Niya

by Fabiola Joseph

  “Come on now. You know I wanna talk to you. I can work on that shit later. So tell me, what do you have on?”

  The smile that was creeping across my face turned into a low laugh. He was so naughty.

  “I miss you. You know that?” I said.

  I could almost hear him smiling as he said, “Send me the address to your place again. I have something I want to send you.”

  “What is it?” I asked excitedly.

  “Just wait and see. So, tell me, what do you have on?”

  I looked down at myself and told him the truth. “A T-shirt and panties . . . pink panties.”

  I was so thankful that I had him to keep me company. I knew that he wouldn’t hang up until I told him that I was tired.

  Chapter 72

  Niya

  I was nervous as hell, but I tried to play it cool. My breathing was damn near snatched from me as soon as I stepped into the car. Brazil, who had to be at least five feet nine inches tall, had on a little black dress that seemed even shorter because of her extremely long legs. Her hair was pulled up into a high bun, which allowed me to see the depths of her beauty without her curly hair getting in the way. Her features were so damn exotic that one wrong move by the hand of God and everything would have been all wrong, but damn, were they right. Looking into her eyes was like looking into the eyes of a rare species. They were brown. They were green. Hell, I think that they were even gray. Whatever the case might have been, they were so beautiful that it was almost painful to look into them. Her stare didn’t make it any better. It was as if she was looking into me, and she wasn’t shy about staring.

  Her body was lean and thick at the same time. Her skin, the color of warm honey, looked sweet, and I wanted to lick her and see if I was right. I didn’t know if I wanted to keep my eyes on her face and admire her bone-straight nose, her semi-full lips, with a deep dip in the middle of her top lip, or if I wanted to slip down to her body. As I sat there, nothing but sinful thoughts crossed through my mind, but I didn’t even know if she was gay . . . or at least bi . . . curious.

  “Are you okay? You’re so quiet,” she said.

  I smiled. I knew that she had to have seen me looking over at her every two minutes, but I just couldn’t help it. I watched her uncross her legs, and it was as if I could hear a loud bang when she crossed them again.

  “Yeah. It’s just a little hot in here.”

  If I wasn’t sweating, I was sure that I would start any minute. It was as if I could feel the power she held just by sitting beside her. Maybe it was her being a celebrity and the fact that she was one of the more famous people in the world at that moment, but goddamn. The car was closing in on me. Her presence was overbearing, and that shit turned me on. She didn’t even have to say much. It was all just her.

  She didn’t tell me where we were going, but by the time the car stopped, we were sitting in front of a palatial estate.

  “I am about to give you the break of a lifetime. Make sure you don’t fuck it up,” she said.

  “Where are we? Who lives here?”

  She smiled and leaned over to my left ear. Her lips were close to my ear, and her voice was low, deep, and sweet. “I live here with my parents and brother. Ever hear of Green Note Records? Well, that’s us.”

  I sat there, realizing that I needed to do more homework on this chick. Had I heard of Green Note Records? Hell, yeah, I had heard of them. I just didn’t know that they were the label behind the Brazilian Barbies. I guessed I needed to start paying more attention not only to rap but to music overall.

  * * *

  Brazil and I entered her home, and it was everything that I thought it would be. I had only had dreams of homes like this, and here I was, standing in one.

  “Did you pick her up?” a female voice asked. It reminded me of Brazil’s voice, but it was more mature, almost even sexier. When I was able to put a face to the voice, I knew instantly where Brazil got her beauty.

  “Hey, Mom. This is—”

  “Niya, I know. I checked out your stuff since my daughter couldn’t stop talking about you. You’re hot.” Her mother shook my hand, and if you asked me, something was deeper in that wink she just gave me. Could have been wishful thinking.

  “Thank you. I know it’s nothing major, but it will be.”

  “You‘re fucking right it will be. I heard you were stuck in a shitty deal with Santino’s wannabe ass.” Her mother was even more intense than Brazil was. She was standing close to me, looking dead into my eyes and sizing me up.

  “It is what it is, but I’m hoping to move on to bigger and better things,” I told her.

  She smiled and finally let go of my sweaty hand. I thought that she would also step back, but instead, she got even closer. So close that I could smell the scent of her sweet breath.

  “Get your head out of them clouds and watch over your shit. Sit back, think about it, and then make a decision. You’re either going to make the wrong one and fuck your life up, or you make the right one and move on to bigger and better things,” her mother said.

  “Boom, and there it is,” Brazil said.

  Her mother stepped back as Brazil cosigned her last statement. What she said opened up my eyes and made me realize how loose I had been with my business. Between school and the studio, I had left everything else in someone else’s hands.

  “Is Daddy home?” Brazil asked.

  “He’s been waiting for you to bring him the next big superstar. He’s waiting in his office.”

  Brazil took my hand and started to lead me toward her father’s office, but I kept my eye on the mysterious creature she called Mom.

  “Bye-bye, Niya. I hope the next time I see you, you’ll be on your way to becoming the star that I know you are . . . with our company.”

  Damn. I guessed I was about to have the world offered to me, but at what cost?

  * * *

  The office was dark and looked rich. Everything seemed to be made of thick black glass. I sat in front of a man who seemed to hold all the power in the world in the palm of his hand. Carmello Green of Green Note Records was the man, and everything about him said so. As I sat there and listened to him tell me about how big a star he would make me, I thought about the three people I had met so far who lived in this house. They all had one thing in common. They thrived on the supremacy they commanded when they walked into a room. It was as if they lived without fear, as if being afraid was never an option. It went far beyond being conceited. Nor did they hide behind their wealth. No, this was something that was bred from within. Brazil had it and was clearly born with it due to her bloodline, but that just made me wonder about her parents.

  Carmello Green was a big man, tall and built like he had been lifting weights his whole damn life. As he spoke, I couldn’t help but picture The Rock, Dwayne Johnson. It was as if they had covered him in chocolate and sat him in front of me. But it wasn’t just his size. The way he spoke, how sure he was of himself, and honestly, the fear I felt—that shit was real. And her mother . . . Shit. There were almost no words for her. She was beautiful, intense, and scary all at the same time. The whole mood of the house felt that way, powerful but deadly. It gave me chills, but in some crazy way, I wanted to be a part of it. I knew that I wouldn’t sign anything that night. I was done with just jumping into things without reading the fine print. I also knew that I was almost sure that I would sign with them, if I could.

  “So what are your thoughts so far? Are you ready to step into the real world of rap? Not that backroom bullshit that Santino got you on,” Carmello said.

  “Yeah, I’m ready for it all. I want to become a legend, someone who shows the world that no matter what you have on, as long as you’re you, no one can stop you.”

  Carmello slammed his hand against the table and smiled. “That’s what the fuck I’m talking about. You’re different, and I knew that as soon as Brazil showed us your YouTube videos.”

  “Yeah, well, although Santino isn’t trying to change my look, he s
ure as hell is trying to change my sound . . . trying to get me to go all pop and shit.”

  “Aww, fuck Santino. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. See, with us, you are going to get to be yourself. You can be who you are and do what you want . . . as long as your records sell. We don’t censor shit around here.”

  “That’s some bullshit. You may not censor the rappers, but you’re on my ass like white on rice,” Brazil interjected with a roll of her eyes.

  “Come on now, Brazil baby. You are the number one – selling girl group in the world right now. That’s a whole different arena than rap, but let’s talk about that later.” He looked at me. “So, Niya, what do you think?”

  “I’m signed to Hill Top Records. I can’t just—”

  “If that’s your only worry, well, then . . . you have nothing to worry about. You let me deal with Santino.”

  I sat there and thought about things. I was not sure how much time passed with me just sitting there and not saying a word, but neither of them rushed me.

  “Give me the contract, give me three days, and you’ll have an answer. As long as I don’t have a problem with Hill Top Records, I’m pretty sure we have a deal,” I finally said.

  My heart was pumping so fast that I thought I was going to pass out. Now it was Carmello’s turn just to sit and stare at me. I wanted to know what he was thinking, what he saw when he looked at me, and if I had just blown the biggest chance at stardom I had been given thus far.

  “Three days, and I want an answer. Don’t worry about Santino. I know how to deal with niggas like him. I do want you to keep in mind that I want Brazil to jump on a remix for “Team Take Yo’ Bitch.” She wants to step out and swim on the wild side for a while. Even if you don’t sign a full contract with us, I would like you to at least consider doing that with us.”

  Brazil jumped out of her chair and ran over to him. She got in his lap and kissed his face. “Really, Daddy? Please say you’re not playing with me.”

  Carmello smiled as he looked into his daughter’s eyes. “No, honey, I am serious. I will take baby steps with you as far as you wanting to do more things outside of the Brazilian Barbies, but you have to promise that if I give you an arm, you won’t take it, cut the motherfucker off, and run with it.”

  “No, Daddy. I promise I won’t. Oh my God, Niya. You have to do it.”

  Brazil stood up, allowing her father to do the same as I followed suit. He extended his hand, and I took it, and he held on to mine as he spoke.

  “While you’re at home, thinking, make sure to look us up. We have an all-star lineup, and so far, no one has failed. Don’t let your destiny pass you by. You fucked up one time with that Hill Top bullshit. Don’t do it again. Now, Brazil will show you out, and I’ll have the contract hand delivered to you tomorrow morning.”

  * * *

  “Thanks for coming over, Niya,” Brazil said. “I am so excited for you. I really do hope that you sign with us. We are the majors, baby.”

  Brazil seemed to be more excited than I was, but I knew that wasn’t possible. She walked me to the waiting car and took my hand once we got to it.

  “Let’s step into the car so I can take a picture with you,” she said.

  “Shouldn’t I be asking you to take one with me?” I asked as we got into the car.

  She turned on the light and pressed the side of her face against mine. She snapped a few shots with her cell phone and answered my question afterward.

  “Nah. I am about to post this all over Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. I am going to tell my fans that I will be doing a song with none other than the hottest lesbian rapper on the scene. Wait. Is it okay if I put lesbian?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh right in her face. “It’s not hard to tell. Know what I mean? It’s cool, I guess. It’s just that I don’t want to be known as the greatest lesbian rapper, just the greatest rapper, period. But it’s cool for now.”

  At first, she just sat there with her head cocked to the side, but slowly, a smile crept across her face. “Damn. That was some deep shit, and I totally get it. That’s why I want to branch out and just do me. The girl group thing is fine, but I’m so limited. I just want to be free. Fuck always having to be the good girl, ’cause, baby, I’m as bad as they come.”

  Something in her eyes told me that there was nothing but truth behind her words.

  “That you are, Brazil. That you are,” I answered as I openly admired her body with my eyes.

  I watched as the confident fame monster became shy and girly all of a sudden.

  “Good night, Niya. I’ll be praying that things go my way and you sign to Green Note Records.”

  “But don’t they always go your way?”

  I couldn’t lie. When she smiled, it did something to me.

  “Yeah . . . they kinda always do.”

  A weird silence fell upon us, and I had to intervene.

  “Thank you so much for bringing me here tonight. This is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.”

  “Well, you heard what my mother said. Don’t fuck it up. Good night, Niya. Hope to see you soon.”

  I didn’t want her to go. I could have just sat there with her all night long.

  “Yeah, I hope I see you really soon too.”

  She smiled at me and jumped out of the car. I watched her walk into the house and close the door before I told the driver where to go.

  I had a million thoughts swimming through my head that night. The deal that I had, the deal that was just offered to me, and Brazil Noelle played a major part and acted as the water that filled the pool of confusion my brain was swimming in. Something deep down inside said that this was it, that my life was really about to change, and not on some bullshit level.

  Chapter 73

  The Green estate, the house that was built from deceit . . .

  Brazil walked back into her home, feeling very different. Her encounter with Niya had left her excited yet confused. She couldn’t understand what was happening, and it gave her a disturbing feeling. She stood behind the heavy doors that she had just locked, and tried to put her thoughts in order.

  “So, what do you think? Will she sign with Green Note?” her mother asked. She was sitting on the left side of the imperial staircase, awaiting her return.

  “I don’t know, Ma. I really hope she does.”

  “You better make sure she does. Come with me. Let’s take a ride.”

  Brazil followed her mother to one of her cars and knew that her mother was about to lay something serious on her. She always did when they took a ride that late at night.

  So as the Atlanta moon missed their skin while they rode in the Bentley convertible, plans were put in motion.

  “That girl reminds me of someone, and trust me when I tell you this. She will blow up with or without Green Note.”

  “I know, Ma—”

  “You don’t know shit. Shut your damn mouth when I’m talking, and maybe you’ll learn something.”

  As always, Brazil wilted and waited for her mother to finish. There were times when she would feel brave enough to talk back to her mother, but that night, something told her just to sit back and listen.

  “You keep saying you want to go solo and be the bad bitch of the music world. Well, that girl is your ticket.”

  Brazil wanted to ask her mother how so, but she knew that she would tell her, anyway.

  “No matter how much people want to deny it, the younger generation isn’t taking any shit when it comes to being who they are. I see it out here every day. Young girls proud of being studs who stand out from the rest. Lesbians, bisexuals, and the boys are in on the fun too. It’s as if being a part of that world while still holding on to the straight world really works for you celebs. So here’s what you’re going to do. You are going to make sure she signs with us, and after that, you’re going to do a song and video with her. Soon you’ll start to have lunch with her, go to parties with her and even award shows. You’ll walk the red carpet. You’ll text her and get rea
lly close to her.”

  “Okay, but why?”

  Her mother shook her head and decided against calling her a dumb little girl like she really wanted to. “Because, Brazil, that will get people talking. Soon you’ll be all over the blog sites and magazines. You’ll take her on the yacht and make sure the paparazzi snap shots of you lying on her, kissing her even.”

  “Kissing her?” Brazil asked with wide eyes.

  “Don’t worry. You won’t be swimming in the lady pond for long. Just long enough to create some buzz. That way, when you do step out on your own, the world will be ready for you.”

  The rest of the ride was filled with minor details. What Brazil’s mother didn’t know was that deep down inside, this mission wouldn’t be so hard to complete. Brazil’s little crush on Niya would soon grow. What was meant to be a publicity stunt could very well become bigger than anyone could conceive and could spiral out of control.

  Chapter 74

  Jamilla

  It was Sunday evening, and when I came out of my room for breakfast, Niya was at the damn table, staring at the contract again.

  “Would you sign the damn thing already? You had a lawyer look at it, and he told you that everything looked right. What are you so nervous about? You know you got this.”

  She was such a damn Libra. Couldn’t make up her mind to save her life.

  “I know, Jamilla boo. I just like looking at it. When I called Granny and told her that I was asked to join the same label as the Brazilian Barbies, she said she liked their songs. I thought she was bullshittin’, but she started to sing one of them. That was some funny shit.”

  We shared a laugh, but inside, I couldn’t help but wonder if the new journey she would soon be on would push us further apart.

  “Just sign the fucking thing. Oh, guess what I did today? I started sending the book out to some publishing companies.”

  She got up and came over to me. She wrapped her arms around my waist and hugged me tightly, and it felt so good.