“The stage is like fuel for me. The energy from the audience fills me until I’m no longer overcome by my doubts, worries, insecurities, life.” Her voice trailed off.
“How does Crescendo factor into your career? It seems a far reach from music.”
“For me it’s not. I’m from the neighborhood. I was raised right over there until I was fourteen.” She pointed at a brick building about five blocks away. “I know the downfalls of this community and this school district. And after Hurricane Katrina, it got worse. So, I started Crescendo to help after New Orleans was no longer the ‘it’ kid. Everyone went on with their lives and we were left to pick up the pieces. ”
“What made you reach out to Cameron?”
“I saw the interview with him on BET and thought maybe Crescendo would interest him since RSE has helped other nonprofit organizations in the past.”
Jamal didn’t consider what Crescendo had to offer or whether it was something RSE was interested in pursuing. But the guys were always looking for ways to help the community.
“How did you see this meeting playing out?”
Carmela pulled at her sleeve, tucking her fingers inside, rubbing her forearm. The gesture softened her all the more in his eyes. To keep from reaching for her he looked off in the distance at the kids playing basketball in the street.
“I have ideas but nothing’s concrete. I just know I need help.”
“How can I help you?”
Chapter 9
Carmela glanced over at Jamal, hidden behind his dark shades. Shades that didn’t conceal the heat she felt from his intense gaze. She tried but failed at looking away. A trail of awareness raced up her spine. This man was potent, and way out of her comfort zone, and truthfully she had no business thinking about the man stretch out beside her. But his energy rivaled the stage and it made concentrating on anything but him, impossible.
“Kay koule twompe soley soley men li pa twompe lapil.” Carmela’s lungs burned from her lack of oxygen.
“What?” His eyebrows bunched at hearing the Haitian saying.
“Uhh…. It’s an old Haitian saying.” Carmela whispered glancing up at the clouds. It must be a sign. This was the second time her mother’s words popped up.
What is it about him?
“What does it mean?” Jamal’s rich tone invaded her internal debate. He pushed his shades back on his clean shaved bald head, patiently waiting for her to gather her thoughts. But the tickle of his cologne in her nose made it hard to focus. And sitting this close gave her the opportunity to get a really good look at him.
His full eyebrows, the hair covering his chin, his perfectly trimmed mustache. He’d left the suit behind but Jamal had an overpowering aura, that wasn’t determined by his gear, it was the man.
Carmela looked away from his probing eyes, down at the Saints blanket beneath them. Part of the reason for her brash attitude last night was because she hated asking for help. She hated airing her dirty laundry. Richard, always told them, “What happens in this family stays in this family.”
What about when the family needed help? She had to admit, if only to herself, that her years of trying failed them. They needed someone removed from the situation to help them, help themselves.
Carmela glanced up at him, impressed. “I appreciate your patience.”
“I see you’re wrestling with something.”
“Is that so?” She crossed her legs, dropping her hands in her lap, carefully pulling her thumb in the thumbhole of her sweatshirt.
“Twisting your shirt sleeve, the tension in your face, the uncertainty in your eyes.” His tone had a degree of warmth and concern, his dark brown eyes held hers captive.
Carmela became uncomfortable with the truth he’d spoken after only knowing her for less than twenty-four hours. Lies had placed her here and she reasoned only the truth could dig her out of this hole.
“My mother had Haitian upbringing and she used to say, ‘Kay koule twompe soley soley men li pa twompe lapil.’ And I’d ask her the same question, what does it mean she’d respond, ‘Bay-bay, a leaky house can fool the sun, but it can't fool the rain.’” Carmela laughed at the memory. “As a kid, I thought my mother was a nut.”
Jamal smiled.
“But now I think she was the sanest of us all.” Her voice trailed off. Carmela was caught between a rock and quicksand unable to pull herself out, unable to save herself. “I realize it’s raining and my leaky roof is threatening to take me out and I, we, need help—assistance.”
“What kind of assistance Carmela, specifically?” He placed emphasis on assistance catching her slip up.
What happens in this family, stays in this family.
Carmela cringed, not wanting Richard in her head. But she had to take care of her family. She had to find a way to explain their situation without airing their dirty laundry. The last thing she needed was someone running to the press or the word getting out to her fans.
“I believe we’ve reached our ceiling.” Carmela pulled the words together, it was basically the truth. “I reached out hoping RSE could help take my career and Crescendo to the next level.”
Jamal watched her with a critical squint, lowering his shades back over his hypnotizing eyes. “How does your management feel about your decision?”
“They don’t know.” Something told her, Jamal knew that piece of information, which means he could probably see through her half truth. “There was no reason to tell them, since I wasn’t certain Mr. Carter would respond.”
“Carmela I can’t make any promises. Cameron sent me here to explore your invitation. Your show was impressive. However, to move beyond this moment I’d have to examine your business and nonprofit to see whether it's a viable option for Rockstar Entertainment.”
She let out a long sigh. “What would that entail?”
“I have to determine whether your endeavor is a sound investment of our time, resources, and our finances.”
“And if we are?”
“You’d get the full backing of RSE.” His voice was calm, his gaze steady.
Carmela felt her stomach drop. Jamal had just dangled a platinum carrot in front of her. The full backing of RSE meant she could finally breath without questioning every cent, every decision. She could finally open Crescendo. And maybe…just maybe, she could leave the rat face.
“What do I have to do?” Carmela asked before her inner Richard talked her out of it.
Jamal glanced at his watch. “Talk with your team. As I told you last night, I’m flying out today. That’ll give you at least a week to decide if you want to move forward. If so, I’ll return and explain the process from there.”
Carmela nodded. Richard would shit a brick if he was here right now. But what choice did she have?
Thirty minutes later, they were back at the hotel, Jamal was standing outside her SUV. He had a flight to catch. But both hesitated to end the morning.
“Thank you for breakfast.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Here’s my card.” Jamal rested his arms on the opened window. “Call me by the end of the week with your decision.”
Carmela took the card. “Jamal, what if my entire time is not on board for this process?”
“Having the cooperation of your entire team will make the process easier. But it’s not necessary.”
“What if they’re not in agreement?” Namely, Richard and Marcel. They would not like the idea of someone snooping around in their business dealings.
“I can’t speak to that question without knowing more about your business. I suggest, taking it one step at a time. If it’s any encouragement, I think your work as La Luvie would fit perfectly on the RSE roster. But we’re not just about the music.”
Carmela held the card in her hand. She turned it over seeing the Houston and Atlanta details on the back.
“Look, I gotta go. Call me if you have any questions. Okay?”
“Okay.” She tried to return his smile, as her stomach churned wi
th dread. How would she tell Richard? She had one week to figure it out.
“Lala? Don’t overthink it.”
“Yeah, right.” She chuckled. Carmela glanced up and his strong resolve quieted the riot in her head replacing it with something else. Peace? No. Optimism, maybe. Time would tell. “So, where are you heading to next?”
“Atlanta.”
“To visit family?”
“Something like that.” He gave her a smile that sent her pulse racing. The man was gorgeous. Chocolate skin, white teeth, broad shoulders. Nicki was right, he was definitely every red-blooded woman’s type, which meant he was off limits.
“Travel safely.”
“No doubt.” He took a few steps back. “And get some rest.”
“No doubt.” She echoed.
His laugh was deep, warm, and rich. “I’ll see you next week.”
Jamal turned on his heels and she watched him walk away. The man was amazing coming and going. “Might as well enjoy the view,” she chuckled not pulling off until Jamal was out of sight.
Carmela pulled up to her house. The driveway held familiar cars. But this morning, she wanted a moment to herself. A moment to think about the offer Jamal placed in her lap. It wasn’t a promise of relief, but hope that maybe…just maybe life could change. Maybe she could open Crescendo again.
Carmela cut the engine, scanning the cars. Richard’s silver Rolls Royce coupe wasn’t here.
“Mamma,” she whispered, “Help me. I know you’re here.”
Carmela glanced up at the sky, her mind a crazy mixture of hope and fear. It was their thing, they’d sit on the porch, her mother would sing with the sun and the clouds as her audience, or the moon and the stars as her fans.
What she wouldn’t give to have those moments again. When her ten year old self, laid her head in her mother’s lap, listening to her angelic voice. Adelle, was the real star in the family. The star that never had the opportunity to shine. The pain of her loss gripped Carmela’s heart, as she brushed the tears from her face.
“Help me protect our guys. Show me what to do.” She dropped her head with a white knuckle hold on the steering wheel. She felt her mother’s presence more today than she had in years, so it had to be the right move.
Opening their business up to Jamal’s examination scared her more than telling Richard about Rockstar Entertainment. They could review their monstrous expenses and walk away. But something had to give, starting with getting Richard’s spending in check. Then getting the construction of Crescendo back underway. How else could she do all of this without news of their poor management of the fan funds hitting the gossip blogs?
Carmela climbed out of her SUV armed with a plan to start with Gabriel, then she heard Nicole in her head. What do I have to lose? This move could save her reputation, Crescendo, and in the famous words of Nicole, her ass. Because Richard was gunning for her, and he didn’t give a damn about the casualties.
Carmela reached the porch and pulled out her cellphone and Jamal’s card. She sent him a quick text, inviting him to meet with her team when he returns. She ended the text with, Shoot me the day and time.
She turned to enter the house, stopping short and glancing over her shoulder, “Alright Mamma, do what you do. Please. Love you. Bye.” Carmela blew a kiss to the clouds as her phone chimed. She glanced down.
“10 am next Monday. Go to bed La!”
Carmela threw her head back and laughed. She did it. Now to talk with Gabriel, then Marcel, and she’d leave Richard for last. The door snatched open, the knob slipping through her fingers.
“What’s so funny?”
Carmela froze. “Hey, Richard.”
Carmela converted the formal dining room into a conference room. They covered the normal pleasentries walking through the house then She lowered into the chair at the head of the table.
“Gabriel and Marcel, can you join us?” She might as well get it over with.
“What’s this about Baby Girl?”
Richard sat tall with his broad shoulders and larger presence. He was a handsome man, he could sweet talk anyone into anything. He still had a head full of thick hair and a dazzling smile. She could see exactly why her mother fell for his charm.
His charm had insured ongoing tours, sponsorships, and he built her career one show at a time. But over the past few years, things had slowly taken a turn for the worse.
“I want to talk to you all about a business deal.” She glanced at the door as Marcel and Gabriel entered. “Take a seat.”
Carmela stared at the pencil cups in the middle of the table gathering her thoughts. She knew Richard well enough to know telling him everything would erect a huge divide between them with him and Marcel on oneside, and Gabriel and her on the other. She had to play this smart. She had to channel her inner Richard, to outsmart the smooth talker himself.
Carmela held Gabriel’s gaze for a brief moment tapping the table times tips with her index finger. It was their universal sign for follow my lead. The discreet nod of Gabriel’s head gave her the courage to construct a master freestyle.
Richard was officially on a need to know basis. She glanced across the table and to her left at at Marcel. She needs Marcel aboard, since she and Gabriel hit the road again at the end of the week. The shows are what kept them afloat.
“I recently came to the attention of Rockstar Entertainment.” She cleared her throat. “They help a couple of nonprofits in Texas and now they may have an interest in contributing to Crescendo.”
“That is excellent.” His eyes appeared to reflect green dollar signs. “How much are they planning to contribute?”
“I’ll know more once they evaluate our programs and I inspect our books.”
“Our books?” Richard leaned forward.
“Yes, Richard, our books.”
“Now, we don’t need anyone snooping in our business.”
“I beg to differ.” She mumbled. Marcel and Gabriel sat silent, their heads ping-ponging back and forth between her and Richard.
“Put it on the table La. You got something to say. Say it.”
Richard fell back in the chair. She blinked a few times trying to find the pieces of her rehearsed speech. The one she’d wanted to tell him to his face. The one she hinted at but couldn’t get him to hear.
“Don’t act shy now.” He taunted with a sly smile on his face.
All eyes were on her and the kitchen table felt too small, as if the walls were closing in on her.
Carmela cleared her throat. There was something about Richard being her father. They couldn’t have conversations between manager and artist, it was always father and daughter. She never felt like his equal, like a grown woman and his employer.
“We can’t keep operating like this.”
“Like what?”
“This.” Carmela’s voice raised to match his. “Richard what happened to the building?”
“I told you I have that under—”
“…control. And what about paying the contractors?”
“I’m looking into it and we’ll have it squared away.”
“And the bounced checks?”
“Whatchu tryin to say Carmela?” His voice dropped to a deadly level. “You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me. Your house. Your tour. Your career. Me.” He slapped his chest, his caramel skin was beet red. “Ain’t nobody done for you the way I done for you. And don’t you forget it.”
Richard jumped up from the table and stormed off. The walls shook with the slam of the front door.
Carmela closed her eyes taking a calming breath. “Marcel I need you to help Mr. Washington with any information he needs while we’re away.”
“La, was that the suit from last night?”
“Yes. His name is Jamal Washington. He needs to get an accurate assessment of our business.”
“Then what?”
“Then maybe we can stop robbing Peter to pay Paul. Maybe Gabriel and I can have more than a week here and there off the road.”
“La, I ain’t trying to get on Richard’s shit list.”
“Man, grow a pair.” Gabriel chimed.
“Gabriel I ain’t talking to you.” Marcel popped up to his feet.
“Well, I’m talking to you. You know Richard is hiding stuff from us and you keep protecting him. What about us?”
“Gabriel sit back down. This won’t help.” Carmela placed a hand over Marcel’s hand. “I’m tired Marcel. I’m tired of always working and everyone else partying on my dime. I’m tired of sleeping in hotels more than my own bed.”
“La, this ain’t my battle. You need to talk this shit out with Richard.”
“Man, you a punk.” Gabriel started around the table, anger striking in his normally kind eyes. Carmela grabbed his wrist.
“Gabriel don’t,” her voice broke as she jumped up to stand between her brothers. The last thing she needed was them at each other’s throats. She turned to Marcel, imposing an iron control over her emotions.“Look, Marcel, I’ll talk with Richard again. But I need you to at least help Mr. Washington while we’re gone for the next week. That or we’ll have to cancel the shows.”
Carmela knew how to hit below the belt too. Cancelled shows meant cancelled contracts. Cancelled contracts led to law suits, return of payments, severed relationships with promoters, and more trouble than any of them wanted.
“Whatever La. I’ll help until you get back. Then you have to work this out with Richard.” Marcel turned and walked out.
Money talked with Richard and Marcel. Now Carmela knew she couldn’t count on Marcel’s support beyond this one request, and it made her heartache. The writing was on the wall, etched in blood, business was ruining her family.
Am I doing the right thing?
“I’m almost afraid to see what Mr. Washington uncovers.” Gabriel said wrapping an arm around Carmela, breaking through the cloud of doubts in her head.
“Yeah, me too.”
Chapter 10
Returning to Atlanta changed the moment RSE opened the Houston office. Jamal sensed the difference as he sat in the car waiting for the driver to load his luggage in the trunk. He had spent enough time in Atlanta to call it a hub, but not home. The Hughes were his last tie to the city.
Rockstar Savages (Forbidden Chords Book 3) Page 7