Rockstar Secrets (Forbidden Chords Book 1)

by Dixon, Ja'Nese

  “I can go with you,” Marques offered.

  “No, you go workout, and I’ll stop by the stadium on my way back.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Yes, sir.” She turned and left with a wave.

  He pulled on his baseball hat and exited the bus. The energy of Essence Festival was unmatched. It was his first performance but not his first visit. They always made a family trip of Essence. This festival served as a mecca of sorts for African American culture and music. An estimated half a million people attended this yearly event showcasing food, art, comedy, even a huge expo giving attendees the unique opportunity to see the top artists and performers. Shows featured hip-hop, R&B, and even gospel along with the added bonuses of comedy shows, vendors, empowerment talks all jammed pack into the weekend near the Fourth of July, guaranteeing a memorable holiday.

  Over the years he’d seen his father perform several times. Then there was Prince, Alicia Keys, The Roots, Janet Jackson, Anita Baker, Yolanda Adams, The Gap Band, Chaka Khan, New Edition, Maxwell, Beyonce. The list was literally endless.

  It felt like a second home. Later he would make his rounds to see a few other acts, he wondered if Brione would agree to join him.

  The crowd was light, and he made every stop count not wanting to attract any attention. The state of his success meant he could still move around without issues in most cities. In Atlanta, it was nearly impossible to shop, dine, or visit venues without at least one person spotting him. If this tour was as successful as he anticipated, he’d better enjoy these last moments of anonymity.

  He noticed the appreciative stares from the women as they walked by and his shirtless state beneath the vest was to blame. Dropping the bottle and exchanging it for rigorous physical activity was his medicine. It was how he remained sane and focused. He smiled, winked, and nodded keeping his eyes trained ahead while still appreciating the beauty swarming around him.

  He continued with his eyes on the doors. The feel of a plastic wheel rolling over his foot stopped him. He glanced down halting mid-step to keep from colliding with a petite woman and her stroller. The doe-eyed baby inside smiled up at him, shaking a noisy rattle.

  “Hello, beautiful.” She smiled like she understood his words offering him her moist toy. “No, thank you precious.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her mother smiled.

  “You’re fine.” He squeezed the baby's chubby cheek. “Enjoy the festival.”

  “You too handsome.” And off they went.

  He chuckled reaching his destination. The guard opened the door, he dropped the name of his contact. The guard made a phone call and then granted him access.

  “Andrew.” He turned and found himself in the embrace of Mr. Chuck. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You too sir. Thank you for letting me in.”

  “Kid, I owe your father so much I should just turn over my savings to him.” He chuckled.

  “I’ll tell him to dock your bill for this one,” Marques joked back.

  “For that young blood, I’ll add you to my will.” They both laughed. He pointed to the thick rubber on the ground. “Be careful, there are power lines running for tonight's show. But you have the place for at least an hour or so.”

  “I’ll only need about a half hour to climb these stairs and make room for some tasty Cajun food.”

  “Boy please, this stomach here is what we should be discussing.” Patting his rounder stomach for emphasis.

  “Nah, you’re still looking good.”

  “Charmer like your father. How in the world do us mere mortals survive?”

  “You are too much.” Marques’ side hurt from laughing.

  Mr. Chuck patted his back. “Look you get your workout done.”

  “Thanks again, and can you tell the guard that my assistant Brione Allen may stop by.”

  “No problem.” He shuffled toward the escalators and out of sight.

  The Superdome could seat almost eighty thousand people, and yet it was quiet. A few workers moving around. He searched his phone for a suitable playlist and popped his wireless pods in his ears. He glanced toward the stairs, rolling his head side to side. Then his shoulders. The weight of the vest would give him a great workout in half the time. He pressed play on his set list and glanced up. He had nowhere to go but up from here, which seemed suitable for the events ahead.

  He took a deep breath and took the stairs one step at a time. He reached the top and stopped briefly to catch his breath and turn up the volume. On the way down he’d rehearse his lyrics. Running and singing was the best workout for stage stamina.

  This continued until he turned to make the trek back down and saw Brione. She smiled and sat in the first row. He covered the distance in half the time.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said folded over.

  “Hey yourself.” She glanced over at him and propped her feet on the rail. “This is amazing.” She looked left and right.

  “Is this your first time coming to Essence?” She nodded. “You’re in for a treat, even for a nonmusical person like yourself.”

  “Oh hush.”

  He dropped into the chair beside her. She passed a bag, he peeked inside and saw a slice of bread.

  “It’s just something light. Can’t have you passing out in this heat.” She reached to the area at her feet and passed him a sports drink too.

  “Thank you.” He cracked open the top. The fruity drink tasted like heaven in a plastic bottle. “That’s good.”

  “I have water too.” She leaned over again and passed it over to him. “How many people does this stadium hold?”

  “I think around eighty thousand.”

  “Wow.” She had on shades with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She appeared relaxed.

  “Wait until you see it later. It will be full of people and music. There is nothing…nothing like Essence.”

  “Will we have time to see other shows?”

  “We’ll make time.” He stood, and she did too. They walked while he ate the bread, not realizing he was so hungry. “Thanks for this.”

  “You have a long day ahead, I wanted to keep it light though.” He nodded appreciating her thinking. She was learning his ways already.

  They exited the dome to the sound of questions.

  “Andrew Carter.”

  “Marques.”

  The sounds of the rapid-fire questions caught him off guard. A few lights flashed, and he snapped into gear, painting on a lazy smile. Showtime.

  “Eric, good to see you man.” He zeroed in on a familiar face, snaking a hand back and pushing Brione behind him. Her slight shake raised his awareness of the number of people in front of them. Her words, asking for their liaison to remain private, ringing loud and clear. He understood the importance of keeping a sense of normalcy.

  “You too," Eric responded. “You’re taking the stage tonight for your first ever performance. How does it feel?”

  “Amazing. For Essence to let me debut new music as an indie artist, I’m humbled and honored.”

  “Will your father attend tonight’s show?”

  “Maybe.” Engage and divert was the name of the game with reporters. He turned to the next reporter.

  “This is your first performance after your brush with the law. Are you nervous?”

  “I’ve been performing nonstop on smaller stages. I give each stage its reverence. So yes, I’m nervous, but the show must go on.”

  “You’re going by Marques now. Do you plan to change back to Andrew Carter, your birth name?”

  “No. Next question." Marques glanced through the crowd for the next raised hand.

  They continued, nonstop. He took several breaths carefully holding his smile in place. Never let them see you sweat or stumble. He felt a hand on his back and almost jumped. Brione leaned into him, and he felt a sense of comfort settle around him.

  “One last question. I need to head to sound check.”

  “What should your fans expect from the new and improved Marques?�
��

  “To be wowed.” He winked at the reporter, and she giggled. “Thank you all for coming. I’ll see you tonight.”

  He turned using his body as a buffer between them and her. “Walk as fast as possible and blend with those people over there,” he mumbled.

  “I’m not leaving you.” Her eyes sought his, and she captured his hand between their bodies.

  “Thank you princess.” His thumb stroked the back of her hand. It was his first brush with reporters in three years. He held his own, recalling the media training with Devin to the letter. They behaved as he’d predicted except for one question, no one mentioned the accident.

  They were almost in the clear when he heard, “Marques, do you have time for an exclusive interview?”

  He recognized the voice before he turned around. It was Sam Foster. He took a deep breath and turned around to face the woman who with the stroke of a few keys nearly ruined his life.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Marques stopped mid-step. The death grip he had on her hand made her fingertips tingle. Brione felt the tension as if it was her own. She wanted to glance back at the woman who shifted the carefree, energetic man to a block of ice.

  “Here’s the deal. You don’t have to have the conversation running in your head.”

  He thawed, his face slowly turned to look down at her.

  “I’m serious.” His soft laugh rumbled in his chest, and his chin dropped to his chest. “Seriously, look you’re fit. I’m assuming you’re fast too.”

  “What am I going to do with you?” His eyes caressed her.

  “I’m sure we can add something to my checklist.”

  Laughter roared. His hand relaxed not letting her go.

  “Head back to the bus, and I’ll join you shortly.”

  “You sure?” Squeezing his hand, she leaned closer.

  “I am.” A genuine smile rested on his face, and it pleased her.

  “I’ll leave you to your conversation. But when in doubt the bus is that way.” She pointed to the northwest.

  “I’ll remember that.” He dipped and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  She winked and walked away. Unable to fight the urge she glanced over her shoulder, and Marques stepped closer to a young woman with light brown skin with hair that resembled Beyonce. Perfect. He embraced Beyonce, Jr and she had the nerve to wink at Brione over his shoulder.

  Brione spun around taking her own advice and headed northwest not stopping until she stood at the bus knocking on the window. Jax, the bus driver, opened it and the cold air conditioning greeted her.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome dear. The band went to soundcheck," Jax said.

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Brione walked to her bunk and climbed inside. She needed a moment to get her feelings in check. The gnawing in her gut marked time with the voice in her head. I should’ve stayed.

  She touched her tired bun and tugged at her Ladies Only t-shirt, comparing herself would not make it better. Her hand found its way to her cheek, remembering the kiss. She was a contract worker, and he was the boss. His business was his business, her secrets were hers. She repeated the speal, but it didn’t compare to Beyonce, Jr. The hair, fitted jeans with a crop top and heels. Who wore heels to stomp around a million people on the concrete?

  “Urgh!” She flipped to her back.

  A shower would make her feel better. She hopped over the side of the bunk. Marques told her to use his to help with her privacy being the only woman and all. She’d take a quick shower and get dressed then meet them over at sound check.

  Gathering her clothes she had to keep it real. She was jealous. For no good reason either. That’s a lie. Brione had every reason, starting with the familiar tone Beyonce, Jr spoke his name. The breathy request sounded like they had history. A past together filled with dinners, whispered promises, kisses. And his response to her confirmed Brione’s uneasiness.

  It didn’t stop him from kissing her, but her presence managed to dim the consistent light in his dark brown eyes, and she didn’t like it. Not one bit.

  She entered the stateroom and turned on the shower. She decided to wear something better than a t-shirt and leggings. Not in comparison, of course, but to spruce up a little. Pathetic but she was a woman, and he was a man. No woman liked the idea of coming second. Skinny jeans and a basic black shirt. She’d add a cute necklace to dress it up. Her sensible shoes had to stay because walking back and forth in heels was out of the question. She placed her clothes on the bed and toiletries in the chair.

  She found an Essence specific playlist and pressed play. Marques’ constant jokes about her not knowing music motivated her to listen to some of the acts scheduled for the next four days. She knew more than she realized, not by names and titles but the music. His show being the first night freed them to explore the festival for a couple days. She wondered if he’d want to hang out.

  First to go was her shirt now plastered to her back. The heat from walking from one end of the grounds to the other made her skin icky. Then her bra. Aaaaahhhhh. The steam from the shower filled the room as she discarded the rest of her clothes. It was already better.

  Stepping into the shower, her head fell back in ecstasy. A bus with a shower. The inventor was a genius. Squeezing shower gel on her loofah, she froze at the sound of his EP title track playing. She’d listened to more of his music, but that song was off limits.

  Secrets was that song. The song that took her on a rollercoaster before she knew Andrew was Marques. The man who captured her attention in the cafe house with his snapback and southern charm was Marques—the shirtless caramel skinned man on the CD cover. This wasn’t good.

  She looked through the steam covered glass wondering if she should hop out and change the track. Not without getting water all over his room, she reasoned.

  “Damn.” She bounced her head lightly against the glass.

  “Did you forget something?”

  Brione opened her eyes and on the other side of the glass was Marques. She wrapped an arm around her breasts and shoved her loofah in front of her hoohaa.

  “What are you doing in here?” Not as firm as she as she intended. Standing butt naked in his shower wasn’t a firm ground to stand on. The steam of the shower did not compare to the lava flowing through her veins as he appraised her.

  “Last I checked this was my room.” He shrugged out of the weighted vest.

  “You had sound check.”

  “So do you.” His eyes caressed her body through the glass, and she was trapped. The spark in his eyes beamed through the haze swirling around them.

  “Turn around.” Her nipples betrayed her perking at the sight of his attraction to her.

  He spun around and chuckled. “Don’t mind me. You can finish up.”

  “You can’t stay. In here!” she shrieked.

  “Why? Afraid you’ll lose the bet?”

  “No. I’m in a hurry and need to get out of here to meet with the band.” And because she was butt naked in his shower with only glass and a loofah between them.

  “Don’t let me stop you.”

  “Andrew!”

  “I like it when you call me Andrew.”

  “Get out!” His laugh only made it worse.

  “Fine, princess. Don’t be so pushy. Do I need to grab something for you?”

  “No, just leave.” She couldn’t point for risk of overexposing herself.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He turned towards the door, and she finally exhaled. He glanced over his shoulder and caught her gaze, “You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

  Then he was gone.

  Was she in danger of losing the bet? Never.

  She had never been an extremely competitive person, winning in life came as a consequence of her blood. Her father gave her his raw edge to push and push until the task was complete. “At any cost,” was what he taught her.

  That was why she never lost hope. She never thought for one seco
nd that Kayla was gone for good. Never doubted getting her back. They underestimated her.

  Her eyes stung, and she tilted her face into the stream of the water, letting her tears find solace in the heated flow. Put her back in the box, she reminded herself. She had no room to reconcile Andrew or Marques and Kayla without blurring a line she could not cross.

  The hum rushing through her body failed to pay heed to her thinking. She had to keep her distance, or she’d break and give in to the need whispering for him.

  She washed fast and got dressed. Assessing her wet hair, she should slap it in a ponytail then she thought of Beyonce, Jr and gave her hair and makeup a little extra attention. Not that she was planning to do anything she just didn’t like the thought of him not noticing her. Of not seeing the spark in his eyes.

  She added on one last coat of mascara and fluffed her hair pulling a curl forward. She went for a curly mohawk look.

  Knock knock.

  “Andrew. You are late.”

  “Ahhh…it’s not Marques.” Brione opened the door to find Cameron standing on the other side of the doorway. Thank God she was fully dressed. She realized, her presence in his room deserved an explanation.

  “Heyyy…he said I could—"

  “No, you're fine.”

  “I’m almost done. I can get out of your way.” She turned to the bed and started gathering her discarded clothes. She glanced at the dresser and shuffled over there, tossing her foundation and eyeshadow quad inside.

  “No hurry. I was looking for you.”

  “Me.” She froze with her belongings bundled in her arms.

  He nodded. “Take your time. I’ll wait for you in the lounge.”

  She watched his retreating back. Did he plan to void her contract? He wouldn’t. Would he? She hurried. She twisted to toss her items on her bunk but a knot formed in her stomach. She hated seeing clothes thrown about. She glanced down the hallway. All she could see of Cameron was his crossed legs. They didn’t appear to bounce nervously or tap with agitation. She took a few extra minutes to put her dirty clothes away and clean Marques’ room. He’d have to return to dress later tonight he’d be exhausted and ready to relax in a clean room. She made note to order food.