Impressed, Margo beamed. “My, that’s pretty deep.”
Gathering her into his embrace, he drew close to her lips. The two locked in a passionate, soul-searching kiss. Their two hearts beating in unison.
Morning came fast. After a hot shower and delicious country cooked breakfast, Margo drove Ma’Kentu to Jacksonville to rejoin his band. At the hotel, he made copies of the All Night Long arrangement and passed them out to the band members, who had gathered in the hotel auditorium for an impromptu rehearsal. Like the professionals they all were, they had the number down in less than two takes. Everything else was icing on the cake.
That afternoon, D’Sandra joined Margo and Ma’Kentu for lunch. D’Sandra, known for her humor and quick wit, and Ma’Kentu, who could tell a joke or two himself, hit it off from the word go. She was impressed with his ensemble and wasted no time telling him this. She was also happy to have had an opportunity to hear the ensemble perform at the Jacksonville Landing. To their delight, D’Sandra said she could have listened to them play all night long under the stars. The band thanked her. The best was yet to come, she was told.
Backstage, that night in the reception hall, Ma’Kentu sat on a folding chair with his hands clasped behind his head. Margo and D’Sandra, both beautifully dressed in near matching long white sequin gowns, sat across from him, along with D’Sandra’s friend, Raymond. To pass the time away, the group conversed and joked around. Nearby, other musicians, along with their invited guest, talked or meandered about, to pass time. Occasionally, a frantic stagehand would scurry back and forth, busy getting the preparations for curtain call completed.
“God, I wished your brother was here so that D’Sandra and Raymond could hear him play,” Margo said, repositioning herself in the padded chair. On the way to the concert she had asked him if his brother Baba’la was the special guest he had mentioned. “No!” She was softly told. But he gave her a clue. The special guest was a well-known performer from Jamaica. Though she tried naming a few Jamaican performers, Ziggy Marley, Shaggy, and Bunnie Livingston, a former Wailer, she struck out all three times. She began to wonder if he was not being totally honest with her. Who could it be? She pondered.
Ma’Kentu sensed what was going through her head. “Like I said. It’s not my brother. And no, I’m not giving out any more clues.”
Margo feinted a grimace, then smiled, saying, “That’s not fair.”
“I’ve heard so much about your brother,” D’Sandra added. “And from what I heard on the phone, when you guys were in concert up in Norfolk, I know I’m missing a real treat tonight.”
“Yeah, I miss my brother, too,” Ma’Kentu replied, with a thoughtful gaze. “I’m sure we’ll get together again to play.”
“Baby, it has to be your brother! He’s your special guest, isn’t he?” Margo half asked, half pleaded, as she gripped him gently by the arm.
“Honey, I wished it was,” he returned with a chuckle. “Besides, he’s not from Jamaica. Trust me, you’ll see soon enough.”
At that moment, a very jovial Al walked over. “Hey, guys! I just know you all are in for a treat tonight. This Faith Evans arrangement is the bomb, I’m telling you. Ma’Kentu’s a creative genius.”
“I can vouch for that,” Margo said, beaming proudly, returning her gaze to Ma’Kentu.
A split second later, Jamal “BlowFly” Warner walked over to inform Margo that there were some distinguish looking people waiting for her, just outside the reception hall. Excusing herself, she rose up and followed in his wake. She returned with Abdullah Zoe, his wife, Jon’Quil, and fellow journalists Chuck Lambert, and Bernardo Burtelliano, in tow.
Rising, Ma’Kentu generously shook everyone’s hand, as Margo introduced them, then thanked them and the Florida Times-Union for the warm hospitality, the limousine service, the excellent hotel accommodations, and for sponsoring tonight’s concert. The Times-Union group assured him it was their honor and pleasure.
“Hey, it’s time to get this show rolling,” Johnny Woo announced, as he approached the distinguished group. Turning to Margo, Ma’Kentu kissed her lightly on the lips, then headed off, with Al tagging alongside of him. Quietly, from behind, she sighed as she watched her dream man walk away. The man was astonishingly rare. He had a wonderful personality, was extremely intelligent, was charming and extraordinarily good-looking, and was a gift musician and yes, an equally gifted lover. Her memories of the passionate night before suddenly flashed by, leaving her feeling warm all over. In just two sessions, he had come to know her body’s wants and needs well, as she had his. At least she hoped.
Arriving on stage the band took their positions and readied themselves for a short warm up. Almost immediately, Ma’Kentu noticed that something was amidst. “For Heaven’s sake! Where’s Little Maceo?” He cried out. Oh, no! Please, not another female encounter, he thought.
Nearly in panic mode, Bassman and Jamal hurried off to find him. When they finally came across him he was off alone in a corner of the reception room leaned back in a chair listening to a portable MP3 player. Amused, Jamal and Ma’Kentu looked at one another and chuckled. With his eyes half closed and his head bobbing up and down, to a groove that only he could hear, he apparently never heard the curtain call.
As the two approached him, he caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of his eye and turned to face them. Removing the headphones, he asked what was up. “Man, it’s show time!” He was told. Leaping up, he collected himself, then the three rushed to the stage. With all his members in place, the signal was given and the curtains slowly rose. Almost instantly, the band was greeted with a loud burst of applaud. The place was standing room only. Sold out!
After introducing the Eu’Tabee Jazz Ensemble, Ma’Kentu picked up his contra bass and led the group in a selection of standard jazz tunes featuring such greats as Monk, Miles, Dizzy, Basie, and Coltrane. The audience gave a standing ovation at the end of the set. Laying his instrument down, he walked over to the mike and announced that the next set would feature two original Eu’Tabee tunes, tunes they often referred to as Lite Jazz. He then briefly explained that Lite Jazz was a blending of traditional jazz and urban hip-hop. One such tune they would include was a special arrangement written by Ma’Kentu himself…Faith Evans’ All Night Long. Another round of applause rose from the concert hall, one that resonated throughout the center.
Ma’Kentu returned to his position on stage, strapped on his favorite bass guitar Shaka, faced the band, nodded his head, and gave a short two count. With a huge projection screen behind them showing clips of the 1984 mini-series Shaka Zulu, a movie about the great South African warrior, portrayed by the actor Henry Cele, the ensemble broke out with their soon-to-be released Zulu Nation Groove.
Several minutes into the tune, a tall and muscular dark skinned, bald headed man, in his early thirties, walked out on stage to a thunderous applaud. Ma’Kentu introduced his special guest, to the unknowing few, as rap recording artist and legend Shabba! It was Shabba who had lent his deep rich island voice on the band’s CD version of Zulu Nation Groove. Feeling right at home, in front of the audience, Shabba broke into his unique coarse sounding, scat-like style of rapping, just like he had done in the studio, and wowed the audience.
Glancing over at Margo, who stood off to the side of the stage, hidden from the audience by a huge curtain, Ma’Kentu threw her a smile, which she quickly tossed back. She finally knew who the special guest was. She had been an ardent fan of Shabba ever since his soulful eighties hit tune Housecall featuring recording artist Maxi Priest.
As he left the stage, to a standing ovation, Shabba blew kisses out to his female audience. Leaning towards the mike, Ma’Kentu spiritedly shouted, “Ladies and gentlemen! Let’s give it up for Shabba!” There was another thunderous roar of applaud. Without pausing, they immediately followed-up this song with their monster jam Bassment Deep. It was another house favorite.
Withdrawing a clean handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped perspiration from his fore
head, then approached the mike. Glancing out into the audience, he took a moment to soak in the wonderful vibes reverberating from the vast audience. After a slight adjustment of the mike, he graciously said, “Thank you, Jacksonville! You know, it was just before our performance here tonight that a friend, of a very special friend, told me that she was at our performance over at the Jacksonville Landing the other night. And you know what? She said she could have listened to us play all night long. Well, I don’t know if we would have had the energy to play all night long but we certainly would have given it our best shot.
“Anyway, we’re going to perform a very popular Faith Evans’ tune called All Night Long. Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up for Indiana’s very own Eu’Tabee Jazz Ensemble! We love you Jacksonville!”
With that said, Ma’Kentu gave a spirited four count, whispering into the mike, “I like this, right here,” then started in with his bass thumping intro to Faith Evans’ All Night Long. After a few bars, the rest of the band joined in. Al, who was ready to carry the melody, stepped forward and began dazzling the audience with his trumpet’s prominent rich brassy sound, backed by Little Maceo and Jamal ‘BlowFly’ Warner on alto and tenor sax, respectively. Funk Jazz was definitely in the making.
Though this concert was billed as a formal event, as Ma’Kentu’s musicians blared out their harmonic chords, chords so soulful and jazzy, especially behind the lead Al was putting down, he looked out and saw that the whole audience was practically dancing in the aisles. The sight made him swell with excitement and pride. To get such positive feedback was always a morale booster. Glancing over at Johnny Woo, on keyboard, he smiled even brighter as Johnny busted loose with a few of his own jazzy chords. It was party-tyme again.
From where she stood, Margo looked on in awe, as the musicians she had traveled with, and covered as a news story, rocked the house. Wherever she looked, there was a sea of bobbing heads and dancing in the aisles. The whole experience was almost spiritual in nature, like some form of church revival. Well, it wasn’t long before she, along with D’Sandra and Raymond, began to cut a funky step or two, themselves, which caught the eyes of Ma’Kentu, who’s smile broaden.
After the performance, Ma’Kentu quietly joined Margo and D’Sandra and Raymond in the reserved section of the concert hall to watch Ne-Kay Parker’s performance. After the show, the two couples, along with the band members, headed south down interstate 95 to St. Augustine, in three vehicles, to gather at Margo’s place. The first to arrive was D’Sandra’s SUV. The band’s limousine, and Margo’s SUV, glided to a stop in the wide driveway shortly afterwards.
With engines off, the doors of the vehicles opened and people spilled out from them, many still engaged in conversation as they stood under a blanket of bright stars. Within seconds, they all converged at the front door. Everyone was in the best of spirits, including the limo driver, who was invited to join them inside.
Chapter 11
With D’Sandra’s assistance, Margo played the perfect host. It was a role Margo and her friend reveled in. Repeatedly, she entered the refrigerator, where she withdrew several trays of multi-colored finger sandwiches, chilled Devil Eggs, and other delightful looking hors d’oeuvres that she and D’Sandra had prepared earlier that afternoon. In the meantime, D’Sandra carried out large bowls of pretzels and potato chips, along with a variety of crème dips, which she offered to the guests. On the floor, nearby, sat a huge chest of crushed ice packed with sodas and a variety of bottled beers, along with several bottles of orange juice and bottled spring water.
In the den, where most of her musical guest had gathered, Margo put on a jazz CD by the soulful and lyrical tenor saxophonist Ronnie Laws. Always There, Ronnie’s jazzy version of a popular ‘70’s contemporary tune, played. From the onset, the Laws’ CD seemed to spark ample conversation amongst those who were more traditional in their views of jazz and those who were ardent fans of contemporary jazz. D’Sandra’s friend Raymond, who was more into modern jazz, led the friendly debate.
Heading back into the kitchen, Margo withdrew two more trays of finger sandwiches and took them to the patio area where the remainder of her guest had gathered. By now several other carloads of invited guest arrived. Inside, a few danced, but most of them either talked or walked about on the moonlit beachfront property. Later, a spirited Johnny Woo took a seat at the piano and provided a little background music. Before long, he was taking special requests, to the delight of the guest and hostess.
Around one in the morning, a very tired Margo closed the heavy wooden door on the last guest. It had been a very long and busy day, and an emotional one, too. Turning, she walked into the kitchen where Ma’Kentu was cleaning up. After her eyes roved the cluttered room, she looked at him with amused wonder, casually smiled, then said, “Come on sweetheart. I’ll finish this in the morning when I get up.”
“Are you sure?” He asked, his weary eyes settling on her, then added, “It’s really not a problem, you know.”
“I’m sure, honey,” she answered, brushing a persistent bang away from her eye again. “It’s late. Besides, there’s something I want to give you. Sort of a going away gift.”
“Umm,” he sighed lightly. “A going away gift.”
“You look tired. Are you?” To which he replied lazily, holding a damp tablecloth, “Just a little, I suppose.”
Feinting subtle surprise, she smiled, and with her fingers, stroked the length of his arm sensuously with her fingers. Having given it a second thought, he quipped, smiling, “Well, not that tired!” Taking him by the hand, she led him into her candle-lit, spice-scented bedroom where she offered him his going away gift. Ma’Kentu was not disappointed.
When he awoke the following morning, he was surprised to find himself alone in bed. Scanning the room he took in all the girlie items lying about that affirmed the reality that he had not been dreaming. On the solid oak dresser were two jewelry boxes, a make-up kit, a variety of perfumes, and stuff animal dolls. Allure by Chanel, Amarige by Givenchy, Beautiful, by Estee Lauder, Giogio by Giorgio Beverly Hills, Escape by Calvin Klein, and Gucci Envy, by Gucci, she had them all. On a nearby cloth-covered chest lay more stuffed dolls. On the wall hung a studio portrait of Margo. No, this was definitely not a dream. This was her bedroom. And this was her bed, in which he lay, with her womanly scent, and that was certainly her red colored bra lying next to him on a large fluffy pillow.
A smile soon spread across his face as the aroma of eggs, grits, waffles, toast, bacon and sausage seized his flared nostrils. Crawling out of bed, he headed into the shower area and took a quick refreshing shower. When he reentered the room he saw a tray of food she had left for him on a portable tray beside the bed. When she returned to the room he looked up at her as his heart raced with excitement. Margo was as much a goddess in the morning as she was in the evening. And what a goddess! He thought. The sheer gown she wore was barely concealed by her long velveteen robe. “Good morning, my handsome lover!” she greeted him gingerly.
Letting his eyes move over her, for a moment, he gave her a warm easy smile, along with a warm romantic greeting in return. Walking over to her, he took her into his arms, and followed up his words with a deep probing kiss. With his nose nestled close to her soft neck, he inhaled deeply. She was wearing the wild berry, coriander, tuberose, and spice scent Poison by Christian Dior. After a second appraisal of her angelic face, he buried his mouth over hers, in another manly close-encounter. Whether it was the sweet fragrance of either their bodies or the passion of their kiss, or the combination of the two, both felt lightheaded coming up from this one.
“Before you get yourself worked up, you may want to sit down and enjoy this wonderful breakfast I cooked for you,” she said, easing him down at the edge of the bed. Setting the portable food tray before him, she took a seat beside him.
“You’re not eating?” he said, cutting his hot waffles in quarter sections.
“I’ve eaten already,” she returned, stroking his shoulder blade
lightly, sensuously.
“All by your lonesome self?”
“All by my lonesome self,” she returned, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“What time is it, baby?” he asked, chewing happily on his waffles.
She glanced at her watch. “Nine-ten.”
Swallowing, he took a sip of orange juice, then returned his gaze to her. “Nine-ten. I told the guys I’d be back at the hotel by twelve-thirty. We’ve got that plane to catch at three-thirty this afternoon. Do you think we’ll make it on time?”
“If we leave here by ten-thirty it should be no problem,” she answered, fighting an overwhelming urge to bed him down one final time before leaving.
Chewing on his delicious tasting bacon, he paused long enough to let her know how tasty and delectable and filling her breakfast had been. Kissing him with moist lips, she thanked him for the compliment, saying that he was more than welcome. As he hurried his meal along, she sat next to him while her love-struck eyes drank up every detail. This was a special moment for her. And she wanted to remember it for a long time. As she had told D’Sandra earlier, it had been a while since she enjoyed the company of a man.
The ride up to Jacksonville took longer this time around. It was as if she did not want the ride to ever end. She rode speed limit all the way. Whether she consciously drove this way, or not, he did not complain. He was smitten by love and right now being with Margo was all that mattered to him.
Pulling up to the hotel entrance, the two saw that the stretch-limousine had already arrived to take the band to the airport. Sliding over, he leaned his head close to hers. Quietly, he murmured softly in her ears. “Margo, I hate the very thought of leaving you. I really do. But I have to go inside to square things here at the hotel. I’ll be right back. Ten minutes at the most. Should anyone ask about you being parked here, you’re with the band, okay?”
Bassment Deep Page 18