43

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

[Riley]

Nazanin's undeniable grace that she sauntered around with on a daily was one that couldn't be missed. It was actually one that should be envied because she didn't use effort to exert it. There was no touch of makeup, use of a hair product or other beauty enhancer in this world that would top what God had blessed her with. She was the epitome of 'waking up like this', creating sense around Leslie's unwarranted jealousy. 

I literally had to scoff as my eyes wandered from my computer screen and to her as she stretched across the seal of my window with her head stuck in a book entitled Audition. The nerve of her wanting to be an actress. She'd put every person she shared a screen with to shame with just her aesthetics.

"Listen, if we're going to be friends you're gonna have to show me some flaws. I'm sick of your pretty ass." I taunted as her bob length curls swung over her shoulder and her bright smile glowed toward me with the late morning sun.

"Oh please! You act as if you're far from gorgeous yourself."

"You have me beat in a couple of places, but you're right. I am kind of cute, huh?" Nazanin nodded as we both laughed then placed her book down for the first time in the last two hours.

Since today was a slow day for Naz, though she might argue a slow month in regards to work, she decided to keep me company as I did some research on this potential artist Donovan placed in my lap. He and his band's showcase was tonight and I needed to get a feel of what I was dealing with, but that was falling completely short. I guess they made it their mission to leave some mystery to themselves with the lack of visuals floating around the web and since they weren't as popular as a Prince and the Revolution or D'Angelo and The Vanguard, biographies were scarce. Music and music only should be the focus as they made it, so this was smart marketing, but also very frustrating for a person like myself.

"So, how's it going over there?" Naz asked, peaking her head over as if she could get a glimpse of my screen from her side of the room.

"Horrible. I guess I'm used to typing almost anything into a search engine and finding images immediately. You search The Phoenix, keyword band and nothing but their logo pops up. If this is even theirs."

"So they or he wants the music to be judged off the sound and not how they look?" she wondered and bit her lip inquisitively. "That's actually clever if you think about it. If the lead is hideous and the band members look similar or worse than him, people might not listen. That's me speaking for the shallow individuals of the world, I'd still listen to them."

"Right," I shot back and looked over in her direction. "They sound amazing cohesively. The lead's voice is out of this world and I can't really put my finger on who he favors."

"Wait, the song playing right now is him?"

"Yep, and it's called I Want You."

"Well he's giving me John Legend vibes with a little bit of..." her fingers snapped as we both let our minds wander and find a match to something so trivial and at the tip of our tongues. "Am I thinking about Musiq Soulchild? No? Yes?"

"No, you're thinking about...Maxell!" We both exclaimed in unison, but there was still something familiar about his tone that literally awakened a trail of goosebumps along my bare arms once it left the speakers. It was slowly setting ablaze a heat inside me that I only associated with passion or maybe even lust. Which one it was exactly at this moment was blurred and I was left  wondering who or what has given me this feeling before.

"This man can hit the shit out of that note we were blessed to get in Maxwell's Fortunate. He's dangerous." I murmured and leaned down against my desk as Nazanin's eyes followed my movement. Though the song had ended I could still hear it humming in my ear. "He's got soul and I like it. I like it a lot. He might sing the girls right out of their panties."

"Or you out of yours," she teased, breaking my train of thought, which was still lingering. "Oooh, I'm telling Cole."

"Oh hush." I hissed and sat up straight as I cleared my throat. "The man's voice just sounds really...I can't explain it."

"Well in that case, when we go to The Sayers Club tonight, I hope he is unattractive. There is no need to welcome trouble in your life, Riley. These LA men are devils," she joked.  "Especially the musicians. They're usually attractive, muscular and have tattoos and really nice hair. Let me not forget to mention an adolescent's mentality. You're happily married, no devils!"

"I am happy, not married." I corrected, and once her description of the these so called devils made sense to me and sketched itself into a visual, my brow rose curiously as my lips curved into s smirk. "You just described Miguel's appearance down to a T. Is he your devil, Nazanin?"

"He was," she admitted honestly, pausing shortly to sigh before she continued on. "But he's a good man now. Half of our relationship was during a time where we were both teenagers and twenty something year olds trying to find themselves and a purpose in this world. The music just made it worse to fight through. It created distance, groupies and a more confident Miguel. I wasn't used to any of that."

"And now you have a ring."

"I have a ring." Nazanin echoed then hopped down from the window seal to settle by my desk. "Sadly, I'm convinced all male musicians, no matter what genre, are conniving individuals who are a handful to put up with if you're willing to; not that they should be or you should deal. They should have common sense, self-control and a bit of dignity. Instead, they succumb to the world they're thrown in filled with nothing but the things they couldn't get without a deal. Then they become full of shit."

"I agree, but that actually sounds like men period." 

That was Lamarr at one point, her own fiancé and a many of other men I knew and were close to. They were good folks at heart but they were men. Sometimes I wondered what was it was about their species that just can't seem to use common sense and get this fidelity thing right. 

"Musician or not, I believe and have believed since forever that they're all born into the fuckboy society and only by choice do they decide to leave and become a grown ass man. If not, they remain a top rank member: a fiddle faddle fuckass fuckboy reporting for duty."

"That sounds accurate."

"I'm never wrong girl, so it is." I joked, though my tone was beyond serious. "Anyways, I should read up on these guys a bit with what I did find before I walk in there to try and sell them dreams. I honestly don't even know what to say or how to approach them. What do I even wear for this kind of occasion? It's business but its not to be too serious. But I also don't want to look like I came there for drinks and to shake my ass because then they won't take me serious. Is this even the proper setting to try and sign an artist? I need a manual of directions for this. Lord, why did I even sign up for this?"

"Riley, calm down." Nazanin instructed as she reached over and grabbed my hand, giving it a gentle shake. "You literally just went from 0 to 100 in the span of ten seconds. If it helps, I'll come over to your place and help you find an outfit. You just study these guys until you feel as if you know them personally and be your usual self. Your personality alone will seal the deal. Plus, their manager is aware that you're coming, right?"

"Yeah, yeah of course."

"So you're not actually popping up on them and it won't be awkward, meaning you can chill out. They're expecting you."

"That's easier said than done." I mumbled as she released my hand, smacking it in return at my lack of sureness. "I'm for real! I always get an early case of jitters when meeting new people, especially when I know ahead of time that we're meeting. Then I sit and think of ways to make the moment more pleasant but it never works anyways. Still, that's all I focus on."

"You weren't for the last week, but you were also with Cole and of course you wouldn't with him. He keeps you preoccupied." she stated what were nothing but facts and eased back into her seat. "Where is he when we need him?"

"Hopefully resting like he needs to, but he mentioned joining a local basketball team and sharpening his court skills so the gym might be an option too." 

Just as Nazanin's forehead creased up at how almost odd that sounded, mine did the same when Lamarr first told me. The adventures he listed he wanted to set out on during his break sounded more like a retirement list for a middle aged man struggling through a midlife crisis. What was even more cringe worthy was that Lamarr was serious. He wanted to go golfing, fishing, "master the art of yoga with me", travel to five new countries and learn how to cook. Or was it bake? Basketball however was the only fathomable one. 

"He deems himself an honorary member of an NBA team during his leisure time. He wholeheartedly believes he was meant to take Penny Hardaway's spot after he left the league."

"Uh huh. Well that's...that's interesting."

"Don't shade my man." I warned, pointing my finger at her while trying to maintain the solemn expression on my face. But, I couldn't help but laugh. "I can hear the judgement in your tone, and only I can do that. Only I can wonder what the hell spiked such interests and why suddenly he wants to be a grandpa. Only I can laugh at this mess."

"Now I don't feel bad for having an urge to do it. Can I laugh, please?" A smirk bridged her lips as I rolled my eyes. Before I could give her a clear cut yes or no, Nazanin was falling into a fit herself. "I'm sorry Riley, but that was gold."

"Mhm, sure you are. I knew you weren't going to hold back anyways."

"Because it's hilarious! Wh-who wouldn't?" she stammered out in defense between her hysteria. "He wants to go fishing? He's 30, not 67! I would accept bowling over that. Hey wait, maybe he should join a bowling league. That may actually be more entertaining."

"I'm so done with you, Ms. Mandi. Over you." I said, shaking my head. "I just let him be, girl."

"Let who be?" A masculine voice posed as they invaded my office and our conversation with their presence and strong scent of Armani cologne fogging it. 

Both Naz and I's head turned toward the door only to spot Miguel himself, who if I was correct, was supposed to be in New York at this moment. Yet he was here, hiking straight toward my desk with a flash drive wedged between his fingertips as he skipped over giving either of us a proper greeting, and cut straight to the chase. 

"On here are two mixtapes, EPs or whatever you wanna call them by an singer, songwriter named Kirby. I put her music on my iPod too, that way I can listen to it on my flight to the east coast. Since you're the smarter one out of the two of us and Elhae is on tour again, I need you to do some good research on her. Find out if she's signed, who her manger is, where she's from. Find out everything."

"Well hello to you too, Migs."

"Oh shit." he groaned, laying the drive down onto my desk then sluggishly ran his hand over the length of his face. "I apologize Riley and to you too Naz. It's just that I missed my first flight due to traffic and while sitting at the airport waiting for the next one they found an open spot on, I realized that I left me Macbook at the condo that I absolutely need. I get there as quick as I can and remember I wanted to give you this girl's music before I left, and yeah. I'm just rushing and hella tired right now, also frustrated that I'm probably going to miss my meeting since the flight still doesn't leave for another two hours."

"Why didn't you call and ask me to grab that stuff for you?" Nazanin retorted as we both watched him shrug. "You need an assistant because you can't keep doing all this stuff by yourself."

"You're right about that. I figured you had a gig today since we both left out at the same time this morning, that's why I didn't bother. You were actually here with Riley though. Why are you here with Riley again?"

"Because she's having an affair with me." I snapped back smartly. "You'll live."

"I knew you wanted her. She's perfect isn't she?"

"Extraordinary." Miguel chuckled knowingly then looked back at Nazanin as she stood up from her seat and walked over to grip the collar of his worn Carlos Santana printed tee, pulling him closer to her.

Whatever they began whispering about against each other's lips after that I wouldn't know. They had literally fell into their own world once they embraced, forgetting that I was even in the room, and it made me miss what I had been separated from for only three days now. Just thinking about Lamarr's arms wrapped around me, his gaze when he stared at me and his scent alone had me closing my lids shut and reminiscing myself into a daydream. All I can remember last was Nazanin uttering "I'll be back Riley" before the room became silent, and the image of him became even more vivid. 

A sigh departed my lips as my lashes fluttered and my eyes opened, hoping that my phone call to him would make this sudden feeling of loneliness vanish. Unfortunately he didn't answer.


——————————-


[Lamarr]

"That's game, man!" I declared on cue with the ball plunging directly into the basket just as the scoreboard's timer blared over me.

Mike and I had been in this gym for nearly four hours now doing warm ups and playing whoever came over to the courts and wanted to compete. The last game was between the two of us and like usual he lost. Instead of preparing himself for something so predictable after all these years, Mike waved me off and pushed passed me with his same stank attitude. All I could do was laugh as we walked toward the corner where our gym bags were placed and ignored him and his lack of sportsmanship. Him and Ib needed to learn how to suck shit up.

"Look, I'm tired of letting you win, Cole. It's time you step your game up and learn how to play." he blew out as he stopped and bent down to tie the laces of his Nikes. "We ain't kids in the Ville anymore. This letting you score 'cause I feel bad shit is getting old."

"Nigga, you were the worse player ever in the history of Terry Sanford's rosters back in high school. Which is why your bum ass was always benched."

"Benched? Man don't mistake your lack of skills and memories on the courtside with mine. I was always in the second lineup."

"Also known as benched as fuck." I taunted, drying my face and arms off as my laughs that never ceased began getting caught in my throat. "Yo, let me stop doggin' you. One day you'll amount to something, but it won't be associated with basketball. Let's leave it at that."

"Screw you, fam." Mike hissed back then reached over to grab a water bottle out of his bag, twisting the top loose to take a few sips. "You know you sucked at one point too and I deadass used to let you win when we used to play at that abandoned court near Ced's gramma crib. Them dudes over there used to trash talk all the time, called you lil mulatto and claimed since you were half white you couldn't jump let alone dribble a ball. Thanks to me, they ate their words."

"Partially you, the other part were my natural born skills." I added plainly. "Fact of the matter is, you still suck."

"Yeah well let this be the last time you say it out loud. You're always shitting on my parade." he argued then grabbed his bag to toss over his shoulder, but not before he got another sip in. "I know you saw them two fine ass women with the big asses playing on the other side of the net, and I can bet they heard your loud ass."

"Oh. My bad fam, but if it helps I don't think they were checkin' for you anyways."

"What you think they were checkin' for you instead?"

"No," I began as I clutched my backpack and started toward the front of the facility near the exit. "I think they were doing what they came to the gym to do. Be active and fit, not stalk down men like you do to women, you damn creep."

"Oh I forgot for a split second that you were a changed man who is now the personification of faithful. Once upon a time you were a creep too. So don't judge my lifestyle."

"Maybe it's time you found someone too. That life gets boring, don't it?"

"Fuck no. Besides, I don't know if I'll ever commit to one person but I can admire those around me who do, and help them continue to prosper. That is what I'm good at." he concluded.

"That is sad."

"Yeah whatever." Mike dismissed and pushed open the doors ahead of us, leading the way down the block toward my loft. I thanked God it was in close proximity of the gym. 

Since we met up there this afternoon though, he assumed right off the bat that the only reason I invited him out was not to have company, but instead because something was bothering me and he needed to lend an ear. Though there were no signs proving that, Mike wouldn't let his argument die. He'd even went as far as taking moments here and there to ask me 'Was I good?' in an effort to get me to speak up. Believe it or not though, I was fine. I honestly just wanted to avoid sleeping the day away and instead do something, at least that's what I had been trying to convince myself.

"So, what you thinking about?"

"What makes yo-"

"I know you," he quickly interjected. "So?"

"Aight, so look. When I was out in Cali I stopped by the Champ to do some writing and recording when I came across a folder saved on the home screen of the computer in the studio." The file lacked a legitimate name, and in a house full of musicians you'd be foolish not to place a title on your work, making it easier to be tracked. Unless of course you didn't want it to. "So I saved it to my flash drive out of pure curiosity, you know, so that I could listen to it later and see who it belongs to."

"You couldn't have just asked one of them niggas there whose it was?"

"I did and Bas told me that it might be Cody's shit that Mez was mixing." I said as we both jogged across the intersection, beating the traffic lights above. "The thing is, I think he was wrong, and I've been contemplating on actually seeing what's in it since that day. I have that weird feeling in my gut again."

"Now is this your stable part of the brain speaking or the overactive part that draws you to these ridiculous ass conclusions?"

"Cute, real cute." I grumbled for it to only get lost in the deafening sirens and horns colliding behind us. Simultaneously striding and conversing in the midst of this was a bad idea and beginning to annoy me. "I'm serious though Mike and I'm tired of playing Inspector Gadget. Something tells me whatever is in that file is the key to my assumptions. If I'm wrong then I'll put all this shit behind me and stop acting like a crazy side chick waiting for a nigga to slip up."

"Good, because that's exactly what you're coming off as." he pointed out. "Anything else you need to get off your chest? Now that Ry is back home I feel like I have to do her job when she can't."

"Well, it's funny that you asked because there is. And since we're only two doorsteps away from my crib I can show you once we get upstairs."

"Show me?" Mike's head turned toward me and our eyes immediately locked, but only for few seconds before I drew mine away.

He held a puzzled look on his face, attempting to read mine and whatever I knew he assumed I was hiding. I could feel his stare

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net