Games Divas Play (A Diva Mystery Novel)

by Angela Burt-Murray

  “What?” she screamed back at me, straining to hear what I was saying as people rushed by, jostling her to get to the dance floor at the center of the two-story club. I decided to use this to my advantage, so I moved my lips, saying nothing, and made a few hand gestures like I had to go find someone, and then turned and left her standing there. Hopefully she would get crushed in the stampede.

  As MJ and I made our way deeper into the club and headed upstairs to the VIP section, I saw Miki Woods in a black suit, lounging on one of the white sofas and chatting with comedian Kevin Hart. I knew I needed to talk to her now before the cover was revealed and Laila, our new corporate brand thanks to the merger, was humiliated, but I wasn’t sure what to say. Once it came out, the only thing left to say would be, “Nice working with you.” I flashed my all-access pass at the security guard stationed at the VIP entrance, and he removed the rope to let me in. From the tray of one of the waiters I accepted a La-lini, tonight’s signature champagne cocktail compliments of tonight’s other sponsor, Moët, and made my way over to Miki.

  “Hi, Nia,” Miki squealed when she saw me, jumping up from the couch. She introduced MJ and me to Kevin, who gave us some passes for his midnight comedy showcase and told us he expected to see us there.

  “All right, all right, all right!” I said, making an embarrassing attempt to impersonate Kevin’s dad from his famous act. He and MJ just looked at me like I was stupid as hell. I took another large sip of my drink. MJ shook his head and walked Kevin out of VIP, hopefully explaining to him that I’d suffered a brain injury as a child.

  “How’s it going, Miki?” I said, sitting down next to her on the sofa and taking a sip of my champagne cocktail.

  “I’m good. Great party, Nia. Congratulations.” Miki held up her own glass for a toast. We clinked glasses.

  “Thanks, Miki,” I said.

  “Now that Glam Network is a part of PrimeTime Media, there are big plans in the works. The key word is expansion. We’re going to need people with bold ideas, fresh perspectives, and the ability to execute. I hear good things about you, and from what I’ve seen, you got this partnership up and running quickly for the launch of Laila’s show, so I’d say you are one of those people. Would you agree?”

  I was taken aback by her question. While I knew I was good at what I did, I didn’t expect she’d be thinking so highly of me in a few minutes when the new cover with Vanessa’s story and fake interview with Marcus were revealed.

  “I like to think I have some good ideas,” I said, not wanting to put myself out there too far, seeing as DeAnna would probably be firing me by the end of the night.

  “Don’t play yourself short, Nia. As a woman of color in the business world, you can’t afford to do that. You’ve got to learn how to promote your value. Look, I know good talent when I see it, and I look forward to expanding this partnership and getting things moving in exciting new directions.”

  She was right. Whoever got anywhere by not stepping up and showing people what she could do? No one. And even though I was quite sure I would end the night unemployed, I spent the next twenty minutes talking to Miki about all the ideas that I had shared with DeAnna over the last six months that she’d either ignored or shoved in a drawer never to see the light of day. She seemed especially interested in my ideas about creating local content with the DivaDish brand in ten key markets.

  “Where would you start?” Miki asked. It had been so long since anyone had showed a genuine interest in my ideas, I almost thought she was being sarcastic.

  “I’d like to start in DC and capture that entire Maryland, Virginia, DC market, and then explore Atlanta, Detroit, Houston, Chicago, Charlotte, St. Louis as key markets, and then conduct some research to identify the next four targets.”

  “That’s a great idea. And do you think you could handle all those editions along with your current responsibilities?”

  “Absolutely, I have a great team. They are nimble, hardworking, and passionate about the brand.”

  Just as I finished talking about my team, DeAnna squeezed through the VIP crowd and made her way over to us. I could tell by the way she looked at me that she wasn’t happy to see me talking to Miki. She also expected me to get up and make room for her next to Miki.

  “Hi, DeAnna,” Miki said. “I was just complimenting Nia on this great party and discussing some of her exciting plans for the DivaDish brand. Sounds like you’ve got a real winner here.”

  Damn, now why’d she have to go and tell DeAnna all that? Even though she had dismissed or ignored most of my ideas, I knew DeAnna was extremely territorial and wouldn’t like hearing that I was discussing anything about the Diva brand with Miki. As I began to get up from the sofa to make room for Miki, MJ walked over with a microphone and Laila.

  “It’s time for the cover reveal,” he said, handing me the microphone. He might as well have said, “It’s time to walk the plank.” “They want you and Laila over by the railing overlooking the dance floor, and Tanya will project the cover image on the wall above the DJ booth and then roll the clip of Laila’s show.”

  MJ led Laila and me over to the railing and gave me the microphone. Laila’s makeup artist rushed over to powder her nose and freshen her lipstick. Her hairstylist quickly fluffed up her curls. I looked down and saw Tanya Peoples getting her crew into position on the stage.

  MJ spoke into his headset to cue DJ Nice to cut the music and introduce me, and then MJ gave me the cue to start speaking.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of DivaDish, Moët, and Glam Network, it is my pleasure to welcome you to the world premiere party for Laila James’s hot new reality show, Whatever Laila Wants!” The room erupted in cheers, whistles, and thunderous applause. Just as I was about to reveal the cover, Laila grabbed the microphone from my hand and stepped in front of me.

  “How’s everyone doing tonight?” Laila purred into the microphone as she blew kisses down to the cheering fans below. “Welcome to my party for my new show, Whatever Laila Wants . . . I’d like to thank Glam Network for launching my show and Moët for sponsoring this fabulous party. Can we get a hand for Moët and Glam Network, everybody?”

  I couldn’t believe she was snubbing me and the DivaDish brand at the party we were hosting for her.

  “And now, for the moment you’ve all been waiting for. It’s the world premiere of my clip from my new show, Whatever Laila Wants . . . Hit it!” Since Tanya had been instructed to show the cover first and then the video, it took her a few seconds to pull up the show clip.

  “I said, roll the clip!” Laila said forcefully with a hard smile on her face. “Let’s give these people a sneak peek at what they really came to see!”

  The clip for Whatever Laila Wants began to play, showing various scenes of Laila in New York City and Los Angeles. There were clips of Laila shopping, dipping in and out of luxury boutiques, trying on lingerie, in business meetings, out at nightclubs surrounded by groups of men, and, of course, the requisite celebrity cameos. But the part of the clip that caused my stomach to drop was the way the producer had interspersed allusions to her relationship with Marcus. There was Laila rolling around in a hotel suite wearing a number 17 New York Gladiators jersey and panties reading the New York Daily story about her and Marcus getting caught leaving the hotel, footage of her at Gladiator games, cheering on the sidelines, and cutaways that made it look like Marcus was waving to her. This was much worse than I could have even imagined. I looked over at MJ and motioned for him to close his mouth, which was hanging open in shock. Laila looked back at me and sneered before turning to address her fans again.

  “So what do y’all think?” Laila roared, pumping her fist in the air, which caused her skimpy dress to rise, nearly displacing the strategically placed crystals of her gown. “Did your girl Laila put it down or what?”

  The crowd in the club started cheering in response.

  “Laila! Laila! Laila!
Laila!”

  “Are y’all ready for the drama?” she asked, holding out the microphone for the crowd’s response.

  “Are you ready for the sexy?”

  “Are you ready for my new show!”

  I needed to get out of there and get some air, but I knew I had to do my job first. I snatched back the microphone as Laila adjusted her dress.

  “One more round of applause for Laila James, ladies and gentlemen!” The crowd cheered again and then quieted down as I motioned for silence. “As Laila mentioned, this is her night, and it’s a special one as she prepares to launch her exciting new reality show. Well, we all know nothing makes for a better reality show than a little drama, so with that I present the new cover of DivaDish magazine and our exclusive interview with Vanessa King!”

  Tanya punched the button on her computer, and the cover of Vanessa King announcing her pregnancy was revealed. There was a loud audible gasp from the crowd as everyone took in the beautiful image of Vanessa cradling her stomach and read the cover line about her and Marcus working things out. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers that were even louder than before. Suddenly they began chanting again.

  “Vanessa! Vanessa! Vanessa! Vanessa!”

  “What the fuck is this?” screamed Laila, not realizing the microphone I was holding was still hot and that the cameras from the live stream were trained right on her. Her face was twisted into an ugly mask, her mouth in a menacing scowl.

  “You bitch! I knew you were out to get me. I know you’re friends with Vanessa! You did this on purpose!”

  “Like you said, get ready for the drama, right?” I quipped, leaning in and whispering in her ear as I dropped the microphone at her feet.

  I began to make my way back through the crowd of speechless Moët and Glam Network executives to DeAnna and Miki who were both on their feet by the couch. No time like the present to get fired. DeAnna’s face was twisted in a similar angry mask, blood rushing up her neck to her cheeks. Miki was typing furiously on her BlackBerry as she and her assistant walked past me out of the VIP area without saying a word. I couldn’t believe what I had just done, but I didn’t really have a choice.

  “Are you crazy?” DeAnna screeched as she grabbed my arm and pulled me into a corner behind a tall plastic palm tree. “What the hell was that stunt you just pulled?”

  “It wasn’t a stunt, DeAnna,” I said as I jerked my arm away from her. “We had a great exclusive, and I ran with it. Any editor would have done the same thing.”

  “I warned you that your loyalties to Vanessa were going to get you in trouble!”

  “This wasn’t about any loyalty to Vanessa. Like I said, I did what any editor would have done in my position.”

  “Oh, really . . . You think so? What about our corporate partnership with Glam Network, Nia? Did you think of that?”

  “I did what you asked me to do, DeAnna. I threw Laila a party, and I got our brand unbelievable buzz. People are going to be tweeting and posting comments about this party and Laila’s upcoming show for weeks. And traffic and sales are going to be through the roof!” I was desperately trying to spin some sort of tale to make it seem like tonight’s events were to our advantage, but she wasn’t buying it.

  “Did you see how fast Miki Woods hightailed it out of here tonight after you pulled this little surprise? She’s probably hopping on a plane right now back to New York to put your head on a platter!” I knew she was right, but I didn’t want to admit it and show DeAnna my fear.

  “I was just doing my job,” I asserted, tired of being bullied by this woman. In the world of reality TV, all drama is good drama. But I didn’t expect DeAnna to understand that.

  “What job?” DeAnna sneered as she raked her cold hard black eyes up and down my body.

  CHAPTER 22

  Vanessa

  The stenographer typed quietly and efficiently across the table as Kareem faced the evidence in front of him. There was no way out, and the bastard knew it. A satisfied smile curved across my lips.

  James and the two partners had done an excellent job of laying out Kareem’s complex web of financial deception that had begun the night Marcus announced that his cousin would become his manager and agent.

  When Marcus signed the management documents that Kareem had hastily drawn up within a week of his announcement, what Marcus hadn’t realized was the stack of documents also included a power of attorney.

  James, in his clipped British accent, began to walk everyone through what had happened next. Over the years, he said, Kareem had surreptitiously built layer upon layer of shell companies, created fake employees and fraudulent expenses, and billed all of his own personal expenses, including the mortgages for his three homes, clothing, groceries and all of his cars, to bilk nearly $120 million from Marcus, approximately half of his earnings over the past eight years.

  Seeing the devastated look on Kareem’s face as he was presented with document after document that the firm’s forensic accounting team had created chronicling every single dollar he had stolen from Marcus over the past eight years made their $100,000 retainer and $2,500 hourly fee well worth it in my opinion.

  Nearing the close of the meeting, Cedric really earned his money when he began to lay out Kareem’s relationship with Laila. He presented a folder to each of us, complete with photographs of the former couple, cell phone records, and e-mail exchanges outlining their plans to leak sightings, text messages, and photos to the media. Their ultimate plan, said James, pausing for dramatic effect, was to get me out of the picture and Laila installed as the new Mrs. King for both of their financial benefit.

  While Marcus had thought he was prepared for walking into this evening, I think seeing it all laid out in front of him in black and white with page after page of stolen money and copies of text messages and e-mails unearthed by private investigators was harder than he thought. After being shocked into silence for most of the meeting, he suddenly spoke up.

  “How could you do this to me?” Marcus said, his voice choked up in a hoarse whisper. “You were my brother.” He couldn’t even look across the table at Kareem. I took his hand under the table.

  Kareem, his broad shoulders deflated and head hung low, pushed through the pile of papers as if searching for something that would wipe away all of the damning evidence.

  “Answer me, dammit!” Marcus said, pounding his fist on the table. “You fucking answer me!”

  Kareem refused to meet Marcus’s gaze, so I motioned to Cristoff, the second senior partner, to continue.

  Cristoff nodded and cleared his throat before he began his part of the evening’s presentation. He slid a gray legal-size folder containing a packet of documents across the conference room table to Kareem.

  “Mr. Davis, we’ve taken steps to unravel your agreement with Mr. King, and as such you will sign this agreement that will dissolve your management agreement and power of attorney with Mr. King effective immediately. As such, the mortgages on your three homes, all contents therein, tags and titles for your six cars, have all been ceased and are in the process of being liquidated. All the credit cards in the name of Marcus King Holdings have also been canceled. Against our recommendation, the Kings have decided that you walk away today, keeping whatever you currently have on deposit at your bank.”

  Cristoff pushed a few buttons on his iPad to pull up Kareem’s account and then, looking over the top of his reading glasses, said, “For the recording of this meeting, the stenographer is to note that Mr. Davis’s bank balance as of this moment, held in a Merrill Lynch CMA account, is $235,987.34. Consider that a very generous severance package, Mr. Davis, especially since it goes against our recommendation, that Mr. King is declining to press charges and send you to jail for a very long time.”

  Kareem exploded out of his chair, knocking it back on the floor. “You can’t do this to me!” he yelled as he pounded on the table with both his hands. �
�Marcus, I made you the star you are. You wouldn’t be where you are today if it weren’t for me.”

  “Are you kidding me, man?” Marcus snapped through gritted teeth. He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up. As he leaned forward across the table, his eyes bulging and face tense with rage, his body was coiled and ready to pounce. “You stole money from me, from my family, when I would have given you anything!”

  “You don’t know what I’ve done for you,” Kareem retorted, desperately shaking his head.

  “What you’ve done for me? Let me see what you’ve done for me.” Marcus counted down the irreversible offenses on his fingers. “You’ve stolen half my money. You’ve tried to break up my marriage. You’ve betrayed your godson.

  “I loved you like my own brother. Made you the godfather to my son. I’ve had you in my home. I’ve asked you to protect my wife, and all this time it was just about the money with you. All about the money. You were never my brother.”

  “Don’t try to blame your sneaking around on me, partner. No sir,” Kareem said. “You liked fucking all those freaks and had me running around making airplane reservations, hooking up hotels and shit. Don’t act like you were just an innocent bystander. Yeah, everything was all good while I was hooking up your little rendezvous with Laila, but now you want to act all high and mighty like you weren’t down for the game.”

  It hurt me to hear about all the other women, although I had suspected that Kareem had been facilitating Marcus’s hookups with groupies all this years.

  “Yes, you’re right, Kareem. I’ve done my dirt, I’ve disrespected my wife and my vows, and I have to try my damnedest to make amends for that with her and with God. And you’re going to have to do your damnedest to make things right with God yourself, but don’t ever come looking for me to forgive your punk ass.”

  “Punk? Who you calling a punk! You don’t even know half the things I’ve done for you!” Suddenly Kareem crossed over to Marcus in three quick strides and grabbed his cousin’s lapels, pulling him close into his face.