Rockstar Savages Page 5

  La Luvie clapped her hands with the audience as the room gave her a standing ovation. But Jamal didn’t miss the way the dancers slowly spread out across the stage. She placed the piece back in her ear.

  “But there’s something about that NOLA swag.”

  The bounce music dropped and she untied the robe. His heart began to beat more rapidly. Then she let it drop and a collective gasp rippled across the room. Jamal gripped the railing as she stood in a sparkly bra and body hugging pants.

  He felt desire infiltrate every fiber of his body. The temperature in the room spiked, or maybe it was just him. Her bronze skin looked kissed by the sun from a tropical vacation as the lights danced off the jewel studded outfit.

  Jamal stood in the balcony transfixed on the woman who haunted his thoughts. First by photograph and now from the stage. Carmela Franklin was unaware of her magnetic pull, drawing him close. He resented his body’s lustful betrayal and his mind’s obsession with constructing a plan to make Carmela his.

  Chapter 6

  “Mr. Carter.”

  Jamal turned to see a face nearly the mirror image of the picture etched in his mind. “You must be Carmela’s brother?”

  “Yes sir, Gabriel Franklin.” He extended his hand, but Jamal sensed his hesitation.

  “Jamal Washington, Mr. Carter is away on his honeymoon. And I’m so glad he did, that show was spectacular.” They shook hands. Jamal appreciated his firm grasp, and direct eye contact.

  “Yes sir, La knows how to work a stage.” He smiled.

  “She most certainly does. And when she dove into the crowd near the end…” Jamal shook his head still in shock.

  “That gets them every time.” Gabriel’s head fell back as he laughed. “The Luvie Squad would boycott the next show if she didn’t surf the crowd.” Gabriel scanned the balcony area and motioned Jamal in the opposite direction of the crowd. “Mr. Washington, let’s head that way. I’ll show you to the Meet and Greet area. You can have a few private minutes to talk with La before the fans takeover. The private elevator to the ground floor is over there.”

  “Please call me Jamal.”

  “Only if you call me Gabriel.”

  “Gabriel it is.”

  “Right this way Jamal.”

  Jamal followed blown away. Gabriel kept the conversation following, the weather, football, and the state of hip hop for female rappers, as they road the elevator to the first floor.

  “I can’t say I’ve considered it much. I’m an old school hip hop fan. Some of this new stuff reminds me of my age.” Jamal added.

  The doors opened and the hall was full of fans lined up against the wall.

  Jamal had to gather his thoughts and put on his Cameron Carter hat. Cam would want this woman at RSE. Jamal could only imagine what Bruce could do with her energy in the studio.

  Jamal had to find a window of opportunity. She obviously needed something RSE had. It was up to him to discover it quick and then give it to her in abundance, within reason, of course.

  “Let’s go this way.”

  Jamal noticed the size of Gabriel. He had about two inches on Jamal’s nearly six foot height. As they walked through the crowd people parted, nodding their greetings to Gabriel. They approached a set of double doors with another oversized man standing guard.

  Gabriel and the guard gripped hands, tapped shoulders. “She inside?”

  “Yeah, her, Nicki, and a few others.”

  Gabriel nodded as the guard opened the door for them. Jamal followed Gabriel down a spacious hallway, watching as Gabriel stopped and interacted with people as they passed.

  “Do you manage La Luvie or Carmela?” Jamal asked after noting Gabriel’s awareness of the staff and the people around the venue.

  “Sorta, it’s complicated. Our father and brother handle the overall management. I handle this. Tours, shows, travel.”

  “The rough stuff.”

  “Yeah, Richard can’t stand the noise, the crowds, or the stress. But I’m here for La so,” he shrugged as if that was answer enough. He reached for the handle.

  “Gabriel, we need you out front.” A man said from behind.

  “Give me a second.” Gabriel picked up the pace and they made it to a back room. “We selected this room to control the flow of the crowd. Hopefully we’ll get them in and out in less than three hours.”

  “Three hours?”

  “That’s why I wanted to get you down here first. The fans want to tell her their life stories. They call family members on the phone, takes millions of pictures, request live videos for social media. They even ask for her to sign body parts. And she stays until the line is empty.”

  “Wait body parts?”

  “Yep, bodies.” Gabriel smiled, reaching for another door. “I’ve seen women ask her to sign their breast.”

  Jamal laughed. He had a lot to learn about hip hop crowds. So far, RSE had R&B and Soul artists. Marques’ fans were a bit wild too. But a woman signing another woman’s breast. That was new to him.

  “This place is a maze.”

  “Nah, we took the long way. The fans will circle the other side and exit the way we entered.”

  Jamal glanced left and right, that made sense but the bare walls made it hard to tell. Did they take a right and two lefts? Or a left, right, left?

  “Knock knock. La you good?” Gabriel called out cracking the door open.

  “Yeah, come in.”

  Jamal’s stomach clinched at hearing her voice. Was the warm rasp normal or due to performing? And how would he address her? La Luvie like a fan or Carmela Franklin like a client?

  Gabriel waved him in, crossing into the room Jamal froze the moment her eyes locked with his. The photograph failed to capture the warm maple brown color of her eyes or the golden undertones of her skin. Carmela sat in a chair with a woman dusting makeup on her flawless face.

  “La, this is Jamal. I’ll be right back. They need me up front.”

  Carmela’s eyes darted to Gabriel, giving Jamal a chance to collect his thoughts, which felt impossible with his body fully aware of the woman sitting across the room wearing the sparkling outfit from the show.

  “Everything all right?” Her face bunched in concern.

  “I got it La. Jamal it was nice meeting you. I hope you’ll stick around.” Gabriel gave him a parting handshake and then he slipped out of the room.

  “Please have a seat.” Carmela motioned towards a black leather couch. “I have to talk and get ready.”

  “I bet, especially with that crazy line wrapped around the building.” Jamal cleared his throat. He found it hard to focus on the task at hand while watching the artist paint on a masterpiece.

  Carmela smiled over the makeup artist’s shoulder, who was now brushing lipstick on her full lips. The knot in his stomach pulled a little tighter. Were they as soft as they appeared? Her eyes flashed, he wondered if she felt the electricity flowing in the room.

  The door opened and closed. The constant sea of people working around her would drive him insane.

  “So, Jamal?” He glanced back at her, momentarily distracted by the activity in the room. “Are you here with a media outlet?”

  “No. I’m here on behalf of Rockstar Entertainment.”

  Carmela held up a hand halting the activity in the room. “I need everyone but Nicki to give us a moment.”

  The makeup artist, Nicki, draped a hand on her hip watching the others leave. “La, you have twenty minutes before your fanatics turn this room into a madhouse.” She looked at Jamal with a tight smile before picking up another makeup brush.

  “Is Mr. Carter joining us?”

  “No, he’s on his honeymoon.” Jamal answered, stunned that even the bodyguard left, which seemed ass-backwards to him. He walked to the door and glanced out. Just like he figured, the hallway was empty. They didn’t know him from Adam, yet her security walked out without so much as a glance back. He turned back to Carmela, “Why would you have your security leave? You don’t even know w
ho I am.”

  Nicki’s makeup brush stopped.

  Jamal felt the energy shift, but the change didn’t overshadow their lack of concern for Carmela’s safety. “You’re back here, in a noisy building, hidden in a maze of unmarked hallways and doors. Yet they willingly leave you with a stranger. You need better security.”

  “So, who are you?” Carmela’s eyes boldly met his. The tinge of displeasure dripped off her words as she slid to the end of her chair.

  “Jamal.”

  “Washington.” The openness he’d experienced moments ago left her eyes.

  “Yes. Is there a problem?” Jamal crossed his arms over his chest. “Look—” he stopped at hearing her whisper under her breath, And he ain’t even a Carter.

  His veins went from volcanic hot to iceberg cold in a nanosecond. It wasn’t the first or last time he’d be compared to his business partners. But pitted against his traitorous attraction to her, Carmela’s words did more than sting. Her words cut.

  Jamal put on his best deal closing smile. “No, I’m not a Carter. Is that a problem Miss Franklin?”

  Jamal walked over pulling out a business card. He thrust the card in her direction. The lightening he saw glaring back at him did not deter him.

  The silent standoff continued as neither budged, nor broke eye contact. That told him everything he needed to know about Carmela Franklin. He needed to leave, now. He had no intentions of waiting around for her to climb off her high horse or to use her sharp tongue aiming for blood this time. One stab was enough.

  Jamal blinked freeing himself from Carmela’s hold as Nicki took the offered card. He faced her, stepping closer.

  Jamal extended a hand, “Pardon my manners, Jamal Washington.”

  “Nicole Anderson. But call me Nicki, everyone else does.”

  “Pleasure meeting you Nicki.” He returned her friendly smile.

  And against his better judgement, his eyes slipped to Carmela as he released Nicole’s hand. “Damn good show. The best I’ve seen in a while.”

  A puzzled expression crossed Carmela’s beautiful face, as if she were surprised. Then she smiled and a dimple peaked through.

  Jamal had to overlook her face, those eyes, and her lips and focus instead on her exceptional talent. He was here in a professional capacity. This was not about him, but RSE. And he had a job to do.

  “Miss Franklin, you asked for RSE to come to your show. Not the other way around. I’m staying at The Roosevelt. My plane to Atlanta leaves at exactly one pm tomorrow. You have an open invitation to meet with me before then, but once I leave New Orleans, I’m not returning.” His voice was firm, and final. He paused, letting the weight of he words take root. “Good evening ladies.”

  Carmela managed to suck the excitement out of an magical night from him. He turned to leave the room suppressing the myriad of emotions her slight uncovered. Emotions covering a host of insecurities, he’d worked hard to overcome. She wasn’t worth it.

  Jamal would find a way to add her to the RSE roster. Because…Carmela was a real one. Not for him, thank God. The man who tamed her would have a challenge on his hands. All he wanted was her Jane Hancock on a dotted line. He retraced his steps down the long hallway as fans passed in the opposite direction.

  “Hey, good lookin’.”

  Jamal smiled at the women catcalling to get his attention. He strolled past, not stopping.

  The ball was in Carmela’s hands. And Jamal felt a challenge lingering in the air going back to his original question. Why had she requested Cameron’s attendance? If she, had $500,000 dollars, a sold out concert, fans willing to stand around hours waiting to see her?

  It was time he did a little homework. He pushed the door open, appreciating the cloudy night and the soft breeze stirred by the hurricane.

  “Carmela Franklin, I’ll see you soon.”

  Chapter 7

  Carmela stared at the space Jamal occupied, shock taking over her. The confidence behind his parting statement sent chills down her spine.

  “What the hell was that about?” Nicole’s sharp tone pushed through the haze of her intrigue the man invoked.

  “I don’t know. It was going good and then…

  “Whaam! You fell flat on your ass.”

  “Damn, Nicki, do you have to be so—”

  “Cold.”

  “No—” Her voice an octave.

  “Mean?”

  “No—”

  “Oh, I got it, a diva?”

  “It wasn’t even like that and stop putting words in my mouth.” Carmela chopped her hand in the air, cutting the conversation off. She wasn’t cold, or mean, or a diva. “Sue me. I freaked out. He caught me off guard.”

  “Whatever La.” Nicki turned back to the vanity dismissing Carmela. She tossed makeup into her kit. “That was messed up and you know it.”

  The sound of rumbling and talking from the hallway told Carmela it was showtime again. She stood up, as staff entered the room. They took the makeup chair and pushed the couch back behind the eight foot backdrop for pictures.

  Carmela stepped closer to Nicole. “Nicki.”

  “Don’t La. Now ain’t the time. Your fans are waiting.” Nicole placed her makeup kit back on top of her rolling cart. “I’ll talk with you later.”

  “Talk to me now. They can wait.” Carmela stood in front of Nicole like an unmovable tower. Nicole was firm but fair. She joked and played around, but Carmela never had to question her loyalty. She needed Nicki in her corner.

  “La, when are you going to learn to fight the right battles? Jamal was right. You called them. And what happened to your plan?” She rolled her neck. “He’s not going to listen to anything you have to say if you insult the man? And what if he calls the Carters? You’ll be right here stuck dealing with the same issues.”

  “So you think I should go after him?” Carmela leaned back listening to Nicole.

  “Yes, I mean, why else would they send him? It’s not like they’d send someone from the mailroom. He must hold some sort of position of importance. Why else would they send him from Houston to your show, a show he liked?”

  “And you’re not just saying this because he’s attractive?”

  “Ohhhh. You noticed.” Nicole turned around, all traces of her anger gone.

  “I’d have to be blind not to notice.”

  It was his eyes. Large dark brown eyes surrounded by his chocolate skin. Those eyes were observant and bore into her. Carmela knew Jamal saw her.

  Really saw her.

  And for Carmela, a woman always on a stage, always performing, always knowing how to turn it “on,” she knew what it felt like to be noticed. But to be seen was exposing. And he did it with a look.

  Carmela realized she was daydreaming and glanced over at Nicole. “Don’t give me that look.”

  “What look?” Nicole batted her lashes like she wanted to take flight. “I saw they way he was looking at you.”

  “Me? Oh no, not my type.” Carmela brushed it off knowing it was a lie. “You always were a sucker for those Idris Elba types.”

  “Not your type? Girl please. That man is everybody’s type.”

  Carmela dropped her head in her hand. “I’m not listening to you.”

  “Yes you are. That man will make you forget your name. And if I thought I had a chance, I’d let him.” Nicole laughed at her own joke. “Did you see the way he strolled outta this room?”

  Carmela did. All six foot something of his body folded into an expensive navy blue suit. Who wears a suit and tie to a hip hop concert?

  Jamal Washington.

  “See that’s that, kiss my ass stroll.” Nicole strolled around the room with an exaggerated pimp walk like JJ from Good Times.

  “Only you would find a way to add ass to the sentence.” Carmela couldn’t take it, she held her stomach laughing. “Fix my makeup.”

  Nicole dug in her makeup case and pulled out some powder. She moved fast to freshen up Carmela’s makeup. “Call him La. Scratch that, go b
y his hotel.”

  “What?”

  “Not like that.” Nicole rolled her eyes. “Call him from the lobby and talk straight up.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Carmela, he called your peeps on their shit not caring what you’d have to say about it.” Nicole glanced over her shoulder, dropping her voice to a whisper. “That alone would make me meet with him, besides what do you have to lose?”

  Nicole was right. Jamal had traveled to New Orleans to see her show, the least she could do was meet with him and apologize.

  “So what’s this I hear about you taking private meetings?” Carmela glanced over Nicole’s shoulder to see her oldest brother Marcel.

  “Hello to you too Marcel.”

  Nicole pulled back smiling at her quick fix. Then reloaded her products. “I’m outta here La. Call me tomorrow before one.”

  “Nicki—” Marcel reached for her.

  “Nicole.” She corrected Marcel.

  “When can I take you out again?”

  “How about,” she glanced over her shoulder, “never? Night La.” She strolled out with an extra twist in her hips.

  “Damn she mean.” Marcel’s eyes were on Nicole’s retreating back.

  “I told you to leave her alone until you were ready. But you didn’t listen.”

  “I was young.”

  “And dumb.”

  “Whose side are you on Lala?” He pulled his gaze from the empty doorway.

  “Hers.”

  “Who was the suit?” He sat on the edge of the vanity.

  “Who told you?” Carmela tied her hair back, and applied a touch of gloss.

  “Stop playing La. I know everything, and eventually I’ll find out. Make it easy on us both and tell me. Who was he?”

  “You know everything?” She challenged. “Why wasn’t the contractors paid for Crescendo?”

  “I don’t have nothing to do with that.”

  “Oh, so you know everything but you don’t know nothing about that?”

  “Man, stop trippin’.”

  “Well, since you don’t know nothing, I don’t know nothing.” She turned to the guard. “Open the doors. I’m ready.”