Her throat closed, pushing down the vile threatening to come up. “That was below the belt Richard.”
“Yeah, well, begging strangers to come save us ain’t no better.”
Carmela sat in the chair at the end of the row unable to look at Ricard. She didn’t know this man. His fear morphed into this. A man who spoke ill of his dead wife, and the mother of his children. Like she chose to lose her battle with cancer. Like she wanted to leave her family behind.
What happened to him? Her eyes sting with unshed tears. Her mother was rolling over in her grave. And if Carmela couldn’t trust her father, how could she trust anyone else?
Jamal came to mind and she pushed him to the corner of her mind. She had to focus on the issue before her. She closed her eyes so tight it hurt. But nothing hurt more than realizing Richard wasn’t the father she once knew.
Help me Ma, she pleaded in her heart.
It was easier to focus on Crescendo. Because staying in the music industry wasn’t an option. Not after it has reeked havoc on her family. In roughly two weeks she would have the payout from the crowdfunding campaign. The ticking of the clock sounded in her head like the ticking of her racing heart.
Then there’s Jamal. She hated the thought of laying this mess at his feet. However, the best next step was to get him what he needed to help her. And maybe he could craft a plan to have enough money after the associated fees to get construction on the building going again. So, despite Richard’s words hurting, she had to be the bigger person and find a solution to get Jamal what he needed and then she could satisfy the obligation lingering over their heads. She took several deep breaths to calm her nerves.
“We need to resolve this.” She swallowed to regain her composure. “My fans will expect a completed project and the doors to Crescendo open. That is why they gave us a half million dollars.”
“This deal is for ten shows, ten cities. Half upfront. Fifty per show.”
“Fifty thousand?” She turned looking at him. “Who is the sponsor?”
“Don’t worry about it. You handle the show. We’ll handle the business.” He pushed the paper in her direction. “Sign it.”
“Under one condition.” Carmela stood ignoring the contract hanging like a gavel ready to render a verdict. “You have to give Jamal whatever he needs to complete the assessment.”
“Oh, so we’re back to that nig—”
“I mean Richard.” She stepped forward.
“Or what?” He stepped closer.
“I won’t show.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m the music, right? Well ain’t no show with me.”
“See, Baby Girl, let me school you.” His smile was as sweet as acid. “You love your fans. And I don’t give a fuck about the suit.”
“But you give a fuck about my money.” Richard flinched.
The line was drawn and Carmela couldn’t take it back. How did they get to this place? Music, money, greed, and control. The only way out of this situation was to show him she could handle business too. And find a way to get rid of Richard and find her father again. If he’s still there.
“Give him every document, every statement, every balance.”
“I’ll do it.” A pen appeared, the lively twinkle in his eyes only incensed her more. “Sign.”
Carmela scribbled next to the yellow flag.
“I need you to write this date in your calendar.” Richard scanned the contract then glanced up at her, sliding the contract into his pocket. “Because this is the day you fucked yourself.”
The numbers on the screen danced like confetti. The mountain of invoices didn’t add up. Jamal had removed his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and combed the records line by line, item by item.
Marcel left shortly after Carmela, saying he’d return and Nicki stayed until she had to leave for another fitting. Again, he found the whole team odd.
Jamal walked to the kitchen starting a fresh pot of coffee. The ring of his phone snapped him out of his stupor.
“What up Damian?”
“Man, I can’t call it. It’s been a rough week.”
“Tell me about it.” He lowered to the chair placing the phone on speaker.
“After you.”
“This situation is unreal.” Jamal started scrubbing a hand over his face.
“Where are you?”
“I’m working at Carmela’s place.”
“Word. Do they have cameras?”
Jamal paused glancing around the room. Yep. He saw it mounted in the corner. “A-huh.”
“Step outside.”
Jamal stood keeping an eye on the camera. The green light below the lens made him believe someone was watching him, or least recording him. Thank God he’d kept his thoughts to himself while reviewing the doctored documents.
“What the hell?” He said before screen closed behind him.
“Take it from the top.”
Jamal paced in front of the house explaining how they provided doctored documents. None of the of it appeared authentic, except for a few bank statements.
“What are you looking for?” Damian asked.
“I thought I was reviewing the financial solvency of their indie label. But now….” He struggle with finding the right words. “This shit looked suspicious.”
“Do you think she knows?”
“She can’t. Why would Carmela agree for me to evaluate her company if she knows someone’s stealing right under her nose?”
“Do you think she’s involved?”
“Ain’t that the same thing?” Jamal stopped.
“No. I’ve seen it all. The artist is the cash cow. The artist commingles earnings with donations making for unethical and immoral behavior.”
Jamal had never seen anything like this. Never.
Damian sighed on the other end. “Tell me what your gut says. And bro, not below the belt.”
“That was cold.”
“I saw that woman’s picture. I can only imagine how dumbfounded you are in person.” Damian laughed.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just call me out like that.” Jamal chuckled. “My gut says she doesn’t know. But I don’t think she suspects they’re intentionally stealing her money.”
“Intentionally?”
“Yeah, man, how do you spend a quarter of a million dollars on a construction project and no one got paid?”
Damian whistled. “Who was the contractor?”
Jamal closed his eyes, scanning his memory. “Sterling Construction and Development.”
“They’re located in New Orleans.”
“Yes and a couple invoices had Baton Rogue, as well.”
“Let me make a few discreet calls.”
“Thanks man. Did you get the report?”
“Yes, some of it. Richard Franklin is quite a character. I’m finding this project intriguing.”
“Do I want to know?” Jamal dared to ask.
“No, not if it is as bad as I think. Let me clear a path before I put this information in your hands.”
“And what about La?”
“La?”
Jamal could see Damian’s eyebrow pique. The man missed his calling. “I think you should consider opening a PI Firm.”
“I have enough businesses to juggle. Besides with my growing family, I barely have time to sleep let alone start a new business.”
“That’s because you won’t let that woman breathe.” Imani was pregnant with their second child in less than three years.
“Have you seen her?”
Jamal laughed.
“I rest my case. I’ll have house full of kids to keep Imani happy.”
Jamal shook his head. “Man she got you whipped.”
“And proud of it.” Damian burst out laughing. “So, beside digging through the data, what’s going on with you and La Luvie?” He dropped his voice sounding like a late night disc jockey.
“I’m trying to keep the division between personal and professional but it ain’t working. She’s di
fferent.”
“I haven’t heard that from you before.”
“I haven’t met anyone like her before.” Jamal sat on the steps, resting his arms across his knees. “She’s the exact opposite of me. Funny, caring, giving. She reminds me a lot of….” The comparison lodge in his throat.
“Of who?”
“I ain’t saying.” Jamal demanded as Damian’s laugher turned into short gasps for air. “I hope you run out of oxygen.”
“Oh Jamal done went down to NOLA and found him a wifey or a NOLA chick.” Damian howled. “Mister the Houston water is contaminated. I think I need to drink bottled water.”
“I can’t stand you right now.”
“She got you whipped in what two weeks?”
“Bye Damian.”
“I can’t wait to meet her. Maybe I should have Eliana gas up the plane. I’ll fly the guys out.”
“Bye. Damian.”
“Wait until I tell Cameron—”
Jamal hung up, dropping the phone in his pocket. “They will never let me live this down.”
He ran up the stairs two at a time. His stomach protesting the entire trip down the hall. He glanced at his watch it was after eight o’clock. He wondered if Carmela stopped to eat.
Jamal organized the stacks of documents into vertical columns down the table. Each stack divided by type. He tossed the boxes beneath the table. Once pleased with his workspace he called the concierge service to request a driver and order dinner, so much for having some alone time with Carmela tonight.
He used the extra key Nicki gave him to lock up. The driver made it across town in no time. The guard standing outside the doors asked for his ID and let him inside.
Jamal had to find a way to protect Carmela when this all became public knowledge, if she didn’t already know. But how?
Jamal entered the back of the theatre, he spotted Carmela. She sat in the center of the stage, alone with a notebook and a pen. His gaze bounced around the room searching for the crew, the dancers, the dj, but saw no one. The hairs on the back of his neck stiffened, as heat gathered beneath his collar.
“La, what are you doing baby?” Carmela glanced up shielding her eyes from the light. “Jamal, what are you doing here?”
Jamal saw the quick brush of her sleeve across her face. He climbed the stairs and stopped in front of her. “La, you need to fire your entire team.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Where is Gabriel?”
“He had a date.”
Jamal shook his head. “Marcel?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Richard.”
“Don’t. Ask.” She grated between her teeth closing her notebook.
Jamal sat beside her.
“Is that for me?” She reached for the brown paper bag in his hand.
“Yes, after you explain something to me.”
“Anything but I’m starving.” Her sweet smile won him over. Jamal passed the to-go container and plastic utensils. “Aren’t you joining me?”
“I can’t eat right now.” Jamal had to let his thoughts settled. The total lack of concern seemed reckless. Was he over reacting?
Carmela sat back on her hands after closing the container of gumbo. “I’m ready. Let me have it.”
“Eat Carmela.”
“Jamal I’ve had an overwhelming day of the men in my life telling me what to do, who I’m supposed to do it with, and quite frankly I’m fed up. So, if you have something to add, say it now.”
Even her stern face was a turn on. “I think you are absolutely gorgeous when you’re mad.”
“Thank you. But flattery will get you no where but on a plane back to Houston.”
“Ouch.”
“And our food is getting cold.”
Jamal reach for his container and shoveled a heaping mound of steamed rice in his mouth. He had no words for Carmela. This was uncharted territory for him. He never had to concern himself with people’s feelings and the ultimate outcome. Now he did. Part of it due to his commitment to RSE. Her talent was undeniable. Another part centered on his increasing attraction to her. That too was undeniable. And lastly, he glanced over at her smiling as she did a little shimmy with each bite, she made him feel things he didn’t care to name.
Things that he’d stuffed deep down and locked away. Things he revealed to very feel people and in a matter of days he felt compelled to unlock that door and let her light in. But embracing her and that light meant he cared about the outcome and where she stood when the smoke cleared.
“Is it that bad?” She dropped her plastic spoon on top of her food.
“You rap and read minds.” He tried to tease but it fell flat. He was emotionally exhausted.
“No. But with you I just know.” She took a deep breath. “I could blame it on being raised in a house with nothing but men for the majority of my life or,” she rubbed her hands on a napkin, “I just know.”
“Just know what?” He spooned into his gumbo appreciating her honesty and the delicious blend of cajun spices.
“This evaluation was more than you anticipated.”
Jamal gave a slight nod for her to continue, wondering when he’d become so transparent.
“And you’re probably wondering how fast you can get away from me and my crazy family. I guess that’s to be expected. There’s nothing normal or typical about this situation. I thought,” her voice cracked and an unexpected ache throbbed in his chest, “someone could help me make sense of it. That’s all.” She shrugged and continued eating.
“La—”
“You don’t have to explain because I’m all talked out.”
Chapter 15
Carmela had performed through rehearsal with a knife lodged in her heart. The direct contrast to the heated kissed she shared with Jamal hours before Richard used the machete, he called a tongue, and assassinated her plans.
And like the times before she ate it. Her feelings. Her disappointment. Her hope. But unlike before someone stopped to show a little compassion. That someone was Jamal.
She glanced over at him, sitting next to her on a dirty stage in an expensive blue suit. His head shaved clean. His facial hair near perfect except the fine hairs growing around the edge. She had to find a way to relieve him of the load she called life. He didn’t deserve this and she didn’t want to tarnish the good time they were having with her messy, complicated life.
“I didn’t mean to be such a bitch. I’m just over today.” She wanted to plaster her normal reassuring smile, but she was done with that too.
Unable to phantom cutting off their relationship so soon she glanced out into the darkness. The rehearsal hall must have originally been built as a theatre. The cushioned folding chairs mounted on a slight incline towards the back. It was small though. As she replayed the venomous conversation with Richard back in her mind, she knew it had to be more than about money.
“How did you get here?” Jamal asked breaking through the haze of her exhaustion.
“What do you mean?”
He lift a shoulder, sweeping his assessing eyes over her face. “Your career, your family, Crescendo.”
Carmela toyed with the edge of her sleeve. How much should she tell him?
“And Carmela just like you know with me, I know there’s more.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything.” Jamal stood, extending a hand to her. “Take it La.”
Carmela stared at it. This could be the lifeline she needed or another disappointment lurking, eager to take her down once again.
“You can trust me.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
Trusting men in the past ended in nothing but heartbreak. Heartbreak and disappointment. All the cheating, lying, and lack loyalty she witnessed and experienced as an artist showed her repeatedly that love wasn’t in the books for her, at least not now. Not in this industry.
“Take my hand or trust me.”
“Both.”
Sh
e glanced up and his dark eyes showed his disappointment with her answer, but Jamal didn’t retract his hand. Carmela stared at it mesmerized by the size of his large hands. Hands that held and caressed her this morning. Then he extended the other.
“Carmela, I’m a sports kind of man. I like football, basketball, and a particularly fond of boxing. You see boxing, like the others, is a team sport, but only one man or woman stands in the ring. Only one man or woman takes punch after punch. And only one man or woman is declared victorious.” Jamal kneeled beside her. “Sweetheart, life has afforded me many opportunities, the greatest being going from a boxer in life, to a quarter back.”
Carmela glanced away from the intensity in his eyes and her defenses began to subside. She wrestled with herself and whether she could trust Jamal with her life and her future.
She started with recognizing Jamal chose to be here. He returned when her less than stellar attitude could have ran him off. And if none of that convinced her, knowing that his presence seemed to connect her back to her mother was almost enough to trust him.
“As a quarterback, in life, I have a team, a real team willing to protect me, block for me, encourage me, ensuring I never drop the ball and I’m never on the field alone.” Jamal turned her face to him, “Let me show you.”
“How?” She swallowed hard and bit back tears. The possibility of not handling everything on her own was too good to be true. Then Nicki’s loud mouth surfaced, Learn to pick your battles. Carmela fought to hold her smile, she could hear Nicki telling her, Get your ass off the damn fence and take that man’s hand.
“Does that smile mean yes La?” His sexy lopsided grin sealed the deal. “Woman, take my hand.”
Carmela took both hands and Jamal pulled her up into his strong arms. She exhaled then inhaled his cologne, tucking her head under his chin. And he held her.
“What time is your bus leaving?”
“Ten.”
“I could stay like this all night, but I need you to tell me everything. Are you comfortable with doing that?”
Carmela looked up at him and Jamal kissed her softly.
“Yes, Jamal I am.”
Jamal held her hand leading her out of the theatre and back to her SUV. He opened the door letting her inside. She glanced over her shoulder following his shadow as he rounded the back then climbed into the driver’s seat.
Rockstar Savages (Forbidden Chords Book 3) Page 12