“No apologies needed,” Ma’Kentu assured him, as he placed an arm around his brother. “For nearly three years there wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think of Jasmine. She was the apple of my eye. Since this tour, I’ve been focused on Margo. Down inside, I’ve always known I would have to let Jasmine’s memory go.”
“Perhaps it’s a good thing to do,” Baba’la said softly. “Shit like that can mess with your head after a while, you know.”
“Well, Margo has definitely made a difference.”
“I can see,” Baba’la chuckled, as they arrived at a row of elevators. Removing his arm from his brother’s shoulder, Ma’Kentu leveled his eyes on his face. “Tell me, and honestly. Have you been able to stay off of that stuff?”
“I’m clean, big brother. I’m finally off that shit. I don’t need it, no more. I swear.”
After studying his little brother’s eyes for a second, he smiled, saying, “Good! I’m proud of you.”
Backstage at the Scope, Margo’s gaze caught Ma’Kentu’s own, her brown eyes beautiful and intense, and his heart beating faster in his chest. As he shouldered his way slowly through the mass of performers she licked her lips nervously. His approach ended with the warmest smile ever offered to her. What had she been thinking earlier, she mused silently? Did she not say to herself that she could get through the concert and the night without getting starry-eye? Well, she wasn’t so sure about that now that her prince charming was here in the flesh. Standing before her was the most wonderful and most handsome man she had ever fallen for. And what a man! Tall. Muscular. Well-groomed. Articulate. Charming. Sexy. Jazzy. What more could a woman ask for?
“Hi!” he greeted her.
She sighed, then gave him a kiss. “My, you’re looking rather dapper, tonight.”
“And you look quite the debonair, yourself, my love,” he responded, his gaze dropping from her eyes to her lips to her form fitting gown.
Black it was, her gown, speckled lightly with small pearls, with a matching Bolero Faux Pearl jacket. On each ear she wore a pearl, along with two chrome-plated earring loops. Around her soft neck she wore a cultured pearl necklace. Happiness filled her heart as her attire obviously met with his approval. “Why, thank you!”
“No, I want to thank you Margo for giving me the most unforgettable tour I have ever experienced,” he replied, his voice full of emotion, his penetrating eyes full of wonder.
“No, allow me to thank you,” she came back.
“It’s my pleasure.”
Reaching up she leveled his bow tie. “My, don’t you and the boys look handsome in your tuxedos. I have got to find someone to take our picture.”
Johnny Woo happened by and was given the honor. After posing for two shots, Margo returned her camera to her purse, then found herself being taken by the hand and led over to Baba’la, who was off to the side strumming a few melodic chords on his guitar. “Hey, y’all look’n mighty lovely tonight,” Baba’la said. “My brother, all dapper looking in his fancy tux. And you, Margo, looking like British royalty in that stunning gown. And the two of you holding hands. All that’s missing is the preacher,” he chuckled.
“Weddings! Is that all you think about?” Ma’Kentu teased his brother. “Anyway, when are you ever going to settle down?”
“Not soon enough,” his brother answered with a wide grin.
“You just cannot imagine how anxious I am to hear both of you play together. I’m so excited, I could cry!” she said, blissfully happy, fully alive.
“Well, it’s not often we get to do a gig together,” Baba’la added. “They might want to put this one on the highlight film tonight.”
The three laughed.
While Ma’Kentu went off to collect his ensemble, Baba’la chatted with Mr. Headliner himself, Mr. Ne-Kay Parker. Margo positioned herself off to the side of the stage where she could observe both the audience and the band. Several minutes later the stage was cleared out, with the exception of the Eu’Tabee Jazz Ensemble, who had taken their positions behind the curtains. They did a quick sound check before giving the Emcee the nod. Off to the side, Baba’la appeared from behind Margo, then took his place at her side, his guitar still strapped around his shoulders. He would join the band later in the set. Slowly the stage curtains opened, the thunderous applaud having grown in intensity.
After introducing the band, Ma’Kentu kicked off the set with some tried and true, down home, traditional jazz tunes. The sea of concertgoers, thousands of them, hummed with excitement as the soulful music enveloped them. The air was so electrifying and exciting that Margo actually retrieved her cellular phone from her purse and dialed her girlfriend D’Sandra, in Florida, so that she could listen in on the concert for a few minutes. Baba’la smiled with amusement.
After the first set, Ma’Kentu gently laid his string bass down, then walked over to the mike. “Ladies and gentlemen, all you great Virginia jazz lovers…I would like to offer you a very special treat tonight. Joining us for two great selections is my younger brother Baba’la Eu’Tabee on jazz guitar. Our first piece will be a soulful rendition of the Jackson Five’s Never Can Say Goodbye, with my brother Baba’la playing lead guitar. So let’s give it up for…Baba’la Eu’Tabee! And the Eu’Tabee Jazz Ensemble!”
As the audience applauded loudly a smiling Baba’la left Margo’s side to join the band onstage. Moving spotlights, of various colors, hit him from several directions as he walked over to his amp. Once the applauding quieted down, a silent four count was given by Ma’Kentu and the ensemble began to kick the second set off. The audience went wild as Baba’la wowed them with his crisp George Benson-like plucking, along with his Indiana bred strumming style. A master at work had taken the stage. Not far from him, Margo continued to hold her cell phone in a way that allowed D’Sandra to listen in on the show. Though, Margo didn’t seem to mind. Her dreamy eyes were on the Bassman. And so were her thoughts.
The next song was a Rodgers/Edwards piece, originally written for Sister Sledge, entitled Thinking Of You, featuring Little Maceo on alto sax, Johnny Woo on keyboard, and Baba’la on Flamingo guitar. Talk about party-tyme. The entire arena was rocking. Even the musicians were into their own individual grooves. For an encore they performed their popular Zulu Nation Groove.
After a quiet walk below a bright full moon, along a quiet Granby Mall, Ma’Kentu and Margo made their way through a cavern of tall dark buildings and shadows. Not far from them, a sudden rush of moviegoers, exiting a theater, mingled with them briefly then dispersed. Crossing the wide street the two made their way towards the hotel. It had been a long day and long night. Both hoped the memory would remain with them for the rest of their lives. Such moments come rare and few.
Arriving at the hotel entrance, the two paused to rest. Glancing down at her watch she realized that it was a little after midnight. “God, can you believe it’s this late?” she said, stifling a yawn with her hand.
“Yes I can,” he told her. Mesmerized by her radiant eyes, he said, “You’re really tired, aren’t you?”
“Just a little. But I don’t ever want this night to end,” she said, relishing the soft brushing of his fingers against her cheek. His hand was warm and comforting in a night that was quite cold. The combination of the cold night air and his warm touch set off a sensational feeling inside her. She was glad she had brought along a winter coat from Florida.
“Listen, I hear music coming from the club inside. How about one dance and then we call it a night?”
“I would love that,” Margo confided, as joy bubbled in her smile and shone in her eyes. “It’s been a while since I’ve last dance.”
“Hell, why don’t we just go in and dance the night away!”
“I wish,” Margo chuckled, feeling drugged, not by her long and eventful day, but by his clean cologne scent and dreamy eyes, then added, “But we can always try.”
Inside, Margo and Ma’Kentu found their way into the club, which was alive, and in full swing. The club was having a special tribut
e to jazz great Miles Davis. It wasn’t long before they joined the crowd on the dance floor as a Miles Davis song, a doo-bop tune entitled Chocolate Chip, kicked in with its rich bass and percussion and rhythm section. The two danced, dipped and swayed and stared at one another throughout the song. The next song, in the three hit mix, was another Miles Davis tune entitled Fantasy. His upbeat smash hit Blow followed this.
After they danced, Ma’Kentu took Margo’s hand into his and headed for the exit. That’s when he caught an ominous glimpse of a voluptuous looking woman staring at him. Adorn in a long form fitting sequin gown, she was leaning against a wall just beyond the glass exit doors with crossed arms, her face expressionless. On closer inspection he could see that her eyes hinted of deep emotion, eyes that were intense and nearly as red as the gown she wore.
“Ahh-no, I don’t believe this,” Ma’Kentu uttered, as he paused abruptly, feeling like the wind had just been knocked out him. “Man, I don’t need this shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Margo inquired, as she watched him place one hand on his hip while he rubbed his forehead wearily with his other hand.
“It’s Charlotte! I just don’t understand how she does it,” he snapped furiously. “This is the second gig she’s popped up at, unannounced and uninvited.”
Exasperated, Margo touched his shoulder, and with obvious strain in her voice, said, “Look, I’m tire, Ma’Kentu. Too tire for this scene. Besides, we’re batting 0 for 4 since this tour started. Every time it looks like we’re finally going to be truly alone, something pops up at the last minute. Look, I’m going to let you deal with this and when you think it’s all behind you, and I do mean really behind you, then give me a call.”
“Margo!” Ma’Kentu said pleadingly. “Please wait. This won’t take long,” he said, giving Charlotte an eyeful, as well as a mouthful, on that statement.
“No, you go ahead and take care of your unfinished business.” Margo said in a strain tone, then stormed off.
Ma’Kentu shook his head in total disbelief. The irony of it all. One moment he’s living a fantasy. The next, his fantasy is coming apart at the seams. This was not how the night was to end.
Facing Charlotte, he willed his bitter anger under control. The temptation to show out was there, bubbling inside him, but he did not want to make a scene.
When he caught her gaze, again, she was still looking at him, as though she had ice flowing through her veins. But that didn’t seem to matter to Ma’Kentu, whose own ferocious gaze was enough to pin a herd of agitated pit bulls in place.
Walking over to where she stood, he gripped her by the elbow and ushered her out into the lobby, then out into the night. “Where do you think you’re taking me?” she said curtly, repeatedly, though giving only marginal resistance to his tugging.
Ma’Kentu, his eyes already grim with disgust and anger, replied, “We have to talk Ms. Chase. Listen, I want you out of this hotel and out of my life, Charlotte. Just what do you want from me, anyway?”
Like a mad woman, she laughed and heckled him, “What do I want from you? What do I want from you?” Then more seriously, “Ma’Kentu, what I want is you! That’s what I want.”
Slowly, his eyes bored into hers. “You mean to tell me you have nothing better to do than to follow me around this damn country? You know, I never took you for being the stalker type. And you do know you are stalking me?”
“Stalking you?” she shot back, then with a smirk on her face, added, “Hardly, my love.”
“Whatever! But I’m sure you know there’s a law against that.”
“Look, I’m here to claim what is mine, and not that high society ghetto bitch you’ve been buttering up to,” she snapped back. “Besides, you should know by now that you’re the father of our child.”
“That may or may not be true, Charlotte. But I’m beginning to think you are really touched,” he said. Then waving a threatening finger at her, added, “And another thing…call my woman a bitch one more time and I’m going to forget you’re a woman. Believe me…I’ll go to jail over this if I have to Charlotte.”
Pulling her arm free from his tight grip she snarled back, “What do you see in her that you refuse to see in me, anyway? Only I know how to satisfy your animalistic desires.”
“Look, this isn’t about desire. Furthermore, I don’t have all night to explain the facts of life to you, Charlotte. But the fact of the matter is you don’t own me. You never did and never will.”
“Well, sleep on this fact,” she breathed rapidly. “I hope you’ve got your finances in order because I’m going to take your ass to court. You should have gotten the child-support notice by now. You see, my dear, it’s payback time. First, for playing with my heart. Second, for knocking my ass up. Third, for dumping me like I was some trashy street whore. I’ve got class, man. More class in my little finger than your…well, that other woman. Yeah, I’ll see you in court.”
Getting right up into her face, he bared his teeth and narrowed his eyes. Driving a pointed finger into her sternum, he told a stiffened Charlotte, “Look, you’re an attractive woman. You have your own business. You have a lot going for you. You don’t need this. I don’t need this. But woman, pop up at another one of my concerts and I’ll see you in court all right…criminal court because that’s where one of us is going. You got that? Either I’m going hurt you or you’re going to hurt me. Believe me; I don’t think you want to go there with me. It’s your call!” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away.
Alone on the hotel elevator, Ma’Kentu contemplated his next move. The precarious situation he found himself in left him feeling miffed beyond words. This was not how the evening was supposed to turn out, this being Margo’s last night on the tour.
Knocking on her room door, he waited patiently, until it cracked open. Margo appeared, and looked at him for a long moment before saying a simple, “Yes?” Though her lovely face was slightly shadowed by the darkness of the room, he could see that she had been crying, for her soft eyes were moist with redness. Taking a deep breath, he asked her if he could come inside to talk.
“I really do not feel up to talking, at this moment,” she told him politely.
Undaunted, he cajoled and pleaded with her to let him in. Nearly wavering, she caught herself and quickly bid him goodnight. Turning, he swung at the air in frustration, then walked away. Hell, he could always talk to his roommate, Al, he reasoned. But Al was in bed asleep when he entered the room.
Ma’Kentu woke up earlier than usual. The strains of the past night had followed him into his sleep…a restless sleep, at that. Glancing at his watch he saw that it was twenty after eight, time enough to shower, dress, and see Margo off to the airport. As he collected himself, he did a sweep of the room with his eyes. The radio was on with the morning news, and Al was still buried under his blanket asleep. Leaping out of the warm bed, he showered and dressed.
Running his hand through his hair, Ma’Kentu knocked on Margo’s door and waited for an answer. Nothing. He knocked again but still no activity or response from inside. Turning away, he thought perhaps she had gone to the hotel restaurant to have breakfast, so he took off. Inside, he scanned the area, looking at each and every table but his Margo was nowhere to be found.
Turning away, for the second time in five minutes, he felt the unexpected tightness of a sudden lump in his throat. His worst nightmare was coming to a head. Rounding the corner into the main lobby, he hurried frantically over to the busy check in/check-out counter. His wait was minimal. Upon inquiring about Margo, he was told that she had checked out two hours earlier.
Distraught, he rushed back to his room to awaken a surprised Al, who listened intently as his roommate filled him in on the details of the previous night. Barely taking a quick breath, he said he was going to take a cab to the airport. He had to talk to Margo, he said.
Across the street from the hotel, he flagged down a passing cab at the Greyhound bus terminal. The two agreed on a flat rate of twenty-five d
ollars to the airport and jetted off. Lost in thought, Ma’Kentu sat and peered out of the window as though in a daze. He could not believe the sudden turn of events of the past week and a half, ever since Margo entered his world and an unwelcome Charlotte reentered it. Even the unexpected visit of his brother Baba’la figured in on an emotional level. The two had not played onstage together in over three years. That really made the jam session at the Scope that much more magical and unforgettable. More importantly, he hoped that his brother would remain drug free in a world buzzing with drugs.
Arriving at the airport, he sprinted into the terminal and began an exhausting airline-to-airline, counter-to-counter search for Margo. After a quick inquiry at Delta airlines, he was disheartened to discover that her flight had just gone airborne.
Dazed, he peered out of the large viewing window just beyond the terminal waiting room and spied a Delta plane ascending rapidly into the clear sky and wondered if Margo was on it.
Naahh! How could this be, he pondered? She hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye. Numbed and in total disbelief, he turned and walked away.
Chapter 9
Tears welled in Margo’s red stained eyes as she slowly unpacked. Outside, an unusually gray Florida sky and sudden downpour complimented her already gloomy mood. It had been a while since she last experienced a lousy drip-drop-smash day. Fortunately, for her, it was a relief to be back home, safe from the frailties of an unforgiving world. Reminiscing, she had to admit her assignment had been a unique and wonderful experience. Her fond memories of the band, the sensational music, the stretch limousines, and the nightly dinners were enough to last a lifetime. Above all, she treasured the quiet moments spent with the one man who made it all happen, Ma’Kentu. But now she wondered if it had all been one big mistake. Not in a thousand years had she counted on falling in love. And with her subject. To make matters worse, this diabolical Charlotte character troubled her deeply. Troubling her even more was that she had left Ma’Kentu and the band without saying goodbye. It just wasn’t the Southerly thing to do. In the final analysis, she concluded that what she did was justified by the events that had taken place. Still, that did nothing to soften the pain, the sense of betrayal and abandonment she perceived on both sides.
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