Chapter 10 #2
He patted the seat beside him. An invitation that she should have declined.
“I’ll let you two get acquainted,” Lisa said, and was already turning away. She put her hand briefly on Zena’s arm and squeezed it. Not sure if that was instruction or encouragement.
She watched Lisa disappear into the crowd. Then she looked at Finesse, who was bobbing his head to the music.
She sat down.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his seat with ease. “You’re the one they keep calling the next big thing.”
“That’s what they tell me.”
“You believe it?”
“I’m a work in progress,” she said humbly.
He nodded slowly, then leaned forward and grabbed the bottle that was on ice in front of them on the table.
“Don’t get caught up in all this shit. It’s all smoke and mirrors.” He sipped from the bottle.
She looked at him and saw a flicker in his eyes. His statement had landed, but she wasn’t sure how to interpret it.
Before she could question it, someone called his name from across the section, and it was as if a switch had flipped. He was up and out of his seat, rapping the lyrics to his song.
Across the rooftop, she could see Lisa watching them from a distance. It was then that she pieced together what this was. She said no in her living room two weeks ago, and now Lisa had purposely put her and Finesse together to see if she would still refuse.
Zena reached for a drink from the table.
Finesse laughed beside her before a groupie sat on his lap without permission. He pushed her onto the floor right in the middle of his entourage. They all laughed loudly.
She thought about calling Tate. She already knew he wouldn’t answer.
She took a sip of her drink and scrolled through her phone.
She stayed occupied like that for thirty minutes before Finesse leaned over and pulled her close to him.
His lips grazed her ear. Liquor from his breath permeated her nose. “What you doing later tonight?”
Her body stilled. “Why?”
“Relax ma’. He paused. “It’s just an after-party I want you to go to at Supreme’s mansion out in Buckhead.”
She didn’t even notice Supreme wasn’t in attendance. She never really saw him anyway. “No. Thank you. Not much of a party person.”
Finesse cackled. “And you signed with Royal Reign? You’d better get used to this lifestyle. This is how you get paid. Club appearances, showing up and being seen.”
“Hmm.”
Zena went quiet. She couldn’t get used to this. Sure, the money and clothes were good, but she was already exhausted from barely sleeping anymore, functioning like a zombie most days. On top of that, her diet consisted of fast food 24/7.
“Look. Just come through one night. He has them damn near every night.” Finesse said. “Lock my number in. The next time we have one. I’ll hit you up.”
Zena unlocked her phone and entered his number.
“Text me later, ma’. I want to get you on a song and shit.” Finesse got up to leave, his group following his lead. Zena couldn’t understand why a group of grown men hovered around him.
She took a sip of her drink and gave him a half smile. She watched them leave. Now she sat in the middle of a party, alone in a room full of people looking right at her.
The photo appeared online the next morning.
Zena saw it on her phone before she was fully awake. A notification from a blog she followed that broke the news, and now it was viral. She clicked on it without thinking. Once she read it she was fully awake.
The headline read: Royal Reign’s princess and Finesse, Atlanta’s Next Power Couple?
It was a good photo, and that was what made it worse. Someone had caught them in what looked to be an intimate moment. Finesse was leaning toward her, her head tilted slightly in response; both mid-conversation and from the outside looking in, they looked exactly as the label wanted them to.
She sat up in bed.
Tate’s side was empty. She didn’t know when he’d come in or when he’d left. She reached for the phone and called him.
It rang four times and went to voicemail.
She texted him.
ZENA
Call me. It’s important.
Then she opened the blog again and read the comments, even though she knew she shouldn’t. Over a thousand comments in two hours. People debating whether they’d make a good couple. Someone saying she’d upgraded and that Tate didn’t seem like a good match for her anyway.
She put the phone face down on the bed and laid back, staring at the ceiling.
She hadn’t agreed to this. She was only doing what was required of her. A photo, now floating around, was taken out of context and appeared on every blog with a narrative she hadn’t written and couldn’t correct without making it worse.
She called Tate again. Still no answer. Then she called Lisa.
Lisa answered on the second ring.
“You have to fix this,” Zena said.
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Lisa.”
She groaned. “It’s good press, Zena.”
“I said no when you first asked in my living room. I said no at the party when you forced me to sit with him. And now, out of the blue, there’s a photo on every blog in Atlanta.”
“Where is this going, Princess?”
“You did it, didn’t you?”
“The photographer at the event works for the label. Images from label events are distributed. That’s standard. I don’t control any of that.”
“Tate is going to see this.”
“Tate,” Lisa said, with a particular flatness, “is not your publicist. What he thinks about your press isn’t relevant to your career.”
“He’s my fiancé.”
“Then he should understand how the industry works.”
Zena started to protest, but she stopped. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound na?ve.
“I have to go,” she said.
“Princess–”
She hung up.
This was bad; her relationship was already on fire, and she just added fuel to the flame.
Her phone vibrated in her hand; this time, it was Tate.
She answered.
“Tate, I can expla–” She rushed out.
“Yo, what is this shit?”
“It’s just a picture the label took at the event; I didn’t even know they were going to post–”
“You all up in this nigga face, but it’s not what it looks like.” Tate bellowed.
“I was at an event. He is my labelmate. I have to interact with him.”
“You don’t have to do shit!” Tate yelled. “You told me nothing happened at that party. You came home and said it was boring and you left early.”
“Nothing happened.”
“So why do you look like that in the photo, Z? Why y’all looking at each other like that? You want that nigga?”
She pressed her fingers to her temple. “Tate. I was just having a conversation with him. That’s all. I don’t want that man. The photo was taken out of context.”
“That don’t explain why you all are cozy and shit with him?”
“I was required to be there.”
“At the party, but not all in that nigga’s face. Get off my phone, Z. I’ll hit you up later.”
“Tate–”
He was gone.
She dropped her phone on the bed and went to take a shower to clear her head. By the time she got out, she saw a text from Lisa that said, "The streams on Shine jumped 40% overnight. Great job.”
She read it and scoffed. If she didn’t get a handle on this soon, she would no longer have a fiancée.