s arrival. The faces of those assembled showed the sheer excitement of those about to meet a woman they never thought they would. They all stood.

  “This is Karisma Montgomery,” Paolo announced in Italian. “I said, this is Karisma Montgomery,” he repeated to her.

  She pinched his butt. He moved away from her slightly, chuckling. “Smart ass,” she whispered.

  He pulled her close. “Sweetheart, these are my parents, Raffaelo and Cristina Montovani.”

  They both stepped forward. Cristina took Karisma’s hands in hers and pulled her to her as she kissed her cheeks. “Il piacere di incontrarvi,” Donna Cristina said.

  Karisma smiled and looked to Paolo. So did his mother. “Want me to translate?” he asked Karisma.

  “That would be nice,” she said, turning back to smile at his mother.

  “Mama says she’s pleased to meet you,” he said with a mischievous grin.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, as well, Signora Montovani,” she said.

  Both women looked at him again. “She says the same, Mama.”

  Cristina smiled wider. She began to speak rapidly in Italian and Karisma nodded with a confused look on her face that Paolo thought was adorable.

  “Do you know what she said?” he asked.

  How the hell would I know what she said?” she asked imitating a ventriloquist, the waxy smile plastered on her face. “Just translate without all the commentary,” she delivered a soft body bump to his side.

  He chuckled, enjoying her discomfort. “She says you are very beautiful and she is excited that you will be coming to our home. And will all these people be coming, too?”