Rockstar Savages Read online

  Jamal tapped speed dial.

  “Midas, what’s up?”

  “Damian, man I need you help.”

  Jamal spent the reminder of his ride to the airport talking over the loose plan with Damian.

  “What all do you need?” Damian asked.

  “Whatever you can pull together in the next few days on Carmela Franklin, her manager Richard Franklin, and her brothers Gabriel and I think the other is named Marcel. Also Crescendo and its board of directors. I expect to start reviewing their records sometime this week. But I think having your report will help expedite the process.”

  “I got you. I’ll get back with you by midweek. Family…”

  “…over fame.”

  Jamal disconnected with Damian. “I hope you’re ready Lala.”

  Chapter 11

  Carmela held the phone to her ear, dead on her feet.

  “Hold your horses, I’m coming!” She shouted shuffling through the house, yanking the door open. “Would you please stop—”

  Jamal Washington stood on her porch. Could it get any worse? Of course, this was her hot-mess of a life.

  GQ showed up early dressed in a damn suit, ready to walk a damn catwalk, and Carmela knew damn well she looked like hell warmed over.

  “Fuck me!” She whispered. Her response seemed to amuse him.

  “Excuse me?” Jamal asked.

  “If you say one word…” Carmela pointed a warning finger at him.

  He threw his hands up, his smile as intimate as a kiss.

  “Come in.” She turned on her heels expecting him to follow. “Let me talk to the manager.” She barked in the phone.

  The week was pure hell, thanks to Richard deciding to take a vacation. He hopped on a flight and conveniently forgot to do his damn job. He managed to send a grand fuck you to Carmela and she was feeling it.

  “Make yourself at home.” She motioned to the couch. “I need to finish this…what do you mean the rehearsal hall isn’t booked? I have a standing appointment.”

  Carmela paced across the living room. The rehearsal hall wasn’t secured. The promoter didn’t receive their confirmation. Thankfully, he knew Carmela’s personal cellphone number. He’d called this morning. Now, she was expecting the DJ, dancers, and the crew on her porch in exactly one hour. And where was Marcel?

  Carmela dared to glance at Jamal. He looked better than the first night at the concert. It could be her lack of sleep, but he appeared edible. Like melt in your mouth, oh my god, not in your hand good to the last drop chocolate—smooth, sweet, and uber sexy. And she never used the word uber.

  That settled it. I’m delirious.

  This African god…ugh…. She spun around and caught a glimpse of herself in the antique mirror across the room, and horror filled her from head to toe. Here she was damn near drooling over the man in her old mix-matched holey clothes and oversized Ankara bonnet.

  God take me now! What a way to make a first impression La.

  Her eyes met his in the mirror, her breath quickened, unable to look away. For a moment he studied her, and again she felt exposed. Forget the old long-sleeve concert shirt and fleece shirts. She felt naked, she spun around. Jamal was some sort of warlock. Had to be.

  His eyes darkened as he gave her body a bold, sweeping gaze. Her skin tingled with awareness until she glanced down. Damn it La! She didn’t have on a bra. She covered her breasts instinctively. And the man had the nerve to chuckle.

  “I’ll be back.”

  * * *

  Carmela sent a distress text message to Gabriel. Then she dressed in a clean t-shirt and legging. She didn’t have time for a shower. She’d have to settle for a clean face and brushed teeth. She couldn’t believe Richard would leave her stuck like this. They had three days before the tour bus pulled off. She didn’t have time to break down, to scream, or to quit.

  Carmela returned to the living room, with a bra, finding Jamal in the same spot working on his phone. She dropped to the couch, propping her feet on the coffee table. She rested her arms across her knees.

  “Would you like coffee, juice, rum?”

  “No, thank you. I prefer my drinks after five.” He came closer without moving an inch. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh nothing, besides my life crumbing around me.” Her hands swirled in space as she tried to laugh through the utter misery. “Other than that, I’m peachy.”

  Jamal smiled. “Can I help?”

  “No, not unless you happen to have a rehearsal hall in your bag of tricks.”

  “I think I might.” He reached for his cellphone. “Eliana, what rehearsal spaces do we have in New Orleans?”

  Her breath caught as her spine went stiff. He talked to the person on the phone while his eyes remained on her. Her mouth felt dry until Jamal place a finger beneath her chin, coaxing her mouth closed

  “What size do you need?” He asked obviously unaffected by the electricity passing between them.

  “Size?” Her gaze jumped to his crotch, and back to the blaze in his eyes.

  “The rehearsal hall. Do you need a stage? Studio?”

  “Oh…hum, a stage and music equipment.” She sputtered like an idiot.

  Jamal told the caller and they talked for a while longer. “Thanks Eliana, I owe you. Book it for…”

  “Three days.”

  “For three days.” He nodded. “You’re a lifesaver. I’ll be in touch. Bye.”

  “I could kiss you.”

  “And I’d let you.” His direct gaze unsettled her.

  Carmela searched his dreamy eyes for a hint of humor but found desire instead. His smile told her Jamal Washington had a way with women. He oozed confidence and swagger and it felt like nothing she’d ever experienced before.

  “Hey La! What was the emergency text about?”

  Carmela jumped to her feet coming face-to-face with Gabriel. The confusion etched on his face made her wonder how long he’d been here.

  “I…I…” And damn if she couldn’t string her thoughts together. Jamal was bad for her braincells.

  “You…what…” Gabriel wasn’t the morning type and his impatience showed.

  “I need a cup of coffee. Can you talk to Jamal about the rehearsal?”

  For the second time she was walking away from his intensity. Then she stopped, retracing her steps, rattling off the first thing that came to mind. “Thank you, Jamal.”

  “You’re welcome, Carmela.”

  * * *

  Jamal made sure the checks got paid. Booking rehearsal halls wasn’t his lane, nor in his job description. But seeing the distress Carmela tried to hide this morning made him want to fix it. He even tried to overlook her the African fabric piled on top of her head until she cupped her breast from his view.

  He had no right to stare. But she was absolutely gorgeous. How was he going to work with her and not ache to touch her? The brief contact with the smooth skin beneath her delicate jaw made his fingers ache to explore the hollow of her neck, the valley of her breast, the curve of her hips. And watching her perform on stage made it worse.

  Jamal accompanied them to the rehearsal hall. He had to called on every lesson he’d gained from Damian. He tried to disappear to fully observe Carmela and her people as she managed the crew, directed the dancers, and performed.

  He had a running tally of the head counts. Fifteen dancers, the DJ, the keyboardist, the drummer. Gabriel handled every action thrown his way, but he seemed to lack initiative. But that was something he could learn. Jamal hadn’t seen Marcel.

  The hours passed. Three. Five. Eight. And at ten he had to speak up.

  “Carmela.” Jamal stepped toward the stage.

  “Take ten.” She called out, sitting on the edge of the stage.

  “How long do you plan to go without eating?” The crew took a lunch break and she’d worked with the DJ rearranging the set list. Once he went off to eat, she’d covered tour details with Gabriel.

  She shrugged and glanced at her watch. “It’s almost ten
o’clock.”

  “Yes, it is.” Her shock evident.

  “Y’all, I’ll see you back here tomorrow at noon.” A sigh of relief moved round the room. “Thank you all for your hard work. I apologize for losing track of time. Have a good night.”

  The woman had to be exhausted. This was the first time he’d seen her sit still since they arrived this morning. The realization that her managers failed to show up ignited a fire in his gut.

  Something is wrong with this team.

  “Give me your keys, I’ll drive. Let me get your bag and we’ll be ready to roll.”

  Carmela nodded.

  Jamal walked to the back of the stage. He picked up her gym bag. “Yo Gabriel, let me holla at you for a second.”

  Gabriel said his final goodbyes to the crew. “What’s up?”

  “Is this normally how you two work?”

  “What do you mean?” Gabriel pounded fists with the DJ as he headed out.

  “That Carmela works nearly ten hours straight without a break or food.”

  “That’s just La. When she’s focused it all about the show.”

  Jamal found the reason lacking but accepted it, for now. “What about management?”

  “Yeah, that’s one for La. We are at odds at the moment.”

  Again, Jamal accepted the answer. He’d ask more later. “Thanks man.”

  “You’re welcome. And thank you for finding the space.”

  “Glad to help. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Jamal turned.

  “Yo Jamal.”

  “Yes.”

  “Be careful with my sister.” Gabriel’s eyes appear more lucid than moments ago. The protective undertone of his words struck a chord with Jamal.

  “Yeah man, she’s safe with me. Let me send you my details.” Jamal took a few minutes to send his number, address, and email to Gabriel via text.

  Gabriel nodded. “Got it. La, call me when you get home.”

  “Okay. You do the same.”

  Jamal and Carmela were the last to leave. Jamal locked the doors according to the directions provided by management. He opened the door to her SUV helping Carmela inside. It seemed the moment she stopped the day caught up with her. He could tell by the drag of her feet and the slur in her words.

  Jamal rounded the vehicle pulling off his jacket tossing it in the backseat. Then climbed inside as Carmela snuggled into the door using a crumpled sweatshirt for her pillow.

  “La, what do you want to eat?” He unbuttoned he sleeves rolling them back.

  “I’m good.” Her eyelids dipped under the weight of her day.

  “Sweetheart, you have to eat something. Pick or I’ll pick for you.”

  “Bossy and fine.” Her words sent heat through his veins. And with a chuckle she was out.

  Jamal shook his head. This woman was trouble. One minute was flirting, the next she was in business mode. Earlier she teased about kissing him, and he’d break every business rule he lived by to sample her sweet lips. Even if the thought made him question his sanity.

  Jamal sat in the parking lot for a minute listening to the soft sounds of her snoring, amazed as he reviewed the day in his mind. He’d never seen someone work so hard. Every run of the song sound the same to him, but she stopped on every mishap, every misstep. The last run through appeared perfect and he only recognized a few numbers from the first show. The woman had reworked the entire show in less than a week.

  Genius.

  “Jamal, how long do you plan to stare at me?” Her eyes remained closed.

  “I’m trying to figure you out. Do you mind?” He chuckled. Her sassy mouth was hot as hell.

  “Yes, when you promised to feed me.”

  “My bad.”

  Then she blessed him with a viewing of her eyes. Every time their eyes met today he found it hard to concentrate. Hard to focus on his emails. Hard to resist.

  Desire flickered to life and he doubted whether he’d be able to turn it off.

  Jamal entered her address into the GPS in the dash. He pulled out onto the road using his Bluetooth connection to order food. Satisfied with knowing the food would meet him at Carmela’s place he settled in the leather seat for the drive.

  “So you got it like that?”

  “Woman, are you sleeping or snooping?” He fought hard to keep from laughing.

  “Both.” She stretched, purring like a satisfied cat. “Thanks for ordering dinner. Where’d you order it from?”

  “Platinum Prestige, it’s a concierge service.” It was a family owned business the RSE partners backed early in the year.

  “You have rehearsal halls in your back pocket. Food at your beck and call. I’m starting to think you’re a keeper.”

  “Nah, just resourceful.” He glanced over, thankful the lights for oncoming cars gave him a glimpse of her beauty.

  “But not a keeper?”

  “No, not me. I’m not the keeping kind.”

  “Hum.”

  Carmela went silent and Jamal knew she wasn’t sleep. Her soft snores told him when she drifted off. The comfortable silence felt odd. Most woman found it necessary to fill the space with small talk. But she was content with watching him.

  Jamal could feel her eyes on him. “I’m listening.”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You don’t have to.” He glanced over.

  “Do you deal in voodoo?”

  “Voodoo!” Jamal rocked with laughter, fighting hard to keep his eyes on the road. “What on earth made you ask that?”

  “Your eyes. They seem to see right through me. And I never ask for help, yet here you are.” Her voice trailed off.

  “I’m a team player.”

  “But we’re not a team.”

  “True, but we’re exploring the option. And you needed help.”

  The SUV rolled to a stop outside her house. Two cars awaited him. One with food. The other to take him back to the hotel.

  “Let’s get you inside.” Jamal said.

  Jamal grabbed her bag walking to the door. Jamal motioned for the food delivery guy, taking the food, surprised when he refused a tip.

  Jamal followed Carmela inside placing the food on the coffee table.

  “Promise you’ll eat before you go to bed.”

  “I promise.” She smiled.

  Carmela followed Jamal back to the door. He didn’t want to leave. Not so soon. But what Carmela needed was sleep.

  “Lock up behind me.”

  Carmela yawned behind her hand. “Thanks again Jamal.”

  “My pleasure La.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “No doubt.” Jamal returned her infectious smile. Thoughts of her attire this morning caused him to chuckle.

  “Why do I have a feeling you’re laughing at me?”

  “I thought your head thing was adorable.” He motioned over his head trying to mimic the shape.

  “Oh hush! I had a bad morning. Sue me.”

  “Nah, you’re good.” They stood by the door longer than necessary. Neither move. “I’ll let you get to bed. Night La.” He placed a quick kiss on her cheek.

  “Good night Jamal.” Her hand floated to the spot he kissed.

  And for the first time in his life, he wanted something more than money in the bank, or another business acquisition.

  Jamal wanted Carmela Franklin.

  Chapter 12

  “Pretend I’m not here.”

  Carmela twisted in the sheets, squeezing her thighs closed, trying to ignore the fire he’d unknowingly ignited. Hours after Jamal left she was still unable to sleep. She yanked the cover, flopped on her side, blowing out the air pent up in her lungs.

  His words had tickled across her ear and settled near the active butterflies in her stomach. And in the hours since he rode away, the sensation traveled south. Down south causing her womanhood and curiosity to stir when she should be asleep.

  Carmela watched as Jamal slipped into the shadows of the rehearsal hall. Which turned out to be
absolutely amazing. It had a full stage with wings on both sides. The depth gave her room for the DJ, drummer, and keyboardist.

  Exhaustion could not overtake the unfathomable pull Jamal had over her thoughts. He’d said the words low enough for only her ears to hear. As if, she could miss his presence. As if, she could erase him from her mind.

  Even in the dark she could find his eyes. The dark orbs pulling her in until she heard his full laughter. Carmela flopped on her back staring at the ceiling. His laughter transformed his face. It was almost childlike. Honest.

  Something about his serious nature told her, laughter was rare with him. The blue suits, dark shades, and staccato speech—short, straight to the point, no nonsense—told Carmela her dark knight preferred lurking to socializing. But her intuition told her Jamal was a loner who missed nothing. She’d bet her entire volt of music on it.

  Carmela wasn’t a damsel in distress but she’d be damned if he didn’t sweep in and save the day. The thought of having to ask for his help, even jokingly, taste worse than apple cider vinegar. The sour tingle on the tongue matched with the punch of the burn as it rolled down the throat.

  It was that bad. Because asking meant owning. And owning was its own type of prison. Much like hers. The prison of nonstop work, nonstop crowds, nonstop performance.

  Always on. Always available. Never on her own.

  But Jamal’s hushed whisper fascinated her when she should be petrified. Men were a no no.

  First she had no time. Second there was Richard and Marcel. Gabriel was usually cool, but even he had his protective side. Which surprised her most when he trusted Jamal to drive her home.

  And for an unknown reason, she trusted Jamal too.

  Not like she’d let him hold her bank card, kind of trust. But trust as in she could sleep while he drove, she could relax a little in his presence.

  Carmela turned onto her stomach cataloging all she’d learned about the mysterious, handsome man. What other option did she have when he was determined to keep her awake all night?