Jahleel (9 page)

“Sure, Miss Day,” Thomas nodded in acknowledgment as the lift doors opened. “Would you like me to summon Ben here in case we’re not back before you leave?”

“Ah yes, yes.”

I turned and hugged Ferbie, letting him know I loved him before stepping off the lift with Amanda, leaving him and Thomas behind. As the doors closed, I sucked in a panicky breath, wanting to call for him to come back, but Amanda touched my arm and assured, “He’s twenty-eight years old, Kia. He might not be as much of a plonker as we think.”

“I’m just afraid people will mess with him. I don’t want anyone making him feel less of himself.”

“And JK is obviously doing the opposite of that. So I guess you can trust him, yeah?”

Then I was angry all over again, Ferbie forgotten. “Don’t even say that wanker’s name,” I hissed and marched off down the hall to the studio door.

Amanda laughed behind me as I opened the door. “Yesterday you loved him, today you loathe him. I’m having a hard time keeping up.”

Chillingly cold air-conditioning attacked us as we stepped into the room. Large, luxurious, and designed to make people like me feel as though we weren’t being worked to death when 3am strolls around and we’re screaming our lungs out in the sound room, but to make us feel as though we were enjoying the finer things in life.

There was a big black leather couch against the wall where Amy and Jamie were sprawled, giggling and blabbing. A bean-shaped glass table was in front of it with an ice-bucket, highball glasses, two bottles of Grey Goose Vodka and four bottles of cranberry juice. They could drink as much as they wanted, I couldn’t.

Greg, my music producer, a 250pound, bald-headed hothead, pushed himself up from behind the mixing board and came over to hug me. “Sup, Kia?”

“Nada. Sorry I’m late. I’ll be ready in a min, okay?”

Greg nodded quickly as if it were no big deal that I was late, even though we both knew it was plenty big deal. Studio time was precious, not to be wasted. “Sure. Do yo’ thing.”

I heard a giggle with the name ‘JK’ entangled in it come from the area of big leather couch. The masochist in me propelled me in that direction and I plopped down beside the two giggly gals. “So…” I tossed my feet up on the table and leaned back, “How was last night?”

“Energetic,” Amy giggled.

Jamie rolled her eyes, seemingly annoyed with her giggling partner. “It was rad. JK took us to the G2K girls’ concert and it was awesome. He choreographed all their performances and they tore the house down.”

After hearing that, I began to feel a heck of a lot better. “That’s it?” I looked at Jamie, “You didn’t bother shagging him?”

Amanda cleared her throat and leaned forward to pour herself a drink. It was her way of telling me to stop inflicting pain on myself.

“Of course she did,” Amy sing-songed in a ‘Silly-Rabbit-Trixx-Are-For-Kids’ tone.

“
We
did,” Jamie ground out.

“So, both of you…?”

“Yeah,” Amy piped up. “We got wasted, he took us back to Jamie’s place and we banged until the sun came up. Dick?
Huge
. Ohmigod, I want more!”

“Well, you’re not getting ‘more’,” Jamie snapped. “It was supposed to be just me, not me
and
you.”

This was hilarious. And painful. “So, how did you
and
her happen?”

Jamie pointed an angry thumb at her friend. “
She
was trying to get Chad to fuck her. But he wasn’t interested. JK explained Chad’s pretty selective when it comes to his women—he’s hot, but he only beds those he feels chemistry with. Unfortunately, there was no chemistry with this bitch, so she felt the need to sandwich herself between me and JK.”

Amy flipped up her ‘whatever’ hand. “Why wouldn’t I? He was more than willing.”

Her eyes narrowed at Jamie as if remembering something, then she pointed at her and started laughing. “I forgot this drama: the lead singer of G2K got up in this one’s face when JK wasn’t around and demanded to know if he was fucking her.”

“Lead singer Tiara?” I asked. “He’s with her?”

Jamie shrugged. “Seems so. She was all catty and possessive and shit.”

Tiara was a good associate of mine. She was flawlessly beautiful. Now I hated
her
.

Jamie and Amy started talking about the G2K concert, but I wasn’t listening anymore. Dropping my head back on the couch, I blew out a puff of breath. I was obsessed with a man who was a major arse and a shameless womanizer. And even with that rep, he still didn’t want
me
.

Amanda leaned over and whispered in my ear, vodka strong on her breath, “Chad.”

I turned to her. “What?”

“You’re in love with the wrong one. Chad’s the one for you. Not JK.”

“Forget both of them,” I dropped my feet off the table and stood up. “I’m Saskia fucking Day.”

It was 2:37 in the morning when we returned from the studio. Amanda wearily made a beeline for her bedroom, but before I could do the same, I had to take care of my throat. I really worked it in the studio and knew it would be hoarse in the morning if I didn’t take precautions now. I headed to the kitchen to mix a concoction of honey and lemon juice—pre-medication.

My cellphone hollered from within the depths of my messenger bag, and I sighed. Only one person would ring me at this hour. Setting my cup down on the kitchen counter, I retrieved my cellphone and answered, “Lion.”

“Why the fuck you been avoidin’ my calls?”

“I’ve got a life to live, you know?” I smarted, releasing the phone and keeping it to my ear with my shoulder so I could grab the honey jar.

“And
I’m
a significant part of said life! The one who makes
your
life happen,” he snapped. “Two calls you never send to voicemail: mine and Lydia’s. We should never have to talk to your assistant. It’s just
us
, you ain’t got no one else. Always ‘member that, Kia.”

I knew that, and I never forgot it. It’s just that Lion had become such an avuncular figure in my life, I had a hard time being dishonest with him. He could see right through me with this eye that could tell counterfeit from authentic. No man is an island. Everyone in life needs support, and Lydia and Lion were my rocks that would forever be there and never erode. I needed them just as Timberly and Ferbie needed me.

“My head wasn’t in the right place, okay?”

Lion made a noise between a grunt and a chuckle, “Went by his studio, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” I confessed as I stirred the honey and lemon juice, trying to get them to blend together.

Lemon and honey usually took a good, determined whisking for the two to come together as one. Honey was thick and stubborn, wanting to flow at its own slow pace, in its own form, while lemon juice was without form, ready and willing to be used however one pleases—submissive. The sweet flavour coming together with sour, two complete opposites. But when the two coalesce, the ultimate taste was one that could never be replicated, not with any other ingredients. Because only extremely sweet, mixed with extremely sour gave that inimitable taste. Together, they provided a powerful healing.

“Judgin’ by your tone, I’ll take a wild guess that JK was his usual self.”

“He cancelled on me.”

“And he hasn’t fucked you yet?” He sounded shocked. “That’s…kinda off pattern for JK.”

“Yeah, well, he shagged Amy and Jamie.”

Lion laughed out. “Those two…”

Then he spoke so quietly, I believed it was a thought spoken out loud, not meant for me to hear. “He’s still afraid…”

I stopped mixing. “What? What does that mean?”

“Look, I didn’t call you to talk about JK. Wanna chit chat about your five-year obsession, do that with Manda. I called to let you know I’m comin’ to SF tomorrow. Apparently the G2K girls’ concert was through the roof. So their record label is throwin’ a celebratory party. Not red carpet, I know you hate those. But just by invite, and we’re caught up in the mix.”

“Boo! Who cares?”

With the new knowledge that lead singer of the group, Tiara, was shagging Jahleel, I no longer cared about the G2K girls.

“I don’t really care either, Kia. But they’re on the top right now, and these are the invite-only’s where we
should
show up, if nowhere else. Smilin’ and congratulatin’ like we give a shit. You’re a Brit, Kia. Always ‘member that. These fuckers can turn on you in a second for no reason. You gotta work twice as hard as anyone else to keep yourself up there. So put on one of your kickass outfits, slap a smile on your face, and be ready by eight tomorrow night.”

“Okay. Whatever.”

I pressed off the call and looked down at my sweet and sour coalition.

If only…

Bringing the cup to my lips, I drank it all down, my lips puckering at the taste.

The inimitable concoction that could heal a throat that wasn’t even sore yet.

Chapter Six

T
here were a heck lot of invitees at the so-called ‘invite-only’ celebratory party when my usual party crew and I arrived: Lion, his big butt girlfriend Twana, Amanda and Ferbie. Neither of the giggly twats were welcome.

The venue was on the rooftop of Viscas Hotel and was surprisingly ace for being planned in haste after the concert’s success. How they managed to get this many celebrities to fly in from wherever to SF on such short notice was beyond me. Unless this was covertly planned before, with optimistic hopes that the concert would be a success—another step to push the G2K girls higher in their fast climb to stardom. Their record label was real shrewd.

As usual, we arrived late, so the party was pumping when we arrived. All-white decor, high-tables and cushy stools, illusory purple flames flickering in large clear vases, potted palm trees in corners, purple cushions and purple psychedelic lights glowed on everyone. Lots of chattering, congratulations and it’s-good-to-see-you’s behind fake smiles, the usual.

For this event, I got dressed in skin-tight high-waist black jeans, a black bustier bra cropped just below my C-cups to show off my ‘
Fuck D’ Werl
’ tattoo on my left side, a studded black leather jacket, and black thigh highs—yes,
heels
. Ugh. Six goddamn inches, too. Curse my stylist.

My hair, of course, was its usual mess of wild raven curls.

Tired of smiling and engaging in meaningless conversation with people fawning over my accent, or how “rad” and “badass” my outfit was, or how much they liked my hair, blah blah blah, I left Lion in the midst of the all the mindless blabbering and found myself an empty table and a stool.

Hating these pretensions as much as I did, Amanda was there with me in the next minute, plopping down on a stool, sipping a
Nuvo
straight from the bottle as I was. Ferbie had disappeared somewhere, but I knew he was safe here.

Even though we were
in
this lifestyle, we weren’t exactly
of
it.

We were more laid back people who’d rather get loose with a handful of people we knew and were comfortable with, preferably within the confinements of our home. I attended red carpet events because I
had
to. But parties, such as this one, usually took a lot of convincing on my manager’s part.