A short while later she rejoined Ma’Kentu and the band. It was not a day she looked forward to in earnest. But in her heart she knew she would have to make the most out of it, both romantically and professionally. Tomorrow the sun would show its face far sooner than she’d want it to.
Little Maceo rounded the corner, with his saxophone case in hand, when he overheard Bassman having one helluva heated conversation on the phone. It just wasn’t like Bassman to get riled up. After getting an ear full, Little Maceo pondered whether this had something to do with what he had witnessed the night before at the concert hall. Without announcing his presence, he watched silently, a short distance away, as Ma’Kentu hung the phone up. He appeared agitated. Annoyed.
Ma’Kentu was still facing the phone, as if contemplating a thought, when Little Maceo approached him. He turned when his sax player announced his presence.
“Hey, Bassman. I couldn’t help but overhear some of your conversation. But if it’s any comfort to you, I think I understand what you’re probably going through.”
With a curious expression, Ma’Kentu replied, “What are you talking about, Little Maceo?”
“That was her, wasn’t it?”
Ma’Kentu’s face registered his surprise. “Whom are you talking about?” he urged Little Maceo to tell him. “Whom?”
“The woman I saw you with that night backstage,” Little Maceo revealed. “Look, I know she’s putting the squeeze on you and that ain’t right. It just ain’t right!”
Ma’Kentu’s face dropped. Anxiety registered in his already strained dark eyes. “That was you stirring about in the background?” he asked.
“Yes, it was,” Little Maceo replied sheepishly.
Feeling numb and ill from this pronouncement, Ma’Kentu’s shoulders and eyes sank even lower. In a peculiar way he felt violated. Not that he was trying to hide anything. Still, he felt violated.
“Maceo, what were you doing backstage?”
“I was hiding from the man. A friend here in DC had tipped me off that her agency was coming after me about that child-support thing. One particular man in the audience kept looking at me a lot. The possibility that they might try to apprehend me before or after the show was real, so I hid after we completed our set. I was going to tell you but I never got a chance to.”
“So that was you, the noise in the shadows.”
“Believe me, I wasn’t spying on you, Bassman. It just happened that you two passed by me. I couldn’t hear much, but I did hear you tell her to get lost after she tried to make the move on you. And since it was so dark, I couldn’t see her that well. But from what I could see she was one hot number. Honestly, I don’t see how you turned that one down, Bassman,” he said, looking up into Ma’Kentu’s sullen face.
“She’s history, that’s all she is to me, Little Maceo,” Ma’Kentu returned. “She was someone I dated once. Believe me, it didn’t last long. Obviously, she’s still carrying some sort of torch for me.”
“One of those fatal attraction dames, huh?” said Little Maceo.
“I hope not, my friend.”
“Don’t worry, Bassman. I got your back.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that. I really do.”
“Well, I’m going to finish loading my stuff on the bus,” he said, taking a few steps, then stopping, he said, “Bassman, don’t worry. I know you are in the mix with Margo. My lips are sealed about what I saw that night. Word up.”
Ma’Kentu simply nodded, then after his saxophonist disappeared around the corner, lamented, “Damn that Charlotte.”
While Margo boarded the tour bus, Al grabbed her belongings and stored them away in the cargo bay. She had barely made it in time to depart. Ma’Kentu carried her personal bag and stored it in the overhead storage compartment inside. He sat down beside her. She looked at him but he seemed thoughtful. She smiled at him. He did not appear to notice, though. On her second attempt to connect with him they managed to exchange pleasantries, then small conversation, but she sensed from the onset that he was distracted. And she had an inkling of what it was that was troubling him. Not wanting to reveal her deduction, she asked him if everything was all right. Ma’Kentu shrugged, at first, then assured her, “Just tired, Margo.” His eyes did look puffed and listless, she thought. Perhaps he was telling her the truth. After all, she had no idea what time he went to bed, after having had that long talk with Little Maceo.
Staring off into the distance, he appeared lost in his thoughts. After a moment, she asked him if he wanted to finish the interview but he winced, stating that he wasn’t up to it right now. With that, she watched him silently for the next several minutes before saying, “You saw her, didn’t you?” It was instinct. Pure instinct and intuition. Plain and simple.
“No, I didn’t, if you’re referring to Charlotte,” he said, facing her. “But she did call me this morning. In a polite way, I told her to go see a shrink. Like I said, I’m not interested in her.”
“The way you’ve been brooding, I was beginning to wonder if I interest you.”
Gazing softly and caringly into her eyes, he said, “Listen, there’s no woman I find more exciting and interesting than you. That’s the truth,” he added, his heart and pulse pounding, as he lifted her hand from her lap and pressed his face against her palm. “Margo, you mean the world to me.”
“Baby, you mean the world to me, too.”
Ma’Kentu smiled to himself. No, she did not say the ‘L’ word but what she did say was close enough to it. At least, they did not have to pretend to be just friends, anymore, now that they were being honest and up front with their feelings…well, maybe just up front with it. But neither seemed willing to commit to the “L” word…Margo, more so than him.
With her eyes glittering like two brightly lit Christmas pines, she leaned against him, resting her head gently on his shoulder, basking in his rapturous and deep feelings for her. Closing her eyes she did her best to seal herself and him away from their present surroundings. She wanted to be alone with him, even if it was only in her waking thoughts and far-reaching dreams. And before long, he was exactly that…in her dreams.
Seeing that Margo was fast asleep, he smiled. Lowering his head, he planted a kiss on her forehead. Turning, he gazed out at the long winding road before him and smiled. Love whether spoken or unspoken…it just did not get any better than this. Or could they get worse? He pondered.
Chapter 7
Norfolk, Virginia was Ma’Kentu’s kind of town. Aside from being the primary home of the United States Navy’s east coast carrier fleet and the Little Creek Amphibious Base, it was also the home of the Scope, the primary entertainment arena for the tri-county area of Norfolk, Portsmouth and Little Creek. Military personnel probably accounted for half the population of Norfolk, it seemed. And where there were sailors and marines, there were women. And women meant opportunity for up and coming traveling musician types. Since meeting Margo, that lifestyle was no longer appealing to him.
The tour bus crawled into town late that Friday afternoon. Ma’Kentu was happy that the recently renovated Holiday Inn was conveniently located just one block away from the Scope. Well within walking distance.
Filing off of the tour bus, the guys looked sharp in their matching teal blazers, shirts and ties. Their roadies followed, carrying off luggage and equipment. Ma’Kentu exited carrying a small travel bag. Margo followed. Kneeling down, he retrieved additional luggage from the lower cavity of the bus. He then faced her.
“Well, we’re here!” he said, as he drew close to her, so close she could feel the heat from his body.
Margo beamed, returning his intense gaze with one of her own. “God, I’m so excited.”
His eyes glittered. “And I’m just as excited. I’m really looking forward to this gig and spending time with you here.”
Feeling a sudden chill, she hugged herself, then replied, “I know we’ll make the most out of it.”
Lowering his lips to hers, he proceeded to give her one of his
patented Indiana kisses that spread heat everywhere in her leaving her dazed and clinging. It was a kiss so warm, it made her forget about the chill she felt moments earlier. When he pulled his lips away, the feeling stayed with her, refusing to go away.
Leaving her side, he left to go handled the business end of things inside of the hotel. Al took over and assisted her in finding her room. For once she was booked in the same hotel with the band. Ma’Kentu could not have been more thrilled.
Later, the band gathered together with their primary sponsor in the main lobby. Without the benefit of a break, they headed off to the Scope to rehearse. That evening, Ma’Kentu and Margo walked, hand-in-hand, across the street to Granby Plaza to have dinner at a renowned local Chinese restaurant. One of the tour sponsors had recommended it.
Inside the dimly lit restaurant was a huge 300-gallon salt-water aquarium with living coral and at least a half-dozen large, colorful tropical fish. A few treaded lazily in place, others glided about nonchalantly. Margo, who loved tropical fish, took an immediately liking to the blue and yellow striped Angelfish. She told Ma’Kentu she had a 100-gallon aquarium at home, which contained several large fresh water Angelfish.
As they dined, the couple talked, laughed, and gazed into one another’s eyes as though there was no tomorrow. And tomorrow was definitely on Margo’s mind. Ma’Kentu appeared absorbed in his food and the moment they shared. Knowing she would soon return to Florida, she pondered whether or not there was a tomorrow for them.
Lifting his head, he smiled, looking warmly into her gaze. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Everything’s perfect,” she assured him.
He took a sip of wine, then leaned over and kissed her. Inside she felt the heat of passion swell until it consumed her from head to toe.
He smiled. “I think I’ll follow that with dessert.”
Margo passed on the desert but smiled fondly as he capped things off with ice cream and Chinese rice cookies. Later, the two walked along the four-block plaza. Overhead, a red sun slowly set. Crossing the wide street they headed briskly over to the hotel, which was another block down and across from a busy Greyhound bus terminal.
Nearing the hotel, Margo wondered whether this was a good time to ask him about wrapping up their interview. She was certain she would not get an opportunity the following day. He would be too busy conducting music seminars for the local schools. Then there was the big concert at the Scope.
After he led her up the wide staircase to the elevators she popped the question. A little to her surprise, he smiled and said that he’d loved to complete the interview. They agreed to meet in fifteen minutes on the floral laden verandah just beyond the main ballroom.
Margo arrived first, carrying her laptop computer. Taking a seat on a cushioned lawn chair, she gazed out into the starlit sky and then at the large terra-cotta planters that gave the space jungle lushness. Her heart pounded wildly in anticipation of Ma’Kentu’s arrival, though she was at his side fifteen minutes earlier. When he finally entered the airy space he caught a glimpse of her, made his approach, leaned down and kissed her on moist lips, and said, with a defensive chuckle, “I know, I know. We have to get some professional bearings about ourselves since we’re here to conduct business.” Margo smiled back, adding, “That’s right! We are here on official business, Mr. Eu’Tabee, aren’t we?” He studied her with a musing expression, as he sat down beside her, anxiously waiting the first question.
“So, you’re working on a new CD. Can you tell me more about your new CD?”
Leaning slightly forward, rather proudly, his hands clasped, he answered, “The CD will reflect something urban, something Latin, something romantic, and something jazzy. It will be a blending of all of these cultural themes. Call it music from the heart and soul.”
“How soon before it’s in the stores?” she asked, looking at him through long lashes.
“I’d say, in about six months. Seven selections are already in the can. Ready to go. But we still need to return to the studio to complete the final three cuts.”
“What are your plans after you complete your CD?” she asked, still typing away at the laptop.
“I’m planning a nation-wide promotional tour. Then I’m taking a long vacation after that.”
“A vacation. That sounds really good,” she uttered back, still typing. “Any special place in mind?”
“Some place romantic and far away from civilization.”
“Is there really such a place?” she peered up at him.
“I don’t know. But I think if we try hard enough, I’m sure we can find it.”
She blushed.
After a long moment, he felt moved to say, “You know something? You have the most remarkably chiseled features I’ve ever seen on a woman’s face, Black, White, or any other color for that matter. I find you incredibly stunning Margo.”
She smiled at that and said, “Why, thank you. I appreciate your observation. I must say, you really know how to make a gal glow.”
“And I love making you glow.”
She blushed again. “Good, now can we get on with the interview?”
Ma’Kentu chuckled, then kissed her on moist lips for the second time. “Okay.”
More seriously, she asked, “Now, we know your musical talents are a big hit in the Black community. You have that side of your talents on lock down. With that said, how might your lesser known conservative views play in a community that is traditionally liberal and democratic?”
Ma’Kentu sighed, the light in his face going out as though someone had turned down a dimmer switch inside him. It wasn’t the type of question he was expecting. But since she popped it he felt bound to give her a response. “Margo, I don’t know. I can say that my political views have very little to do with my music. And it is my music that I’ll be promoting. The bottom line is, as individuals, we are what we are and what we choose to be.
“I look at how a candidate is going to affect my wallet, my civil rights, and my religious freedom. And I believe that every one of us can be successful, in their own right.” He was hoping that by putting it all out there at one time, his political beliefs, they could move on to warmer and friendlier waters.
“That may ring true for some,” she said, then added, “but what about those who are not so ambitious or do not have the aptitude or ability to be successful? What about them?”
Without pondering a reply, he said, “First of all, success is not something always measured in terms of wealth or fame. Success for many people is getting that elusive GED or that community college degree. For many, it’s getting that job promotion or heading up a new department or buying a house. It could also mean raising children who become productive citizens. Secondly, as individuals, we ultimately decide whether we want to succeed or fail. As for low aptitude individuals, there are numerous programs out there to help the educationally and mentally challenged.”
“We probably could use more,” she replied as she continued writing. Wanting to get back to a more upbeat subject her next series of questions dealt with the band members, their backgrounds and their individual and collective contributions to jazz.
Concluding their interview he rose up, without saying a word, and sauntered over to the top of some stairs which led down into a beautiful enclosed garden. Nearby was a large clay planter. It was rusted orange in color. Propping his large right foot on it he leaned across his knee and stared down into the garden. From behind, Margo looked over at him with caring eyes. Though he was wearing the same teal blazer, shirt and tie, his smile had disappeared along the way. She had obviously touched a nerve in him somewhere along the way.
Rising up, she made her approach from behind, touching her hand to his shoulder, though saying nothing. Silently she watched him with sidelong glances trying to deduce what was on his mind. He didn’t seem agitated or annoyed, just thoughtful. Stroking his arm gently seemed to have a soothing effect on him. Eventually he sat down on the top step and placed his right elb
ow on his knee and his chin in the cup of his right hand. She joined him at his side. And though she tried to chase his eyes with her own his eyes flicked away evasively. Finally she asked him if everything was all right.
“I was just thinking about something that happened a few weeks ago.”
“Care to share it with me?” she asked, as her thigh lightly brushed up against him.
“Sure, might as well,” he said, as they stared at each other across a sudden ringing silence. “When we were in downtown Indianapolis a few weeks ago there was this woman who was waiting on the city bus. Well, out of nowhere, a young Black youth ran up to her and knocked her down to the ground and snatched her purse and took off running. I went after him but could not catch up to him. I’m not sure if he was mentally challenged or what. But I’m telling you, kids have no respect for anyone these days. I’m just glad he didn’t seriously harm that woman. Margo, I see things like this and wonder what is going on in our own neighborhoods. Gangs, drugs, drive-by shootings, graffiti, and just plain outright poverty. Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go there. But that is why I rarely talk politics. With me it’s personal.”
“That’s all right! I should have kept politics out of this, knowing how you want to focus on your music. And being that tomorrow will be our last day together for a while.”
“Yeah, that was the other thing on my mind.”
With a warm smile, she gazed into his handsome face, assuring him she understood. Then an idea flashed.
Reaching out to collect his warm hand, she said, “Hey! How about taking a stroll with me through the garden?” to which he answered, “That’s a great idea,” to which she replied, “Terrific!” to which he said, “But what about your laptop?” to which she answered, “It’ll be fine. We’ll be able to see it through the glass panel,” to which he smiled and said, “Perhaps I should remind you that I couldn’t chase down that boy who grabbed that lady’s purse.” Margo chuckled. “No one is going to take it. Trust me, dear.”
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